Holding Out for a Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers
Author: Caridad Piñeiro; Sharon Hamilton; Gennita Low; Karen Fenech; Tawny Weber; Lisa Hughey; Opal Carew; Denise A. Agnew
Date: 2015-12-08 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Soldiers; Cops; Spies; Anthologies; SEALs
Description: Every girl wants a hero, a knight in shining armor who comes to her rescue. Here are 8 HOT stories from New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors making every girl's wish come true. Sexy romance and breathless suspense. Intrigue and dangerous kisses. Holding out for love has its rewards! From SEALs to cops to spies, here are special men who know how to protect their women---and how to love them. EMBRACE THE NIGHT by Caridad Pineiro: For the last two years, Army vet Zack Taylor has been rebuilding his life and finding out that being a loner is no fun. Especially not when he’s caught the
Publisher: Dangerous Dozen Romance Writers, LLC

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

EMBRACE THE NIGHT

Embrace the Night: Title Page

Embrace The Night: Chapter One

Embrace The Night: Chapter Two

Embrace The Night: Chapter Three

Embrace The Night: Chapter Four

Embrace The Night: Chapter Five

Embrace The Night: Chapter Six

Embrace The Night: Chapter Seven

Embrace The Night: Chapter Eight

Embrace The Night: Chapter Nine

Embrace The Night: Chapter Ten

About the Author: Caridad Pineiro

NASHVILLE SEAL

Nashville SEAL: Title Page

Nashville Seal: Chapter One

Nashville Seal: Chapter Two

Nashville Seal: Chapter Three

Nashville Seal: Chapter Four

Nashville Seal: Chapter Five

Nashville Seal: Chapter Six

Nashville Seal: Chapter Seven

Nashville Seal: Chapter Eight

Nashville Seal: Chapter Nine

Nashville Seal: Chapter Ten

Nashville Seal: Chapter Eleven

Nashville Seal: Chapter Twelve

Nashville Seal: Chapter Thirteen

Nashville Seal: Chapter Fourteen

Nashville Seal: Chapter Fifteen

Nashville Seal: Chapter Sixteen

Nashville Seal: Chapter Seventeen

Nashville Seal: Chapter Eighteen

Nashville Seal: Chapter Nineteen

About the Author: Sharon Hamilton

BIG BAD WOLF

Big Bad Wolf: Title Page

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter One

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Two

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Three

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Four

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Five

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Six

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Seven

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Eight

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Nine

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Ten

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Eleven

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Twelve

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Thirteen

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Fourteen

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Fifteen

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Sixteen

About the Author: Gennita Low

IMPOSTER

Imposter: Title Page

Imposter: Chapter One

Imposter: Chapter Two

Imposter: Chapter Three

Imposter: Chapter Four

Imposter: Chapter Five

Imposter: Chapter Six

Imposter: Chapter Seven

Imposter: Chapter Eight

Imposter: Chapter Nine

Imposter: Chapter Ten

Imposter: Chapter Eleven

Imposter: Chapter Twelve

Imposter: Chapter Thirteen

Imposter: Chapter Fourteen

Imposter: Chapter Fifteen

About the Author: Karen Fenech

THERE'S A NEW WITCH IN TOWN

There's a New Witch in Town: Title Page

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter One

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Two

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Three

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Four

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Five

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Six

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Seven

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Eight

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Nine

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Ten

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Eleven

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Twelve

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Thirteen

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Fourteen

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Fifteen

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Sixteen

About the Author: Tawny Weber

QUEEN OF HEARTS

Queen of Hearts: Title Page

Queen of Hearts: Chapter One

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Two

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Three

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Four

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Five

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Six

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Seven

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Eight

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Nine

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Ten

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Eleven

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Twelve

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Thirteen

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Fourteen

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Fifteen

About the Author: Lisa Hughey

IN TOO DEEP

In Too Deep: Title Page

In Too Deep: Chapter One

In Too Deep: Chapter Two

In Too Deep: Chapter Three

In Too Deep: Chapter Four

In Too Deep: Chapter Five

In Too Deep: Chapter Six

In Too Deep: Chapter Seven

In Too Deep: Chapter Eight

In Too Deep: Chapter Nine

In Too Deep: Chapter Ten

In Too Deep: Chapter Eleven

About the Author: Amber Carew

BLACKOUT

Blackout: Title Page

Blackout: Chapter One

Blackout: Chapter Two

Blackout: Chapter Three

Blackout: Chapter Four

Blackout: Chapter Five

Blackout: Chapter Six

Blackout: Chapter Seven

Blackout: Chapter Eight

Blackout: Chapter Nine

Blackout: Chapter Ten

Blackout: Chapter Eleven

Blackout: Chapter Twelve

Blackout: Chapter Thirteen

Blackout: Chapter Fourteen

Blackout: Chapter Epilogue

About the Author: Denise A. Agnew

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO

SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

Caridad Pineiro

Sharon Hamilton

Gennita Low

Karen Fenech

Tawny Weber

Lisa Hughey

Amber Carew

Denise A. Agnew

Holding Out For A Hero

Copyright © 2015 by Dangerous Dozen Romance Writers, LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

All texts contained within this document are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental.

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO boxed set cover design © 2015 by Kim Killion

EMBRACE THE NIGHT by Caridad Pineiro

Copyright © 2015 Caridad Pineiro Scordato

NASHVILLE SEAL by Sharon Hamilton

Copyright © 2015 Sharon Hamilton

BIG BAD WOLF by Gennita Low

Copyright © 1999 Gennita Low

IMPOSTER: The Protectors Series – Book One by Karen Fenech

Copyright © 2011 Karen Fenech

THERE’S A NEW WITCH IN TOWN by Tawny Weber

Copyright © 2014 Tawny Weber

QUEEN OF HEARTS by Lisa Hughey

Copyright © 2014 Lisa Hughey

IN TOO DEEP by Amber Carew

Copyright © 2014 Opal Carew

BLACKOUT by Denise A. Agnew

Copyright © 2013 Denise A. Agnew

Contents

EMBRACE THE NIGHT by Caridad Pineiro, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

For the first time in nearly two years he felt normal again . . .

Army brat Zack Taylor had spent his early life going from one place to the next, losing his home and friends with every move until he decided it was just easier to be alone. Despite that, Zack has no hesitation in following in his father’s footsteps and going the ROTC route for college. He has no hesitation in going back for his wounded team members after they are attacked during a mission. His dedication to his men nearly cost him his life when a nearby explosion wounds him and shears off part of his leg. For the last two years, Zack has been rebuilding his life and finding out that being a loner is no fun. Especially not when he’s caught the eye of sexy Samantha Whittaker whose gaze is filled with passion, laughter, and the shadows of pain.

She is fighting hard to ignore the obvious invitation in his determined gaze . . .

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Whittaker is just not interested in getting involved. At least not until she can deal with the wounds left behind by her stint as a prisoner of war. Physically and mentally abused, it has taken her years to find some stability and independence in her life. Giving in to the much younger and enticing Army vet will challenge that hard won freedom. But Zack’s persistence and caring are wearing her down until she considers that maybe it’s time to embrace all that he can offer, even if it’s only for one night of passion.

About the Author: Caridad Pineiro

NASHVILLE SEAL by Sharon Hamilton, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Nashville up-and-coming star Jameson Daniels has all the women and fame he can handle, covering up a secret past. A chance encounter with members of SEAL Team 3 changes the trajectory of his life, and his willingness to confront his past.

Lizzie Reeder has a secret she’s hidden from the one man in the world who should know. Would telling him be an act of love, or an act of desperation?

About the Author: Sharon Hamilton

BIG BAD WOLF by Gennita Low, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Out of the Darkness

Killian Nicholas Langley has spent most of his life as a member of a covert team, living in the shadows, working among people who accept danger as part of their lives. When an explosion nearly took his life, he thought he’d do well in construction, hiding among the transients, keeping a low profile. However, he hadn’t expected a boss quite like Jaymee Barrows.

Into the Sunlight

Jaymee Barrows knew the tall, dark stranger with clean hands and smart mouth looking for a job wasn’t a roofer. He was going to be trouble…just like the big bad wolf. Best to stay far, far away from him. But the more he got to know Jaymee, the more Killian was intrigued by his new boss. She had secrets he wanted to know about. Her light tempted the darkness in his life. And after tasting her, he wanted more…

About the Author: Gennita Low

IMPOSTER: The Protectors Series – Book One by Karen Fenech, USA Today Bestselling Author

THE PROTECTORS: Though they work independently and at times are oceans apart, their ties to each other remain strong. They’re related by blood or bond – this group of men and women in law enforcement, government intelligence, and the military who do what others cannot to serve, defend, and protect.

IMPOSTER: The Protectors Series - Book One

Chemist Dr. Eve Collins, wrongly accused by the CIA of developing and marketing a chemical weapon, learns she has been set up as a scapegoat by someone seeking to hide his own guilt. That “someone” wants her dead. Her life depends on making no mistakes–-like trusting the Central Intelligence agent assigned to her case, a man she’s falling in love with.

CIA Operative John Burke doesn't believe her claim of innocence. When an attempt is made on her life, he believes her accomplice has turned on her. But something doesn't add up about Eve and her role in this crime she's accused of. Burke has too many questions, including--has his judgment been compromised by his fierce attraction to her?

It’s a question Burke asks himself again and again but when he learns Eve’s would-be assassin is close, he goes on the run with her. It's a temporary solution--running will not keep her safe. Burke must find the assassin--or die trying.

About the Author: Karen Fenech

THERE’S A NEW WITCH IN TOWN by Tawny Weber, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Her magic, his town, their love... is it enough? Or will a witch just regaining her powers have to choose between saving a cursed town, or giving up everything she’s come to care about?

Legend tells that many years ago, deep in the Idaho mountains, Hiram Ross saved a beautiful woman from a mountain slide and earned her everlasting gratitude. The woman, per the legend, was a witch who blessed the town with peace and prosperity as long as they welcomed faith, magic and love. With this once prosperous town now on its last legs, can a new witch be their salvation?

A wayward witch…

Born to a long line of witches, Miki Lansing renounced her magic to marry a mortal. When he dumps her, her powers return along with a karmic curse. Retreating to a rundown property in Idaho, all Miki wants is to reverse the curse, get her unstable powers under control, and figure out her life. Too bad the townspeople hate her. And too bad her sexy handyman is another troublesome mortal.

A mistrustful mortal…

Gideon Ross knows far too much about magic. His ex-wife was a witch. The real, magic-making, up-to-no-good kind. Now she’s determined to take over his beloved town. And his enchanting new client’s kisses are far too distracting. Then he discovers he’s falling for another witch. Gideon can’t subject the town to the capriciousness of another woman with that much power.

A town in need of magic…

Then Gideon’s ex-wife issues an ultimatum: unless Miki and Gideon are out of town by the full moon, she’ll destroy the town and claim it for her cult. Gideon’s had it with witchy women, and Miki already lost everything once before to a mortal. But if they’re to save the town, they’ll need a little faith, a lot of love, and a very special kind of magic.

About the Author: Tawny Weber

QUEEN OF HEARTS by Lisa Hughey, USA Today Bestselling Author

Queen of Hearts...the next installment in the Family Stone Romantic Suspense series featuring Shelley Stone (Jess's mom and Connor, Riley and Jack's stepmom) is a second chance at love romance. This 40,000 word novel features former Navy, Enrique "Bulletproof" Santana, and Shelley Stone and is set in Las Vegas.

Ric Santana is in Las Vegas for his friend’s wedding and some much needed R & R. But the vacation turns awkward when he discovers his smoking hot one night stand is actually his pal’s stepmother. When Shelley’s life is threatened, Ric doesn’t hesitate to step into the role of bodyguard and protector. But as Ric grows closer to Shelley, he can’t help but wonder, can he save her life or will they be too late for love?

About the Author: Lisa Hughey

IN TOO DEEP by Amber Carew, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

Angel is experienced in a lot of things but love isn't one of them.

Angel has been deep undercover in the mob for too many years. Love is the last thing on her mind. Until Frank walks into her life once again. She almost fell in love with him four years ago, but had to betray him to the mob to protect her cover. He barely got away with his life, and now he hates her.

Too bad they've been partnered to work together. As man and wife.

About the Author: Amber Carew

BLACKOUT by Denise A. Agnew

Brooding ex-marine Neal Griffin's mysterious past is in the shadows. Yet when the world goes to hell, he realizes he’d do anything to protect Cassie, even if it means exposing the very things that could make her hate him.

The house at the end of the street has always been haunted. When a solar flare challenges the world to remain civilized, one man and one woman will face an evil lying in wait for all who dare enter…

Cassie Kovac has spent the last ten years rebuilding her life. She’s vacationing in the high mountain town of Bowmount, Colorado when a solar flare takes out the grid. Fear tears apart the little community, and the only thing standing between her and certain disaster is a man with a cloudy past.

Ex-marine Neal “Griff” Griffin’s life is shadowed in darkness. He won’t talk about his mysterious past. His childhood was marred by the unspeakable, his life spent erasing things too horrible to dare remember. Until he sees Cassie, and primal male instincts to protect come to life. When the world goes to hell, he realizes he’d do anything to protect her.

When Cassie and Griff face the haunted house, they don’t expect the building to come alive with a personality all its own. Fighting against the unknown threatens to rip apart the fabric of their minds, and make their survival and new love one step closer to impossible.

About the Author: Denise A. Agnew

EMBRACE THE NIGHT

by Caridad Pineiro

Embrace The Night: Chapter One

Zack Taylor sped across the waves, fighting for balance atop the surfboard. Awkward at first, but gaining stability as he adjusted his legs into a wider stance and bent his knees.

He rode the wave as far as he could and then kicked out, sending the board flying in one direction while he sank into the cool water. As he rose to the surface, the familiar pull of the leash registered on his leg and he swam toward the board so he could climb back on.

Grabbing the rails of the board, he slid across the surface, but thumped one edge with his prosthetic leg as he struggled to get on. The surfboard swayed side-to-side with the sudden imbalance before he steadied it.

A little shaky, but it felt awesome to finally be able to go surfing again.

It almost felt like flying, he thought as he paddled out to wait for another set of waves.

Surfing was one of the few things he’d missed when his family had moved from place to place during his dad’s Army service. He had picked up the sport when his dad had been stationed close to the Delaware beaches and he’d kept surfing any time that their latest deployment had been near the ocean.

Even during his tours of duty, he would find a way to surf if a beach was nearby. There was something about the ocean and its vastness with which he identified. Sitting there, in that great aloneness, waiting for just the right wave, suited him.

As an Army brat, he’d been alone for most of his life. Except for family, of course.

It had just been too difficult to make friends and then lose them every time his dad transferred to a different base.

Surfing had gifted him with something else: Patience.

He’d learned it was far better to bide his time to earn a perfect ride then hurry up and wipe out in a bad wave.

When he reached the spot where a few other surfers waited for the next set, he sat up and straddled the board, his legs dangling over the edge. Well, his one leg and three quarters of his left with the durable prosthetic. He floated there, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the wash of the water all around him.

Enjoying life and appreciating just how fragile it could be.

It had taken him a long time to get to this point. To get past the pain and anger at his loss and be thankful that it hadn’t been worse. To be grateful for the path on which he’d been set that had brought him here.

He gazed back toward the shore and to the growing crowd of people on the beach. He could make out his boss and friend Mark Smith and his wife Bridget as Mark hauled the volleyball equipment down to the sand. Following them like baby ducks chasing after their mother were another group of his friends. His work buddy and former Navy Seal Rafe Castillo and his wife Elena. Marine Lieutenant Trevor Mason and Maggie Sullivan, Bridget’s younger sister, visiting again from New York City.

His friends.

It was weird to say that after the many years that he hadn’t had any.

And he knew that chances were that Samantha would be joining them soon.

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Whittaker.

She’d snared his attention the very first time he’d joined Mark and his wife at one of these gatherings and later again at the other parties held by the many veterans who lived along this stretch of the Jersey Shore.

He’d be lying if he said that it had been anything other than a rockin’ hot bod and stunning face that had made him take notice the first time. But it hadn’t taken him long to see past her beauty to the strong and smart woman inside. One who laughed often, but whose gaze was shadowed by pain.

He wondered a lot about what had put the darkness there and what would drive it away.

He also wondered if he’d misread something else in that gaze: Desire.

He thought he’d seen it after the first couple of times that they’d talked. A hesitant half glance and that look that said she maybe wanted more, but was afraid to say so.

Which puzzled him considering the kind of woman she was.

Independent. Determined. Capable.

Ex-Navy, she was now in the Coast Guard and used to dealing with men on all levels.

He’d thought she’d be a little more direct about what she wanted.

But then again, maybe he could be a little more direct as well.

He wanted to get to know her better. Emotionally. Physically.

The latter thought made his gut twist painfully.

He glanced down at lefty and wondered what she would think when she realized. How she would handle the revelation. Would she not care or shy away?

Fuck that, he thought.

Today was going to be a day for firsts.

His first time surfing in two years.

His first time asking a woman out since he’d been wounded.

Maybe even another first if they hit it off.

A man could dream after all, he thought and as the ocean surged beneath him, he flattened onto the board and paddled into the wave.

As he caught it just right, he popped to his feet and flew toward shore, smiling all the way.

Embrace The Night: Chapter Two

Samantha Whittaker had never seen Zack surfing before. Some of the people at their beach parties would arrive early and paddle out if the waves were good, but not Zack normally.

It occurred to her that he was obviously not a beginner, but he seemed a little uncomfortable, as if it had been a long time since he’d been on a board.

She laid out her blanket, sat, and leaned back on her arms, trying to appear cool as she took in the sight of him out in the water. At six years his senior, she felt like a cougar admiring his lean muscled body, but then again, she hadn’t made a move on him and he hadn’t made any moves either.

But she wanted to, hell yeah, she wanted to despite the age difference and despite the fact that she wasn’t sure if she was ready for any kind of relationship now or ever.

She had a lot of baggage.

It would take a strong man to shoulder that kind of burden.

Zack was physically strong. She suspected he was emotionally tough as well. The war had damaged him as it had so many others, but in the six months since he’d started working for Mark and hanging out with them, she’d discovered a man who seemed at ease with himself and with others.

A man who carried the scars of war on his body and yet could smile with unabashed joy, as he was doing now as he rode in a wave, his big body more graceful than it had been just moments earlier. Almost poetic as he cut back and forth on the crest of the wave until he kicked out of the wave and eased into the water.

After he retrieved his board, he paddled a few feet toward the beach, got to his feet, and picked up his surfboard. With powerful strides he cleared the wash near the shore, but stumbled slightly on the softer sand before regaining his balance.

His grin broadened boyishly as he saw her and he sauntered to the foot of her blanket, every inch of him radiating male confidence.

“Hey, Samantha,” he said and scrubbed his hand across the glistening drops of water sticking to his shaggy caramel brown hair. The summer sun had lovingly kissed the longish locks with golden highlights.

“Hey, yourself, Zack. You looked good out there,” she said and motioned to the waves.

He glanced back toward the ocean and nodded. That enticing boyish grin deepened, displaying a dimple in his right cheek. “Thanks. It’s been a while since I surfed.”

Which confirmed her first impression of him out on the waves. He was no beginner.

“Why?” she asked.

His grin deflated a bit and the earlier joyful gleam in his eyes hardened the light blue to icy shards.

“Lots of reasons,” he said, but she could tell he wasn’t really prepared to discuss them.

She understood. He had his secrets much like she had hers.

“Are you staying for the games?” she asked, although he usually did even though she had never seen him participate.

He dipped his head to confirm it and gestured toward the boardwalk. “Yeah, I am. I just need to get changed and put the board away. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He didn’t wait for her reply to hurry away, his strong body graceful as he trudged through the sand and up to an old Volkswagen van parked on the street. He popped open the back, slipped in his surfboard, and climbed in after it.

She closed her eyes and pictured him stripping out of the wetsuit, baring all those lean muscles for her to see. Drawing the suit down past his abs and . . . .

She sucked in a breath and stopped right there as her nipples tightened against her bikini top and damp heat built between her legs.

It had obviously been way too long since she’d done anything about satisfying her physical needs. She didn’t want to be vulnerable because of that and drove away the all too pleasant fantasies of Zack in the buff.

She jumped to her feet, brushed the sand off her hands, and walked over to where Mark, her friend and former Navy colleague, was setting up the volleyball court.

Mark who knew some of her secrets and kept them where they belonged.

In the past.

Embrace The Night: Chapter Three

Zack gritted his teeth and fought back the massive hard on pushing against the tight wetsuit fabric.

Damn, but she was beautiful and smart. She’d known not to push him when he’d answered about the surfing. He understood that she was asking him not to press about her secrets.

He opened the back of the old Volkswagen van and slid the board onto the padding he kept there. He hopped onto the running board his dad had helped him put in place so it was easier for him to climb inside. Now that his dad was retired and had settled nearby with his mom, they’d been restoring the old classic van together during Zack’s free time.

After he closed the back doors, he sat and leaned against the side, legs stretched out before him. His erection even more obvious and insistent, but he didn’t want to be a sad old man, whacking off in the back of his van like some perv.

He grabbed the zipper pull and yanked hard to open the wetsuit. Peeling the neoprene off his shoulders and down his arms, he snagged a dry towel from the pile next to the clothes he’d brought to wear. He toweled down and after, finished dragging the wetsuit off his legs.

He sat back again and stared hard at his body, wondering as he had earlier, what Samantha would think.

A line of stitching like railroad tracks ran up from near the bottom of his hip to just below his rib cage. A network of less noticeable lines and scars traveled down from the middle of his chest to intersect with those tracks. All were the results of the damage created from the shrapnel and pieces of mortar that had claimed the lower part of his left leg.

The leg now sporting the durable prosthetic he used for surfing and the beach. The more sophisticated one he used for everyday was sitting – or should he say standing – at home, recharging for his weekday use. The electronics in that prosthetic couldn’t withstand the water and sand.

She’d seen the scars on his upper body before and hadn’t flinched.

He’d expect that from a fellow warrior, especially one who had wounds of her own. Internal ones that he was certain were behind the darkness in her gaze.

Maybe she wouldn’t flinch when he showed her his leg, but he wasn’t sure now was the time for such a big reveal.

Patience, he reminded himself even though that seemed in limited supply whenever he was around Samantha.

He dried off his legs and his now limp cock. Nothing worked better to kill desire than a look at his ruined body.

He leaned over and grabbed a t-shirt from his clothing pile. Jerked it on. Grabbed a pair of track pants and pulled them on. He finished it all off by slipping on a pair of comfortable Sanuks that looked almost normal on his artificial foot.

Eagerness and hesitation twisted together in his gut as he thought about returning to the beach, but he’d never been a coward. By the end of the night he intended to muster the courage to ask her out and discover whether he’d misread the interest in her gaze.

* * *

Samantha was standing by Mark when from the corner of her eye she caught sight of Zack as he marched back toward the beach.

Her old friend was too astute to miss where her attention had gone.

“He’s a good guy. You couldn’t do any better,” Mark said as he tossed the volleyball back and forth in his hands.

“He’s too young.”

Mark laughed and shook his head. “I thought you were a modern hear-me roar-type of woman.”

She had to chuckle at his challenge. “Yeah, I guess I thought I was, too, but . . . I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “Who was it that said that making a wrong decision is better than indecision?”

“I’m not sure that’s quite the quote, but I get it, Mark. I like to think that indecision is like running in place. You’re not moving forward, but you’re not losing ground either.”

With a sad smile, Mark said, “Never figured you for a coward, Sam.”

Anger seethed up at her friend’s comment, but she refused to show it. Especially as Zack neared, a puzzled look on his face as he glanced between her and Mark.

She stalked away and intercepted him. Gesturing to her blanket that was a few feet away, she said, “Why don’t you sit by me?”

The joyful dimpled grin that did all kinds of things to her insides chased away his earlier puzzlement.

“Thanks,” he said and laid a hand on the small of her back. That simple touch sizzled her nerve endings. His palm was calloused and slightly rough against her bare skin, awakening all kinds of wicked needs.

As he walked with her to the blanket, she thought, “Take that, Mark. I’m no coward.”

But it wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be to sit beside Zack on the blanket, his big body so close that every time they moved, their arms or shoulders brushed against each other. Heat built inside of her as she imagined touching even more of his body and she took a deep bracing breath to chill her need.

Zack heard her long indrawn breath and shot a quick glance at her.

A mistake.

There was no way he could miss the pebbled tips pushing against the thin black fabric of her bikini bra. Or the way that breath tightened the muscles of her flat belly that led him down to the smallish bottom and the sculpted length of her legs that were negligently crossed before her.

His cock went to full blown hard faster than a race car going zero to sixty and there was no way he wanted her to notice that.

He jerked off his shirt, tossed it in his lap to hide his erection, and grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion he’d wrapped into the towel he’d brought down with him.

He uncapped it and squeezed way too hard which had lotion spurting out across his midsection and against her ribs.

“S-s-s-orry,” he said, wishing that he didn’t feel as uncertain as a nerdy teen with the prom queen.

“It’s okay.” She reached down and rubbed the lotion into her skin and his mind met his body parts somewhere nasty as he imagined her rubbing that lotion all over his erection.

He yanked his gaze away from hers, but not before catching a glimpse of the look on her face.

Am I only imagining the heat in those emerald eyes? he thought as he vigorously scrubbed the lotion all across his abs and up to his chest.

“Can I help you get your back?” she asked and because he had somehow lost the ability to form words, he could only nod and hand her the bottle of lotion.

She snagged it from his hand, sat behind him, and squirted the lotion all across his shoulders. The cold of it made him jump, but as she placed her hands on him, smoothing and kneading the lotion into the muscles of his shoulders and back, he shivered with need and his cock swelled and jerked beneath the protective shield of his discarded t-shirt.

She massaged her way down his spine and then to his sides, rubbing the lotion there.

He flinched as her fingers encountered the ridges of scar there and she leaned into him so that her breasts brushed against his back, dragging a rough moan from him.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked, rising up on her knees so that her face was just inches from his.

Her warm breath spilled across the side of his face a second before the silky strands of her dark hair swept across his shoulders.

He looked back at her and said, “No, just . . . a little tight from the surfing.”

He didn’t want to confess that it had been way too long since he’d felt a woman’s gentle touch.

For a moment, just a moment, he reconsidered going back to his van to take care of business so he could have more control around her, but he didn’t want to waste even a second of being with her.

She nodded and licked her lips, and as their gazes collided for a brief instant, there was no denying that she was feeling something as well. Her emerald irises were wide and a flush that had nothing do with the sun spread across her cheeks and down to the swell of her breasts.

She squirted more lotion onto his upper shoulders and worked it into the muscles, and then moved down to the front of his chest, her action putting her front full against his back. As she skimmed her hands across his nipples, another groan erupted from him and this time, he wasn’t going to lie about the reason for it.

Splaying his hand over hers as it rested on the swell of his chest, he said, “Since I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of all our friends, I think we should take this somewhere private. If you want to, that is.”

Embrace The Night: Chapter Four

After so many years around men, Samantha was one thing. Direct. “My house is only a few blocks from here.”

But because she was direct, she couldn’t hold back from adding, “But it’s just sex, Zack. Nothing more.”

Because she wasn’t capable of more as emotionally damaged as she was.

As he settled his gaze on her, it was impossible to miss the determination there and that as much as he might agree to just the sex, that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him in the long run.

“That’s a start,” he said.

And a finish, she wanted to reply, but she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to be with him. He was smart, sexy, intelligent, and to hell with his being younger.

She shot to her feet, grabbed her beach wrap, and slipped it on while he pulled on his shirt, tossed the lotion into her beach bag and then handed her the bag. She slung it over her shoulder and he shook out the blanket, and then wadded it into a giant ball against his midsection, hiding his arousal.

She held her hand out to him, inviting him yet again to take this step, and he twined his fingers with hers. Together they walked toward Zack’s van and waved goodbye to the friends who were just arriving at the beach. She ignored the self-satisfied smirk on Mark’s face, as if he’d had something to do with what was about to happen.

She pushed on, picking up her pace, but when Zack stumbled beside her and muttered a curse, she glanced over at him.

“Something wrong?”

Zack forced a smile, hiding the pain shooting up lefty from his awkward slip in the sand. “Still a little shaky from the surfing,” he said and the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

She slowed her pace to match his and he was grateful for that in more than one way. It gave him time to cool the passion that had threatened to overtake him on the beach and it made it easier for him to keep his gait to almost normal.

As they walked, she swung their hands lightheartedly, and shot him a smile that was part shy and part playful. Joy glittered in her emerald gaze, driving away the shadows for a moment.

His chest tightened with the realization that he might be the reason why. His gut twisted because that joy might be short-lived when the truth of his condition became apparent.

But if she could let go of her secrets to explore this attraction, so could he.

Her home was a quaint cape about four blocks from the beach and only three blocks from Mark and Bridget’s home. Mark and Samantha had served together in the Navy years earlier and that camaraderie had obviously continued. For a wild second, jealousy sank its ugly claws into his gut, but only for a heartbeat.

Anyone could see that Mark was head over heels in love with his newlywed and pregnant wife, and that their home was one filled with love.

Unlike this home.

The lawn and exterior were certainly shipshape, but far different from their friend’s yard with the colorful flowerbeds that screamed it was a home and not just a house.

Her hand tightened on his, but it was impossible to tell if it was unease or anticipation as she reached the door, flung it open, and dragged him inside.

As the door slammed shut behind them, she hauled him close for a kiss and he went with her, driving her up against the wall beside the front door. Cushioning her back as he pressed himself against the wondrous softness of her.

She opened her mouth to him and accepted the slide of his tongue.

He nearly groaned at the taste of her, so sweet and fresh. He drank from her lips over and over, dancing his tongue with hers and across the sharp line of her perfect teeth.

Her soft needy moan vibrated through him and straight to his cock, making it jerk and swell beside the lean flatness of her belly.

“I want you,” she said and reached down to cup his erection.

Want and need were so far away from love, but he knew neither of them was ready for that yet.

“I want you, too,” he said and shifted away slightly. He cradled her cheek and ran his finger across her mouth, still wet and swollen from their kisses.

The hint of a smile curled up one corner of her mouth and she gazed past his shoulder. He tracked her gaze to the hallway and presumably her bedroom.

He moved away to let her pass, but as he did so he noticed the almost Spartan living room and piles of boxes in the dining room across the way.

“Just move in?” he asked innocently.

She stiffened beside him and lowered her head. “A few months ago. I haven’t had time to unpack.”

Looking around again, it occurred to him that it was about more than that. In the few short seconds that observation took, the moment of passion was shattered.

“I think this was a mistake,” she said and stepped back toward the door, arms wrapped around herself.

He held his hands out in pleading. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”

But she obviously didn’t want to hear any apologies or anything else. “I’m going back to the beach,” she said and raced out the door.

* * *

Samantha almost sprinted back to the beach, unable to control the flight response that kicked in at the most awkward of times.

Like when she was just about to fulfill her fantasy with one of the sexiest and nicest men she’d met in a long time.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she returned to the gathering they’d left just minutes earlier. Sucking in a deep breath, she reined in the fear that paralyzed her in so many ways and with sure strides, she stalked toward her friend Mark and the players that were ready to start the volleyball games.

He arched a brow in question as she approached, but she ignored it and said, “Do you have room for one more?”

“Always,” he said and she knew it was true.

Mark would always be there for her as a friend. He’d been there when she’d been rescued by the Navy Seals and returned to the base where they’d both been serving. He’d seen the aftermath of a short, but brutal captivity in the hands of the enemy.

He quickly slipped her into the rotation for one of the games and as she took her position on the court, Mark walked away to sit by his wife. As he did so, she noticed Zack hurrying toward them, his features unsettled. Blue eyes darkened to the slate-grey of a stormy ocean.

Was it anger or worry on his face? she wondered and settled on anger because that emotion let her build a wall against what she was feeling for him.

She channeled that feeling to drive away her earlier fear and to stoke the competitive spirit that was still buried somewhere inside her. A spirit that made her dive for balls and reach beyond herself to spike winning points.

They played point after point and after her team had handily won the first game, they took a short break before switching sides of the court for a second game. All the while Zack sat by Mark and his wife, chatting with them amiably. Laughing at something Bridget said which had the other woman glancing down at her slight belly bump and rubbing it lovingly.

A fist tightened around her heart at the sight.

Zack must have seen her looking over since he met her gaze and slowly rose from the beach chair, but she turned around and walked back to the court.

She wasn’t ready to face him yet and explain her earlier getaway.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, she thought and turned her attention back to the game.

It was easier to ignore the present than to face the fears of the past.

* * *

“I don’t get her,” Zack said as he plopped back into the beach chair to watch Samantha play.

“She’s . . . complicated,” Bridget said uneasily, making him wonder just how much she knew about Samantha.

He was about to ask why when Mark leaned forward and gave him a “Come with” jerk of his head.

“Would you excuse us?” he said.

Bridget nodded and Mark and he left her behind and walked toward the water at a comfortable pace.

“You know Samantha is my friend,” Mark said, hands held behind him as he stood by the wash of the surf, staring straight out to sea.

“I do and I respect that. I don’t expect you to share anything Samantha wouldn’t want shared.”

“That’s good because I wouldn’t betray her confidences any more than I would yours,” he said and did a quick glance down at lefty before peering back out to the ocean.

“I get it, Mark. I plan on telling her,” he said with more bite than he intended.

“Good, because it won’t matter to her just as I hope what she tells you – ”

“If she tells me.”

Mark faced him. “She will tell you in time. You just need to be patient.”

He thought of the waves earlier and waiting for just the right one. Waiting for Samantha was no different.

“I’m a patient man, Mark.”

Mark chuckled and nodded. “I know that, Zack. That’s why I’m going to ask you to take on some more management responsibilities in the company. With the baby coming in several months, I’m going to need to take more time off and I need someone I can count on to be there. Do you think you can do that?”

A myriad of thoughts raced through his brain, but it was the one nasty one that escaped him. “Is this a pity promotion?”

Mark shook his head and blew out a harsh breath. “I’d be a liar if I said I don’t see how you sometimes hurt at the end of a long day, but that’s not enough to make me risk my company’s reputation and more importantly, the lives of my employees.”

There was no doubting Mark’s sincerity. He wouldn’t let fear and doubt ruin what was an amazing opportunity for him. “You can count on me.”

The other man slapped him on the back and smiled. “I will, Zack. We can discuss your new duties on Monday. Let’s get back to the games and to our women.”

Our women.

He wasn’t quite so sure about that one given what had happened earlier. But as he’d told Mark, he was a patient man.

He sat back beside his friend and his wife to watch the games and cheer on Samantha and his other friends. He didn’t fail to see her occasional nervous peek in his direction or the way she stayed as far away as she could as the games came to an end and they started to clean up all the equipment on the beach.

Samantha used that opportunity to slip away with the women as they headed across the street to Mark and Bridget’s home to prep the food and drinks for the rest of the day.

He helped the men pack up the volleyball gear and walked with them across the street to join the women.

As he caught a glimpse of Samantha helping out in the kitchen, smiling and obviously at ease, his gut tightened with a mix of emotions.

Hope that she would one day be that comfortable with him and physical need at the sheer beauty of her when she smiled.

Patience, he reminded himself and headed off with Mark and Rafe to ready the grill and get his mind off Samantha.

Embrace The Night: Chapter Five

It was comfortable being around Bridget, her sister Maggie, and Elena. They were no drama women who laughed often, loved openly, and were not afraid to speak their mind when warranted.

She suspected that if she ever needed a shoulder to cry on, they’d all be there for her.

Not that she was the kind to do that, although after this morning’s debacle, a good cry might just make her feel better about ruining what might have been with Zack.

The women were in baby mode that afternoon since Bridget was pregnant and Elena and Rafe were apparently thinking about having a baby.

“We’ve been working hard at it,” Elena began, prompting a round of chuckles from all the women as they made the food for a barbeque.

“Not sure you can call it work,” Maggie teased and playfully hip-checked Elena while cutting and tossing lettuce into a big salad bowl.

“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it,” Elena shot back with a broad smile. She was laying out burgers, hot dogs, and sausages on a tray to take out to the men.

Given that her husband Rafe was one very sexy man, Samantha doubted that it was tough at all.

Just like it wouldn’t be tough with Zack, the little voice in her head challenged.

No, it wouldn’t be difficult, she admitted and smiled, drawing the attention of all the women who paused what they were doing to look in her direction.

“She’s got that smile on her face,” Bridget said as she plopped a stack of cheese for the burgers on the tray with the meat.

The heat across her face warned that she was blushing and she stammered a protest. “It’s not what you think.”

Maggie pointed to Elena and Bridget and then to herself. “We think you’re hot for Zack and that he’s hot for you.”

The heat of her embarrassment grew even hotter. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s what I told him this morning,” Bridget said without hesitation.

Fuck, no, they’d been talking about me, she thought.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” she pleaded, but Bridget shook her head.

“We only offered – ”

“We? As in – ”

“Mark and me. We offered some words of encouragement after what happened this morning,” she said.

She wanted to crawl under a rock or better yet, have the ground swallow her up whole. “Nothing happened this morning. Absolutely nothing,” she said, her words short, sharp, and coated with ice.

The three women shared conspiratorial looks and Bridget started the conversation again. “We get it, but we can all see that you both want something to happen.”

Before she could draw a breath, Maggie jumped in. “And Zack’s a good guy.”

“Sometimes you just have to let go and see what the future holds,” Elena finished up for what was turning out to be a trio of unlikely fairy godmothers.

Examining each of the women, she realized that every one of them had risked their hearts. Even Elena, who had already been married to Rafe when he had finally come home for good. They’d grown apart in the many years Rafe had served, but had managed to put the pieces of their marriage back together.

But letting go wasn’t easy for her and neither was thinking about the future. Which was why she had rooms filled with moving boxes she had yet to unpack in her new house. A house that it had taken her years to buy because she was afraid of committing to anything or anyone because of how she was.

Scared despite the bravado she presented.

Deeply wounded inside even though she was whole on the outside.

“I appreciate the pep talk, ladies. I really do,” she said, aware they meant well.

“We’re here if you need to talk, Samantha,” Bridget said, walked over and hugged her hard.

She was stiff in the embrace, unused to such caring. She patted the other woman on the back awkwardly and fought back the tightness in her throat that was threatening to choke her.

“I need to go,” she said, her voice husky.

Bridget released her and she snatched up the tray with the meat and cheese and rushed out the French doors.

In the yard, the men held bottles of beer and surrounded a grill heaped with a mound of glowing charcoal.

As Mark proclaimed the grill was ready, they all grunted their assent and she could picture them beating their chests victoriously at making fire.

Funny thing was she could picture herself doing the same.

I have clearly spent too much time with the menfolk, she thought as she walked over with the food.

“The ladies are working on the salads and side dishes,” she said.

Mark snagged a pair of tongs from a table by the grill. “We don’t need no salads or side dishes. We need meat, Whittaker,” he teased.

“Well here you go, Captain,” she teased right back and handed him the tray.

Rafe, Elena’s husband, passed her a bottle of beer.

He raised his own bottle in a toast. “To good beer, good food, and even better friends.”

The other men all chimed in, but as she tapped her bottle with the others, her gaze connected with Zack’s as he stood across the way from her.

She had expected anger after her abrupt departure. Instead there was understanding and possibly even desire still. As he closed his lips around the mouth of the bottle, she imagined how he’d put that same mouth on her breasts and elsewhere.

Dragging her gaze away, she chugged down the entire beer in a few swallows and a second later, her empty bottle was swapped out for a fresh one.

Because courage found in the bottom of a beer bottle only created problems, she nursed the second beer as she stood there grilling the meat with the men. Passing occasional glances at Zack and trying to figure out more about the man who attracted her so much.

He was at ease around the other men, joking with them as if they’d been lifelong friends. Military men one and all, they had many common experiences much like she and Bridget had as women who had served.

But even when he was a part of the group, there was something about him that remained apart and alone from them. Maybe she recognized that because she, too, kept a piece of herself hidden away from all her friends. A painful piece that it would be easier to discard if she shared it, only she couldn’t.

When the women came out of the building a few minutes later, she drifted over to them and helped set out the salads and side dishes the men had disrespected earlier. But as she did so, a bit of wooziness tumbled over her, making her grab hold of the table for balance.

Bridget skimmed her hand across Samantha’s arm and asked, “You okay? You’re looking a little flushed.”

“Just a little dizzy,” she said and set down the nearly full second bottle of beer as she battled the dizziness.

“Sit down and have something to eat,” Maggie said. Her friend walked away with a bun on a plate, got a burger from Mark, and returned to the table. Elena quickly spooned some potato salad onto the plate and Maggie set it in front of her.

“Thanks. I didn’t realize I was such a cheap date,” she joked, thinking that maybe the one beer was the problem. Her stomach did a weird little twist, but then immediately settled down as she ate some of the potato salad.

As the men meandered to the table with their beers and the meat, the couples paired together to sit around the table. Mark and Bridget. Trevor and Maggie. Rafe and Elena.

Which left Zack and her, staring at each other for an uncomfortable second until he took the spot beside her on the bench, sandwiching her between him and Trevor. Her arm and thigh grazing his sun-warmed skin thanks to the tight space.

Once again her overly active mind betrayed her with thoughts of all that skin rubbing against hers in a more intimate setting.

She forked up some more potato salad and tried to focus on eating, especially as another small wave of lightheadedness swept over her. Instinctively she reached out for support and her hand landed squarely on Zack’s muscled thigh.

He glanced over at her and his eyes narrowed with concern. “You okay?”

She shook her head. A mistake. Her mouth suddenly dry, she tightened her hold on his thigh and said, “Would you mind getting me a soda?”

He popped up out of the chair and came back with a can of cola.

She greedily drank it and the shot of cold seemed to help.

“Thanks,” she said.

Nodding, he sat back down to eat and motioned to her plate of food. “Maybe you should get something else into your stomach.”

She chuckled. “Why do you all think food will help?”

He shrugged those broad shoulders and grinned. “My mom is Italian. She always thinks food is the cure for what ails you.”

He didn’t look in the least bit Italian, except for maybe for his tanned skin that never seemed to burn. “If your mom is Italian, what’s your dad?”

“Mostly English, but with lots of other things tossed in,” he replied around a mouthful of food. After he swallowed, he shot her a half glance and said, “What about you?”

“A real mix of things. An American mutt,” she said with a smile, but then winced as another wave of vertigo hit her.

Her face and chest were flush with color, but not sunburn, Zack noted. He shot up from his chair, went over to the cooler, and came back with a bottle of ice cold water. “Here, have this. Maybe you have a touch of heat stroke.”

“I should have hydrated more during the games,” she said as she accepted the bottle from him and drank part of it. Rubbed the chilled surface of the bottle across her forehead.

“That feels good. Thanks,” she said with another easy smile.

He was grateful he could help, but as the meal went on and her food went untouched on her plate, it was obvious she still wasn’t feeling well.

With an apologetic glance at everyone at the table, she rose wobbly, and said, “I think I should go home. Get some rest.”

He popped to his feet. “I’ll drive you home.”

She was about to protest, but was cut off by Bridget. “That’s a good idea. You don’t look so hot, Sam.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for a nice day,” she said and walked toward the house to get her things.

He stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, but then that morning’s decision to make this a day of firsts came alive again.

“I’ll see her home. Make sure she’s okay,” he told the group and didn’t wait for their reaction. He hurried inside, hopping painfully at a misstep with lefty, but catching up to Samantha as she was exiting the front door.

She looked at him, her face and chest still a little flushed, and said, “I said that I’ll be okay.”

“And I’ll feel better when I know you’re home safe and sound. I was leaving anyway.”

“Bullshit,” she said, but followed him to his van without any more arguments.

He helped her in, got settled in the driver’s seat, and drove away. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of her house.

“Okay, so now you drove me home. Thanks,” she said and didn’t wait for him to come around and open the door for her.

He followed her up the walk to the front door and said, “And now I’m going to make sure you get inside and are okay before I go.”

She narrowed her gaze and her lips thinned into a tight line, annoyance oozing from every pore of her body. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

He thought of how many times he’d pushed people away in those early days after he’d lost his leg. How he’d confused accepting help as either pity or a lack of determination on his part.

This might only be a slight case of heat stroke on Samantha’s part, but he sensed that those shadows he sometimes saw in her gaze maybe came from the same place. From not being able to accept help for fear that it would be construed as weakness.

“It’s okay to lean on someone if you need to, Sam,” he said, liking the sound of the nickname he’d heard Bridget use.

“You’re very frustrating,” she said. Pivoting on a heel, she opened the door, tossed her beach bag on the couch, and held her hands out wide.

“See, I’m inside and totally fine,” she said, but a second later, all traces of color left her face. She whirled and stumbled into the living room like a drunken frat boy. As her knees started to buckle, he was there, sweeping her up into his arms.

He walked with her to the sofa in the middle of the room and laid her down on the cushions.

“Stay,” he said when she started to sit up.

He shot a glance past her to the kitchen that was just feet away. Whoever had renovated the cape had gone for an open concept look. He walked to the fridge and poured a glass of cool water. For good measure, he grabbed a kitchen towel, wet it and then wrapped some ice cubes in it. He returned to the sofa and offered her the water.

“Drink,” he said, earning a glare from her, but she snared the glass from his hands.

He tucked the wet towel with the ice behind her neck while she sipped the water.

Sitting beside her on the coffee table, he offered support and comforting words until she was finished and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. Her color was back to normal and not the greenish tinge of seconds earlier or the super-flushed pink from lunch.

“Feeling better?”

She nodded and said, “Yes, thanks. You didn’t have to do this.”

“What are friends for?” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

She jumped on his words. “Is that all we are? Friends?”

Embrace The Night: Chapter Six

Zack smiled sadly, reached out, and cupped her cheek. “You know I want more, but do you?”

“I do,” she said without hesitation. That brought them right back to where they’d been this morning, before she’d dashed out in a burst of totally not-ready-for-commitment fear.

Fear was the enemy in so many ways and for right now, she was going to set aside her one fear to explore what might be possible with Zack.

“Are you up for it?” he asked and tenderly stroked his thumb across her cheek.

Physically, yes. Somehow the cool water and even chillier towel against her neck out had her feel not so awful anymore.

Emotionally. . . .

“I’m up for it,” she said, although a part of her wished for a more romantic start to what was finally about to happen.

Zack cradled her face in his hands. “You are so beautiful,” he said and bent his head to brush his lips against hers in a fleeting kiss.

“You take my breath away,” he whispered and kissed her more deeply, but almost reverently.

Okay, way more romantic, she thought as she closed her eyes and let go to experience everything that he was.

He kissed her again, exploring her mouth, his lips passing lightly across hers as he eased his hands into her hair. With a subtle move, he leaned closer and pressed his body to hers. Every inch of him was lean hard muscle and it was impossible to ignore the long ridge of his erection against the flatness of her belly.

“You feel good,” she said in between kisses, laid her hands on his broad shoulders, and then moved them down to the hem of his t-shirt. She eased her hands beneath the fabric and skimmed the backs of her hands along all those muscles, dragging the shirt up with the motion.

He broke away from their kiss only long enough to whip the t-shirt over his head and help her remove her beach wrap.

He trailed his fingers down from her cheek to the swells of her breasts exposed by her bikini top.

Her nipples tightened into hard points beneath the fabric and he dipped his thumb down to run it across the turgid nub, dragging a shaky breath from her.

“I want to see you. Touch you more,” he said and met her gaze directly.

His crystal blue gaze gleamed with undeniable desire, his pupils wide, irises darkening to the color of moon-kissed ocean.

“I want that, too,” she said, reached up, and with one tug of the halter string, undid it to allow the fabric to fall away from her breasts.

Damn, she’s perfect, Zack thought at his first sight of her glorious breasts. He cupped them in his hands and their fullness filled his palms. Her skin was smooth as silk, except for her puckered rose-colored nipples.

He strummed his thumbs across those hard tips and she mewled a little plea, not that he needed that request.

Bending, he licked one tight tip while he caressed the other and she cradled his head to hold him close.

She tasted sweet and smelled like sun and sand, an irresistible combination.

He closed his mouth around her nipple and sucked it into his mouth, teething it gently and dragging a rough gasp from her.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, afraid that in his need he’d been a little too rough.

“No, I liked it. A lot,” she admitted, almost warily.

He eased her over that reluctance with a grin and his own confession. “I like it, too. A lot,” he teased and earned a brazen smile from her.

“Don’t let me keep you,” she said and hauled him close once more.

With that grin still stuck on his lips, he kissed and sucked and licked her to his heart’s content, loving the little sounds she made that drove him on and the way she held him to her.

When she reached down and stroked her hand across his erection, he moaned loudly and urged her on. “More, Sam. Touch me some more.”

She stroked him again, harder and with more determination and he shook from the strength of the need racing across his body.

He was on the edge and he didn’t want to lose it like some virgin teenager during his first lovemaking.

He reached down and undid the strings on her bikini bottom. The fabric fell to the surface of the couch and she spread her legs so he could slip his fingers to her center.

She was so hot and wet. So ready and so was he. With one sure stroke along her center, he pulled another pleading command from her.

“Now, Zack. Please, now.”

They both fumbled to pull down his track pants to free his dick and he guided himself to her center, waited there for a final moment of sanity.

“I’m clean, Sam.”

Shit, with two years of celibacy and nothing but my hand to keep me company, how could it be any different?

She met his gaze, her emerald eyes nearly black with desire and devoid of the darkness that was there way too often. “I’m good, too, Zack. Nothing to worry about,” she said.

Except that maybe I’m not the man she thinks I am, but he drove that thought away. He needed her too much on so many levels.

He suspected she needed him as well.

He eased into the sweet heat of her. She was tight and he groaned from the pressure of her surrounding him, the pleasure was so intense.

Samantha sucked in a breath and held it, almost overwhelmed by the feel of him inside her, filling her emptiness. He didn’t move at first, his body tight against her as if he, too, was fighting to hold back.

She moved her hands to his shoulders and hauled him close, and he bracketed her back with his hands, surrounding her with all that brazen masculinity. With that wounded warrior’s body, so beautiful even with its imperfections.

When he moved it was a slow withdrawal that left her feeling every inch of his departure, but then he drove back in faster. Repeated that slow out and rushed in over and over, building passion until she was shaking in his arms and clutching him tightly as she reached for her release.

He shifted his hands down to her buttocks and cupped them, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and that deepened his sure strokes. Let him rock into faster and harder until with one final grind, they both came together, bodies shaking. Breaths rough from the force of the pleasure that had taken them over the edge.

Zack held her close and rested his forehead against hers, his uneven breaths spilling across her face, much like hers bathed his. When he finally could talk again, he said, “That was amazing.”

She chuckled and kissed his chin. “It was. Imagine how much better it could be in bed.”

Bed. With her. Long hours lying together naked. Making love again.

His dick immediately reacted, shocking both of them.

“Really?” she said, in obvious disbelief.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” he confessed.

“Then let’s not waste the moment.”

Embrace The Night: Chapter Seven

She shifted from the couch and sat on the edge of the coffee table. Reaching for his track pants, she grabbed the waistband wrapped around his thighs and was about to pull the pants lower when he reached out and stopped her.

At her puzzled look, he said, “I just need a moment. Why don’t you head up and I’ll be there in a second.”

She examined his features, the worry evident on her face. “You’re not going to run, are you?”

Between his erection and lefty, running was literally not an option. “I’m not running, Sam. I just need . . . ”

What? Courage? he thought, but then it smacked him hard.

“I need you. I need to be . . . normal again,” he said and was grateful for the understanding that swept over her features.

She popped off the coffee table and jerked her head in the direction of the stairway. “I’ll be in the bedroom straight back from the stairs.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

With a nod, she walked away, providing him with an unrestricted view of a leanly muscled body that was still feminine, with womanly curves and those amazing breasts he’d loved to touch and taste just moments earlier.

And which he could enjoy again if fear wasn’t keeping him paralyzed.

He reminded himself of what he’d thought earlier that day. That it would be a day of firsts.

He’d already tasted the freedom of flying across the waves and making love to her, as hurried as it had been.

Now it was time to move on and truly savor being with her even if it meant finally revealing what he was.

He slowly came to his feet and gingerly pulled up his track pants over the remnants of his erection. With hesitant steps, he walked toward the stairs and then moved up them more quickly, his stride becoming more confident as he reached the second floor landing.

It was dark except for the spill of light coming from a doorway at the back of the house.

Her bedroom.

He wiped his wet palms across his pants and hurried there, pausing at the door to appreciate the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed gloriously naked.

Waiting for him.

She met his gaze as he approached and came to stand right before her. His hands were fisted at his sides to keep from touching her as much as he wanted to. First there was something he had to do.

“You okay?” she asked, sensing his hesitation.

“There’s something you need to know,” he said.

She raised her hand and laid it on the center of his chest. “I’ve seen the scars, Zack.”

She trailed her hand down to the waistband of his pants and said, “I know there’s more than what I’ve seen. Sometimes the scars are buried deep.”

As she finished, she swept her gaze past him and across her room, drawing his attention to the pile of boxes in one corner. Beside them was a large dresser, devoid of the usual female touches along its surface. Not even a single picture frame there or anywhere else in the room.

Her scars, he thought and that reveal somehow gave him the courage to grab hold of his pants and slowly lower them.

Samantha was silent as he did so, appreciating the beauty of his ruined body as he revealed his erection and then his upper thighs. As he skimmed the pants lower, she finally caught sight of the prosthetic and it explained so much.

His absence from the volleyball games. The ever-present track pants on the beach and the way he’d been on the waves, like someone getting reacquainted with something they’d once done.

Like making love, she thought and met his gaze.

What she saw there made her mouth grow dry and her heart thump loudly in her chest.

I’m the first, she thought, but then again, he was her first as well in a long time.

His hands were once again fisted at his sides and nearly white from the pressure he was exerting. She covered his hands with hers and urged them open. Twined her fingers with his as she said, “Do you know what I see?”

He was staring straight ahead, avoiding her gaze and the sight of his prosthetic, still partially covered by his pants.

At his prolonged silence, she said, “I see courage and heart. I see a man with the strength to rebuild his life and live again.”

He dipped his head and met her gaze, his shimmering with the hint of tears.

“I wish the same for you, Sam. I wish I could help drive the darkness from inside so you can finally feel free of the past,” he said and she was struck once again by how well he understood her.

She smiled and playfully shook his hands. “You’re already doing that, Zack. For the first time in a long time . . . I want more. I need more.”

She needed him and the way he could make her feel again. Make her believe that one day she could be as strong as he was.

“I’m here, Sam. For whatever you need, I’m here.”

“Make love to me, Zack. Help me feel alive again,” she said.

With a nod and a sexy grin, he kicked away his track pants and kneeled before her. Placing his hands on her knees, he urged them apart and skimmed his hands up her thighs to cup her buttocks and urge her closer to the edge of the bed.

“Your wish is my command.”

Embrace The Night: Chapter Eight

Zack edged closer, dropped a kiss on her knee, and then ran a trail of them up one thigh until he was at her center.

There was a noticeable tan line just above the darker triangle of carefully trimmed hair and he placed a kiss along that line before shifting lower.

His hands shook as he bent his head to her center and found the sensitive nub there.

A sharp gasp escaped her as he tongued her clit and then licked his way all across her lips before another long lick along the nub.

“Zack,” she murmured and cradled the back of his head, urging him on.

He shot a quick glance at her and shifted his hands up to cup her breasts and the tight buds of her nipples. He tweaked the tips and she closed her eyes and butted her hips toward his mouth.

She draped her legs over his shoulders and he buried his head against her center, licking and sucking the delicate flesh while he played with her nipples.

Her soft cries of pleasure and the shift of her hips and legs, pushing toward him and opening to give him greater access, drove him on.

He dropped one hand to her center and as he swept his tongue along her nether lips, he found her clit with his thumb and applied pressure, dragging a long needy moan from her. Beneath his lips he felt the pulsing of her vagina and his cock swelled and jerked at the thought of being inside her.

But first he wanted her to come. He wanted her to experience the pleasure that he sensed she’d not had in a long time.

Dipping his fingers down, he eased one in and then another while shifting his mouth to her clit. As he stroked her with his fingers, he sucked at the nub until her body was shaking against his and lifting from the edge of the bed, seeking release.

“That’s it, Sam. Come for me. Let yourself go,” he urged and continued to work his fingers along the slickness of her vagina.

“God, Zack. It feels so good. So good,” she said, eyes closed. Her body arching toward his.

“Come for me,” he urged yet again and stroked her harder, feeling the first glimmers of her climax tightening around his fingers. Knowing she was so close, but holding back, almost as if afraid of letting go.

“I’m here to catch you, Sam. I’m here,” he said and bent his head and kissed her clit again.

Her release burst against him a second later.

Her back arched ever higher and she keened with pleasure, but he wasn’t done satisfying her just yet.

He shot to his feet and positioned himself at her center, his cock nudging the damp folds.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “Yes. Please, yes.”

Sam bit her lower lip as Zack drove in and her release climbed ever higher. Her body shook and she could feel herself tightening around him, drawing him into her core.

Drawing him into a part of herself she hadn’t given anyone access to in a long time.

“God, you’re so beautiful. So perfect,” he said as he paused deep within her.

She was far from perfect. She was broken in so many ways, but with him . . .

Over the many months of knowing him, she’d come to believe that she could be different with him. That she could maybe be whole again.

Maybe . . .

All thought fled her mind as he finally moved, drawing her up again into the pleasure of the physical. Of being with this very special man who despite his pain and his scars, could live and love again.

He pumped in and out slowly at first and her climax ramped up with each thrust until she was rising up off the bed, meeting his every thrust. Begging for him to take them both over since the passion was almost too much to bear.

A long low groan escaped from him and he dug his fingers deeper into her hips, holding her tight as he increased his pace. His flesh slapping against hers until with one sharp drive, he took them over, his gaze locked on hers.

He was so beautiful, she thought, reaching up across the fine lines on his sweat damp chest to the back of his neck to draw him down to her.

She kissed him, opening her mouth against his. Opening so much more with the gentle play of her mouth, offering him thanks and peace and . . . love.

Yeah, I could love this man, she thought as he returned the kiss in a way that made her feel treasured.

After long moments of the kiss, he shifted away slightly and asked, “You okay?”

She smiled and nodded. “Way more than okay.”

He grinned, that sexy boyish full of life grin that she’d seen earlier as he surfed.

“Would you like to stay the night?”

Embrace The Night: Chapter Nine

Zack couldn’t imagine anything better than spending the hours with her in her bed. Except maybe waking up in the morning with her beside him, all sleep warm and mussed.

“I’d love to. Let me just do one thing,” he said and with regret, pulled out of her to head to the nearby bathroom.

Inside he washed up and grabbed a washcloth, wet it with warm water. When he returned, she was still on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.

He smiled, joined her, and with tender strokes, he bathed her center with the washcloth.

“That feels good. Thank you,” she said and cupped his cheek.

Grinning, he said, “I have to admit that at first I didn’t really like getting a sponge bath. Maybe it was ‘cause I was feeling like shit and wallowing in self-pity. But I got to like them. They were relaxing.”

He turned and tossed the washcloth back into the bathroom. “I’ll pick that up later,” he said.

She rubbed her hand across the lean muscles of his chest and with a sexy purr she said, “Or maybe I can give you a bath later.”

His dick jerked with the thought, but it was way too soon for another round. He wanted time with her that wasn’t just about having sex.

Fuck me, I’ve gone all sensitive guy, he thought, but grinned with the pleasure filling him.

“I’d like that, but first, how about we just rest a little.” He bit back a comment about cuddling because that would totally cost him the last of his manhood, but shit, he did want to cuddle with her.

She scooted up toward the headboard, ripped down the sheets and patted the space beside her.

He sat on the edge of the bed and hesitated. He didn’t sleep with the prosthetic, but taking it off now was awkward.

“Could you . . . ?” he stopped short, suddenly not ready for the kind of intimacy he’d been anticipating just moments earlier.

He felt the weight on the mattress shift and shot a look over his shoulder. She had flipped onto her side, her back to him, obviously aware that he’d needed those few seconds of privacy.

Breathing easier, he depressed the buttons to break the vacuum that helped keep his leg on and eased it off. Then he removed the sleeve that protected his skin and create a seal for the prosthetic. There was immediate relief from the pressure of both the sleeve and artificial leg against him and a sense of freedom that almost matched that of having it on and being able to walk again.

Slipping beneath the sheets, he spooned against her back, wrapped an arm around her waist, and dragged her close. She was a perfect fit against him with her sweet butt right against his cock, her long lean back nestled all along his torso and her head tucked just beneath his chin. Heat immediately built between them and he savored the feeling of having her beside him.

Sam rested her hand against his, enjoying the warmth of his body all along hers and the pleasant weight of his arm around her waist, keeping her near.

I could get used to this, she thought, grateful that she’d taken a chance to explore the attraction between them. Wondering if she could be brave enough to let it be something that grew beyond this one night of pleasure.

“This is nice,” he said, echoing her thoughts.

“Mmm,” she murmured, loathe to say a word and shatter the peace she was feeling at that moment.

He sighed deeply and the action brought them ever closer. She snuggled back even tighter against him and let herself melt into the moment.

Long minutes passed. The arm around her waist relaxed and he fell away a little, but kept her tucked to his side. His deep even breaths confirmed that he had fallen asleep.

She let herself drift into that place between wakefulness and sleep where everything was not quite as clear and time just seemed to tick by in slow motion.

She spent a lot of time in that in between world at night, barely asleep, but not quite awake.

She hadn’t really been able to fully sleep since Afghanistan and that fateful night she’d come alert to find herself in the middle of an unexpected fire fight.

They were supposed to have been far from danger during their patrol. No one had reported any Taliban in their area and the river patrol she’d been on had confirmed that.

They’d been so wrong.

The Taliban had come out of nowhere. Too many of them to fight and she’d been taken prisoner.

She fought back the images of the days that followed. Of the beatings and threats of rape. She was surprised they hadn’t done that right away, although they’d certainly taken their liberties as she lay there bound and naked.

Freedom had luckily come quickly as the Army had scrambled a team to rescue them. In less than a week she was back on her ship where she had been serving with Mark.

On the outside the bruises and scrapes had healed and she’d put on a brave face to not show what was inside.

Fear.

Pain.

Doubt and oh man, doubt was the absolute worst of the emotions.

Like Mark had said earlier that day, any decision was better than indecision.

In the years since her capture and torture, she’d just been running in place. Afraid to make a choice because on some level she held herself responsible for what had happened that night.

She’d been the leader on that Riverine Squadron mission and she’d trusted the intelligence she’d been given. She’d trusted her own observations about the lack of any threat.

She’d been wrong on both counts and she and her men had paid the price. Luckily without any deaths, but not without all of them being wounded in one way or another. Whether physically or emotionally damaged, she felt responsible.

Turning, she faced Zack, who lay asleep on his back.

A hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth in sleep, making him look more youthful. Maybe because at twenty-eight he was still young. Younger than her by half-a-dozen years, not that it mattered considering what they’d already experienced in their lives.

They were both old beyond their physical years.

His upper torso was bare, revealing the planes and valleys of his lean muscles and the evidence of the trauma he’d suffered.

A magnificent body despite the scars. Maybe even more impressive because of them.

She traced the edges of his smile with her fingertip and the smile grew broader as his eyes fluttered open.

He turned onto his side and propped his head up on one arm. “I can tell you’re deep in thought.”

Puzzled, she was about to ask him why, but he quickly said, “You have a very expressive face. Poker is definitely not your game.”

She smiled. “No, it isn’t. The guys cleaned me out my first time.”

“What were you thinking about?” he asked and bracketed his hand around her waist. He gently stroked the tender flesh there with his thumb.

“You,” she said and laid her hand on his chest. She lightly ran her fingers along the network of scars there as she moved downward before laying her hand along the swell of his hip.

“How did it happen?” she asked and couldn’t fail to notice the way his body stiffened beneath her touch and he tightened his hold on her.

The smile on his lips thinned into a harsh line, but then he blew out a rough breath and the words tumbled from him.

“We were on a mission in Kandahar. Rolling down the road when we started taking fire. An RPG landed close by, disabling our Humvee and we had to run for cover. We made it to a nearby building when I realized two of my men had been hit and were out in the open, easy targets for whoever was firing on us. I told my men to provide cover for me and with one other man, we ran out to get our guys. We’d almost made it back to the building when an explosion sent us flying. I remember landing hard and feeling heat all over my body. Then I blacked out.”

She ran her hand up and down his side, offering comfort. He took a long shuddering breath and held it for a second before finishing. His gaze locked on hers, gauging her emotions.

“When I woke up it was in an Army hospital. My men had been able to fight off whoever had attacked us and gotten all of us back to base alive. I was grateful we hadn’t lost anyone, but then reality hit. Reality and pain. With every breath, there was pain until I finally started to heal.”

Healing. Something she hadn’t really done in the many years since her own ordeal. But Zack’s story brought hope and more.

“I admire what you’ve gone through, Zack. How strong you are,” she said and looked away, unable to face his intense gaze.

With tenderness, he put his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin and applied gentle pressure to urge her head upward. “You’re strong, too, Samantha. You’ve survived and when you’re ready to move on, you will.”

She shook her head and sniffled. “I’m not sure I can. I feel so . . . lost sometimes.”

Something tightened around his heart at the thought of her pain. He cradled her jaw and swiped his thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear. “You’re not alone. You have all your friends. Me. I’m here to help.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips. “You can’t even begin to understand how much you’ve already helped, Zack. Tonight . . . it’s the first time in so long that I feel almost normal.”

He slipped his thumb across that faint smile and offered up a big grin. “I feel the same, but it doesn’t just have to be about tonight, Sam. We can hold onto this feeling for more than just this night.”

She wanted to hold onto it. She wanted to embrace tonight and the promise of tomorrow that he brought into her life.

“I want that. I want you. Tonight. Tomorrow. For as long as we want,” she said, leaned close and kissed him.

He returned the kiss, one filled with hope and promise. A slow gentle kiss that breathed life back into her as desire grew.

She eased her thigh over his, opening herself to him. Reaching down, she guided him into her center and with a long, tardy thrust, he filled her, but then held steady.

This time it was about being one.

He took his time, touching and caressing her. Kissing her over and over until they were both trembling and aching with need. Only then did he finally move, but it was a slow retreat followed by a determined advance as they locked gazes to not miss a second of their loving.

She couldn’t look away as with each shift of their bodies passion rose ever higher. She trailed her hands all across his body, admiring his strength. Appreciating the play of muscles beneath sun-kissed skin.

He cradled her back, holding her close. The tips of her breasts brushing against his chest until he reached around and caressed her nipples, tugging and tweaking them until she needed more.

With a gentle shove of her hand, she urged him onto his back and rode him. Leaned forward so he could take the tight nubs of her breasts into his mouth and suck them, the strong pull of his lips creating a sympathetic tug between her legs.

She rocked on him, her movements growing wilder as she sought her release and his.

Zack moved his hands to her hips, guiding her. Helping her drive down on him as he raised his hips and thrust up into her, lost in the feel of her. In the taste of her, nipples so hard and tight against his lips.

He groaned against her skin as his balls constricted and the swell of his climax rose ever higher until he just couldn’t hold back anymore.

With a roll she was beneath him and he pounded into her, watching her expressive face as the powerful thrusts rocked her.

She raised her knees and pushed against him, deepening his penetration and as her body fisted around him, he lost it.

He came inside her, so powerfully that the edges of his gaze dimmed for a moment, but he held on, wanting to see her join him. Somehow finding the control to move again and take her over the edge, her back arching, her gaze meeting his as she climaxed.

He held still, buried deep. Her body holding him like an embrace.

She ran her hands across his back and urged him down, cradling him to her for long minutes.

“I’m too heavy,” he finally said and went to move, but she caressed his back and said, “You feel just right.”

Despite her comment, he shifted them so that they were face-to-face again, still joined until he eventually slipped out of her.

By then her long, regular breaths and the lax weight of her body confirmed that she was finally getting some rest.

He joined her, allowing himself to drift off until the first rays of light warmed his back and cast shadows along the opposite wall of the room.

She was still tucked against him, sheltered by his body against the sunlight.

He hated waking her, but nature called and he wanted to surprise her with breakfast in bed. Maybe take her up on that bath she had mentioned earlier.

Easing from her side, she flopped onto her back, still asleep, and he hurried from the room.

Embrace The Night: Chapter Ten

The enticing aroma of bacon awakened her and surprise settled in as she sat up in bed.

She had slept. A very real, deep, and peaceful sleep.

But she didn’t have time to ponder it farther as he sauntered into the bedroom carrying a tray covered with plates of food and mugs of coffee.

Her stomach grumbled noisily with hunger and she laid her hand on her midsection as embarrassed heat rushed to her face.

“Sorry, I’m hungry and that smells delicious.”

He grinned and placed the tray across her lap. Bent and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

“I like a woman who’s not afraid to admit to what she wants.”

“I want some of those pancakes and the eggs and the bacon and the pork roll and good God, how many people did you plan on feeding?” she teased and grabbed a fork.

“I’m a growing boy and I’m very hungry,” he said and from the heat in his gaze it was obvious he was hungry for more than food.

“Eat up. We wouldn’t want you too weak for what I’ve got planned for you later.”

He forked up a big bite of pancakes, but paused with the syrupy mess in mid-air. “Just what did you have in mind?” he asked just as a big drop of syrup fell off the pancake and onto his chest.

She smiled, leaned forward, and licked the syrup off his skin. It was a tasty mix of maple sweetness and skin saltiness. Her lick dragged a rough inhalation from him and her smile broadened.

“I think I promised you a bath for starters, but if you don’t mind, I need your help with something else first.”

He narrowed his gaze and considered her, chewing on his food thoughtfully. “Sure. Whatever you’d like.”

She grabbed the mug of coffee and held it in her hands to keep them from shaking. What she was asking seemed simple, but it wasn’t. It meant she might be finally be taking yet another step toward being whole.

“I could use some help with those boxes downstairs. It’s long past time I put that stuff somewhere,” she said.

His gaze widened with surprise. “Are you sure?”

Am I? she thought for a fleeting moment before answering. “We said we wanted this to be about more than just last night. To do that, I need to put the past behind me and take another step toward the future.”

“Another step?” he asked, his gaze skipping over her features, trying to understand her statement.

She smiled tenderly and cradled his jaw. “You were the first step, Zack. Being with you has shown me what I was missing thanks to my fear and indecision.”

He covered her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “The feeling is mutual, Samantha. You weren’t the only one who was afraid of that first step. Together we are stronger.”

Leaning forward, she danced a kiss across his lips and whispered, “Together. I like the sound of that.”

“So do I. Breakfast can wait, don’t you think?”

She answered him with a kiss that left no doubt about what the future might hold for them.

Together they would embrace everything in life that their one night of courage had made possible.

—The End—

About the Author

Caridad Pineiro

NY Times and USA Today Bestseller Caridad Pineiro is a Jersey Girl who writes romantic suspense, military romance, contemporary romance, paranormal romance, and vampire suspense. Caridad loves to travel, cook, & spend time with family & friends. Caridad is the author of nearly 50 novels/novellas. Caridad writes dark and sexy novels and novellas for those who live to love on the edge. Her sweet, but still naughty side, Charity Pineiro, writes contemporary romances packed with emotion and humor. For more information on Caridad/Charity, please visit www.caridad.com or www.rebornvampirenovels.com. You can also find Caridad/Charity on:

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Additional Books by Caridad Pineiro

JUST ONE NIGHT

TAKE A CHANCE BOX SET

NASHVILLE SEAL

by Sharon Hamilton

Nashville Seal: Chapter One

The bright stage lights always set Jameson Daniels’ nerves on edge, until he began to feel the music in his bones. He covered up his shyness, closing his eyes and falling into the rhythm of his music. Then he felt comfortable enough looking out into the crowd he knew to be mostly women, about twenty deep, standing as close to the stage as his security would allow. Though he wore his Transitions shades, in time his eyes adjusted so he could see their gleaming faces. Flashing cameras still made him jump.

The music always playing their warmup when he walked out with his guitar, his rum and coke discreetly placed close by. But as he stepped up to the microphone, the band would quit treading water and begin some serious groove on. He preferred the heat level hot to begin with. The slow sexy songs came after he was good and sweaty, his voice becoming raspy. That’s what the crowd wanted. He always aimed to please.

Playing at Halfway to Heaven was a trophy experience for him, as it was for thousands of other up-and-coming Nashville stars who would sacrifice their right leg to have a gig here. If need be, they’d hobble around on stage, just as the old timers did who now drank too much. Drunk or sober, the audience loved them.

At twenty-five, he was perhaps starting late, and he was new to Nashville. But playing at Halfway to Heaven did two things, in order of importance. First, it gave him the chance to meet up with a producer who might buy his songs, or, better yet, offer him a record deal. Second, as the name implied, his social life and sexual needs were satisfied every night with a hot girl who would boost his confidence and stroke his ego, as well as a very important body part. He thought the venue name was well-chosen.

The bright faces of the lovelies cheered him up just as the band gave him that kick of confidence. He began his theme song,

Bring, bring it on, baby,

The night is still young…

He smiled, seeing his old friend, Thomas Becker, bellying up to the bar and raising his drink to him. Thomas had told him, “Shoot, Jameson, any little lady in the audience who didn’t have the idea of going home with you tonight sure had one after hearing that song. That’s your fuckin’ siren song. ‘Come fuck me!’”

Thomas had been right here, his cowboy boots standing where Jameson’s were now. And he’d lived in the limelight, basked in the shadow of Jameson’s light. He was Jameson’sometimes warmup act, a friend who didn’t want to steal from him, just envied and liked him, and didn’t expect a handout. And as fast as Thomas’ sunk, Jameson’s star was on the rise.

Jameson tipped his hat to Thomas, the gesture returned. Then the girls started to scream, arms in the air, as he continued.

We were made for lovin’

We’re gonna have it all.

He didn’t look for a single face in particular as the sets played on. The band was having a good night, laughing and improvising with each other. The crowd was especially loud and responsive. He tried to take a short break, and they kept begging him to stay on stage, so he accepted someone’s shirt, wiped the sweat from his brow and chest, threw it back, and continued.

His break came twenty minutes late. Back in his dressing room, he set his guitar in the stand, removed his hat, and lifted his rum and coke—already prepared for him—to his forehead, as he sat back and propped up his feet.

Music filtered in through the dressing room door as it opened a crack. She had on impossibly tight jeans and red cowboy boots. Her white shirt was wet, sticking to a noteworthy chest. When she gave him that shy smile he could see the courage it took to sneak into his dressing room and admired her boldness, but remained seated.

Arlen Strickland, Jameson’s head of security, barged into the room behind the little blonde. “Sorry, Jameson. She slipped past me.” He had a hand on her forearm as the girl frowned and tented her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Daniels. Just wanted an autograph. That’s all.” Her big eyes flashed up to him in what he knew to be an obvious lie. It tickled him. He was attracted to ladies on the forward side because it masked some of his own shyness.

“Nah, let her stay. She’s not bothering me. Go ahead, I’ll bring her out in a bit, Arlen.”

Jameson stood, pressing his palm against the door as his guard left the little alcove. He caught her admiring the posters of past concerts and other legendary stars plastered over all the walls. It wasn’t a glamorous place, but it held so much history Jameson felt as if the music was coming from deep within the walls of the place.

At last she was done with her perusal and focused on him.

“Well?” he asked, towering over her and seeing her shake. She had bucked up her courage and now was considering whether it was a good thing. He always enjoyed playing with them a little, so he didn’t speak and let her nervousness take over.

“Oh, gosh. I never thought I could actually sneak into your dressing room. I mean, my friend told me she’d hid out in—I can’t remember now who it was. Someone big. And I just thought I’d give it a try.”

Jameson didn’t care for the comment about “someone big” but let it slide. She was here, and he only had a few minutes.

“So you were in luck. Normally Arlen doesn’t let anyone this close. I guess you were a little too fast for him.”

She swallowed hard. Her cheeks blushed, and that she was having a hard time looking him in the eyes.

“And what did you come here for, missy?” He held her chin with his thumb and forefinger, raising it up so their eyes could meet. Hers were darting all over the place and then finally landed on his lips. She inhaled, and for a second, he thought she’d back up. He tilted his head to the side. “Hmmm? I’m waiting.”

“Could…” She swallowed again, let her eyes close for a second, and then pressed through her comment. “Could you sign my shirt?”

“I’d love to.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened.

“Of course. Now, just where do you want me to sign it?”

“Um.” She didn’t move as his fingers left her chin. “Right here?” She placed her palm over her right breast.

“Right there.”

“Yessir, Mr. Daniels.”

He growled. “Now that’s not a very nice thing to say. You ever hear them announce me as Mr. Daniels? That would be my daddy, if I had one, that is.”

He stepped closer, mostly to see if she would shrink away, but she stood firm, which allowed the front of his thighs to touch hers. He enjoyed the heat and the shaking he felt there. “Since I’m gonna kiss a very intimate body part of yours, don’t you think you should call me Jameson?”

“Kiss?” Her eyes rounded, but she didn’t retreat.

“I always kiss before I give an autograph there. Matter of fact, I insist.” He snaked his palm up under her white cotton shirt, laying it flat against her bosom, and then gave it a gentle squeeze. His pants tightened as he savored the feel of her smooth flesh.

Without taking his eyes off her, he continued to massage under her bra until he could pinch her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes and let her lips part. It was too much of an invitation.

His mouth covered hers as he pinched her again. Her little moan was delicious, so he did it again, harder. His tongue played with hers as he inhaled her, commanded her breathing, and smelled her arousal.

“Nice,” he whispered. He tucked his face down, lifted her shirt and bra, leaned over, and placed her nipple between his teeth.

She nearly fell backwards, but he held her steady with his left hand splayed at her waist. As he continued kissing and running his tongue over her nipple, he shifted his palm, pressing lower to draw her body closer to him, her legs on either side of his thigh, and let her rock her sex against him.

“Was this what you had in mind, darlin’?”

“Had hoped…”

But then he was kissing her again, deep. He kissed her neck as she wrapped her legs around him. He hiked her up around his hip line and, after two long steps, pressed her into the loveseat in the corner.

His goal was to jack her up so hot, she’d do anything with him tonight after the show. He unbuttoned her jeans, slid them down her hips, then lower, moved her panties aside, and put his forefinger deep inside her. She arched, giving him full access.

“Is this what you came for, baby?”

“Yes,” she whispered to a pillow that had fallen against her turned face. “Oh God, I never dreamed…”

Jameson had unbuckled his pants when he heard the knock on the door. He hadn’t locked it, so he stood up, swearing under his breath as he adjusted his clothes. He addressed the crack in the door quickly, telling Arlen he’d be right out. His cock had turned to granite, and he’d have to play that way the whole set. It actually was something he didn’t mind at all.

She hadn’t moved—her eyes still closed, her pants still down about her thighs, showing him the v of her white panties between her legs. “Sorry, darlin’ I need to run. You can come by later, if you want.”

She scrambled to her feet. “Can I come to your hotel after the show?”

He wanted to hesitate, as if he was considering whether or not it was a wise decision. But he knew all along he’d be letting her in.

“Of course. Besides, I never finished that autograph,” he whispered as he kissed her again then released her.

She fluffed her hair and exited the door.

Jameson combed his hair quickly, patted on a little more aftershave and deodorant, gargled with salt water; then he downed the remainder of his rum and coke. He put his hat on last and looked at himself in the mirror.

What a life he lived. Who wouldn’t want to do this every night? It was exciting and fun. Most men would kill to have the lifestyle he had. He felt as if he were King of the Road, Rocket Man in the bedroom, and Elvis on stage every night.

In the hallway, heading toward the stage, he hear them cheering as his name was announced. With his guitar strapped over his shoulder, he adjusted his pants then his hat, took a deep breath, and walked out into the lights and the screams of strangers all wanting either his body or his music. He didn’t care which one it was, as long as they wanted him. He lived for these times.

If he was lucky, the confidence and power he felt right now would last until morning.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Two

The hotel rooms they booked him in were identical: a chain that was adequate and clean, but the kind of place where Jameson could never tell what city he was staying in. Every lobby and room looked familiar to him. Even the lingering trace of cigarette smoke that wasn’t supposed to be there had that acrid scent they always did.

He flicked on the TV out of habit, volume turned low, and made himself a drink from the minibar. After kicking off his boots, he picked up his guitar, sat back on the king-sized bed, and began to explore a tune he’d had running around his head all day. It was a new song forming, new words floating by, making him pick up the spiral bound book and jot down notes.

He knew he was biding time until the little blonde from this evening dropped by, so he wasn’t surprised when he heard the soft knock on his door.

It wasn’t who he expected. She was tall and curvaceous, but not heavy. Her shiny dark hair hung shoulder length. She was wearing a red leather jacket with fringe up the arms, her arms pressed to her body, sending her chest out further, as she shivered in the cold hallway.

Jameson’s rule was always the same. If they were attractive to him, he’d let them in. If not, he’d make an excuse that he was too tired and take a pass. This one was exceptional and worth standing up the little blonde for.

“Well, come on in.” He always turned on the charm, used the same words he always did, and stepped aside.

He didn’t know why women always tried to take in the room at a cheap motel, telling themselves lies about their purpose in dropping by. I was always this way with every other strange and exciting liaison he’d had over the past three years. She was no different, pausing in the middle of the room as if taking stock of him. He quickly checked the hallway to see if blondie was on her way and found it empty.

He remembered to put the “do not disturb” sign in the key slot just before he let it slam shut behind him.

She was taking off her jacket, revealing long legs and a fine ass. The view was equally stunning when she turned, her red lips forming a smirk. While looking at his sock-encased feet, she dropped her jacket on the bed. Without saying a word, she began unbuttoning her plaid, red flannel shirt, watching him watching her.

“If it makes a difference to you, my name is Heather,” she sighed, as she licked her forefinger and let it travel between her breasts, burying it under the flannel on her left.

“That’s a pretty name for a pretty lady.”

Her smile was pleasing, warm and sultry. “Your music makes me want to take my clothes off and get nekked,” she drawled. He thought Texas, perhaps.

“I like that, too.” He meant it. “What was your favorite song?”

“Other Side of the Mountain.” She swayed back and forth, swinging her shoulders as she slowly showed her midriff, then her red bra. Soon, she’d removed her shirt and begun sliding her jeans down tanned thighs. Her matching red thong appeared so small compared to the size of her bra on top, which was doing double-time trying to keep her tits from springing loose. Her abdomen was flat and well-toned. As if she were a practiced beauty queen, she walked toward him without an ounce of bashfulness present.

Her fingers unsnapped his shirt as her thighs touched his. She placed a kiss in the middle of his chest, rolled her tongue to his left nipple, laved it with a sharp nibble, and followed up with a kiss. His hands found her soft peach of an ass, so perfectly formed for him.

Her hungry gaze snagged him with her dark eyes. She licked her lips, and purred, “I’ll bet you hear that all the time, though. You make women want to take their clothes off every day, don’t you?”

“Right now, Heather, I don’t remember. I like that you’re taking yours off. Maybe you could help me with mine?”

“If I did, would you sing to me?”

“No, honey, I don’t do that. That’s for when I’m on stage.”

She had removed his shirt and was working on his belt buckle, then undid the buttons at his fly.

“Couldn’t we pretend you’re on stage here?” She slid his pants down, allowing a red fingernail to travel up the side of his thigh afterward. He wondered if she was going to laugh at the fact he preferred wearing red, white, and blue boxers, but she merely inserted her delicate fingers inside the front opening and squeezed his cock. “If I was really nice to you?” She dropped to her knees, leaned forward, and put the head of his penis in her mouth and sucked, rolling her tongue over him, as her mouth pulled him deep inside her.

It was really nice, as she’d promised, and he sent himself a warning, feeling like he might prematurely burst and come in her mouth, ruining his plans for the evening. “I just sing on stage, darlin’, but I’d be happy to sing you something special tomorrow night, if you stop by the show.”

“What kind of a woman inspires you to write such a beautiful song? And it’s so sad, but I love it,” she mumbled, as her tongue played with his tip.

Jameson had had enough. He didn’t intend to talk about anything that had to do with him or what made him do things. He wanted to fuck her, had wanted to fuck for the past four hours, ever since the encounter with the little blonde in his dressing room. Now he regretted not fucking her because he was almost too aroused. If they played too much longer, he wouldn’t achieve the satisfaction he was seeking, for both of them.

He grabbed a condom he kept in the nightstand, pulled her to the bed, lying back against the pillows, his erection so thick it was nearly causing him pain.

“Let me,” she whispered as he opened the packet. Her fingers smoothed the ribbed plastic over his cock, raising one eyebrow as she did so. “I like the way you prepare.”

“Always, darlin’.”

He brought her up on top of him, massaging the lips of her sex with his fingers, pulling aside the elastic and sliding her over his hardness until he hooked himself at her opening. Her knees at the sides of his hips, she arched back as she rose up. Then he grabbed her hips and forced her down on him.

Her long sorry moan was achingly sweet, telegraphing her need and the satisfaction of having him deep inside her. He helped her body move up and down on him, each time arching his own hips to receive the depth of her warm channel. She bounced as he impaled her, her full breasts kissed by warm, pink knotted nipples she squeezed herself.

He could smell her arousal through the sweaty heat they were making, flesh slapping against flesh, as he tried to give her more than she could handle. Yet she wanted more.

He was going to explode when her muscles began a rolling wave, milking his cock. He pressed one thumb down against her clitoris where they were joined, and she unraveled.

He tossed her onto her belly, roughly spread her knees apart, and lapped her juices from behind as she shuddered and convulsed in front of him. Her salty taste nearly had him spilling, so he grabbed a pillow, inserting it under her belly and raising her rump up at the perfect angle, plunged in deep, and held. Catching a breath, he pulled back and then rammed inside again, holding. She melted beneath him, totally conquered, releasing and clamping down on him.

He bit the side of her neck, her shoulder. She dug her nails into his thigh, so he spanked her. Her muffled “Oh” drove him crazy. He reached under and rubbed his forefinger against her nub, causing her to bounce and shudder until he’d wrung her out. His seed flowed, the satisfying release taking him over the threshold into a dream state.

He was lulled to near sleep with the sounds of her heavy breathing. At last, they rolled to the side, and he buried his face in the hair at the back of her neck, and in that perfumed forest, he began to fall asleep. He was fairly sure he’d never slept with her before. He didn’t always remember faces, but he remembered bodies. Still, the routine was as familiar as if they’d been partners for years, like a memory was trying to surface he’d long tucked away. Maybe he was remembering the lady from North Carolina who had become the standard bearer for him.

Just before he allowed himself to let go and tumble into the deep satisfying rest he needed, he heard the faint knocking on his hotel room door.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Three

Heather was a fragrant, fading memory, having left in the early morning hours. He noticed that on the way to the elevator, she slipped something on the fourth finger of her left hand when she didn’t realize he was looking, just before she safely tucked herself behind the elevator doors.

He figured half the women he slept with were married, about to be married, or about to be divorced. Those ladies were probably a bit safer for him, to be honest. He’d enjoyed himself and hoped she did too. There wasn’t any expectation of a future meeting, and that worked just fine for him.

Early morning was one of his favorite times of the day. Alone at last, naked and satisfied, resting in the sheets with their lingering combined perfume. Sometimes, he’d stay up and write songs or pick on some chords he was working on. His confidence was fired up. He told himself this was a good thing that he took away as much as he gave in these exciting encounters. There was nothing better than to feel he’d satisfied a woman’s fantasies. Nothing better than to be the object of her fantasy, even if it was only for one night. Well, sometimes, two or three. Those were some of his best memories.

He remembered that one particular little lady from North Carolina he used to wonder about. It happened when he first came to Nashville. Clean fresh face, pretty smile. Their lovemaking was slow and arduous, and after all these years, he still remembered how she cried when she came beneath him. He didn’t want them to cry, but her genuine tears made him feel oddly powerful. Making love to her made him feel clean. It was nice when that happened, and it wasn’t always that way with his girls, not that it wasn’t pleasant.

He just never had to go home with some of the girls his friend, Thomas, did. Jameson always attracted the hotties. But Thomas always had a bit of a grey cloud hanging over his head, a little sadness, so his choices were limited. He used to laugh, “Jameson, I’m still going to bed at two with a ten, and waking up at ten with a two.” It made him smile that even Thomas was able to find someone to spend the night with. It was hard being alone, being on stage every night, and then being alone afterward.

Jameson and the little girl from North Carolina had spent a whole week together one time he got booked into one of the gigs in Charlotte—the last time he saw her. She had stayed out of sight in the corner of the front row, didn’t seem to mind when other girls threw themselves at him. He had tried not to search for her in the shadows, wondering if she saw what the other ladies were doing. Embarrassing themselves. If she had objected, she didn’t say anything about it afterward.

She had even introduced him to her parents, whom he had a hard time facing, but she insisted. They had never talked about getting married, just a few lovely days together. He had peered into her father’s eyes and told him, non-verbally, that he wasn’t going to do his daughter any harm. He could tell by the way they shook hands that the man believed him. He preferred to think that he’d sent her halfway to heaven during those days. Her parents’ horse farm had been a wonderful rendezvous for them when they’d gone to Europe that one spring. The fields of flowers, tasty wine, and picnic baskets full of home-baked goodies were just some of the memories he had. He lived the life most men could only dream of. Did she remember him? He wondered.

Of course she did. They all did. His Facebook page was filled with friend requests, both old friends and friends wanting to be more, and women he’d bedded who were now married or in the process of divorce. He had to be careful accepting some of them. Didn’t want to give them the wrong impression. He had to stop accepting the midnight instant messages, too. They stalked him. There were the occasional husbands who asked him to give their wife a thrill they felt they could no longer give. These were good men who had been injured or lacked confidence or just wanted to do something for their wives because they loved them. Jameson understood this, but never agreed. He just couldn’t knowingly take what wasn’t his to take. And then there was that model from Florida who wanted him to sleep with her fourteen year old daughter.

“I know you’ll be gentle with her. Make her first time memorable.”

There wasn’t any kind of money or favor that could make him do that. It had nothing to do with how sweet the little one was, or how scared, or how he knew he could please her, give her something she’d dream about forever. It had to do with his own honor and integrity.

These requests were becoming more urgent and more frequent. That was the part of the fame that was beginning to take its toll.

He slept in late; ordering a big breakfast and lots of coffee. He read the paper, listened to a CD a friend had given him, and padded around in the white robe left by the hotel.

He practiced for about an hour, then took a nap, and woke up in the late afternoon, taking his time to prepare for his show. He returned phone calls and checked his email and Facebook accounts. There was a message from Blondie.

Sorry I missed you. I’d like to be part of your plans for this evening if you’re available. No worries, if not. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She signed her name, Karen.

He was happy she didn’t show her claws, or accuse him of standing her up. It was wise she didn’t mention it and let him know her interest was, if anything, stronger. That was always so attractive in a woman.

The crowd was even larger this evening. One of his band members had been stopped and tagged with a DUI so a newbie base guitarist was brought in. The kid looked hardly eighteen, but he was obviously a virtuoso. Jameson knew that most of the guys in his group were talented enough to go out on their own some day. But for now, they were the club band, working with artists who didn’t have their own entourage. They were there to make him look good and make the customers stay longer to buy more drinks.

Making hay while I can.

The music business was fluid. Back-up singers and musicians would one day become huge country stars. It was random and rigged. There were lots of things one had to pay attention to, but the break-out was still sheer luck. Lady Luck was usually on Jameson’s side these days, a luscious broad of a gal so generous with her assets and her gifts. So while he was waiting, kneeling at the altar of her fair smile and golden touch, the ride was real fun. Better than he deserved.

He saw Blondie front and center, and when their eyes connected, she made her way back to the bar. Thomas was there on his usual perch. He’d not been Jameson’s warm-up tonight because the club owner was trying to promote a new girl group. Sipping on his third drink, or more, he sidled up to Blondie, and Jameson noticed she gave him the cold shoulder.

At the end of the first set before break, he gave the crowd one of the songs they’d come to hear, his new anthem,

Hope you find what you’re looking for

Maybe this time you won’t come up short…

He studied her swing on the stool, her impossibly long legs and tight blue jeans flaring out at the thighs and hips as she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Her red boots matched her lipstick. She’d gone for a siren look, when he preferred the innocence of the night before better, but it didn’t matter. She was appearing hotter on the stool as he sang, and that was always a good thing. The more heat she radiated back to Jameson, the drunker Thomas acted. His old musician friend was sitting next to someone he’d never have a shot at in a million years. It was just the luck of his hand. When he was young, he didn’t spend his years wisely. Now that he was older, he couldn’t reclaim those days or repurchase his dignity. It was all gone.

Jameson made a mental note to spend some time with his old friend, whose hair was allowed to grow longer and whose eyes were looking wilder.

At the break, Jameson wasn’t surprised when Arlen poked his head in.

“You up for the little fan-girl moment, boss?”

“Red boots?”

“Just like you like ‘em. Red boots, blonde hair. Nice chest. The works, I’d say.” Arlen gave him a wink of admiration. “You certainly know how to get ‘em. I think she’s the one from last night, but I wasn’t lookin’.”

Jameson tossed back his drink and set his guitar down, but didn’t stand. “Sure you weren’t,” he winked at his former Marine bodyguard. “Send her in.”

She was obviously working hard tonight not to be forgotten. Everything was exaggerated. Her shirt was unbuttoned dangerously deep. Her cheeks blushed bright reddish pink, her lips full and bright red. Even her nail polish was red. She leaned against the dressing room door and looked like the perfect kind of eye candy he needed for the night. He’d be hard again for the entire second set, for the second night in a row.

“Missed you last night, darlin’.” It was the right thing to say.

She examined the toe of her right boot and smiled down upon it. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. You must have needed your beauty sleep.”

Sleep was the last thing he’d needed. Right now, he needed to be inside her, but he would wait, needed to wait, and loved the waiting.

“I agree. So you’re Karen?”

“I am.”

He stood, holding out his hand for a proper shake. “I’m Jameson. Glad to know you. Hope to know you better later on,” he said as they shook hands. He leaned into her frame, still leaning against the door, and gave her a long, languid kiss. She wasn’t all over him, which he appreciated. Her lips and tongue and breathing told him what she had in mind, and it was perfect.

“Not gonna let you get me all hot and bothered like last night,” she whispered to his ear, and then kissed him there. “That was not fair. Not fair at all.”

“No, it wasn’t. I’m a wicked man.” He did believe that statement. Standing her up last night just added to the intensity he was feeling now for the encounter they would have tonight.

“I’m counting on it.”

He watched her eyes smile before her lips did. His dick was granite. He widened his stance to give himself room, but she cupped him, giving him a little squeeze.

“You’re still room four-oh-two?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thought maybe I had the wrong room. I’ll be quicker this time.”

A part of him didn’t like that comment. Did she know he’d chosen someone else who’d gotten there first? He didn’t like being that kind of a man. His ego had made him jump for the first person in line. It worked out this time, but a shadow fell over that decision. He was staring into a mirror and asking a tough question.

“You can take all the time you want, sweetheart. Nice to wait for things, sometimes. Last night, I was just tired.” He hated lying. There was shadow number two. What the hell was going on? Bad timing for a sense of conscience.

“Glad you’re rested then, cowboy.”

She threw her arms up over his shoulders, her soft tits pressing against him so tight he could feel her knotted nipples. She allowed him to move her ass into his groin and nibble at her neck. She smelled delicious. Her flawless white skin tasted as if it was dusted in sugar. He wondered if she tasted that good all over and guessed she did.

Back out on stage, Jameson watched two suited men standing at the back of the crowd. His opening song was the new ballad he’d written recently and hoped to record, and he directed his attention to them as he sang.

Never knew how much you loved me,

Now it’s all gone away…

He threw his heart into the lyrics, with the soft accompaniment of the band behind him. They knew that these were the guys he’d invited to hear him and this was the song he was pitching. Their careful accompaniment didn’t interfere with his timing and, like good dancers on a dance floor, they held back some of their own talent to showcase his voice and his guitar picking, enhancing it without covering it up. They made him sound smooth and practiced, not like the dull pounding ache he felt in his chest or the thick pulsations in his jeans. He was grateful for the end of the song because he was beginning to feel light-headed.

The crowd erupted into raucous applause, but all Jameson saw was the backs of these two men, as they tipped their hats to Karen and a couple of other little ladies at the back, disappearing into the midnight blue smoky air outside of the club. He knew it wasn’t their style to run up and give him an enthusiastic handshake and tell him how much they enjoyed the song. They might be on their way to go listen to some other up-and-coming country star, after all. If a week went by and they didn’t call, then it wasn’t something they wanted. But his gut told him this one could make his break-out. He just didn’t care that they’d been so casual about it.

Now that the tryout was over, he threw himself into firing up the band and the audience.

Near the end of his last set, a fight broke out. He watched Arlen tossed aside and land on his butt, sliding into a table full of young men wearing baseball caps. Arlen stood up, addressed the asshole who’d shoved him, and was once again sent back to the floor like a rag doll. This time, when his bodyguard attempted to stand, the men in caps held him down and backed out of the fray. Two tall guys turned their caps backward, and stood up to the troublemaker with their chests extended. The guy was hoisted up by his shirt by one of the men; the other had the back of his pants at the beltline, and together they ushered him outside with a slight toss at the end.

A woman was ready to go outside and join him, but one of the tall sandy-haired men grabbed her arm and said something in her ear. The group appeared as one unit, a well-oiled cadre of buddies. Jameson thought his bodyguard had shriveled in size, and he was glancing up on stage to see if his boss had noticed.

And I’m gonna love you until the end of time.

The song ended as he added a riff and a “Love you all. Thanks for coming tonight. Let’s hear it for Jameson’s Band of Brothers. We got Albert Lopez, Little Jimmy here, Virtuoso Kid here who’s new tonight, and Cuz Daniels. Thank you, Halfway to Heaven. Y’all have a great evening!”

He wanted to step off the stage and go see the boys who’d helped him out before they left, but did the right thing and exited stage right, leaving the band to tinker, finding out if they were going to be requested for an encore. He always did. Tonight was no exception.

The clapping and cheering subsided and morphed into cheers and whistles as Jameson returned to the stage. He took a long drink of his rum and coke and began the two swan songs. He was tired. What he really wanted to do was go find out what had happened at the back of the club. And then relax with Karen.

He only had about eight minutes to do the first thing and all night to do the second.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Four

Lizzie Carter almost was toppled by the gentleman being shoved out the door. One of the bulky guys that she knew must be military added his heartfelt apology,

“So sorry, ma’am. Are you hurt?”

She couldn’t believe the size of his arms, the tats that were everywhere, the round face with a couple of days of stubble that stubbornly had curled and matched his long hair framing his ears and the back of his shirt. The ends were lighter and curled up, like a swimmer’s hair. Then she laid eyes on his startling blue eyes and nearly sent herself backwards, forgetting this evening’s mission.

She’d come to see Jameson perform, but seeing this tight package poured into oversized jeans and rolled up sleeves that could barely hold his biceps in almost made her forget herself. Almost, but not really.

“Ma’am?” he asked again, his brows coming together, covering his worry lines.

“No. Sorry. No. He just stepped on my foot, is all.” She glanced down and saw her heel had come out.

“Here, let me take a peek at that. You sit on over here,” the tatted Adonis insisted.

In thirty seconds, she was the object of their attention, the whole table of them. She counted six and another two lingering by the doorway with three more at a table nearby. They had a collection of a couple dozen empty beers in the center of the two tables. Someone at the bar wasn’t doing his job, she thought.

With her foot and ankle stretched, draped over the guy’s thigh, he unlaced her shoes and then carefully took out her foot. She almost heard a collective sigh from the group.

“Who are you guys?” she asked. None of the men were paying any attention to Jameson, who had come back on stage for his encore.

“Concerned citizens,” someone in a Puerto Rican accent added. “Coop here is a medic, and he’s examining your ankle to make sure you don’t sue the bar.”

“Oh.” She was surprised at that comment. “So you guys are security, then?”

That made the whole group of them chuckle. Someone uttered something and was punched in the arm for his comment. She wished she could have heard it.

“In a manner of speakin’, Ma’am,” answered a handsome African-American man, who had the same baseball cap the others had, reversed. He flashed her a grin with too many teeth. “Name’s Jones, Malcolm Jones. This here is Armando, Jake, Tyler, Luke, T.J., and we got others over there.”

“Well, thank you for watching out for me.” She angled her head to catch a glimpse at the doorway. “You expecting that guy to come back?”

One of the men was chatting up the woman who had wanted to leave, engaging her in a conversation that made her blush.

“Oh, that’s just Alex doing his lady thing. I guess he figures he’s got a ghost of a chance since she has such bad taste,” Jones continued.

“Bad taste?” Lizzie wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Well, we think she came with the dude who’s ass…sorry ma’am…got tossed out of the bar.”

As if he’d heard Jones, the man he’d pointed out as Alex raised his beer and offered to bring the dark-haired lady over for a chat. She stiffened and declined, attempting to leave again, and was gently restrained by Alex.

Jones turned around to watch them. “I guess he doesn’t think it’s a good idea that she follow after that scumbag. Or are they friends of yours?”

“No. I don’t know either one of them. But she’s wearing a wedding band.”

Jones turned around to verify the comment. “That’s a fact.” He focused back on Lizzie. “Good eyes there, sugar.”

She blushed in spite of herself.

“Notice you don’t wear one.” He raised one eyebrow and leaned back to hear her answer while Coop started to insert her foot back into her running shoes.

“You’re fine, I think. Does it hurt at all?” Coop asked her.

“No.” She jumped as his delicate fingers cinched up her laces, and he patted her ankle. No one had ever touched her ankle that way before.

Who were these guys?

The music had stopped, so when she heard Jameson’s deep buttery voice, the back of her neck became sensitive, the sound of his gentle timbre and cadence sending a delicious electric current down her spine, something she remembered from before.

“You guys show up to my gig to give foot massages now? Did Reed over there send you guys here to warm up the crowd?” Jameson asked.

Lizzie removed her leg from Coop’s thigh and sat up, holding down her hair as if she was wearing a wig. She was still getting used to the new bright red color.

“Just checking her out,” said Coop.

“That’s what I’m sayin’. You okay, darlin’?” Jameson kneeled down and looked right into her eyes and didn’t register any recognition whatsoever. The closeness of his face, the smell of the sweat from his performance, and the beads of moisture on his upper lip were all familiar things. Even the mint on his breath was the same. She’d tasted those mints, had a whole drawer full of them at home, and every time she had one, she remembered how he tasted when he bent to kiss her.

It usually left her vacant and wanting. Tonight, seeing him in the flesh, was no exception.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she answered him. Her voice was a little high and creaky, not her real voice. Her nerves were jumbling her insides.

She’d thought about it every day for the three years plus since she’d last seen Jameson. It had haunted her, how it would be to see him again. To see if he remembered that wonderful week together in North Carolina.

The answer was, painfully, no. He didn’t remember her.

A blonde girl she’d met before somewhere came up behind him, placing her palms on his shoulders and laid claim to him, giving her a smile short on patience.

Jameson rose, adjusted his belt, and slipped his arm around the blonde’s waist.

“So you guys wanna tell me what all happened here, since you weren’t giving foot massages?” Jameson asked.

“Heard a little domestic squabble,” Coop answered. His eyes searched back and forth between Jameson and the blonde. “Maybe he had reason to distrust his wife coming here to see you?” Coop nodded toward the dark-haired beauty at the doorway with Alex.

Jameson cleared his throat and gave the woman a nod. The lady was smiling devilishly back at him.

“I see what you mean,” he answered. But most important to Lizzie was that he didn’t deny anything. Jameson began to crane his neck. “Where’s my Marine guy?”

Coop and several of the others chuckled.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” he asked, as he pulled the blonde closer to him, massaging the top of her neck while she draped over him like a warm blanket.

“I’m sorry,” the handsome Puerto Rican man answered. “That’s no Marine, or even Marine-in-training.”

“Four tours overseas,” insisted Jameson.

“I’d say he’s had no military training, Mr. Jameson, sir. No offense, but I think you hired what we call a poser.” The accented man gave him a lethal wink and then directed it right at Lizzie.

Arlen appeared as if he’d been summoned, introducing himself. A couple of the men asked him questions the bodyguard struggled to answer and was failing miserably. Even Lizzie could see that. The boys didn’t call him on it, just let the conversation dangle. Several started to to leave.

“You okay, Red?” one of the men asked, returning his cap to front position, the picture of an elongated skull adorning the front above the bill. She’d seen it somewhere before.

“Hold it,” Jameson demanded. “You guys friends of the Punisher?”

“Some of us knew him,” the tall medic answered.

“So, you’re SEALs then. That right?”

The accented man stood and rolled his shoulder. “Could be.” Others began to rise and follow his lead.

“What the hell are you doing in Nashville?” asked Jameson.

That seemed to strike a chord with the rest of the boys, several making grunting noises as they laughed.

“We’ve been on a training mission,” said the African-American SEAL.

“The camp. That terrorist camp. You guys did that?”

Several of the young men searched the room. The medic put his finger to his lips. “Jameson, you have yourself a nice night. We’ll be on our way.”

Jameson unhinged himself from the blonde. “Come by tomorrow. Drinks on me. I’ll make sure there’s no cover charge. I’d like to talk to you guys. Seriously, you be here tomorrow—I’m buying. Food, too, if you want.”

“Sure. We’ll see if we can come back. In the meantime, you take care of Arlen, here. He’s gonna need help standing up and sitting down,” laughed another one of the men.

“You coming by tomorrow, Red?” the same young man asked.

She didn’t know what else to do, so she nodded.

“Well, that does it for me, then. I’ll be here,” the SEAL answered Jameson, winking at Lizzie.

One by one, each of the men nodded to her, looking her straight in the eyes, not like men who usually hang out in bars. They left the building, leaving Jameson with the blonde, the dark-haired beauty, and herself.

It was an awkward couple of minutes, until Jameson tipped his hat to the lady at the entrance and then slowly to Lizzie herself. He still didn’t know that she had dreamed about this meeting for years, and that it was over all too soon. Perhaps never to happen again.

Jameson wound his way through the crowd of tables, arm entwined in the blonde’s waistband, as the dark-haired girl disappeared in the opposite direction, out into the night air. All that was left was Lizzie’s heart beating fiercely in her chest. Everyone was gone, leaving her behind, just like that spring.

Except this time it was happening in Nashville.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Five

Karen was deserving of more than he had to give her this evening. His mind was stuck on something about the SEALs who came to watch him perform. He was also stuck on the bad decision he’d made hiring Arlen. Then there was the confrontation with the husband and seeing Heather again.

Just twenty-four hours ago, his world had been so carefree. Now it felt complicated, as if some earthquake had moved all the goalposts.

Karen was a lovely girl, even though she put on the red tonight. She’d be easy to live with, to love.

“Honey, all I got is beer and little bottles from the minibar. You’d probably prefer something else, maybe nice wine or something, and I’m not stocked up. We could go out if you wanted.” His feelings were getting complicated. Was he trying to make up for something he’d felt ashamed of? He’d never had this much doubt before, and shrugged it off. Normally he was high as a kite, ready to party to oblivion. The night air was especially cold and threatened rain and she was shivering.

Is this what I’m doing? Going on a date?

“Are you hungry, Jameson?”

“I could do with some carbs, if you’re hungry. I could buy us a nice bottle of something, what? Wine? Just feel bad I don’t have anything other than the minibar, and honey, the hotel room is nothing to write home about. Just warning you.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling a soul.” She kissed him, standing on tiptoes. It did cheer him up a little with her happy countenance. “I don’t have to work tomorrow morning, so I’m good either way. Up to you. How do you feel?”

He wished he didn’t have to be the one to decide all of a sudden.

She agreed to leave her car at the club, and the two of them rode to a little Italian restaurant he’d occasionally visit after a night of partying. The place was beginning to shut down, but the owner knew him and fixed them some pasta and gave them a bottle of house wine. After they ate, he insisted Jameson take the rest of the bottle back home with him.

Inside the hotel room, he left the lights off. It had been a long evening already, and he was starting to get tired. But he owed Karen his full attention, and he was still feeling a twinge of guilt he couldn’t shake off. Images of the upset husband kept playing around in his head, sobering his demeanor. He was wondering what was becoming of his usual stellar judgment.

Her angelic hair glowed in the moonlight as she removed her clothes and slipped under the sheets. He was grateful they weren’t having the drawn out clothes stripping parade he’d had last night.

Once naked, he covered himself with a condom and found her warm body fully accepting of his. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he barely had a chance to lean down and plant a kiss on her lips before she’d angled herself on him. He was so damn hard and she was so tight, the friction between their bodies quickened the passion he’d been holding back. He stroked her slow, letting her pull at his butt, bringing him deeper inside with every thrust. Her little mewling sounds were sweet.

“Mmm those little sounds you make, Karen. Real sexy like.”

She giggled, thrusting her pelvis up toward his groin, rocking herself on him. He placed his palms under her rear, holding her up off the bed as he bent one knee, angling to the side and pressing into her to the hilt. Her moans became desperate. She drew her knee up over his right shoulder, as he continued his hip-rocking action and then held himself against her insides, pulsing. Her little body shook beneath him as she came, and they shared their pleasure together.

He stroked her hairline with his thumb. “Sorry, darlin’. I guess I was a little tired.”

“Oh God, no! Jameson, I can’t believe…”

He cut her off with a deep kiss. “Shhh. We’re just two people here. Just you and me. I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. Give me a little time.”

He rolled on his back, staring at the ceiling he could not see. She fit nicely into the hollow beneath his arm, snuggling her breasts against his, wrapping her legs around his thigh. Her warm, moist pussy pulsed against him. He removed his condom using the top sheet and then reached over to feel the smooth skin of her rump.

“Wake me up if you want to, Jameson, when you’re ready.”

Well, suddenly, he was ready.

He was grateful for this life, he thought as he showered with her. Karen’s body was perfect for him. He even enjoyed how the hot water made her nipples knot and how her cheeks pinked when he knelt in front of her in the shower and ‘tuned her G string,’ as he called it.

He bought her breakfast, and then it was time to part. He drove her over to pick up her car at the club. The place was looking dingy and didn’t have any of the sparkle of the night before. Nothing had the sparkle of the night before.

What’s happening?

He gave her a hug, kissed her on the cheek. She grabbed his ears and planted a deep kiss on him, nearly jumping him again in the parking lot.

“Whoa! Whoa! I need my energy for tonight’s show. You forget, I work tonight.”

She frowned. “So do I. But I can come tomorrow night.”

He smiled into her blue eyes and wanted to be kind, but didn’t want her thinking they were going to be exclusive for any length of time. “We had a nice time together, Karen. I think you clear wore me out. Might need a few days to recover.”

He saw the flattering remark appeared to work. But he was serious about her not expecting anything more from him. It seemed a good way to let her down.

Her smile rewarded him with reassurance his message was delivered. He gave her a good pat on the rear then a squeeze on that fine ass of hers. “Laters, baby.”

She started to walk toward her car then turned around, her eyes filling out round. “Seriously? You into that, too?”

He placed his fingers on his hips and shook his head, examining the tips of his boots. “Not really. But I saw the movie.”

Her warm smile cheered him long after she left, swaying back and forth in the late morning air, a thing of beauty and something he’d seriously enjoyed. He was also glad it wasn’t going to get complicated.

Jameson was surprised to see Thomas’s pickup still in the parking lot. It occurred to him the man might have spent the night on a cot in the men’s rest room, like he’d done a time or two. The club owner’s older light violet Cadillac with the longhorns welded to the grill was also still there.

He found the front door to the club open. Reed, the club owner, was sitting at a table counting money.

“You knocked ’em dead last night, Jameson. You only got two more nights. How about extending a bit for me? The boys said they were available.”

“Hell, Reed, they’re always available. They work for you, not for me. Besides, I might be a signed recording artist by then. One can never tell.”

“Shit, Jameson, you should just enjoy the money and the tits and ass while it lasts. I know Thomas did.”

“Well, I’m not Thomas. You should know that by now. He in the bathroom?”

“Shit, no. You should have seen who he went home with last night.”

Jameson smiled at the wily manager who always seemed to come out on top. “So you didn’t pay him yet, otherwise he’d have brought an expensive one home. His truck is still here. So where’s the asshole holed up this time?”

“No, goddammit, I didn’t pay him because I thought maybe that one might steal from him. She rode in on a Harley, and do you see a black Harley outside?”

“I sure don’t.”

“That’s because she took him on her bike. The lady, if you can call her that, has more tats than Thomas has. Indian gal nearly three hundred pounds. I can’t even imagine the kind of war games she took out on his sorry ass.”

They heard the unmistakable sounds of the Harley in question arriving outside the club.

Thomas ran through the opening as they heard the sounds of the bike fade behind him. “Whoo hoo! Now that was some kind of fun! That woman can suck the rockets off a space ship!” Thomas’s enthusiasm was double any Jameson had seen in the past several months.

“Glad to hear it,” he chuckled as he fist bumped his old friend.

“Reed, can Jameson and I bum a beer? I’m starved.”

“You need breakfast, Thomas, not a beer.” Reed continued counting without taking his eyes off the money, his lips forming a thin line. “Maybe lover boy can take you out for something. If you come back in an hour, I’ll have your money.”

“Ah, just one beer, Reed. Come on.”

“What are we celebrating?” Reed asked him, stopping to give Thomas attention. “You celebrate gettin’ laid now? Is that how it’s gone for you, son?”

Jameson could see that cut a little close to the bone for Thomas. “Come on, I’ll buy you some breakfast, and we’ll pick up a six-pack on the way back.”

“Okay.” Thomas headed toward the door then turned back to Reed. “See you in an hour or less.” After they were in the parking lot, he asked, “So, what are you hankering for?”

“I not hungry. But I’ll get a cup of coffee with you. Tell me about your sexual exploits.”

“My lips are sealed, but man, hers? Hers were divine!” Thomas smirked, his eyes wild and twinkling. “Can I ride along?” he asked, pointing to Jameson’s truck.

“That bad, huh?”

“Some would call it good, my man.”

“So did you stop drinking at all last night?” Jameson smelled the alcohol on Thomas’s breath, the clove cigarettes in his clothes.

“I did several things all night long, Jameson. You’re not the only stud in Nashville.”

“So Reed says she rides a Harley. Most of those girls have boyfriends who don’t talk much, but love to pound on white boys any chance they can. You thinking straight?” Jameson squinted, shaking his head. They’d arrived at a twenty-four hour coffee shop.

“Never better.”

It was probably a boost to Thomas’s ego, plastered and beat down by a long series of rejections from agents and record producers. Jameson knew his old friend had more talent in his little finger than most everyone else in this town. Thomas was also one of the busiest singer-songwriters in Nashville, but only because he was cheap, practically free to hire, and didn’t have a personal life. Hanging out in bars for the odd chance of meeting a biker chick, or making enough to satisfy his bar tab, was the trajectory he was on.

“Don’t you ever think all this might be ruining your chances of making it big time? You know the A&R guys don’t hang out at some of the places you play.”

“Well, there were two there last night,” Thomas objected. He sat across from Jameson while their waitress, Dottie, came over and placed a couple of sticky menus in front of them.

“Just coffee, please, ma’am.”

“Make that two, and I’d like some eggs and toast.” Thomas growled, frowning into the menu as she snatched it from his hands.

“Thomas, one guy was there because I invited him. He was there to see me.”

“Didn’t stay very long.”

“They never do. I’m feeling good about this one, though.”

Thomas nodded, lowering the corners of his lips and raising his eyebrows. “You wind up with the little high schooler?”

“She’s not in high school. She’s twenty-two.”

“Ah,” Thomas said, and winked. “Well, shit, I’m happy for you.”

“I don’t do it for the girls, Thomas.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Well, I mean, what kind of a life would that be? I’m working hard to get discovered.”

Thomas gave him a glare straight from hell. Dottie brought his eggs and toast just in time. He softened his look after taking his first bite. “I seriously hope it happens for you, man.”

Jameson sat back and took stock of his old friend. “You givin’ up on the dream, Thomas? Is that what this is all about?”

“You know, for such a smart kid, you sure say the dumbest things.” Thomas was pointing his fork at Jameson’s nose. “I fuckin’ work hard at it every day, same as you. I show up. I play the gigs people like you and old Reed give me. I don’t go begging for work. I find it. Sometimes I find work that actually pays enough to make my rent. I don’t complain. You ever hear me complain?”

“No. I don’t. But—”

“Just shut your pie hole.” The fork was in the air again. “I’ve never given up any more than you have. But you know as well as I do, your chances in this town are just not very good. We work our butt off. We show up and try not to get too drunk or booed off the stage and try not to go home with someone else’s wife—” The fork went down, but Thomas leaned into the table and whispered, “Which is more than I can say for another someone in this establishment.”

“Didn’t know she was married until after.”

“Listen to you justify yourself.”

“How do you know Tawanda Amazon with the Harley out there isn’t married?”

“Because I fuckin’ asked her.”

“Oh, and you believe her?”

“Did you even ask the lady?”

Jameson said nothing, staring down at his coffee cup.

“No. The answer’s no. You just let her into your room when she dropped by; am I right or am I right?”

“Thomas, where is this going? You did the same fuckin’ thing fifteen years ago when you first started out. You told me yourself.”

Thomas threw his fork down on his now-empty plate, sat back, and showed Jameson both of his palms. “I rest my case.”

Jameson was so pissed off he was about to leave and let the old singer walk or take a taxi, except he figured Thomas didn’t have money for the taxi and he might get arrested for being drunk in public if the right kind of asshole cop were to find him.

Thomas was really his only friend, or at least the only person in Nashville he could trust with anything other than a bottle, he saw perhaps his own future. Was this where he was headed?

No. I’m special. I have what it takes. I’m not giving up on this dream of becoming a big star. Not everyone makes it. Most don’t. But I can do it. Maybe Thomas didn’t want it bad enough.

He scanned the lines on his friend’s once-handsome face, the well-worn shirt collar he couldn’t afford to replace, and the white tee shirt underneath that was starting to turn yellow. He noticed the calluses on the man’s fingertips from years of playing, the knuckles that were starting to swell from early arthritis that shouldn’t happen to a man in his forties. If Thomas took better care of himself, would these things show up? If he didn’t drink so much? If he rested more, took care of himself? If he was happier?

No, Thomas wasn’t going to give up, but it might kill him.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Six

Assad sat across the table from the new recruits the prophet in Chicago had sent him. These were children. One of them had lost a brother in the little Nashville raid when the SEALs took over their compound. Several others knew brothers-in-arms who had been arrested, which was a blessing. The work would continue from the prison, if it was God’s will they should spend time there. A congregation of the believers was growing every day inside prison. They had everything they wanted, including conjugal visits with their ‘wives’ since most of the guards couldn’t keep them straight.

The only thing Assad had missed out on was the sex with the Nashville girls. He would have wanted to do that. Smoke some pot, have sex with an infidel, make her think she should be the vessel for his seed, try to impregnante her, and then sell her to the sheikh’s supporters in Oregon or better yet, in Iraq or Syria. She’d be bearing what they called an “anchor baby”, an automatic ticket to obtaining a U.S. Passport.

The American girls were so gullible. When his friend had written him about the deflowered infidels, one he’d deflowered himself, his dick got hard. He wanted a young American virgin; a blonde, or, better yet, some fiery red-head, like the whores in Pakistan. Except these American women would be blonde or red all over. He wondered what that would look like, red or yellow hair between their creamy thighs, not black, like he’d seen in the pictures of girls at home. Black hair wasn’t sexy. He wanted them young and ripe, before they had any hair at all, or blonde. That was his dream every night before bedtime.

God is good. If it is your will, I shall serve the prophet in this way.

He rubbed himself at the excitement of it all. Underneath his woolen robe, his hardness was growing.

“So we have been given an order from the Mosque in the Great White City. We will follow the warrior SEALs, but you must keep your distance. We will lure them with their women.”

These boys grinned, obviously delighted to play with Legos or new comic books. They had no idea what they were getting into or that some of them would be sacrificed. Their parents were being held hostage in most cases, convinced the White City Mosque could run interference and they’d be purchasing protection at home in exchange for them giving up their precious boys. Only the most cunning would ever make it out alive. Those would turn into ‘coyotes,’ as the sheikh in Chicago was fond of calling them. It was their version of the Mexican coyotes who brought people across the border, he was a bringer of boys to further the cause.

“You will tell us, Assad, how we do this,” the handsome one questioned. His dark eyes and shiny curled eyebrows made him resemble a young attractive girl. No doubt, his ass could be mistaken for a young girl’s to some of the older followers and the ones who had spent much time in prison. Or so it was said.

“Sayid, you beautiful boy, they will fall in love with you and your eyes. You will speak to them in soft hushed tones. You will read them Rumi.”

Several of the boys reacted. Rumi was not allowed in the schools.

“Yes, you will read about being their beloved.” Assad continued. “You will massage their breasts,” and he demonstrated it with a smattering of “Ohhs” from the boys. “And tell them you are devoted to them forever and forever. You will kiss them, this way,” He grabbed Sayid and forced his tongue down the young boy’s throat. Sayid protested and finally broke away, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve as the others laughed.

“To some girls, if you feel them up, down there,” he pointed to between his legs, “they have to marry you. Some churches actually preach that.”

“It is forbidden to read Rumi, my teacher, or to buy the books,” one of the other boys said. “So how do we obtain such poems of love you speak of?”

“Amazon. I have an account. I am a Prime Member! Free shipping, two days!”

The boys were impressed and let him know their approval.

“I will arrange to give each of you a book. You will memorize the lines to one poem, and then we will burn them so you don’t have to tell your parents you have touched something unclean, these books of Rumi.”

While the boys were smiling and agreeing amongst themselves, Assad was thinking how very few of them would ever see or hear or be able to talk to their parents again. They were cannon fodder, but useful and essential cannon fodder.

“When you find the woman you want—and you will find many beautiful women in Nashville, unlike Chicago—when you find one, she must be yellow or red- haired. Promise me you will not fall for a dark-haired or tan-skinned woman, okay? You will all take proper wives of that color, and you will love them and make their bellies ripe with your seed, but these women here in America, before you have done the good work to cleanse yourself to be worthy of a good Syrian bride, these women must be of the pink-skinned type with yellow or red hair.”

He never questioned why the sheikh was so hell-bent on the blondes or red-heads. He knew lots of the ladies here made their hair that color. He figured he was on a need-to-know basis, and whatever the reason was, it wasn’t going to be made public anytime soon.

“So when do we start?”

“You have already started, my pupils. You are here. I will show you a few places we’ve been told about. We have some targets, but you will be out and around the city of Nashville, scoping out other targets. When the day comes, and we have some months to do this, we must be ready to act swiftly.

He showed them the office of the contractor who had built the structures on the compound’s land. The man himself was a target. His deflowered daughter was another, and as he showed them her picture, there were appreciative nods and stares from the boys, most of them salivating.

He showed the picture of the young Afghani woman, Alfari. “This woman was the young bride of our former sheikh. She was kidnapped and separated from him and then had to endure seeing her husband gunned down in front of her eyes.”

The protests were loud.

“But she allowed the infidels to take her. She went willingly with them. She must be made an example of. Her parents were told the price was not paid, so they have given consent for a mercy killing. That will bring them the protection they seek and will right the terrible wrong done to them and their family’s future.”

“The U.S. government will allow a mercy killing, teacher?” one of the boys asked.

“Yes. They practically condone it. You’ll see. Whomever does this deed will be praised at home and will probably never serve any jail time here.”

He observed their faces as this sunk in to most of them. A couple of the boys apparently didn’t believe him.

“They are afraid of us, boys. They do not want to stand up and cause a war on their own soil, even though it has already started. They’re too stupid to know it.”

Then he showed them the pictures of the compound where the SEALs had been bunking. “We have lots of targets here. We will watch them and their every move. We will go where they go, and we will make notes on who they speak with. Those people will also become our targets.”

He leaned back and allowed them to examine the drone pictures of the SEAL camp. They also poured over the overhead pictures of the Riverbend Maximum Security prison, and one boy recognized someone standing in the yard he’d known back home.

“They think they have destroyed us. They do not know that we know so much about them or that replacements have arrived. Three of you will enter this high school in Nashville, sponsored by the church we have been working with.” Assad showed them pictures of the red and brown brick Oberon High School with the American flag flying outside its doors. “You are to observe and make friends, look like normal teenagers. Find out where they go, what they are thinking, and find the ones who wish to have drugs. Those weak ones will usher you into their commune. You’ll find fast friends, especially if they can make some money off of the drugs you provide them. For these teenagers, the more money they make, the happier they are. You will never tell them about this group, never tell them anything about your country or your beliefs. Or your family. You will make it all up. You will learn that story just like you learn the Rumi poem. You will appear to be a brown-skinned teenager, but you will have the heart of a warrior, and your good deeds will live on for a thousand years. God is good!”

“God is good!” the group answered.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Seven

Jameson was happy to see the SEALs enter Highway to Heaven just as his first set was getting under way. There were more of them tonight. None of them brought women, something that wasn’t lost on the normal female population in the club; but there were so many women, a dozen or two found their way over to sit with the SEALs, which didn’t begin to make a dent in his cheering section.

Instead of going back to his dressing room, he left his guitar on stage, told the band to take a longer than normal break, grabbed his rum and coke, and stepped off the stage at the right, winding his way between ladies until he found the men in baseball caps.

“Howdy. Glad to see you back. They didn’t charge you anything at the door, did they?”

“Yeah, they did,” The tall medic shrugged. “That’s how you get paid, right?”

“Yes, but Reed, that’s the owner, told me he’d let you guys in.” He looked up at Reed who was busy at the bar pouring drinks. Thomas raised his glass. Jameson waved him over, and the man ambled over to the crowd. “This here is my best friend, Thomas Becker. He’s my opening act, which you missed, sadly. He’s a helluva songwriter and taught me everything he knows.”

Thomas wrinkled his brow and puckered his lips. “He’s a liar.”

“Thomas, these are SEALs from San Diego.”

“So what are y’all doing in Nashville?”

“We came for the music,” one of them barked.

“Long way from San Diego,” Thomas insisted. “How long are you here for?”

“Going home tomorrow, actually,” answered the medic. Jameson liked the tall SEAL with the kind eyes. He and several other SEALs close to him were not interested in the girls who had brought chairs and were chatting the other SEALs up.

The club was packed. Jameson scanned for evidence that the producers were in the house, but didn’t find them. “So tell me, if I can ask, how did you become a SEAL?” he asked Cooper.

“My parents were farmers in Nebraska. I thought about farming. Lots of guys go into it. My dad and granddad wanted me to. My sister and her husband lived in the same house as my folks and my granddad. I don’t know, I just saw myself doin’ something else.”

“Like getting shot at?” Jameson’s interest was piqued.

Cooper looked at him a long while. “It’s sort of a calling, Jameson. Just something you find you have to do.”

“But why?”

“Why do you do this?” the Puerto Rican SEAL asked.

“The money. I want to sing professionally, you know, get a record deal, be a star.”

“And so you’re doing that. How does it feel?” Cooper asked him.

Thomas had overheard them. “Yeah, Jameson, how does it feel?” Then he launched into song, “To be on your own. Like a rolling stone.”

The laughter wasn’t comfortable. In fact, it pissed him off. Thomas was becoming someone he didn’t want to hang around anymore.

“I love what I do. I can’t see myself doing anything else.” Jameson knew it was a lie as soon as the words left his mouth.

“We do, too,” Cooper returned.

One of the newcomers leaned forward. “Son, we’re honored to defend this great country of ours from its enemies. That’s what gets us all juiced up. And like Coop just told you, it’s a calling.”

Jameson sat back and thought about the man’s comments.

“This here’s our LPO, Kyle Lansdowne,” said Cooper. “He kind of leads us when we listen.”

Several of the SEALs laughed as Jameson and Kyle shook hands.

“I guess I defend this country against lousy music, then.” Jameson was having fun with them now.

“There you go,” added Thomas. “How long you boys been in?”

“Some of us have been in over ten years. A couple of the young ones came right out of high school.”

Scanning the group of SEALs, he understood an unspoken comradery between them. He noted the way they looked him in the eye and answered questions so directly.

After they talked a few minutes longer, he heard the band begin warming up on stage and took that as his cue. He had spent his whole time chatting with the SEALs and hadn’t lined anyone up to go home with. Perhaps that was for the best, he thought.

“Thomas, make sure Reed knows their tab is on me. And tell him he’s an asshole for charging them anything to come in here. They’re heroes in my book, and heroes don’t pay.”

“Will do, boss. Go make me proud,” Thomas said, as he slapped him on the back.

More people had entered the Highway. The second set was going to have the biggest audience he’d ever played to. He picked up his guitar just as a barmaid handed him another rum and coke, which he sipped, and then toasted the room. The crowd loved it.

“Okay, this is for the heroes in the room. We got any heroes here tonight?” He put his hand over his eyes to tone down the lights. A couple of drunks from the audience stood up and were pulled down. None of the SEALs stood. He watched Cooper and Kyle shake their heads. He knew it would be a mistake to call them out. “Well, I happen to think we are honored with some very special heroes here tonight. This here’s for you.”

His All-American theme song was what he played at 4-H auction events and sometimes small local fairs. The crowd knew it well and started to clap and cheer. Thomas sat up straight and saluted him, since it was the song Thomas had written some ten years ago that he was sure would make a hit record.

The rest of the set went smooth. Thomas appeared to be enjoying the conversation with a couple of the SEALs, and he envied the man. In fact—and this had never happened before—he wished he was down there talking to them and Thomas was up on stage. For the first time in many months, he was not seeking someone from the front row. He knew there would be the opportunity if he stayed behind to sign the small posters Reed had made of the week-long gig. But that wasn’t what he was focused on.

He finished the set, came back for the encore, and played two more songs, including his ‘come fuck me song’ that Thomas turned around for, giving him another salute.

“Thank you for spending your hard-earned money to come hear my music,” was his final word to the audience. As an afterthought, he pointed to the SEALs. “Don’t you boys go anywhere. I’m gonna be right back.”

He wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to say to them, but he put his guitar in the base, picked up his black bag in the dressing room, drank what was left of his now-warm rum and coke, and headed out to the theater.

He stood amongst them. Cooper was the tallest. “It’s been a real pleasure and honor that you came to my show tonight. If I get this record deal, and I’m thinkin’ I will, I’d like to dedicate it to you boys.”

Cooper shook his head. “Totally not necessary. We have all the recognition we want or deserve. You’re a helluva singer and songwriter. I think you really got something there.”

Several of the other SEALs came over and shook his hand. Jameson noticed that they all laid their money down on the tables, ignoring the tab that was supposed to be on him. They were quietly making their way out toward the doorway when he heard one of the men say, “Hey, Red. How’s that ankle?”

Her face pinkened as she addressed the group, not sure who had called her out. “I’m fine. I told you guys last night I’m fine.”

“That you are, sweetheart,” the same SEAL answered back. “Here I just met the love of my life, and I gotta leave her behind.” Several of the others patted him on the back as they began filing outside.

Kyle, their leader, was last to shake Jameson’s hand. “You get tired of picking this guitar and playing for whiskey, you come out and visit us some time. We’ll show you some clubs you could do well in. ‘Course, it’s not Nashville. And the girls, well they’re pretty, but not as pretty as this little one here,” he nodded to the redhead. She blushed.

Jameson accepted a card from Kyle. “Thanks, man. Appreciate that. If I ever venture out that way, I’ll look you up.”

“You do that. We’ll go do man things, jump out of airplanes an’ sht—pardon me, ma’am.” Kyle bent to acknowledge her. “Until then, you break a leg, or don’t they say that in the music business?”

“Nah. We just say, ‘Give ‘em hell.’”

“That’s what they tell us, too, and that’s pretty much what we do, I guess,” Kyle answered with his wide smile and affable manner. Jameson liked the man instantly. He was a leader without being obnoxious or pushy. He was a fresh drink of water to some of the types he’d had to listen to and be around. In the music industry, a smile might not really be a smile, a handshake not really an agreement between two honorable men, in a town where you didn’t really know who to trust and who was stealing from you, where robbery of the soul was as commonplace as hookups at bars and as certain as the bevy of women only too willing to in stoke the fires of a young man’s ego.

Kyle made an unremarkable exit and was just gone. That left him standing behind with the redhead. Thomas had said his goodbyes earlier and headed over to the bar.

He focused on the lady standing by his side. She smelled wonderful, looked soft and warm as a country kitchen. She was very pretty, without much makeup, which he preferred, and as he studied her blue-green eyes, he was affected by the gentle way about her that was soothing, not asking or expecting too much of him.

The crowd was becoming drunker, boisterous belly laughs piercing the smoke-filled space, and he didn’t like the fact that Arlen wasn’t anywhere around. Remembering the trouble that had occurred last night made him more than a little concerned.

“I’d offer you a drink, but I’m needing to leave this crowd. You wanna come back to my place for a bit?” It was the first time he’d actually asked a girl to his room. Her eyes angled down, hesitating, so he decided to let her off easy, if that’s what she wanted. “Oh, it’s all right, darlin’, no offense. I didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe I’ll see you around another time.”

Her face came to pretty attention. “No, that wasn’t it. I’d be happy to have a drink with you at your place.”

He gave her the room number and the name of the hotel.

Back at the hotel, Jameson took the card from his wallet and flicked it back and forth between his fingers a few times. He didn’t believe in coincidence. There was some reason he was meant to meet these men tonight. He kicked off his cowboy boots and opened a fresh bottled water. He didn’t even open the minibar. There was a part of him that just wanted a shower and a deep sleep. If she took too long coming over, he would be asleep in his clothes. He sat in the reading chair at the corner, staring at his TV, but without turning it on. He listened to the words playing around in his head from tonight.

The gentle knock on the door jolted him awake. He had fallen asleep for just a few seconds. In his stocking feet, he turned the handle and found the redhead standing in front of him.

“Hi, Jameson.”

“Come on in,” he said, like he always did when he saw a pretty woman standing there.

She sat on the edge of the bed, which was different. She still had the strap of her purse over her shoulder, which made him wonder if she was planning on bolting or staying.

“You want something?”

“Something strong.”

That nabbed his interest, so he chuckled. “Okay. Needing an ounce of courage, are we?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” he turned in her direction to make sure it was the same girl he’d thought he’d let in. He opened the minibar. “We got vodka, orange juice, . I got Jim Beam, little bottles of crummy wine, some beer, or what’s—”

“I’ll have the Jim Beam.”

“Okay, I’ll join you. You wanna wait here while I go for some ice?”

“Only if you want it. I’m fine.”

He started to walk toward the bathroom to fetch a couple of glasses when she stopped him. “Just give me the Jim Beam.” She stood, extending her arm.

He did. She screwed the top off, toasted her tiny bottle to his tiny bottle, and downed the whole thing in one long gulp. She closed her eyes and licked her lips, and as he watched her, he could feel how the liquor was flowing down her spine. She resumed her seat on the bed. He was left standing without having touched his liquor, he was so stunned.

“I need to take your temperature, darlin’. Am I that bad?”

“No, don’t be silly.”

“Maybe you misunderstood my intentions, and if I need to apologize, I’m game. You mind telling me what’s so hard about being here that you have to take a drink before you can talk or anything? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She kicked off her shoes, which made him feel a little bit better.

“Come, sit. Here.” She patted the bed next to her.

He took a seat in the reading chair several feet away from her, and waited. He wasn’t sure he was going to like what was coming next.

“Jameson, you obviously don’t remember me.”

Jameson’s full attention was on the little lady now. “I’m sorry, but, no, I—”

“I know. Too many women, too many shows, and too many towns. How could you keep them all straight?”

“I think I’d remember you. So what you’re saying is that you and I—”

“Yes. Several times. At my parent’s ranch, too, in North Carolina.”

The fog began to clear. “That was a long time—” He stopped and tried to remember her, and did. But, she was a blonde then. And yes, she was the one from Charlotte. “Lizzie?”

She nodded, examining her fingers entwined in her lap. She wasn’t smiling when she looked up at him. “Good. I’m glad at least you remember.”

“Of course I remember. One of the best weeks of my life. Your dad and mom were so nice to me.”

She examined her hands again. “Both gone now, sorry to say.”

He came over to her and kneeled in front, placing his hands on her upper arms and rubbed her gently. “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s the red hair. I never would have recognized you if you hadn’t told me.”

He took her hands in his and pulled her fingers to his mouth, kissing them. She eyed him carefully as if thinking about bolting. He dropped her hands, but stayed kneeling in front of her.

“How’ve you been, honey?”

“I’ve been well. My folks passing has left me enough to have a little house in the country. I sold the horse ranch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I’m not. I mean, it reminded me too much of them. I just couldn’t keep it.”

“I’m so glad you looked me up. I always wondered whatever happened to you. Thought maybe I’d see you sometime on the road.”

“No, Jameson. I don’t do that. I’m not into taking numbers and waiting in line, even though it’s feeling a little like that now.”

“Wait a minute, honey, I asked you here tonight, remember?”

“Well, maybe you’re gonna reconsider this after what I have to tell you. I just wanted a quiet place to be able to have this conversation.”

“What is it, honey?” His hand lay on top of hers still folded in her lap. His thumb rubbed her forefinger. Then he brought her palm up to his lips and kissed her tenderly again her familiar soft scent opening up something he’d buried.

“You have a daughter, Jameson.”

He stood, the shock of it sending him reeling.

“How is that possible?”

She angled her head and squinted, staring up at him. “Really? You don’t understand how it works?”

“Well, I thought we—” He began to pace, rubbing the back of his neck. The room seemed extra warm, and he could smell faint traces of cigarette smoke that weren’t supposed to be in a non-smoking room. When he didn’t wake up from his dream, he stopped in front of her. “How old is she?”

“She’s three. She was conceived that week we were at the ranch, I’m pretty sure.” At last a smile formed on her pretty face. “She’s lovely, Jameson. She looks just like you. She has your eyes.”

“Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I’m just doing good being here now, talking to you. I was prepared to spend the rest of my life and never tell you.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I guess I didn’t want to know that you might not be happy about it. I still don’t know how you feel about it. I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to know. I’m not asking you to marry me or meet her, or take any responsibility for her. My life has been fine as a single mother, and having her has been the greatest joy of my life, honest. It’s all good.”

“I wish you had told me. It wasn’t fair you had to go through all that alone.”

She inhaled deep and then spewed it out. “I’m not lying, it was hard. Nearly broke my father’s heart, too, when I told him I wasn’t going to see you and make any claims. He thought you’d want to know. I think that’s probably why I’m here tonight. Whatever happens, Jameson, I’m glad I had her. She is the love of my life. She doesn’t have to be a part of yours. That’s not why I’m here. I just wanted you to know.”

She stood up to go.

“Wait. You’ve just come here and tell me this? Now you want to leave?”

“Of course. I never came to rekindle anything we really didn’t have in the first place, Jameson.”

“We spent a wonderful week together, Lizzie. It was special for me.” He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “Lizzie, I was crazy about you. Do you know I wrote songs about you?”

She accepted his embrace, but didn’t intensify it. “I’ve wondered about that. Anyway, thanks for being such a good sport.”

“Good sport? Are you kidding? I’m a father.”

“But not if you don’t want to be.”

“Not a question of what I want. I am a father.” He pulled back, placing his fingers under her chin and lifting her lips to his, and whispered to her softly, “thank you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” Their lips touched, and as they rubbed against each other, he remembered the spark that had become that beautiful bonfire between them.

“My folks were wonderful. They loved her, right up until the day they died. They were killed in a car accident two years ago. It’s taken me this long to adjust, get my affairs in order, and then I knew I had to face this. I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to see you disappointed or angry with me.”

“How could I ever be disappointed, Lizzie? Just not possible.”

He would have made moves on her, perhaps try to encourage her to stay, but he didn’t want to manipulate her. She’d already suffered with the consequences of his poor decisions earlier. He certainly didn’t trust himself now. But he knew he didn’t want her to walk out of his life again.

“Stay. Stay with me tonight, Lizzie. No sex. I’m not asking that. Just let me hold you? Please?”

In the awkward silence, after he’d asked her for the third time, she agreed.

She left her underwear on, and he left his red, white, and blue boxers on. He slipped under the covers in the darkness, and she came to him, fitting perfectly in his arms. He kissed her forehead and felt the tears flow down onto his shoulder when she lay her head against him. His thigh touched hers in a natural movement she didn’t pull away from. Unforced, his arms encircling her, holding her shaking body, he was at peace with the world, and suddenly grounded like he’d never been before.

It had been a day of firsts and was continuing to be so. Everything about today had been unexpected. And now he was a father.

Would he be able to stretch his heart to include her, as well as the woman in his arms who had borne him that child? He knew his life would never be the same.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Eight

She woke up alone in a strange-smelling bed, knowing it wasn’t hers. And then she remembered. Morning sunlight streaked through the window to her right. The chair in the corner was in shadows, and someone was sitting there in a pair of red, white, and blue boxers, bare chested.

Jameson.

She didn’t move a muscle, just let the view of him washover her, felt her heartbeat faster. He was in repose, with one leg crossed over his other knee, left hand playing an imaginary keyboard on the arm of the overstuffed chair, his right bent at the elbow, long fingers moving slowly back and forth across his lips, his eyes calculating, searching something he saw or something inside him. She wasn’t sure he could tell she’d opened her eyes, but she deliciously stole the seconds watching him in the early morning light.

She hoped he was thinking about her, but realized he probably was considering all the information she’d given him. He’d been a gentleman last night. He never once made a gesture to slide his fingers somewhere dangerous or kiss her anywhere but on her forehead or on her cheek. But, his arms around her waist told her something else about the man. She’d been right to fall for him so hard. Not smart in the way it happened, but seeing him now and hearing his reaction last night to her story about Charlotte, she saw that her instincts had been correct. He was an honorable man, and it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been a part of Charlotte’s life.

He was a protector. He’d been that way when they’d made love so many times over the course of those golden days. He’d been a careful lover, attentive, and she allowed herself the luxury of feeling fully consumed by him, nearly to the point of tears half the times they’d been together. The beauty and the mastery with the way he made her feel stirred healing everything hurt and incomplete in her soul. Mating with him—and that’s what it was—not making love or having sex, it was a mating ritual, a religious experience.

After he had left and went back on the road, she was seriously hoping to follow the circuit he was traveling and show up at some future venue when she found out she was pregnant. That changed everything. It changed her whole life.

There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of him. As she brushed Charlotte’s angel-spun hair, braided it into tiny braids no bigger than the size of her shoelaces, when she tucked her under her arm and read a story to her, or when the little one stared up into her eyes, she saw him there. It was only a matter of time before she was old enough to ask, where’s my daddy?

Lizzie figured she could always say he’d gone away, just like her father had, before Charlotte was old enough to remember him. That brought tears to her eyes. She was happy her father was able to meet his granddaughter before he passed. At the same time, she was sad that she would forever miss the relationship only a loving man like her father, could give Charlotte. This meeting was for her, after all. This was to give Charlotte the chance at a man in her life that she could call father, if he wanted that. But if he didn’t, well, then Lizzie would spare her that uncertainty and the pain of being unwanted.

There was no other way to do it but to show up. Take a number as she’d told him last night. She’d arranged for her Nashville friend to babysit Charlotte overnight. Her friend’s toddler was nearly the same age. Kendra’s husband had been killed overseas, and so the two of them spent time together, raising girls without fathers or husbands. They were good support to each other during the dark, lonely times.

She moved her legs and stretched her arms up over her head and noting when Jameson sat erect and took notice. He dropped his hand from his lips to the chair, seeming to take a minute to adjust to the sight of her again, and then stood slowly.

“You sleep okay?” he asked her.

She arched back and did another stretch. This time the sheet fell back from her white lace bra, and she quickly covered it up, returning a shy grin.

“I’ll go make some coffee,” he whispered, walking around the foot of the bed in his boxers. The tent in his shorts was hard to miss.

“Jameson, come here for a second first.”

“I’ll just be a second,” he whispered as he disappeared into the kitchenette. She listened to the water running and the gurgling sounds sending a fresh caffeine scent she loved even as a child.

He sat on the bed and handed her the ivory crockery mug filled with the brown steamy liquid. “I don’t have any cream. Sorry. Just the powdered stuff, and I remember—”

He stopped himself and gazed off through the lighted window. She had propped herself up in the bed, her knees bent, clutching the mug. With one hand, she allowed two fingers to trace down his upper arm from his shoulder to his elbow. He tilted his head to watch her touch him and then took stock of her expression. Their eyes made the connection they always had, but he didn’t act on the impulse she could see was there.

He sighed, and once again took a sip of coffee and stared out the window.

“Tell me, Jameson. I’ve had three years to get used to the day I’d see you again. And I’m just as unsure as the first time I thought about it.”

He nodded his agreement, clutching the mug in both his hands, his long tanned back barely visible in the early morning shadows. She found a way to touch his back without spilling her coffee and gained his attention back.

“Thank you for being a gentleman, Jameson.”

His smile was lopsided. “Well, I appreciate that. Maybe you can tell me what we’re doing here.”

She waited until he looked her in the eyes again. “I think the room’s beginning to get warm.”

“Well, I agree with you there.”

“Should we talk or—” she smiled instead of finishing her sentence.

His attention was revved to full alert. He licked his lips, set down his coffee cup, and slid under the sheets next to her. She nearly spilled her mug. “I think you better take this,” she said as she held it out to him.

He set her coffee on the floor, so close she heard the clinking of the ceramic. He climbed on top of her body as she pulled her knees to the side, and leaning on his elbows, let his fingers lace through her hair. One thumb dragged along her lower lip. With complete focus, he inserted his thumb into her mouth. His chest rose with his inhale, just before he bent down, his thumbs caressing her cheeks on both sides as he took his kiss at last. His fingers gently cradled her head. They fell into the warm intensity and familiarity of what their combined chemistry had always been, and was building again. The sights and smells of the room, the talks from last night, even her years as a single mother, all floated away. She was focused on her need for this man. It was basic, like breathing, something she’d held back and hadn’t allowed herself to own. Releasing those portions of her soul felt so good, to be lost in the arms of someone who transported her to the heavenly delights as a real woman, not a plaything. Again, her emotions got the better of her. When he came up for air and looked into her eyes, he carefully rubbed the tears away.

As if reading every breath she took, absorbing every expression on her face, he let his fingers draw down to her panties. The smell of her arousal was unmistakable, seeming to drive him wild, he urgently pulled them off her, spread her nether lips with his thumbs again, and kissed her there, sucking and biting her nub as she arched backward from the pulsating pleasure he brought her. The sight of his light brown hair between her legs sent off a warm tickling sensation, a delicate feather was lightly brushing up her spine. Her skin was warmed all over, her nipples engorged and hard, craving his touch. Her ears buzzed. Her breasts ached, bulging under the confines of the lacy undergarment. His lovemaking started slow then gained gradual speed as he rose up again and searched her face, intent on the way she bit her lip. His fingers pinched her nub and he drank from her arousal. Her moan was all for him.

He lowered his mouth again, finding her opening, laving her while her rocking pelvis performed the dance for his hot tongue he inserted deep.

Suddenly, she could take no more and pulled under his arms as if she could lift him, bringing him up on top of her, begging for his cock.

“Please, I need you inside me.”

He slipped down his boxers with ease, and her fingers clutched his muscled butt cheeks as she pulled him hard against her, eliciting a resonant moan from his massive chest, his arms bracing his shoulders. She melted beneath him as he arched against her, rocking forward and back over her lower body, spreading her knees wider, and begging for his thrusting penetration.

Briefly separating, he found a condom in the nightstand easily within reach and began to sheath himself, but she pushed his hands away and finished, squeezing his cock and letting her hand wrap around him tight. She led him to her opening, her fingers still forming a ring at the base of his stem, as he slowly eased his stiffness inside her, feeling every half inch at a time. She’d closed her eyes at the sheer power of their joining, feeling that place with her fingers as his body entered hers, getting lost in it.

He whispered in her ear, “Lizzie, look at me. I want to see how it makes you feel.”

Her muscles went into lockdown, and he groaned. “I remember this,” he whispered again. “And something else,” he said, as he kissed her ear, sucked on her earlobe, and found her bud with his other hand. Pressing it between his thumb and forefinger, he shattered her.

She began to shudder and shake, rockets going off behind her eyes, the delicate hairs under her ears washed in his long, languid kisses. When she pressed her neck to his mouth, she felt the sharpness of his teeth as he bit his way down to the tops of her shoulders. He lifted one knee up, holding the back of her thigh with one massive hand, and slipping her lower leg over his shoulder. Having better access, he slowly added his forefinger to his own girth inside her, at the same time sliding his middle finger up the end of her sex, following the trail of her engorged lips to tap her sensitive anus. He did not penetrate her there, but rubbed her moisture all around her little flower in a ring. Her internal organs pulled at him again, and she pressed his buttocks, digging her nails into his flesh and gripping hard so that his granite shaft produced the dull ache against her cervix. She held him tight as her body milked him, not allowing him to move.

He began a long moan as his hips pivoted upward, his thrusts becoming more urgent, burying himself deep inside her, each plunge deeper still, until he held himself against her vibrating walls, catching the tail end of her orgasm, and riding her body until she caught her breath and began to calm.

A thin line of sweat drained down the small of his back. His forehead was filled with beads of perspiration. She blew into his face. He closed his eyes and accepted the gift of her breath. When he opened his eyes, they stared as of into each other’s souls.

How could she had even considered not seeing this man again? She reached down, pulling the sheets up over both of them. He collapsed, still inside her, and within seconds began a deep sleep.

She didn’t want to wake him, loving the heaviness of this body as he slept against her, making it hard to breathe. The difficulty of her rising and falling chest was a labor of love. His warm body covered her completely,including one of his arms clutching the fingers of her hand out to the side. She loved that his sleeping form demanded she still be his.

Maybe that’s what she’d been afraid of. What if she’d had to say no? What if he wasn’t the man she thought of as a magical memory? What if he had transformed into some other kind of predatory creature commanding her submission?

She knew she would have resisted him. But relief flooded her body. She could trust her feelings, her yearning for him all these years. Her instincts had been spot on. And just like magic, he had brought the one most perfect and precious thing into her life, Charlotte.

It was unfair to expect too much, but in the luxury of his arms and surrounded by the scent of him making her drunk with joy, she inhaled, grabbing all she could gather, and hoped these memories, too, didn’t have to be relegated to some distant archive she’d bring out only when she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

All that she could hope for had happened. He wanted to be Charlotte’s father, accepted his paternity, as she’d hoped he would. And she hoped there would be room for her in there, too. Her mind wanted to embrace the hope they could be a family. But even if they weren’t meant to be a family, he would be Charlotte’s daddy.

And that was way more of a future than she ever thought possible. She’d take it one day at a time. Whatever happened, she’d accept it with her full heart.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Nine

“We are going on a field trip this evening. We will gather after evening prayers. Light refreshment will be provided, and then when we come back, we shall feast before turning in for bed. You will do an hour of study before we dine, before our field trip. Wear your western clothes, but wear the ones you’ve had washed, not the new ones.”

Assad opened the Rumi book and began reading.

‘With the Beloved’s water of life,

No illness remains.

In the Beloved’s rose garden of union,

No thorn remains.

They say there is a window from one heart to another,

How can there be a window where no wall remains?’

Most the boys had a confused look on their faces. “Sweet cherubs, you have no idea how the pleasures of a woman can turn your heart. Understand some of you have been sent by parents who know you might become martyred. ‘How can this be?’ you say. The woman gives to you the baby you send off to war.”

One of the boys sitting toward the front, his best and brightest pupil, turned around behind him. “Answer the teacher,” he demanded of the crowd. He was the one they all feared. Assad knew he would make a great leader because he did not care for feelings, which helped with some of the difficult decisions.

“So, Ari, you tell them then.” Assad nodded to the pupil.

“I have felt the calling of a woman. What the poem is saying is that as your loins increase, as you swell and ache to join, it is a false sense of duty and loyalty.”

“Exactly! Ari has stated it perfectly. How can a window exist where there are no walls? In other words, they have merged, become one. This is a very dangerous concept.” He held his finger to the air, stressing the point. “There is only one calling. There is only one love greater than all others; it transcends the limits of the flesh.”

Assad walked over to the side, looking out over the green rolling hills of the farm they’d rented. The land in Tennessee was beautiful. Lush and greenish gold this time of year. It was as if Mother Earth, as the hippies in America called it, was ripe with abundance, distracting her people from their true calling. It would be easy to fall into the beauty of this land, to lie in her arms and explore her valleys like he would a lover.

“The temptations are greater here. But so is the opportunity. The Americans are weak people. They trust everybody. They don’t like to ’make waves’ as they say it.” Assad knew they enjoyed when he spoke English idioms. His eyes rolled as he pretended to be a surfer on a surfboard somewhere in the ocean he’d never seen.

The students chuckled similar to what he’d remembered as a schoolboy at his mother’s skirts. Again, his breath was taken away at the purity of their thoughts in face of the hell he was going to ask them to create. They’d walk into the blast furnace of their cause with a smile on their faces, willingly. And Assad knew that every time they would do this the Americans would be afraid. They grew weaker with each new bold confrontation. He wanted them not to feel safe in their land of milk and honey, wanted them to think everything was falling apart, as it would one day. They blamed their own police, everyone in charge. Soon, they’d be running in the streets like the band of thieves they really were. Selfish, beaten down by a soft belly and a lifestyle that didn’t prepare them for the blood that was coming.

“The girls you will meet will want to learn things about you. You can smile and pretend to be shy. American girls love that. And let’s face it,” he said with a shrug, “it’s true. You will be shy. You will see and hear things you’ve been told you are not allowed to see and hear. It will be difficult for you to sit next to all the pretty girls in their halter tops and skin-tight short pants. Their parents allow them to look like prostitutes. Even the nice girls do it. Some of them are embarrassed by what they wear, yet they do it anyway.”

The boys whispered amongst themselves, adjusting their prayer robes.

“So you pretend you are a shy boy from Syria. That there was no future for you there and you must come to the States to live with relatives. You will read them these love poems.” He held up the little book. “And they will fall all over you for them.”

The consensus of agreement was there. The school uniforms had been purchased; not real uniforms, but jeans and American Keds, sweatshirts, plain tee shirts, and even black hoodies for each boy to help them fit in. They weren’t allowed logos at the school, so Fatima and the ladies had been careful to take along one of the mothers who volunteered at the school and was their liaison.

“Teacher, I wish to ask a question.”

“Okay. What’s up? Please stand and face me when you ask a question.”

Young Sami scrambled to stand. “If it is wrong to read Rumi back home, why isn’t it wrong to read Rumi here? And wasn’t Rumi a believer? My sister told me—”

“Your sister? Your sister reads Rumi?”

“No, Teacher, but she told me Rumi lived nearly a thousand years ago. At one time, it was considered scholarly to read Rumi.”

Assad held up his book. “You think this is scholarly?”

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,

Absentminded. Someone sober

Will worry about things going badly.

Let the lover be.

“You think it is responsible to let yourself go like that? To fall into the clutches of a woman who lets you fuck her, over and over again, until you are crazy? That is the stuff of whores, Sami. That is an addiction to the flesh. You must be addicted to God and to his people. There is no greater good.”

“But we are to break the teachings here. You are instructing us to do something we could not do at home.”

“Correct. Because these girls you’ll be meeting are not worthy of the air they breathe. In that sense, Sami, you are allowed to cull them from the population of this land so we can claim it for our kingdom. That makes all the difference.”

Nashville Seal: Chapter Ten

Jameson rode behind Lizzie’s car outside the Nashville city limits until they came to a modest neighborhood of smaller homes on average-sized lots. It was a blue collar neighborhood with an assortment of toys in the front yards like an occasional motorcycle or older RV. The yards were fenced and generally kept simple, but nice. He imagined that most of the people who lived here were at work.

She stopped in front of a yellow home with off-white trim. A pink plastic trike with pink and purple streamers and yellow foot pedals was parked just inside the fencing. A pile of shoes, adult sizes and a few child’s sizes, including crocs, were scattered over the doorstep. Lizzie rang the doorbell, and he heard “Mommy” from behind the door. The window beside the front door was covered by narrow mini blinds with several of the slats twisted, leaving gaps. Jameson saw a pair of brown eyes examine him from one of those gaps.

When the door opened, Jameson came face-to-face with a little angel. Her nearly white-blonde hair was floating out of braids that had ceased to hold the hair at bay. But her eyes were unmistakable. They were his eyes. The same color of aqua, clear and almost backlit. She quickly refocused on her mother.

“Mommy,” she shouted, as she leaned forward, nearly leaping from a young woman’s arms into Lizzie’s. She buried her head in Lizzie’s neck and gave her a hug, all the while staring up at him.

Lizzie’s friend was eyeing Jameson like he was a rare and lethal bug, her arms now crossed. At her side, a brown-eyed toddler of about Charlotte’s age, with chocolate brown eyes and a coffee and cream complexion, gripped her thigh and waited.

“Kendra, this is Jameson Daniels. Jameson, this is my best friend, Kendra.”

Lizzie’s friend didn’t offer her hand when Jameson stuck his out. She scowled at Lizzie. “You comin’ or goin?” she asked, as she ignored Jameson without any acknowledgement. He wasn’t used to the frosty reception; but then, under the circumstances, he gave her the benefit of the doubt.

“I’ll be taking her and heading back to North Carolina tonight. Thanks, Kendra,” Lizzie answered her.

“Sure thing. I’ll go gather her stuff. Come on in, but our house rules say take your shoes—holy cow, those are nice boots!” She allowed a sneak of admiration to filter up to him, but then quickly covered it up. “But you still need to take them off, cowboy.”

“No problem.” Jameson sat on the porch bench and began following her instructions. Lizzie slipped her shoes off easily and stepped onto hardwood floors in her bare feet and red painted toes. Jameson placed his boots next to hers and walked in his stockinged feet to the small living room.

“Come on, Charlotte. Let’s find your bags, okay?” Kendra begged, holding out her hands for the toddler.

“I want Mommy to come.”

“Oh, soon you’re gonna have mommy all to yourself. Help me pick up your dolls and things, and then we can visit with mommy’s friend, afterwards, okay?” She shot a pointed look at Lizzie. Charlotte eyed him carefully again as she was led away to gather her things.

Lizzie took Jameson’s hand, and they sat side-by-side on the only couch in the living room. A large toy box in the corner had a lid in the shape of a princess castle. Jameson had never spent much time around children, even less around little girls not yet school age. He squirmed in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs.

“You nervous?” she asked him.

“Depends on what you’re gonna tell her.”

“Well, anything I tell Charlotte, she’ll forget. Or is it Kendra you’re more nervous about?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, neither one of them appears to have warmed to me at all.”

Lizzie giggled. “I remember that about you. Always worrying about things. You need time to let it sink in, Jameson. We’ve been here, what, all of one or two minutes?”

“Honey, I’m way out of practice. You forget where I hang out most of the time.”

“Yup. Bars and hotel rooms. Not sure either one of them picked up on that, so just relax and enjoy the tension.”

She gave him a sweet smile, but Jameson wished he could find a really good reason to bolt. He had been the one to insist he meet his daughter, and he wondered now if he should have taken more time to adjust, since it had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d learned about her.

“Don’t mind Kendra. She’s protective, and I do the same for her. We watch each other’s backs, sort of like you and Thomas.”

Before he could object, Charlotte came running into the room in a pink cape that sparkled in the sunlight, wearing a princess crown. Without warning, she jumped into his lap and leaned against his chest as if she’d done it many times before. In her right hand, she held a monster dress-up doll with big tits, wearing red high heels, jamming it up into his face, nearly smashing his nose.

“What’s this?” he asked, as he peeled the doll from her chubby fingers and held it out in front of him. “Holy cow. That’s a strange lookin’ thing, isn’t it? What’s her name?”

Lizzie and Kendra laughed.

The answer wasn’t something he could make out.

“They make these monsters sort of variation on Barbies, except this one is a zombie. See the bloodshot eyes and dark circles under there?” Lizzie was having a ball with his shock.

“And the green face. My mother would have burned this thing after sticking pins in it and decapitating it,” Jameson said, handing the doll back to Charlotte. Lizzie was frowning. “Sorry, Charlotte honey, but I gotta say that’s one ugly woman.”

Charlotte leaned back and did a stare-down. “She’s supposed to be creepy, silly. Don’t you know anything?”

Lizzie giggled.

“How old did you say she was?” he asked her.

“Only three, going on eighteen.”

“That’s a fact,” he said, nodding to the top of Charlotte’s head.

Kendra brought them both a sweet tea with lots of ice. Jameson was grateful for the distraction. Charlotte wiggled her way off his lap and onto the floor, yanking her sequined cape behind her. In the process, her crown fell off, but she left it alone.

Jameson leaned over to Lizzie. “She’s beautiful, darlin’. But shouldn’t she be playing with princess dolls and such, not green monsters?”

“Who never die. I can see you didn’t like mystery as a kid.”

“No, ma’am. I can’t sleep if I watch one of those vampire movies. Talk about creepy; now that’s creepy.”

Lizzie leaned against him, wrapping her left arm under his and squeezing herself into him. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was messing around with his guitar, thinking about his care free single life, getting ready to take a quick nap before heading over to the club. Now, everything had changed. He felt ill-equipped to care for a daughter or a wife. Being on the road performing wasn’t for a married man who wanted to stay married. He hadn’t known anyone who’d been able to do it successfully.

Twenty-four hours ago, he was certainly not thinking of anything permanent, certainly not marriage and raising a family. It was still something he wasn’t sure he was ready to do.

“So, you’re taking off tonight then?” he asked her, while still focused on Charlotte.

“Don’t worry, Jameson. You don’t owe me anything. I set out to do what I intended to do. You’ve met her. Now the ball is in your court. We’ll be fine, either way.”

He wasn’t sure what he should say. He was used to being confident, assured. He was used to going at his pace, which was easy and slow, until some beautiful and exciting creature with ten times the need he did, would drag him into an exciting liaison and love the night away. And then it would start all over the next day.

But for the first time, he didn’t know what to say or what to do. If he left right now, Charlotte would never remember him. But he’d forever feel like a heel, and although he and Lizzie weren’t married, every woman he slept with would make him feel like a cheater. And it wasn’t Lizzie alone he’d be cheating on. It would be Charlotte as well.

Suddenly, his idyllic life didn’t seem so idyllic any longer. He had important decisions to make, decisions that would affect two other people’s lives. There was no question that Charlotte was his daughter, but was he ready to be her father?

Nashville Seal: Chapter Eleven

With the gig at Highway to Heaven over, Reed brought in the girl group he’d bumped Thomas for. He’d heard nothing from the A&R guy or the producer who had initially expressed interest in his new song. He began writing a couple of other songs and considered going down to visit Lizzie, but was waiting to hear about a possible week-long gig in California, close enough to San Diego that he could hang out with the SEALs. He rented a tiny efficiency apartment in Nashville while he waited. He called Lizzie every day.

The California trip finally fell through.

“Fuck it, Jameson. We should just go there and check things out. Spend a couple of weeks in the sun, get out of this rain, see how it goes, and then come back. If something breaks, you can always come right back.”

It hadn’t taken much for Thomas to convince him, so they arranged the trip. Jameson called Kyle, who was excited to hear from him and offered a place to stay, cautioning him to stay away from the bachelor SEALs.

Then Thomas was handed a gig that was too good to pass up. He’d be touring in the Pacific Northwest for a whole month. Jameson was happy for his old friend, and then decided to ask Lizzie to go with him.

“No, Jameson. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And why not?”

“Charlotte has her routine here. She’s in preschool. She doesn’t know you.”

“Well, how the hell’s she supposed to get to know me if I never see her? I’m not moving to North Carolina.”

“Well, I’m not moving to Nashville or San Diego.”

“Then let’s just take a trial run, a trip out there, and we can explore the area together. Have you ever been?”

“Never.”

“Perfect. Neither have I. Kyle made arrangements for us to stay at his place, and Coop offered his motorhome rigged up down at the beach. We could stay there, if you like. Right on the beach, Lizzie! Charlotte could play in the water. We could take nice walks. We’d have lots of privacy.”

Lizzie’s laughter was full of possibility, he thought. After several more coaxings, she relented.

They started off on a Saturday, stopping twice to overnight. Charlotte took to calling Jameson JJ, which suited him just fine.

Coop’s motorhome down at the beach wasn’t exactly posh accommodations, but it was rigged with a killer stereo system. He’d been told to keep his hands off of the other equipment and to leave the locked metal boxes untampered with. Jameson figured the medic had some secret stuff he didn’t want to share.

The first two days they were there, several of the SEAL team came by for a timed run, then a swim, and a workout on the beach. Jameson watched them, wondering what kind of a man it took to become one of those elite warriors.

Lizzie was quiet as he studied the SEALs and then finally asked him what he thought of them.

“You know, I’ve never been this long from playing clubs before. Funny how, when you throw yourself out into the real world where the drink isn’t flowing and the lights aren’t on your face, your perspective changes.”

They were sitting side by side, toes pushed into the sand.

“Could you do something like that?”

“Maybe. Been thinking about it.”

He felt her stiffen. Even placing his arm around her shoulder didn’t help.

They didn’t talk much during the next two days. Like two ships passing in the night, he’d watch her chatting with the other wives and girlfriends at a couple of get-togethers. The SEALs valued their partying, but rarely with outsiders. Jameson knew they were beginning to consider him part of the family, and it made him proud they thought so highly of him.

Kyle invited him to swim and run with them the next morning at dawn, and Jameson said he’d be game to try. “Not much of a swimmer, but I used to run in high school.”

“Swimming is no problem. Everything you need to know you can learn or we can teach you. You spend a few weeks with us, working out with us, and, then we take you up to INDOC. You take the oath, and you’re in.”

“Whoa! In? As in, the Navy?”

“Sure as shit we can nail you a guaranteed SEAL tryout, if you’re not too chicken.”

“Nah, I never wanted to be in the military. I’m a singer, a songwriter.”

“And how’s that working out for you? Where are the calls, Jameson? You got a hit record anyone offering to pay you a huge advance?”

“No. But—”

“Navy’ll give you a signing bonus, Jameson. There’s life insurance for Lizzie and the kid. If something happens to you, her college is paid for.”

How the hell did I get from hanging out with these guys to thinking about life insurance and free college in the event of my demise?

“Kyle, this is a fuckin’ vacation.”

“Life is a vacation, my friend. Think about it. We’ll meet you at your front door at Zero-Six Hundred.”

On the way home from the party, he decided he and Lizzie needed to talk. It was obvious something was bothering her.

“I’m going to go for a run and swim early tomorrow morning. Kyle invited me.”

She shrugged her shoulders. Charlotte was asleep in her car seat behind her.

After an awkward pause, she asked him the question he didn’t have an answer to. “Why, Jameson? Are you thinking you want to try out for the Teams?”

“Been thinking about it.”

“What about your singing career?”

“What career? I could always go back to that. But let’s be honest, I’m not getting any calls, Lizzie.”

“Well, for one thing, you’re not back in Nashville. I wouldn’t say San Diego is exactly a mecca for record producing. And where are the venues? You’re not even playing anywhere.”

“I’m just thinking about it. We’re just working out together tomorrow, is all. Nothing to be concerned about.”

She watched him with that critical eye, even though she was facing straight ahead, lights from street signs flashing over her pretty face.

“Well, I’ve made a decision, too. I’m going home.”

He pulled over and swung around to the right so he could face her. “But why? Aren’t you having a good time here? Don’t you love the weather, all the new friends we’re making?”

“While you’re off talking to the SEALs, you mean? Jameson, you haven’t been here, mentally here, the whole time.”

“Yes, I have, honey.”

“No. I’m not buying that crap. I thought at first you came out here to have a little vacation with me and Charlotte, but no, you came out here to meet with them. Charlotte and I are an afterthought.” She stared at the floor. “I just realized the SEALs would always come first. That’s the way they operate, and I think that’s why you love those guys so much. It’s a Boy’s Club. Running around, doing all this exciting stuff like jumping out of airplanes and blowing up stuff, all the specialized training, playing with all the cool equipment and tools.”

“Geez, Lizzie, how can you say that?”

“I’ve watched them, Jameson. Big boy scouts who never grew up.”

“Who have each other’s backs. Look at what they do, Lizzie.”

“Just like in Nashville, your music comes first. Happy to be living the single life, different bars, different women every night—”

“That’s not fair and you know it. I’m not sleeping around. Where did you get that idea?”

“Well, you’re not here with us.”

Jameson was fuming. He felt she had him tethered in guilt and it didn’t fit well at all. “I’ve been here every f---darned night and day practically, and you want more? What do you expect? You gonna suck the marrow out of my bones, too? Will that make it so you have enough of me?”

He’d mortally wounded her. He could tell she wouldn’t be bouncing back anytime soon. This was way bigger than a small misunderstanding. Their irritation toward each other had been brewing for the last two days. She’d stopped initiating advances toward him in bed. It had been three days since they’d made love. No, this wasn’t working out. What did she expect of him?

Now the idea of jumping out of airplanes seemed perfectly logical. He wanted to do it, just because he could.

He turned back onto the two-lane highway and then down the gravel road to the inlet and the little fishing village. Coop’s ‘Babemobile,’ as the rest of the team called it, had seen better days. And with the tall SEAL living in it for two years before his marriage, Jameson sure hoped none of the medic’s sexploits came back to haunt him. Lizzie was going through a very tender time. He was afraid to ask her anything for fear she’d snap his head off.

But hell, so was he. He didn’t want to just be a sperm donor. He wanted to be a father Charlotte would look up to, a real hero. Because right now, Jameson didn’t think he deserved anything, or any part of a forever.

“So, when are you going home?” he finally drummed up the courage to ask.

“Tomorrow.”

“I see. And when did you decide this?”

“Just now.”

Nashville Seal: Chapter Twelve

Lizzie began saying her farewell without tears, which was what she told herself she wanted. She held her package of sunshine. Charlotte who warmed her heart, which was otherwise in terrible shape. She wouldn’t say it was broken; the word she wanted to pick was disappointed. She told herself that’s all it was, braced for any hint she wasn’t firm with her decision. She’d lived for three years by herself with her little bundle of joy; she could do it for however long it needed to be.

But it hadn’t changed Jameson’s plans, she sadly had to admit. He wasn’t going to become a SEAL for her and for Charlotte, in fact, they weren’t even part of the equation. He was doing it for himself. And if she’d hitched her star to that wagon, perhaps the same thing would happen when her parents suddenly were gone. She could be a young widow, bringing him into Charlotte’s life, and then having to explain if he were killed in this dangerous lifestyle he wanted to adopt. She felt while she’d matured, as a mother and guardian for Charlotte, it would take time for Jameson to do the same, and how could he if he was gone all the time? What kind of a life would that be for them all?

Over and over again, Lizzie told herself it was for Charlotte’s welfare and not her own that she was doing this. It wasn’t fair to the youngster to have a man in her life, her daddy, who had priorities elsewhere. When the time came, she’d meet and fall in love with someone who could give her his whole heart. Until then, it was only prolonging the agony to try repairing something that perhaps wasn’t really there in the first place. All the duct tape and barbed wire in the world could not patch that puppy. It was like nailing a ghost to the wall, or putting back a feather with glue; or trying to tether a guardian angel, like the ones she loved to read about in her romance novels, with some golden string. Although, on a day like today, with the sky threatening to burst forth, she could do with a Fairy Godmother.

And then she smelled the golden-haired, blue-eyed angel in her arms, and all was right with the world again.

“You don’t have to do this, Liz.” Jameson wrapped her in his arms, and she stiffened. “Relax. Just let me hold you.”

Those had been the words he’d said to her, what was it? Four, five nights ago? And she’d let him do it then and look what happened. So she pushed away from him, even though the timbre of his voice and the scent of him plucked at her heart. This would be the last time. After today, it would start to become easier, and each day thereafter all these memories would fade.

“Jameson, I hope you find what you need. I hope you find your calling. I really do. Whether it’s music or running around getting shot or worse, whatever it is you want, I hope you find it and it works for you.”

“Liz—”

His hand was coming toward her face, and she veered away. “Don’t. Let’s just leave it where it is.”

“But I don’t understand why we can’t give it a little more time.”

“See, that’s the problem, Jameson. It was too soon. I worried about this, and I never should have come. I thought I was stronger than this.”

“You’re being very strong now, but you don’t have to be.”

“Do you understand that I love Charlotte too much to bring someone into her life who isn’t sure what he wants? Where he stands in relation to his future? To us?”

“If you want to get married, I’ll do that.”

“Why? What difference would that make? Is marriage some kind of magic pill you take and voila! Everything is wonderful all of a sudden? Get married and then go off and get yourself killed, leaving us behind?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t guarantee that, and you know it.”

“No, honestly I can’t. So, you want me to stay in Nashville and pursue my music? That what you’re saying?”

“No, Nashville wouldn’t work either. If I stayed by to support and watch that happen, it would only hold up until the next pretty girl forces herself into your dressing room. How long before an avid fan shows up at my doorstep saying she’s pregnant with your baby? You really think I want any possibility of that happening?”

“I have no say in the matter, then?”

“If it wasn’t for Charlotte, we could duke it out, hash out all the details, and maybe come to some conclusion, but this is about her, and for God’s sake, I don’t understand why you can’t comprehend that.”

Her flight was to, of all places, Charlotte, en route to Nashville, where her friend had offered her a couple of days to heal and talk through her pain and confusion. She really needed her best friend now more than ever. The flight was now being announced over the loudspeaker.

“I still have to go through security, and they’re boarding my flight. Jameson, you follow your heart, your dreams. I hope you get there. I really do. And I’ll follow mine, okay? Do this for me. Find yourself. Find someone who has the luxury of being able to wander the world with you, a great adventure, to be sure. But I’m not that person. I live in North Carolina, and I have a life I’ve made with Charlotte and the support system of my friends. And she’s gonna be happy. Already is a happy little blessing. A little part of you, the only part of you I can have right now. The only part of you I can safely have.” Her voice trailed off. She had to work to keep the waver out of it.

She wouldn’t look at him. He’d put his palm on her shoulder and squeezed.

With her eyes still downturned, she added, “In time, I will be, too. I promise. Now go.” She pushed him away without making eye contact, re-hoisted Charlotte on her hip, pulled out her boarding passes, and turned in the opposite direction, without glancing back.

Lizzie felt his eyes follow her all through the line, knew that he watched for some sign she’d change her mind—if she turned, he’d be encouraged by something she did. Or maybe he was already gone and it was just her imagination. Either way, she wasn’t going to check. Her heart had been excised with a dull spoon.

“Bye-bye,” Charlotte said, as she waved behind her to someone. The tears started to come. Charlotte giggled and continued to wave, because that’s what someone else was doing on the other side of the security checkpoint line.

She handed Charlotte to the agent at the x-ray machine. “I don’t want her going through this, but I will.”

“Yes, ma’am. We have to do a wand check. We can do it on you both. You can hold her hand.”

They barely made the plane before the doors were locked behind them. She’d had to check the stroller and one of her carry-on bags since Charlotte was a lap child on a full flight and space was limited.

She leaned back into the middle seat between two heavyset ladies who grumbled at their placement. Charlotte gave them both a stern frown when neither smiled at her. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll be home soon. Just try to rest, and a little later, we’ll get something to eat and take a little walk down the aisle to the back. Would you like that?”

Charlotte nodded her head and, with her small forefinger, traced a tear Lizzie didn’t know was showing, from just under her eye, down to the top of her lip. Lizzie gazed into eyes that sparkled aquamarine crystals and wondered if Charlotte understood more than she was able to communicate.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. Mama’s okay. You take a nap.”

Charlotte tucked her little face under Lizzie’s chin, sighed, and in a matter of minutes was fast asleep.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Thirteen

Jameson waited until the plane took off before he left the San Diego airport. He wanted to punch something, he was so upset with himself for not running past the gate and all the guards, grabbing Lizzie, and kidnapping her back to the safety of his arms. But no, he’d been a dickwad and just watched as she made her way out of his life forever, his daughter waving good-bye like a fuckin’ sad movie scene.

He climbed into his SUV and squealed the tires as he turned the corner of the parking garage. The last thing he wanted to do was show up alone and have to explain to any of his new SEAL friends what had happened. It was too early to tie one on, or maybe it wasn’t. He wished Thomas was there. He’d say something either so obnoxious he could push him over, or scream at him, or he’d say something that would take his breath away. Regardless, he would react. It would release some of the tension, and he’d be fixed for now.

He checked his cell phone. Thomas wouldn’t be at the club yet in Seattle. He gave him a call.

“Hey, asshole.”

“How’s it going, Thomas?”

“What the fuck’s wrong with you? This a social call, Jameson?”

“I just put Lizzie on a plane for Nashville.”

“So what the fuck are you doing there in San Diego?”

“Looking for someone to get drunk with.”

“This is bad. This is very bad, Jameson. I’m stuck here another three weeks, unless we get held over, and right now, it looks like that will happen. You could come up here, hang out with the band. Not like performing, but still, it would be something to do.”

“Not happening. I’ve got some sorting out to do.”

“Your funeral. You seriously considering becoming a sailor?”

“Not a sailor, a SEAL. Big difference.”

“In a manner of speaking, but if you don’t make it, you go out to the fleet. You’re not Elvis singing to the troops and all. You’d be swabbing decks and cleaning toilets, or peeling potatoes and shit.”

“Nah. I’m gonna see what it takes. I’ll call back and let you know.”

Jameson, Kyle, and Coop sat down with the Navy recruiter. Kyle told him not to trust a single hair plug on the guy’s forehead, and that they all lied through their teeth. Kyle helped secure an order signed by the senior staff that said he was allowed to try out for the next BUD/S class in just over a month.

It felt funny raising his right hand, taking the oath of allegiance, and receiving the sporadic clapping his three SEAL friends gave him that Thursday afternoon. Before the ink was dry he got orders to ship off to Great Lakes, where he tested so highly they pulled him out of basic training and told him he was going to be a dentist.

“Nah, man, I’m going to try out for the Teams.”

“No one makes it. I don’t think they’ve graduated anyone in six months, son,” the hardened Chief barked at him. “They don’t tell the public this, but they’re not adding any new SEALs. In fact, they’re downsizing. Just don’t want the enemy to know. I’d say dental school is much smarter, son. ” The Chief pressed it to Jameson’s chest. “Take it, goddam you. I’m doin’ you a fuckin’ favor.”

Jameson called Kyle that evening and was told that was horseshit. He tore up the orders to report to dental school. Next morning he reported back to the Chief “You guaranteed my shot, and I’m gonna take it.”

The team had only been able to train with him for a month before Indoc, so he was looking forward to testing all the training they’d shoved down his throat. Kyle and the men kicked his butt. He learned to work out with little sleep. They made him run on the beach with seventy pounds of sand in his backpack, in full combat gear. They hosed him down on the beach outside the Babemobile, and made him recite the Lord’s Prayer so many times Jameson knew he’d be saying it in his sleep. They made him carry sawed-off telephone poles by himself.

He’d pulled a groin muscle during basic, but didn’t want to tell anyone when he reported for his first day of BUD/S. Sure as shit, they started doing timed runs, and his groin began to swell. When he stood up and began limping, one of the instructors pulled him out of the lineup and said, “You gonna go all medical on me or are you pregnant, because you walk like a lady who’s gonna deliver triplets. I’ve been watching you.”

“I pulled a groin muscle in basic.”

“Sure you did. How many times did you get laid this week?”

“Not one, sir.”

“Oh, I get it. Playing grab ass with the recruits. So you’re into boys, that how it goes sailor?”

“Nosir. Nothing wrong with me in that department.”

“Did I say there was anything wrong with being gay? I’m fuckin’ gay. You wanna see if I can whip your ass, sailor?”

“Nosir. I meant no disrespect.”

The trainer looked him over. He picked his hands up and saw the calluses on his fingertips. “You a guitar player?”

“Yessir, I am.”

“No, you’re not. Your ass is mine. You might never get to play a guitar again, son. Is that gonna be okay with you?”

Jameson sighed, wondering how long the smack talk was going to hold up. “I brought my guitar, but like you said, sir, I’ve not had the energy to play it. But writing music helps me to relax.”

“What the fuck is that? We don’t write songs in the Navy. You like Frances Scott Key or something? Gonna write a new Navy SEAL song?”

“No sir, that would be a very bad idea.”

“You’re damned straight.” He walked around him a couple of times. “Who got you trained for this gig? You fill out well. You a swimmer?”

Jameson signed again and examined his boots. “No sir.”

“This getting all hard on you, son? You don’t like someone talking to you this way?”

“I had a soccer coach who used to talk to me like this all the time.”

“That a fact? And how did you guys get along?”

“I quit the team. And I slashed all his tires.”

“What the hell for?”

“He wanted me to give up the lead in the high school musical. So I quit the soccer team.”

“So you’re a Romeo boy. A crooner, that what you’re sayin?”

“I sing and write country music, yes sir. If that’s what that means.”

“You get the ladies all hot and bothered is my guess. You’re kinda good-looking, kid. Too good lookin’ for a SEAL. We only let ugly ones pass. That’s a little known fact.”

“Horseshit.”

“Excuse me?” The instructor leaned his concrete chest against Jameson’s. “You want to tell me that again?”

“Horseshit, sir. I got friends who are SEALs, and they’re damned good-looking.”

“Really, and who would those friends be, or are they posers?”

“Chief Petty Officer Kyle Lansdowne, Special Operator Calvin Cooper, and a couple of others.”

The instructor tried not to show it, but Jameson could tell it had left an impression on him. “So, you’re hoping to be one of Kyle’s boys, that right?”

“I understand it doesn’t exactly work that way, but if it’s possible, yes.”

That day turned the corner for Jameson. He was given a lighter duty than the rest of them, and allowed to get a little more sleep. One by one, they learned to swim in the dirty inlet, increasing their swim and run times until most of them could nearly break records on the college level. Jameson ignored the repeated calls from Thomas, and never got one from Lizzie. He focused on only one thing: not giving up.

In the end, he was one of twenty-two out of two hundred who graduated with his original class.

Kyle, Cooper, and several of the other men showed up at his Trident ceremony. He was unprepared for the fact that they’d asked Kyle Lansdowne to deliver the speech to the new graduates.

“The world’s changing, gents. We’ll probably have a woman graduate within these next few years. I’m not at liberty to comment about that, but the nature of warfare and the rules of engagement are changing as we sit here on this beautiful and sunny San Diego day. There are people out there,” he pointed off in the distance, “who are planning right now to do us harm. Right here on American soil. That’s not official Navy issue, but it’s a fact. By becoming a SEAL, wearing the Trident—which I don’t recommend doing, by the way, in public anymore—you are not only endangering your own life; but the lives of your wives, girlfriends, parents, brothers, and sisters.

You don’t walk in these shoes lightly. As SEALs, we carefully train for every eventuality. And your families need to agree to be a part of this. We are all one unit. No one else understands what we do or why. We never know who ordered it or why some guy at the Head Shed decided it was a good idea to do X, Y, and Z. We don’t know what political party he’s a part of, because the war doesn’t discriminate by political party, race, religion, or sex. Dr. Death is an equal opportunity employer. And he’ll claim as many as he can get away with.

The difference is, our families are more at risk than they ever have been. Make no mistake. You won’t get out of this life before you know someone personally who has given his or her life to save our great country from its enemies.”

Jameson was left in awe of the man he hoped to serve under.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Fourteen

Lizzie settled into a routine over the next few months that kept her busy. She was hired part-time working in the elementary school Charlotte would more than likely attend since she held a teaching credential. She was hoping that by the time Charlotte was ready for kindergarten or first grade, her job would become full-time and permanent.

The time went by fast. Charlotte was very social, and at times Lizzie had trouble keeping up with her activities and play dates. She enrolled her in gymnastics and dance classes. But there wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t think of him. When she didn’t hear from him, she decided it was best to leave things the way they were. In time, she knew he’d come walking into Charlotte’s life, probably with a wife and child of his own. She worked to make sure she was prepared for that day, when it would no doubt come.

A couple of times during the holidays and into the spring, she traveled to Nashville and stayed with Kendra, so the girls could play and the two of them could catch up. Kendra had met an executive with one of the large hotel chains and had been able to do some traveling for minimal cost.

Kendra had received a promotion, so they decided to go out on the town. Kendra used a sitter from the local high school she’d used on several occasions when the two of them went out to dinner or to catch a movie. Tonight, they were going to hit the Highway to Heaven, since neither of them had been there in over six months.

When the sitter arrived, Kendra waved good-bye to the girl’s mother, who had dropped her off. “Thanks for coming on such short notice, Maureen.”

“No problem. I have a ton of reading to get caught up on.”

Lizzie and Kendra were silent all the way over to The Highway. Lizzie thought the crowd was larger than she remembered, and it also had a younger vibe. She found Thomas at his usual perch on one of the stools at the bar in the shadows. His guitar case was down by his boots.

“I come back here after all this time, and who do I find?” She watched him struggle to lean over and take her hand.

“I been waiting for you, darlin’.”

Lizzie thought he appeared even scruffier than before. His jacket had a coffee stain on the breast pocket, which was slightly ripped, like it had been caught on something. His hair wasn’t clean, and his face a little sallow. She immediately picked up that Thomas wasn’t his usual healthy self.

“Thomas, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Kendra.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas, is it?” Kendra was polite but declined to shake his hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, as he tipped his hat to her, then removed it, and placed it on the counter. Lizzie saw the red spider veins in his cheeks and on one side of his nose.

“You playing tonight, Thomas?”

“No, ma’am. But I come prepared anyway, just in case they need the backup quarterback. I actually have a better chance to get on stage now that Jameson is gone.”

Lizzy’s heart raced. “Gone?”

“Oh, not dead, sweetheart.” He winked at her indicating he might be a bit drunk but his observation skills were still sharp. “Gone as in he’s off to San Diego. Finishing up his qualifying. The guy actually made it through the SEAL training.”

“That’s awesome,” said Kendra.

Lizzie wanted to learn more, but didn’t want Thomas or anyone else to know that she still hadn’t stopped thinking and dreaming about him. She thought she’d tucked the pain in fireproof containers in her chest, but she felt the sharp sting of unfinished business and a world of regrets.

She didn’t care for being held hostage to the mystery between them, didn’t want to get hit with it some day when he might just stop by and she’d have to deal with the reality he’d moved on. “So, I suppose by now he’s found a nice young lady and settled down.”

Thomas smirked and took a long drink of whatever was in his glass, coughing afterwards. “That’s funny, missy. I guess you don’t know very much about those guys. They train all the time. I mean, he was awarded his Trident, but he still has to learn how to do all this shit. They go up to Alaska, to the desert, even go to Mexico, North Africa—all over to train. I don’t know how he’d have the time. But,” he eyed Lizzie carefully, giving her a lopsided wolfish grin, “he’s supposed to be done now.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure why that made her feel better, but it did.

“You know, darlin’, if it’s someone you want who can keep you warm at night, I’d like to apply for the job.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. If it had been anyone else, she would have let him down with a harsh reprimand involving something about him not being in her league, but because he was Thomas, dear sweet Thomas, and Jameson’s old friend, she couldn’t do that.

She was going to say something, when he blurted out, “Oh, hell, might as well tell you. He’s coming back to Nashville. You’re gonna see the posters everywhere. Old Reed has him doing a farewell tour. Seems he has all kinds of new material, and might have a song or two that will be picked up.”

“Really?” Lizzie asked.

“When’s this happening?” asked Kendra.

“Next week. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, right here.”

“You gonna come back and see him, Lizzie?” asked Kendra, as they drove back to her house.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Jameson still had her phone number, and a call might have been nice if he wanted her there. In the absence of that, she wasn’t convinced it would be a good idea. “I’ll think about it.”

They arrived at Kendra’s house and woke up the babysitter. As Kendra left to drive her home Lizzie walked inside the bedroom and found Charlotte asleep wearing her pink sparkly cape and crown. She remembered the day she’d come running out into the living room and nearly high-jumped into Jameson’s lap. She remembered other things too: how he bent down and helped her eat her ice cream, how he walked around the house with Charlotte on his shoulders and forgot about the door jamb catching her forehead on it, giving poor wailing Charlotte a goose egg that took nearly a week to heal.

She’d told him to find himself. Did he? she wondered.

Lizzie closed the bedroom door, took a shower, put on her nightgown, propped her feet up, and turned on the television. On the coffee table, a small book was open, so she leaned over and began to read some very erotic poems Maureen had left behind.

Kendra arrived back home.

“Take a look at what your sitter was reading. Honestly, these are very adult. Kind of surprising.”

Kendra grabbed the book and read the title. “Ecstasy and Love by Rumi? Who the hell is Rumi?”

“I’ve never heard of him. The kids these days read all sorts of stuff. One of our teachers said her eighth grader was reading that Fifty Shades book. I couldn’t believe it.”

“But this Rumi guy was a mystic, a thirteenth-century poet from Afghanistan.” Kendra wrinkled up her nose. “How the hell did she get this? I’m sure they don’t teach this in the high school. This is way too adult. These pages have erotic drawings and pictures of stone carvings. Look at this!”

Kendra flipped the pages back and forth, pen and ink sketches of couples in various mating rituals, and photographs of stone temples with couples having sex carved into the relief.

“You should call her mother,” whispered Lizzie.

“I will. Wow. I’m sorry,” Kendra shook her head. “I really don’t like the fact that she thinks she can bring this into my house.”

“I don’t know. I guess I should be surprised, but I’m not.”

“I’ll pick one of the other girls from the babysitting pool next time. Sorry.”

“It’s not that big a thing.”

They shared a glass of ice water and then decided to head for bed. Kendra made up the couch, and for Lizzie, leaving the girls asleep together in the other bedroom, and settled in for the night. Just before she turned off the lights, Lizzie fingered the Rumi pages and read several erotic poems.

When she closed her eyes, she saw Jameson’s bare frame looking down on her, the feel of his kiss on her neck so real, she had to open her eyes to verify he wasn’t really there.

She knew, despite what she told herself, she’d be dreaming about him all night long.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Fifteen

The Highway to Heaven was packed with the first of Jameson’s three farewell
concerts. He sat in his dressing room, signing tee shirts, glossy pictures Reed had made up for the event, and occasionally, an arm or the thigh encased in a tight pair of jeans. It was flattering how the ladies still wanted his attention, and he had many offers for nightcaps and all-night parties. He declined them all.

Kyle, Cooper, and several of the other SEALs had come back with him for the weekend, and he had plans to show them the back streets and dark stories of the Nashville scene, sort of like they’d done for him in San Diego.

He’d been working out so much that the shirt he had planned to wear didn’t fit him anymore. The definition in his shoulders and upper arms made it so he could hardly wear anything that wasn’t made from stretchy material. Even his jeans were snug, his thighs packed in so tight they almost hurt.

His boots fit, though. He hadn’t worn them for months.

Kyle showed his face around the doorway. “How’s it hanging, Elvis?” The name that the first BUD/S instructor had called him had caught on, and he was evermore known as “Elvis, the singing SEAL.” He wasn’t sure how he liked it, but part of his acceptance in the community was predicated on the pranks and practical jokes that he could tolerate. Nicknames were brutal, and as nicknames went, Elvis wasn’t nearly as bad as “Moron” for the Mormon kid he roomed with on one training or “Papa Smurf” for the short tight little package from New Jersey the girls called “Sugar Buns.” The poor guy was barely five feet tall, and for some reason, all the six-foot-something beach volleyball players loved him, which was a constant sore subject to the taller SEALs.

“I’m good. Maybe you could help me with this. My usual shirt with all the fancy beading doesn’t fit me anymore. I mean, I feel like I’m gonna pop a seam.”

He held up his arms and showed Kyle how tight the back and chest were. “And look at this,” he showed Kyle how little room his biceps had.

“You wanna just play in your white tee shirt? Might be more comfortable.”

“No. This is a tradition. I never thought I’d have to have this damn shirt altered. It’s my lucky shirt.”

Kyle pulled the fabric wide at his upper torso. “You need more room here. I’d say give ‘em what they want and unbutton an extra two. That’ll make the room you need.”

Kyle unbuttoned the shirt.

“Now I feel like Tom Jones. Only thing missing is all the gold chains,” laughed Jameson.

“And the wolf patch on the chest. Don’t forget that. Although I guess that’s not really in anymore.”

“I think Elvis did it, too,” added Jameson.

“Oh yeah, I think he just shoved his shirt into his pants without buttoning it at all, especially toward the end. And then he kicked and danced around on stage with his coattails flying. Been a long time, but I saw him on TV as a child.” Kyle adjusted the shirt so it hung on Jameson straight. “Perfect, cowboy. I think we’re good to go.”

“Okay, thanks, man.”

“You need to pray? Do I need to do a laying on of hands or anything?”

“Shut the fuck up and get outta my room, you prick.”

“Okay,” Kyle said, feigning being careful, tiptoeing out the door. Just before he closed it behind him, he whispered, “Give ‘em hell, Jameson. Let ‘er rip. You’re a fucking guitar-playing-fuckin’ U.S Navy fuckin’ badass SEAL.”

Jameson kicked the door closed and left a boot print on the wood.

He closed his eyes and he saw Lizzie’s face.

Damn.

He’d been staring at the cover of his cell phone for nearly twenty-four hours, since they hopped aboard the transport plane and landed at the Naval Air Station. He was looking for a text or a call from Lizzie, but none came. With only five minutes ‘til show time, he knew it wasn’t likely she’d be there. He consoled himself with the fact that perhaps he’d call later tonight or tomorrow morning and catch up, maybe invite her to one of the last two concerts. They were going to deploy in a couple of months, and up until that time, their training would be intense, without any weekend leave. So this was the last time they’d have off before then.

Grabbing his guitar, he realized he hadn’t brought the rum and coke into the dressing room with him, and he’d been so busy, he’d forgotten to order one. The club body guard—a huge woman named Debbie who sported tats, and wore all black leather, with bright pink lipstick matching her two-inch long, scissor-like nails—barked her question that sounded more like an order.

“You ready, sugar?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She grinned from ear to ear and sauntered over to him, not minding a bit that her enormous tits rubbed against the bare skin on his chest. Her fake eyelashes were nearly an inch long.

“Look at you, cutie. You’re sweet as sugar. Man, I’d love to fuck your brains out. You game afterwards?”

In spite of himself, Jameson blushed.

She squealed with delight. “Ah, sugar, sugar, sugar, I want you to suck my pussy dry and then fuck me wet.”

“That’s very tempting, Debbie,” he said, hoping the panic in his voice didn’t show. “But I got a date,” he lied.

“I don’t mind. I’ll bet she has a nice little ass that we could both enjoy. Or she could watch, and I’d bet she’d be so hot she’d let you fuck her from here to the moon and back. You know like that sign they have in the expensive gift shops? ‘Love you to the moon and back?’ That kind of a fuck.”

She’d been a topless dancer in her younger years, one of those who was naturally well-endowed, and a Nashville favorite. Her string of nasty boyfriends had her taking self-defense, and when she couldn’t get a job working for the Nashville Police Department because of her past drug use, she took to being Reed’s enforcer, and sometimes mistress. But only if she was feeling generous. Reed practically had to beg her to go to bed with him, and he was walking behind the bar with a continual hard-on, Thomas told him.

She stood before him, poured into the size-twenty leather pants that showed every curve. “Laters, baby,” she said and blew him a kiss.

Jameson took in a big gulp of air, sort of grateful for the entertainment, which was a lot wilder in his dressing room than whatever was going to happen on stage tonight.

Thank God.

He heard his name being called out, and the crowd erupted into cheers, the likes of which he’d never heard before.

The band had started their warmup late, barely breaking a sweat by the time Jameson came out on stage and began playing.

He began the set with his American Patriot song that the crowds always loved and sang along to. He gave the front-row ladies winks and the chance to become stars, leaning over the stage to give them one shot with the microphone, their friends screaming in the background.

He launched into a three-set heartbreaking series, singing about cheaters, drunks, and girls who chose somebody else. He mopped his brow with a shirt someone had thrown him, and then decided to slow it down a bit.

“Okay, let’s have some fun. Who here has the most tattoos?”

Instantly, the SEALs stood, ripping off their shirts, displaying Celtic crosses, barbed wire rings, naked girls, skulls, and of course, the frog prints going up their forearms. Nobody else came close.

“Honestly, I think you guys are the winners. Why don’t you come up on stage? Or better yet, let’s have Kyle Lansdowne come up here and show off his tats. He can be the symbolic winner.”

Jameson happened to glance stage right and saw Debbie’s ample ass covered in hearts of all different sizes and colors, all with a man’s name written in script beneath them. And sure as shit, the bright red one on her left cheek read Jameson. She started to take her pants off when Kyle hopped up on stage, his eyes widening as saucers. “Holy shit,” Kyle said.

“You don’t know the half of it, Kyle. Unless you’ve got a month’s supply of penicillin, you don’t go near that,” he whispered in Kyle’s ear.

Kyle paraded like a body builder across the stage with whoops and hollers from the crowd, which was mostly made up of women.

Jameson played a few bars of Miss America, and Kyle flipped him the bird. Jameson then shook his finger at Debbie and pointed to her pants down around her ankles.

“Reed,” he purred breathlessly into the microphone. “I think Debbie’s ready for you right now, from the looks of it.”

The club owner dove over the bar and came running backstage as Debbie yanked on her leather pants, which were very stubborn. She, too, gave Jameson the finger.

“Thank you, Kyle. Ladies, give it up for one of America’s finest!”

Kyle hopped off the stage and returned to the rear with the other SEALs.

Jameson gripped the microphone and gave them the warm buttery voice he knew the crowd would like. “I’m gonna sing a song I’ve never sung before, something I’ve recently written.” He turned around and nodded to the band.

“These guys haven’t even heard it. So it’s gonna just be me.”

He picked up his acoustic guitar and leaned into the stool with one leg straight and one knee bent, he balanced the guitar on his thigh. The melody was simple, but one of the sweetest ones he’d written, eliciting something deep inside him. He began to unburden his soul and let the words flow out of him.

You loved the spring in Carolina

With the dogwoods all in bloom.

I couldn’t pay the price of that small time life,

Second story, one room view.

He’d practiced some intricate fingering he was proud of. It made even

Thomas stand up straight behind the bar, as he gave Jameson the thumbs up.

He scanned the audience, warmed by their rapt attention. He was ready for the second stanza, and as he leaned into the microphone, he noticed Lizzie walk in through the door.

He inhaled, but discovered he’d temporarily forgotten the words. Seeing Lizzie had taken his breath away. Her red dress was anything but demure, and she’d let her hair go back to blonde, just like he remembered her. She was the woman he’d loved all those years ago, and she was here again, after all that had happened between them.

“You know, folks, I liked those words so much, I’m thinking I should sing them for you again. How’d you like that?”

The crowd was into anything he was going to do on stage, and he thanked them for their support. Then he smiled at Lizzie, as if she was the only girl in the bar, and sang the words again, this time just to her.

You loved the spring in Carolina

With the dogwoods all in bloom.

I couldn’t pay the price of that small time life,

Second story, one room view.

His heart melted when he saw her discreetly wipe tears away with the backs of her hands. Her girlfriend pulled her to a table, and they sat. Though she was only one out of over a thousand people waiting to hear him sing, she was the only person he focused on.

He continued with his song until the last two stanzas.

And the words you said, still ring in my head

While I’m lost here in San Diego.

He stepped back from the microphone, and bowed his head. Nothing ever again would be as special as singing his song of love for Lizzie, in front of a room of mostly strangers. And nothing was sweeter than seeing her softly sobbing, her shoulders shaking, as she tried to stop, but couldn’t. She waved off her friend, who was shooting daggers at Jameson. But he didn’t care. It was one of those magical nights. He’d gotten to mess with his new LPO, the girl he loved with all his heart sitting in the distance, knowing how he felt about her; while the grunts and groans of Reed and Debbie’s lovemaking punctuated the air and had the band laughing so hard they could barely play. On a scale of one to ten, this was clearly a fifteen.

A perfect night, if only she’d let him touch her, he could right the axis of her soul, kiss her tenderly, and swear to her there wasn’t anyone else in the universe he’d rather be married to.

And he’d mean every word of it.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Sixteen

Lizzie’s plans that evening were to slip into the audience unnoticed, since she hadn’t thought out meeting Jameson again so publicly. They’d dressed at Kendra’s house, the girls playing in the background. Her friend took a look at her red dress and she whistled. “That’s a statement all right. You sure you know what you’re doing, Lizzie?”

“No,” she laughed. Her heart was light. Some of the heaviness had dissipated as the anticipation of seeing Jameson ‘made her think funny’ as Kendra so often described when seeing a handsome man. She told herself it was to see him play one more time, since he was, in all likelihood, not going to become a Nashville star as he’d originally wanted. He’d chosen a career in the Navy, instead.

Many of her friends who knew him were all abuzz with his plans to become a SEAL. And this was his first time back. He’d begged off interviews, frowned upon by the Navy, and even Thomas said he couldn’t get ahold of him. Lizzie still had his number in her phone, but never dared to call it, figuring he’d moved on, like she’d tried to.

The two girls were playing dress up again, something they did every time they were together. Lizzie knew that when the two became teenagers, their hangouts and shopping sprees would be legendary.

Their babysitter arrived, dropped off by her mother. Kendra waved to Mrs. Gunther just before the woman drove off.

“Mrs. Reeder, I need to ask you something,” Cissy said, as she set down a pile of textbooks.

“Sure. What?”

“After the girls are down, would it be okay if a couple of friends of mine come over? We have some studying we need to do for our World History class. They are both straight-A students. No drinking or anything you wouldn’t like. And we’ll be quiet, just studying.”

Kendra looked at Lizzie, who wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but gave her consent. As an afterthought, she asked, “These are girls, right? Not boys.”

“Well, actually, one is a boy, and one is his sister. Very quiet, respectful students. They’re exchange students at our school.”

That seemed to satisfy Kendra. “You okay with this?” she asked Lizzie.

“I’m not sure. Absolutely no drinking, no smoking, right? And only after the girls are down,” Lizzie instructed.

“Yes, ma’am,” she answered respectfully.

“You know these two well?” Kendra asked.

Cissy smiled, closing her eyes to emphasize her complete agreement. “Yes. Absolutely. They are like family to me.”

Lizzie kissed Charlotte good-bye and told her to mind the babysitter, and while the toddlers were distracted with something else, the two of them slipped out of the house.

After arriving at the club, Lizzie hiked up her bra and adjusted her front so nothing intimate was showing.

“I’d give anything to be able to show off a rack like that,” said Kendra. “Even breastfeeding I didn’t have tits like that.”

“And I nearly drowned Charlotte on milk several times,” Lizzie laughed. “I’m sure your talents lie elsewhere.”

Kendra shook her head and took the lead, opening the club door where the sounds of a crowd and live guitar playing filtered out into the night air. “I sure hope so.” Her friend pointed to the room with her thumb. “Here I thought I was going to have to put in my ear plugs and look an old unmarried spinster sister.”

Lizzie drew her back into the parking lot and touched her forearm. “Hey, it’s gonna happen for you. I mean, not in a place like this, but you’ll meet someone special who will make the long wait worthwhile. That’s what I’m counting on.”

It was what she told herself every day, but standing here, on the edges of the world Jameson inhabited, her heart beating like a kettledrum, she wasn’t so sure. Her choice of the red dress belied the whole theory that she just wanted to blend into the crowd, watch him sing, and then close the cover on that painful book forever.

Kendra sucked in her gut, gulped down a deep breath, and pulled back the door again. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“Let’s!” Lizzie shouted behind her.

He’d already begun the set, his long lanky form perched on the grey metal stool. He looked fitter than she’d remembered him, and she had no complaints before. His husky voice resonated in her chest just as if he’d been whispering to her. The rest of the room faded away as he glanced up and saw her.

He didn’t avert his gaze to keep from getting snagged by whatever non-verbal message she might have wanted to dish out. He perused her dress, licked his lips that had turned slightly up on the right, and gave her a half smile. She felt the warmth of his eyes from clear across the room.

He spoke something about singing the same words again, which she didn’t understand, until his intense gaze hooked her heart and she heard words that had been written for her. She was sure of it. He sang without hesitation, pouring himself out to her just as if they were alone.

She felt the hot tears, the months of stuffing down her emotions, her hopes and dreams and telling herself she was coping better each day, that she was nearly over him and soon he’d be a distant memory, just fade away. Her raw feelings for the man made her chest pound, her shallow breathing barely giving her enough energy to stand.

She wiped her face and continued to study him through watery eyes. Kendra pulled on her arm, motioning for them to sit down, and she followed along, grateful for her leadership. His warm gaze continued to cover every movement, as they sat. He continued to pour on the lovely words, making sure she understood how he felt about her, spearing her heart and leaving her quivering. Kendra leaned into her, and she brushed her off.

“I’m fine. I just never knew he could sing like that,” which didn’t satisfy her friend one bit.

He strummed the last chord, graciously nodding to the crowd, his quick glances to her raising her expectations and shattering anything she had left of moving on and being able to forget him. It wasn’t that he was a performer, and he was good. It was his words and how he sang them to her. He had shown a whole room of people what was in his heart. Maybe it was unwise to dare to hope he wanted something more permanent, something she’d not allowed herself to dream or feel any longer. Could it be?

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. There’s something I gotta do right now. So, if he’s willing, I’m gonna ask Thomas to come up here for a second and relieve me.”

Thomas gave her a pat on the back, clearing his throat as he walked past her and made his way up to the stage. The two men discussed something privately, and Jameson handed a folded piece of paper to him.

She saw that Thomas tried to push the paper back into Jameson’s chest, but he was unsuccessful. Jameson gave a salute and handed Thomas his guitar, then her tall drink of water jumped down off the stage and headed right for her.

Chairs moved out of the way as the audience remained in hushed silence, candles flickering on the tables like stars in a clear winter sky.

Thomas began his introduction fro the stage. “Jameson wrote this song as well. But, he made the mistake of asking me what I thought about it, and so I made some changes. He learned his lesson with this last one.” Thomas watched Jameson continue on his straight trajectory.

As he stood before her, Jameson took Lizzie’s hand and pulled her to standing position, their bodies barely touching. With hands framing her face, angling her backward, he whispered, “You don’t know how many nights I dreamed about doing this. Forgive me, but I just can’t help myself.”

She was going to say something, at least give her consent, but he bent over farther and covered her mouth with his.

Her senses were flooded with the currents of pleasure winding around her neck, down her spine, and between her legs as he gently suckled her mouth, being careful as if she was a China doll. She inhaled and stepped to him as their kiss deepened. She placed her palm over his heart and felt how fast it was beating. Her arms slipped up his back as their tongues mated.

Thomas was trying to steal the crowd’s attention, but many had stood up and began clapping.

“Well, that’s fine, yes, let’s give them a round of applause. Jameson and his Lizzie. I think they’re gonna be a little busy tonight, but I could be wrong.”

Women in the audience were also crying. Couples hugged one another and kissed. When their kiss was over, Lizzie knew her cheeks were flushed, and it was only then that her self-consciousness rose to embarrassment—kissing him so deeply and intimately in front of so many people she didn’t know. But Jameson was there, standing tall and looking as handsome as she’d ever seen him, clear-eyed and proud, focused and fully accepting.

It was a different Jameson she kissed. He went away to the Navy a raw young man with raging hormones and an ego the size of the State of Tennessee and came back a man who could love, show his love, and who had obviously chosen her. For the first time since she’d met him, she believed that he loved her back as intensely as she had always loved him.

“Okay, folks,” Thomas began after another round of applause had erupted. “Show’s over, at least that show. Now I got something special for you, but you’re gonna have to forgive me because I’m not well-practiced on this song.”

The audience laughed, and those that had been standing, seated themselves.

Thomas picked his way through a whole stanza, giving the audience a preview of what was to come. The folded piece of paper fell to the floor as he began singing. Jameson held her in a slow dance pose and rocked her from side to side.

On a Sunday afternoon when I was feeling kinda low.

I thought I’d pay a visit to a girl I used to know.

Lizzie swayed and turned as they began a slow dance. She was having a hard time following the words, her heart was beating so loud. She also heard Jameson humming the tune, smiling down at her.

When I stepped up on her front porch and knocked upon her door,

I was greeted by an angel’s face I was sure I’d seen before.

She’s got my eyes,

She darted a quick look to Jameson’s face, and watched him softly sing the words while he swung her around to the rear of the club over by the bar.

I knew in my first glance that she was mine.

I never felt so happy,

‘Cause a little girl with pigtails had my eyes.

In a darkened corner, he kissed her again. “I was a complete idiot, Lizzie. I want us to be a family. I never should have left you the first time.”

Her head was swimming. The attention from the crowd and the heat between she and Jameson made her wonder if she might pass out. She couldn’t speak. She pressed her palms on his chest, fingering the intricate beading on his shirt as if her life’s story were recorded in the beads, smoothing over the hand-stitched work of art. Her head was trying to focus. Her mouth opened and closed, but still words would not come. His arms encircled and pressed her close while he rocked from side to side.

Jameson nodded to Thomas on stage, who continued with the song, and even managed to give him back a thumbs up.

Jameson’s chest grew large with the breath he inhaled. “Marry me, Lizzie.”

Was she hearing this? Was this really happening? She closed her eyes and felt his warm cheek against hers, as he whispered in her ear. “Help me to be Charlotte’s daddy. Help me to be the man I want to be.”

“Jameson—I just—”

“I gotta know, Lizzie. Do you love me?”

“Of course I love you. But all this—”

“You started it, sweetheart, by walking back into my life. You had no right doing that. You gave me the chance to be the man I was meant to be.”

“But you just joined the Navy. You’re going to be deployed.”

“What? You think deployed men don’t have wives and children? You think no one waits for them at home?”

“No. I didn’t mean that—”

“I’m a different man, Lizzie. I grew up, became a man at last. And a man takes responsibility for his actions.” He held her face again, kissing her softly on the lips. “A real man knows how to love a woman, can love a woman more than he loves life itself, Lizzie. You are that woman for me. And I promise, I’ll always come back to you.”

She buried her face in his chest, just as Thomas received the well-deserved applause for the performance of his lifetime.

Jameson ushered her back to the table she’d shared with Kendra. As he climbed the stage, she took the hand of her friend and sighed.

“Unbelievable. I was totally not expecting this.”

Kendra leaned back in her chair as Jameson began to play with the band’s accompaniment. Thomas remained with him on stage.

Lizzie watched her friend shake her head. “I can’t say it was unexpected. I mean, what did you think was going to happen when you wore that red dress? Poor Jameson didn’t have a chance, Lizzie.”

They agreed that Lizzie would stay for Jameson’s second show and Kendra would go home to relieve the babysitter.

“Are you happy, Lizzie?”

“Yes.”

“Well, tell your face. You look like you stepped in front of a huge semi.”

“It’s just so fast.”

Kendra folded her arms over each other. “Really? You honestly can’t tell me you ever stopped loving him. And it has nothing to do with Charlotte, either. You’ve loved him for over three years.”

“You’re right,” Lizzie admitted. “Thanks, Kendra. I’ll stop by in the morning, and if you’re game, we’ll all go out to breakfast.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I don’t work tomorrow, so you go have a good time. The girls and I will be fine.” She leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you, too, Kendra. Thanks.”

Lizzie wanted to go back to Jameson’s dressing room at the break, but didn’t want to interfere with whatever he and Thomas were discussing. Jameson gave her a wave and blew a kiss, holding up his ten fingers. She blew him back a kiss and put her right hand over her heart.

It had been a perfect night. She was looking forward to their reunion later on, alone.

Near the end of the second set, Lizzie got a text from Kendra. She noticed she’d had her ringer turned off and had missed two calls from her as well. What she read in the text message blew up her world.

The girls are gone, Lizzie. The babysitter, too. They’re gone!

Nashville Seal: Chapter Seventeen

When Jameson and Lizzie arrived at Kendra’s house, two police cruisers and an unmarked vehicle were pulled in front and in the driveway, so Jameson parked a block away. He grabbed her hand, leading her carefully, racing toward the front door until they were stopped by two uniformed policemen.

“Our daughter is one of the victims,” Jameson reported to them. He was still catching his breath, but felt Lizzie jump at the use of the word “victim.”

“I’ll escort you in,” answered one officer. He led the way, Jameson and Lizzie following right behind him.

Once inside the living room, Kendra stood up, her face ashen, streaked with tears, deep lines in her forehead, her eyes puffy. “God, Lizzie. I’m so sorry about this.”

Lizzie collapsed into her arms. The two women consoled each other while Jameson introduced himself to another officer inside the house.

“You think the babysitter could have taken them some place on her own, like on an errand?” the officer asked.

Kendra broke free of the embrace and spoke up. “No. I’ve used her many times and I know the family. She would never do something like this.”

“What about her friends, Kendra?” asked Lizzie.

“Friends? She wasn’t alone then?” asked the officer.

“Well, she asked permission to have a couple of her classmates from school come over to study after the girls were asleep. We reluctantly agreed.”

“I’m going to need the information on the friends in addition to your sitter. That’s Cissy Gunther?”

“Yes. Look, I called her home a few minutes ago, and that’s why I called you guys. Her mother didn’t know anything about this, and she didn’t have the car. So they would have had to leave in one of her friend’s cars, if her friends were even here.”

Kendra glanced at the policeman and at the plain-clothed detective who was on his cell phone. Jameson knew there was something she was hiding.

“You told him about this?” the policeman pointed to the detective on the phone.

“Yes. I think they’re scouring for a yearbook, for a picture of her. The principal is coming over in a few minutes, too.” She examined her slippered feet. “Lizzie, they’re treating this as if it’s a ransom for hire. Expecting there will be demands for cash for the girls. They’re bringing in equipment to listen for a ransom call.”

Jameson didn’t believe that theory. Lizzie had told him about the book of poetry and the possibility that exchange students had been at the house. He knew it was no coincidence, and had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He’d called Kyle, letting him know what was happening. Kyle and several other SEALs were on their way over to help with a possible search. What they needed was a break, someone who had an idea about who was responsible, or knew something about these people. Otherwise, it was like finding a needle in a haystack and would be a huge waste of everyone’s time. Not that it would stop them from trying.

The plain-clothed officer informed them he’d notified the FBI, who had asked to be briefed.

“So you’re not convinced this is a ransom situation, that right?” Jameson asked the older gentleman.

“Well, I can’t ask them to jump in here without something more credible. It will eat up man-hours and such. We get a phone call or someone knows something about this babysitter, we go from there. But we’re prepared for every eventuality.”

The high school principal was ushered in by the same officer who accompanied Jameson and Lizzie.

“God, I’m so sorry. I brought the files the police asked me to bring. I’m afraid I can’t be of much help.”

Jameson needed to ask a question of the detective. “You asked all the neighbors yet? Maybe they saw something?”

“Yes, we have two on it right now. Its taking a while because most everyone is asleep, even with all the activity going on here.”

“Mr. Daniels, we’re detaining a guy who says he’s your boss outside. I can’t let him in here, but do you want to go speak with him? He’s more than a little persistent.” The young uniform grinned. “If you know what I mean.”

“That would be Kyle,” Jameson said. “I’ll be right back.”

On his way out the door, he watched as the principal handed the plain-clothed detective the file he’d brought. “These are all the exchange kids. We have them from Brazil, from France, and, this year, a batch from Syria. With the civil war going on there and all, we agreed to take in a few extra.”

Jameson stopped, dead still. “You said Syria? How many from Syria?”

The principal leaned back on his heels. “Let’s see, ,I think, six at Oberon. But a couple of the other high schools took a few, as well. We’re all trying to help out.”

“All high school age?”

“Yes. I believe the youngest is thirteen.”

“Boys or girls, sir?” the detective wanted to know.

“Um, mostly boys. We have one girl, but the rest, as far as I know, are boys.”

“She’s a sister to one of them,” added Kendra.

“Ah, no ma’am. None of these students are related.”

“But my sitter said he was bringing over his sister and they were all going to study together, if these are the right kids.”

“Well, I’m not sure of that.; In fact, if they were brother and sister, we’d place them in the same home, together. But they requested separate homes and explained it wasn’t proper for her to stay with a family with unrelated boys in it. Made a big deal about that. So she’s staying with the Campbells, and they have a daughter the same age.”

“The Campbells?” Kendra’s voice filled with panic. “As in Maureen Campbell?”

“Yes, Maureen. Is this; is that significant?”

Kendra faced the detective. “We found an erotic poetry book—Rumi is his name—left behind when Maureen babysat a few months ago. I called her mother and told her. She told me Maureen had gotten it from the exchange student they had. I didn’t think to ask what country they were from.”

“Ah, Well, Mrs. Reeder, I doubt the presence of an erotic poetry book in the hands of a high school girl is anything like a clue or something to get us tied in knots. Kids these days—”

Jameson had to insert himself. He knew Kyle would have some light to shed on the situation. “My friend outside? He led that raid on the compound several months ago. You know the one, where they captured some would-be terrorists and killed that radical sheikh?

“Go get him, Jameson,” ordered the detective.

“You got the Campbell’s phone number?”

“Yes, I have it,” Kendra answered.

Jameson greeted his new LPO, who was more serious than he’d ever seen him. “Kyle, thanks for coming. I know you guys were planning on leaving today.”

“Already fixed that. So you tell me what you got. We’re just here to help, NOT to interfere. In fact, we’re not supposed to do much of anything except report and assist on U.S. soil. You know the drill. You’ve heard the training.”

“Yeah, like the raid on the compound.”

“We knew they were holding hostages, abusing them, too, and we didn’t want to wait for the Feds to get their act together.”

Jameson hoped he was wrong about this whole thing, but was grateful Kyle and some of the boys decided to stay back for the assist. “Well, I hope this isn’t a hostage situation. These girls are only three.”

“And you have a teenager, too. Don’t forget that. At least the girls know her.”

“Yes. Who might or might not be in on it. I just want the girls back without coming to harm.”

“Jameson, if we can obtain some good intel, we’ll get ‘em back for you if they’re still in the area. But you have to understand, these types are never really predictable, and they’re on the move constantly.”

“I want you to talk to the detective who says he’s trying to bring in the FBI. They’re going over to the sitter’s house and interviewing neighbors here. He’s also talking about the girls being held for a ransom demand. It might not be terrorist-related. We don’t have any evidence of that, really. Just a hunch.”

“Yeah. That’s a pretty good hunch, though--about the size of the Jumbo Tron in San Francisco.” Kyle put his arm on Jameson’s shoulder, and he took comfort from it. “Now, let’s go meet your JV team. The varsity’s in town.”

He liked hearing that a lot.

After making the introductions, Kyle sat at Kendra’s kitchen table and examined the files the principal brought.

“So you know the sitter is missing. What about the other girl, the old sitter, the one who was hosting the exchange student. You never called her back?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Are they around? Maybe they know something?”

“That’s what I was about to do. Let me call her.” As an afterthought, she looked up at the Detective. “Okay?”

“Sure. Someone knows something. Haven’t heard from my guys outside or the folks interviewing the mother, so I’m thinking we’re shooting blanks.”

“Estelle? This is Kendra Reeder.” She paused, her forehead creasing as she listened to something disturbing on the phone. “When was the last time you saw her?” Kendra was staring back in shock at the group overhearing her conversation, her eyes wide with worry. Jameson’s gut fell to the floor. He put his arms around Lizzie, who clutched him like the lifeline he was trying to be.

The detective extended his hand for the phone, wiggling his fingers. Kendra handed it to him.

“Mrs. Campbell? This is Detective Blalock from Nashville PD. When did you notice your daughter was missing?”

Jameson could hear the woman sounding frantic and learned she hadn’t been missing longer than today, which relieved him.

“And how about your exchange student, um,” he checked the paperwork, “Malia, is that how you pronounce it? Is she around?” He paused, waiting for the answer. “Chicago? Why would Malia go to Chicago?” After an explanation, Blalock added, “We’ll be sending over some people. Not sure if we can round them up tonight, but I need you to stay home until we take a look at Malia and Maureen’s room, okay?”

He sighed. “Now there’re two girls missing. I’m gonna need additional resources. Excuse me, while I go call the Bureau.”

Kyle motioned to Jameson and Lizzie to follow him outside. Jameson knew he was hatching a plan.

“Listen, we need to get over to that house and find out if there’s anything there that will point to where they’ve gone.”

“Right.”

“What’s this about Chicago?” Lizzie asked.

“We’ve just learned about this other guy, this new shiekh—you know when they lose one they replace them with another one to take his place. We had one leader in the central valley in California go to prison for income tax evasion. The one before him was deported. They send replacements quick.

But in Chicago, there’s a group that worships at the White Mosque, and they are especially unfriendly individuals. Discreetly, I think we’ve had our eye on them, but you didn’t hear it from me, okay?”

“So we go then.” Jameson looked at Lizzie. “You okay with this?”

“I should stay with Kendra.”

“Yes. And you can let us know if something comes up on this end. You can be our eyes and ears here. Jameson, you, me, and the boys will head over there right now. I’m gonna need that address. Can you grab it?”

“Of course.”

With the plan in place, Jameson noted the address and committed it to memory. Lizzie sent a text with Mrs. Campbell’s phone number when Kendra gave it to her, and the five SEALs left for the house, luckily only ten minutes away.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Eighteen

They elected not to call the Campbell residence beforehand and just show up, letting Mrs. Campbell think they were with the local police. She ushered them into an upstairs room done in flowered wallpaper, which hid what Jameson knew was a dark secret. The frilly outward appearance only added to the danger he felt at hand.

A bulletin board made of covered fabric and laced with satin ribbon held pictures of dances and events, outings with friends, pets, and hunky movie stars. On the opposite wall, all by itself, was a huge poster of Jameson.

“Well, would you look at that,” Fredo quipped. “We got us a fan. I’m guessing it’s not the Syrian girl.”

Kyle had found a picture tacked to the wall beside Malia’s pillow. “I think I have something.”

Jameson examined Kyle’s picture of the two American girls, golden blonde hair flowing in the sunshine with their mutual Syrian friend between them in a three-way hug. In the background was a house.

“See that?”

Jameson squinted, making out what looked like a portion of a tanned, sandaled leg and a small strip of white appearing to be the bottom hem of a kaftan. He stared into his LPO’s face.

“We got us a new sheikh,” whispered Cooper.

“Fuck!” Jameson sat on Maureen’s bed and knew the clues had just ratcheted up. The threat to Charlotte’s life was more eminent.

“Jameson, you’re gonna call the mother up here and ask her about this place. See if she knows it. She might not be honest with me,” said Kyle.

Mrs. Campbell was in near shock, her hair falling down over her neck after trying to secure it with a clip. Her mascara had run from her crying. She was holding a stiff drink and smelled like she’d had a couple already when Jameson handed her the picture.

“You recognize this?” he asked.

She squinted, working on her focus, and then recognition came across her face. “That’s the Stadler’s place.”

“You know where it is?” asked Kyle, forgetting the rules of engagement.

“Yes, I’ve been there lots of times when the Stadlers lived there. But they moved to Florida about seven months ago. They tried selling the house and the little ranch. Couldn’t get enough for it, so I believe they decided to rent it out.”

Kyle and Jameson shared a look.

“It’s a ranch, too? Are there outbuildings and such?”

“Oh yeah, they raised chickens, although I don’t suppose they’re there now. They had a small barn and a shed for the apples they picked and sold in the late summer.”

“Ma’am, could you find me the address of this house, please?”

“Sure, I’ll do you better, I’ll give you the property flier.

It has the address and a map on it. I saved a couple to send to them in Florida.”

All of the SEALs had their Sig Sauers, never leaving home without them, sometimes another backup, and a KA-BAR strapped to their lower legs. No one had brought their MP5s, because they had been traveling to Tennessee to attend a concert, not go to war. Jameson heard the cursing in the background, as several felt they were under-armed and didn’t care for it one bit. The only time he’d seen his SEAL buddies act nasty was when something was wrong or missing with their equipment, or they’d contracted something that Anti-Monkey Butt Powder couldn’t handle.

Jameson hadn’t been brought up to speed yet, so all he had was his hunting rifle, but he was a crack shot, especially at long distances.

The little house came into view as their rented van pulled slowly into a clearing just outside a good view of the front porch. On a normal day, it would look like a welcoming rural homestead. But he just knew it was the prison that held his daughter.

Kyle whispered instructions again, just like they’d discussed on the short trip over. Without IEDs or little flash bombs, they’d have to coordinate their attack flawlessly, if the surveillance proved to be accurate.

Armando came back with the information. He could hear the little girls playing in one of the bedrooms downstairs, supervised by one of the sitters, and everyone seemed to be doing fine.

Jameson leaned back into a tree, closed his eyes, and nearly lost his bowels, he was so grateful. Cooper and Fredo gave him an appreciative pat on the back.

“How many inside? Can you tell?” Asked Kyle.

“Didn’t want to risk it, but I’m thinking I heard maybe five separate voices. They’re working on something in back, a new delivery of two-by-fours and some steel and bags of concrete, but no one working at this hour.”

“These fuckin’ maggots. You send some of them back to the source, and then they fly the coop and set up shop somewhere else,” whispered Fredo.

“Well, not this group. I don’t want anyone killed if we can help it. But if you see any of the girls in mortal danger, you have my permission to shoot. I’ll get the court martial, but you’ll be able to live with yourself, hear?”

“Yessir,” everyone whispered in unison. Everyone readied their weapons.

They checked their timekeepers and followed Kyle’s silent countdown, knowing when they were supposed to do what they’d outlined. Jameson and Jones were to go in through the window in the girls’ bedroom. Armando would take the rear door with Fredo behind him. and Kyle would take the front door breach. Anyone reaching for a gun would be disabled and killed if they didn’t stop. Anyone who held a hostage got a bullet to the head, plain and simple.

Like all their operations, the assault started on time with complete accuracy. The girls screamed when they heard the window shatter, running to their babysitter, but Charlotte’s eyes grew wide when she realized Jameson stood before her, on his knees, ready to accept the body slam she gave him. Even the sounds of gunfire in the next rooms didn’t faze her. Jameson held her close and assisted Jones in safely stowing the girls behind a mattress and box spring sitting near the outside corner. The SEALs propped the bed up with two sturdy wooden chairs and instructed the girls not to leave the area.

Jameson was carefully monitoring the emotional level of the teenager. He could see she looked scared and sported a recent black eye. “Are you Cissy?”

“Yessir,” she said sweetly. “God, I’m so glad you came.”

“You hurt? Anybody hurt?”

“I’m fine, but Maureen—”

The sounds of gunfire were over, and he heard a series of “clears” and knew it was safe to begin to breathe.

“Where are Malia and Maureen?”

“Malia went off to Chicago to prepare the wedding. I think Maureen is in the front room.” As an afterthought, she asked, “You don’t think they—”

Jones interrupted, “Not these guys. Okay, Jameson, I’m going outside to make sure it’s safe.”

The tall dark-skinned SEAL slipped through the doorway.

Jameson held the two little ones, their shaking bodies feeling cold. They were still in their nighties and were barefoot. Their feet and legs were dirty, faces smeared with what appeared to be jam, wispy hair flying up in all directions. He warmed them with his body, still aware of the sounds around him, especially outside.

“What were they going to do?”

“I’m so sorry. You her daddy?”

“Yes.”

“They had these girls sold to some guy in Chicago.” Her lip quivered. “I overheard them talking, the boys speak perfect English.” As she watched Charlotte being embraced she added, “I didn’t know anything about this. They just showed up.” She began to cry and Jameson pulled her over next to the other two girls and huddled with them all.

The SEALs walked through the bedroom door together with a swagger he hoped to have one day.

“Jameson, why is it whenever we find you, your surrounded by ladies,” Kyle barked. Armando and Cooper were trying not to laugh but finally gave up.

Yeah, he knew how to charm the ladies all right. He knew how to sing a hit record and be the man on stage. All those things were good and honorable. But he was looking at the men he would die for, if need be, and they’d just saved the most precious thing in his life: Charlotte. They could swagger all they wanted, boast about their exploits, and be as obnoxious as hell, but they got the job done. For that, he would forever be grateful and not mind putting up with everything else.

Nashville Seal: Chapter Nineteen

Jameson clutched Charlotte, wrapping her in his jacket. He smoothed her hair, kissed her forehead, and whispered to her over and over again how much he loved her.

She relaxed in his arms, and he was gratified to hear her begin to chatter just like the happy little girl he remembered. She was safe. His brothers had helped save her, and it now appeared she was resilient to the danger she’d just lived through. God knew, he’d be making sure she never wanted for anything the rest of her life. He would ache whenever he had to leave her, but he would always come home again to her and her mother.

Still clutching his daughter, he walked into the living room of the structure. Cooper and Fredo were stacking computers, cell phones and piles of loose papers, throwing everything into cardboard boxes. Eight young men, children, really, sat with their backs against the wall. Four armed men lay dead on the floor.

Kyle was giving instructions to the locals by phone, directing them to bring a large van for what appeared to be quite a haul of information.

Sadly, they’d not found the sheikh, nor any of the older men, except one. He said his name was Assad, and he’d been an interpreter for American forces in Syria recently, he said. The younger boys were ziptied, their faces showing the shock and surprise of capture. Fredo let Assad chatter on while the boys in front of him were restrained.

“Oh yeah?” Fredo remarked.

Assad was trying to talk his way into Fredo’s good graces, something Jameson knew wasn’t going to fly very long.

“You know, asshole, I’m about done with your bullshit.” Fredo picked up a wide piece of duct tape and placed it over Assad’s mouth. The strip was so long that it also covered his ears.

“That’s better,” Fredo said. Armando pushed Assad next to his Jr. Militia and used the tape to wind around the man’s wrists several times.

Jameson was ready to get Charlotte home but they waited for the emergency vehicles to arrive on the scene to take control of the prisoners and the intel.

He boarded the second seat in the van. Cissy and her other charge were helped to the rear seat, sitting securely between Coop and Fredo. Charlotte was curious at first, but then tucked her head under his chin, her fingers playing with the beads on his shirt, touching the different colors. His emotions welled up, and he began to silently sob. He didn’t want to scare her, so he took deep breaths to attempt to calm himself, part of the training he’d received, but also just instinct.

His SEAL brothers let him do this in private. No one consoled him. They let him deal with his joy and his pain as the van took them back to their home. He now realized that for every joy in life, which was so precious and fragile, there could always be a huge source of pain.

Not today.

Today, the good guys had won. Today, they were going to live to be with the ones they loved. He was sure that Kyle and Cooper, Armando, Jones and Fredo, were missing their wives, their girlfriends, and their own children, as they followed every movement he made as he hugged the miracle of his own.

When they arrived at the house, he picked Charlotte up, heading for the front stoop. She’d begun to fall asleep, which he was grateful for. Lizzie met him half way, relief on her face as she hugged them both and received a tired return hug from Charlotte. Kendra took her daughter in her arms. Mrs. Gunther wrapped her arms around her daughter, who collapsed in her mother’s chest. They were lead to an ambulance

Lizzie pulled his head down. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, my love.”

All he could do was smile through his own tears, matching hers, and search how full his heart was, overflowing with the love of his women.

Next, Lizzie went to each of the SEALs and gave full-on, body slamming hugs and kisses, thanking them for their rescue mission. He followed along as she received embarrassed smiles from these tough guys, saw their cheeks pink up. His beautiful Lizzie could melt the whole State of Alaska with her gracious, loving heart and warm smile. She would live with exuberance and the free spirit organically given her from the day she was born. And he’d spend his life protecting that free spirit and making sure nothing would ever interfere with her happiness again.

One by one, people started leaving the house. Kendra transferred both girls, who were fast asleep, clutching each other, to her bedroom, instructing Jameson and Lizzie to take the other one.

“We all need to rest. I’ll do the duty in the morning and bathe the girls. I’m not going to do it now nor do I have the energy to bathe myself,” her raspy voice chirped. “This has been quite a day, and I’m exhausted.”

Jameson suddenly didn’t feel so exhausted. He ushered his SEAL brothers outside, and wished them farewell. He conversed with the police and Detective Blalock, and shooed away a news crew with their satellite dish and white van. He locked the front door and saw Blalock had put a detail out in front of the house. He was grateful for that as well.

“You know what Charlotte told me when I gave her over to Kendra?”

“No. What, sweetheart?” He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her, squeezing, and feeling so grateful to be alive.

“She said, ‘Mommy, can I tell you a secret?’ and I said, ‘sure.’”

He waited, leaning back to be able to view her pretty face in the reflection of the moonlight.

“She said, as she pointed in your direction, ‘That’s my daddy. And he loves me.’” Lizzie’s eyes filled with tears again. “You told her.”

“I don’t remember any of that, honey, but I must have. It just came out, I guess.”

“Well, she was listening. She heard every word. You’re gonna have to remember that in the future. She has very keen ears.”

“Hmmm.” Her body heat begin to permeate his soul. “I’m going to have to remember that.” He kissed her, felt the familiar reach of her arms up over his shoulders, the way her tight nipples knotted against his chest. He squeezed her ass, lifting her up off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

He carried her down the hallway to the little bathroom with the even smaller shower. “There’s hardly any room in here,” he growled as he opened the glass door and turned on the water. “So we’re gonna have to conserve space as best we can. Would it be okay, honey, if I pressed you close so we both could fit in here?” He followed up his statement with a wicked grin.

“With pleasure,” she said as he removed her top and her bra. She carefully unbuttoned his special shirt. “Some day, you’re gonna have to tell me about this.”

She carefully folded it, laying it on the stack of towels on the wicker shelf where it would be safe.

He followed right behind her into the shower and pulled her back against his torso. She held her hair up with one hand and turned to expose her neck to his lips, and he kissed her from the nape of her neck to her ear. “Love you, Lizzie,” he whispered in her ear.

His fingers smoothed over her slick breasts with warm soapy water sluicing down. She moaned as he bent his knees and pulled her butt in to rest on his thighs, reaching around between her legs to feel her little bud vibrate to the ministrations of his thumb and forefinger. He found her opening, and she angled her pelvis back and forth, riding his hand.

“God, I missed you. Did you receive all the lustful dreams and dangerous shower scenes I was sending you from California just about every day?”

She giggled, removing his hand and turning, placing it to her left breast. “So that’s what it was. Here I thought I was having all those erotic dreams of you, and it was you all along coming to me. You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you? God, you’ll never leave me alone, will you?”

His fingers found her again, and she arched back as he inserted two.

“Never. I’m going to love you all day and fuck you all night.”

“Hmmm. I love the way that sounds, sailor.”

The cold tile on his flesh was delicious, but not nearly as delicious as her smooth, soapy, warm flesh under his fingers. They took turns washing each other, kissing each other, rubbing against each other for as much flesh-on-flesh contact as they could manage.

Then the water turned ice cold quickly.

“Okay,” she whispered. “So much for foreplay. I’m ready for the main course. How about you, Jameson?”

“Most definitely. I’m starved.”

She turned off the water while he found a towel and blotted her fine body dry, kissing her here and there, wherever he thought she needed a kiss. At last, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

He placed her delicately on the bed and studied her body’s rise and fall to the beauty of her own rhythm.

He held her arms to the sides, threaded his fingers there, and allowed his body to find hers. Her knees were bent, her pelvis perfectly angled to accept his stiff cock in one long motion until he had completely filled her, pushing against her cervix.

“Marry me, Lizzie. Let’s do this. Let’s be a family. Let’s give Charlotte another brother or sister. Tonight. Be my wife,” he whispered as he slowly stroked her insides, her lithe body rising like the waves of the ocean, falling back into the soft bed. “I need you to be my wife, more than I’ve needed anything else, Lizzie.”

“Of course, my love. It will be so.”

—The End—

About the Author

Sharon Hamilton

New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon Top 100 Bestselling Author Sharon Hamilton’s SEAL Brotherhood series have earned her Amazon author rankings of #1 in Romantic Suspense, Military Romance and Contemporary Romance. Her new Brotherhood stand-alone series are: Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3, Band of Bachelors and True Blue SEALs.

A lifelong organic vegetable and flower gardener, Sharon and her husband live in the Wine Country of Northern California, where most of her stories take place.

Author Page ** Sharon's Blog ** Sharon's Website ** Facebook ** Twitter

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Additional Books by Sharon Hamilton

BAND OF BACHELORS: Lucas

SEAL'S CODE

BIG BAD WOLF

A COS commando novel

by Gennita Low

Dedication

To my friend, Jaime, whom I miss very much.

To Ranger Buddy who taught me much more than roofing.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter One

Here comes trouble. That was the first thought that crossed Jaymee Barrow’s mind when she saw him walking around the job site. There were men all around her, already busy at work at eight in the morning, men half-naked and sweaty, of all shapes and sizes, but none had the same effect on her as this stranger.

She was a woman used to men. Having grown up among them, she understood them better than her few girlfriends. She had learned from personal experience to spot trouble of the male kind a mile away. It was still early but she was already perspiring from carrying supplies up and down the ladder. She impatiently flicked away a drop of perspiration at the end her nose, pausing in the middle of getting ready for work, her nail gun in one hand, squinting her eyes as she watched the tall man talk to Joe, the electrician, then Stan, the plumber. They both shook their heads and the stranger moved on, coming closer toward her. Her finger lightly squeezed the trigger of the nail gun as he approached.

He was tall and whipcord lean. The tee-shirt he wore clung to his muscular shape like a second skin, damp from the searing Florida summer heat, emphasizing an impressive chest and a long torso that invited eyes to drift lower, which hers did, all the way. The faded jeans hung low on his hips, molding and hugging his thighs and legs, doing strange things to her heart rate as she continued staring. Here comes trouble, the voice in her head repeated, as if in warning.

The stranger tapped one of Jaymee’s men on the shoulder. “The plumber there told me to ask for Jay. Which man is he?”

She stiffened. He was asking for her?

Her workers snickered. Lucky, the man whose shoulder the stranger tapped, gave a gap-toothed smile. “You want the boss?” he qualified, as if to make sure.

“Yeah.”

“You can find Jay by the blue truck.”

“Thanks.”

Jaymee couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending disaster. She knew what he would do next, and he didn’t fail her. He stopped right in front of Dicker and spoke to him. This close, the slow drawl of his gravelly voice sent shivers down her spine. “Are you Jay?”

Dicker threw back his head and laughed. The stranger frowned. Jaymee coughed politely. Pointedly. She waited until he turned around, and cocked her head to one side when he looked down at her. She decided she didn’t like the height disadvantage.

His eyes were gray. No, blue. Or in between. However, there wasn’t anything in between about the intensity of his gaze. He looked at her and her insides suddenly felt like the inside of a burning tar kettle. Jaymee blinked, feeling suddenly quite dizzy. What was wrong with her? He was just a man, like any other, but her heart didn’t seem to agree as it suddenly accelerated to a gallop.

“Jay?” he asked, a frown puckering his forehead.

Jaymee nodded, unable to say a word. Something exuded from him that she couldn’t yet pinpoint; it was a new thing, something that prickled and made her want to jump into her truck, lock it and drive off like the devil was after her. She shook off such fanciful thoughts, and belatedly tried to find her tongue. He was just too damn tall, that was all.

“Can I help you?” To her disgust, her voice came out breathy and slightly husky.

“You’re Jay.” It was more a statement than a question. The tone of his voice, as had his expression, had now turned skeptical. “The boss.”

She usually handled similar situations with light amusement. It was, after all, very rare to find a woman roofer. A woman roofer/boss at that. That was why it was easier to be Jay. Homeowners and people seemed to react differently to Jay, the contractor than Jaymee, the contractor. However, his whole demeanor irritated her, and thus her answer came out sharper than intended.

“I’m Jay,” she agreed, and after a slight pause, added, “the boss. How can I help you?”

He considered her for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m looking for work, any kind of labor. Do you have any job openings?”

Jaymee stared up at him. He had incredibly long eyelashes, she noted vaguely. Rugged and strong-jawed, with full sensuous lips that were slightly crooked. His hair was long and untidy, like most construction workers, and a devilish lock, black as night, fell across his forehead. Her eyes traveled down the length of him again—strong, wide shoulders, powerful biceps. She looked at his large hands. Long, artistic fingers. Clean nails. If he could roof, she thought, then she could build a rocket ship.

He just patiently stood there under her perusal. When her eyes met his again, she found mockery glinting back at her. The man was probably used to being treated like some piece of mouth-watering meat, and she was quickly disgusted with herself. She met his eyes directly, unflinchingly, refusing to let him see how he affected her.

“I don’t think, Mr…?” She paused.

“Langley. Nicholas Langley.”

“Mr. Langley,” Jaymee said, “I don’t think you have any, or enough, roofing experience. Do you?”

Nicholas Langley shrugged again. “I’m a quick learner and a good worker,” he said, “and a damn good carpenter.”

“So why don’t you apply to be one?” Jaymee asked. “The pay’s better.”

“The two companies I asked already have a full crew and the third wants me to move. I’ve just gotten in town, and I’d rather stay here a while.”

Dammit, she needed a carpenter. She needed a whole crew, with the lack of good help around here these days, and ordinarily, would hire the man on the spot. But he didn’t look like a carpenter either.

“How do you fare working in hundred-degree heat?” She wanted to scare him off.

“No problem.”

“What do you know about roofing?”

“That it’s hot work.”

“Can you shingle at all?”

“I can swing a hammer.”

“We use nail guns now, Mr. Langley,” she wryly told him.

“I’m good with guns.”

Jaymee shivered slightly at his voice. Self-assured and deceptively potent, like good brandy, it had the same heated effect on her stomach. She sighed inwardly. She was shorthanded, having fired Rich and Chuck yesterday. She couldn’t afford to be picky. Against her better judgment, she asked, “When can you start?”

“Now.”

She arched a brow at him. “You need tools first,” she told him, then looked down at his feet, “and you have on the wrong kind of shoes.”

Nicholas Langley looked down and tapped one hiking shoe on the dusty ground. “What’s wrong with them?”

“The sole will mark and scuff up the shingles,” Jaymee explained. “You need soft sole rubber, preferably canvas shoes. Like these.” She lifted her leg up, so he could see her shoes.

“OK.” His eyes traveled from her shoes up her calf and then her thigh. She hastily put her foot down.

“Why don’t you start in the morning?” she suggested. “Bring your tools here. We start around eight. I can’t pay you shingling rate until I see what you’re capable of doing. The labor rate isn’t much but once you can lay shingles fast, you get paid by the square.”

“Fine.” The man wasn’t much of a talker, she concluded. “Mind if I hang around and watch for a bit?”

“Be my guest,” she answered, and extended a hand. “Nice meeting you.”

She hoped Nick Langley wouldn’t return in the morning. Most of them didn’t. Roofing wasn’t exactly a much sought-after job.

His grip was firm and his palm felt surprisingly hard. She eyed him thoughtfully. Well, maybe her would-be new laborer could work after all. Those were the calluses of an outdoor man. And those muscles must come from somewhere.

She couldn’t help it. A soft sigh of appreciation escaped her lips as she watched him turn around and wander off, showing her the other side of his too-good-to-be-true anatomy. Abruptly, she returned to the chore of getting ready. The man was no ordinary laborer, that was for sure. That strange tingling feeling bothered her again, and she tried to figure out what it was about Nicholas Langley that was making her nervous.

“Just an ordinary man,” she muttered very softly.

***

Leaning against a tree, the man known as Killian watched the woman on the roof with hooded eyes. “Nick” was one of his many identities, usually when he was playing drifter or portraying an easy-going front. The lady had taken him by surprise in more ways than one, something that very rarely happened. Besides the obvious, she was also projecting an energetic stillness that was intriguing. He had been deliberately laid-back and unassuming, and yet her awareness of him was palpable, to the point of nervousness. Why was he making her nervous?

He wondered what made her choose to be, of all things, a roofer. She didn’t seem strong enough for such hard work. He liked the gentle tone of her voice when she spoke, a far cry from the crew from the old days when he worked in construction.

Not that there was anything wrong with being a roofer, he thought, studying her nimble movements as she moved across the roof. She obviously knew her job very well, barely pausing while she laid the shingles in diagonal fashion, the nail gun flashing in the sun as it moved across the shingle in rapid rat-tat-tat.

The sun beat down relentlessly, and Nick made a note to remember to bring along a cooler for his new job in the morning. A corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. He remembered the way she had looked at him when she questioned his experience. It was easy to read her mind. Jay, the boss lady, didn’t want him to work for her. It was in the tone of her voice, the hopeful look in her eyes he would reconsider the heat and change his mind to go seek a better job.

He knew she could tell he wasn’t a construction worker. Those quick dark eyes of hers had settled for a long moment on his hands and the slight wrinkle of her nose betrayed her certainty. He glanced down at his hands and shoved them into his jeans pockets. He was getting careless. His nails were too clean.

Nick continued eyeing the woman on the roof as he contemplated his next move. He needed money to survive and construction was the easiest way to get quick cash in this town. He couldn’t go for the higher skills, or they would start asking for past employment history and too much information. His safest bet was as cheap labor to cover expenses for another month or two. There were plenty of transients in Florida and he wouldn’t rouse anyone’s interest.

Jay turned around when she reached the peak of the roof, and her lycra-clad behind showed off a decidedly shapely derriere as she finished nailing the top row. Nick’s eyes narrowed a fraction. She was going to be trouble. Her ass, for one thing, roused his interest. Very much.

But he hadn’t the time to explore all the possibilities, not when he was still in the dark as to what had happened after he’d bailed out from his boat before it exploded. He needed to find out whether he was still thought to be alive, needed to know who was out for his blood. Being unsure of the situation, he hadn’t withdrawn any cash or used his credit cards; he couldn’t successfully evade by leaving a trail of recorded cash. So he had made do with what he had; he had taken his hidden Jeep and drove inland.

But it was time to get in touch with one or two in his unit. He needed a computer and a phone for a few days. His eyes became slits in the bright sunlight. No, he hadn’t the time to see what made Jay the boss lady tick. He needed to figure out whether someone inside had betrayed his team before he went back in. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He supposed he could waste a few more minutes watching that cute little ass at work.

***

It was past dinnertime when Jaymee got home. The house was a mess. Taking off her shoes and socks, she strode into the kitchen, and ignoring the dirty dishes, she poured herself a glass of juice. From the window above the kitchen sink, she could see the sun disappearing behind the tall pines on the other side of the lake, giving the water a final quick shimmer for the day. The grass needed mowing, she noted, arching her back muscles tiredly.

“You didn’t call to let me know whether you were going to be late,” a voice said from behind her. “There’s a sandwich in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” Jaymee said, turning around to look at her father. “You could have washed the dishes, you know.”

He shrugged, sitting at the kitchen table. “Didn’t feel like it.” He took a swallow from the long-necked bottle in his wrinkled work-worn hand.

He probably didn’t feel anything at all. “How many beers did you have today, Dad?” She sat down on the other chair at the table. “You’re going to give yourself another stroke.”

“That would make you happy, wouldn’t it?” he asked, and coughed hard. “Then you could just up and go.”

It was fortunate she also couldn’t feel a damn thing, she thought, as she studied the man who sat there carelessly drinking himself into oblivion. Very little could hurt her these days.

“It’s been eight years,” she quietly reminded him, “and I’ve almost gotten your business back in the black. It would be a shame, don’t you think, to die on me when I’m just about to finish paying off every dime I owe you?”

“Damn right,” her father agreed. “My daddy always taught us to pay for our mistakes, and that’s how things are done. Your bad judgment near destroyed the business my daddy and I built, girl, and don’t you forget it.”

“My bad judgment,” Jaymee countered, emphasizing through clenched teeth, her face a frozen mask, “was foisted on me by you. You used to like him, remember? Enough to encourage him to come after me.”

“Don’t you go putting blame of your mistakes on me,” the older man exclaimed, then started to wheeze again. When the coughing subsided, he continued, “You liked his pretty face and damn near gave away the business with your shenanigans. Killed your ma. Left me unable to work.”

She wasn’t in the mood to defend herself. She had grown immune to her father’s brand of punishment in the past eight years. And perhaps she was partly guilty for some of the bad luck that had fallen on the Barrows, and that was why she had slaved for eight years. To pay her debts for past mistakes, she repeated her father’s litany. It wouldn’t be too long now — two years, maybe sooner — now that she had gotten the Hidden Hills subdivision account, and the business would be in the clear again. Then she could leave.

Finishing her drink, Jaymee got up and turned the water on at the sink, clanking the dirty dishes loud enough to drown out the drunken accusations behind her. She was simply not in the mood to go on being the scapegoat. Maybe it was because she was so near to her goal she was losing her usual calm acceptance of her father’s anger. A year and a half, she promised herself. If she pushed, she would be free in a year and a half. The Hidden Hills subdivision account had fallen into her lap like a sudden lottery windfall, and with Excel Construction promising her at least three houses a week, twenty thousand dollars as projected profit wasn’t too difficult a goal.

She frowned at the memory of firing Chuck and Rich. She couldn’t afford to let them go, but they were simply doing shoddy work these days, hoping she didn’t notice. Catching them “undernailing” the shingles was the last straw. With the strict regulations after the hurricanes these days, a failed inspection for improper nailing could cost her thousands of dollars in fines. So now she was two men short and one house behind. Then she remembered Mr. Roofer Wannabe. How could she have forgotten, when he had spent the better part of the day following her every move? She couldn't forget those eyes. The incredible long lashes. The easy smile with the knowing eyes, the kind she usually avoided meeting because she knew what they did to a woman’s logic.

Nicholas Langley. Jaymee silently mouthed his name as she piled the dishes into the dishwasher. She wondered how long he would last. Wannabes like him usually lasted a day, three at the most. They weren’t interested in sweating it out in this kind of weather for so little money, so they were gone after the first paycheck.

Nothing like roofing to equalize all men, she thought, a slight grin forming on her lips. They could be beach bums, young surfer boys, college kids on vacation, or like this Langley, transient workers. However, once she put them through the routine of walking up and down a six/twelve pitched roof on their knees for a couple of days, they all usually made their exits in the same way—in a big hurry. And sometimes, limping, she added, her grin becoming wider.

She was quite sure Mr. Langley was going to show up for the first day. While he’d been studying her, she’d also been keeping him within sight all day, and it hadn’t escaped her notice when he’d picked up a shingle wrapper from the ground and took it with him when he left. She had grinned then too, hiding it under the shadows of her wide-brimmed cap. Mr. Langley was going to read the instructions off the wrapper on how to lay shingles. Somehow, that pleased her. At least, the man was trying.

After wiping her hands dry, Jaymee proceeded to get the vacuum cleaner out of the closet and dragged it into the living room, leaving her father at the kitchen table.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” he called after her.

She plugged the cord in and turned the machine on, the high screechy sound keeping out his voice. If Mr. Langley was willing to learn, she concluded as she pushed the vacuum back and forth, then she supposed she should give him a chance. Even if he meant trouble.

***

Nick showed up for work the next day, looking just as good as he did the day before. Jaymee wrinkled her nose. Well, at least he had the sense to keep his pants on, she noted with morose resignation, as she looked at her new helper. He had gotten out of his Jeep with the lazy grace of a prowling animal on the hunt. The hair on the back of her neck had stood up the instant his eyes met hers and he gave her a knowing, careless smile.

Uh-oh. That was what her warning system had been trying to tell her all yesterday. She should have known, she privately groaned. With those blue-gray eyes, why hadn’t she paid attention? Wolf. She had seen his kind before.

The temperature was already in the mid-eighties, even at that early hour, and the wet sheen of perspiration gleaming off his exposed skin made her suddenly aware of how much skin and muscle there was on Nicholas Langley. He was wearing one of those muscle tank tops, revealing wide shoulders that rounded off into beautifully sculpted arms. A light sprinkling of black hair temptingly beckoned above the low neckline. Her eyes moved lower, helplessly drawn to the length of him, taking in the long, long legs to his feet. Like she’d called it. Hot. And getting hotter.

It didn’t help he stood there like some cadet under inspection. He was, she realized, mocking her. It was there in those wolf eyes, with their strange, intense light gleaming at her.

“Are the shoes right?” he inquired politely.

She hadn’t missed the new shoes. “Show me the bottom,” she said.

“The bottom of my shoes?” he asked, as if to make sure.

Jaymee glanced up at him sharply and saw the gleam in his eyes was now full-fledged laughter. Her chin jutted up. “Yes,” she told him in her firmest tone, and hastily stepped back when he moved unexpectedly in her direction, bumping into the tailgate of her truck. To her dismay, he put a hand right next to her, braced his weight on it, and obediently lifted up a foot for her inspection.

If she moved six inches forward, she would be up against his chest. Her senses were on overload, amped-up and uncomfortable. She didn’t like her reaction at all, not one bit. She didn’t like how he had managed to make her feel small and helpless. Didn’t like that she noticed the way the muscles rippled in his forearm that was bearing his weight. Didn’t like the delicious scent of male and cologne that crowded her mind like an instant logic-erasing spell. Hated, hated, those blue-gray eyes giving her their own lazy perusal.

“Does it look good to you?” he asked, still polite.

She was sure they weren’t talking about the same thing, but Jaymee hadn’t stayed unattached at the advanced age of thirty without good reason. She knew men and all their rotten little games, and had been given an excellent lesson in the particular area of wolves in sheep clothing. She considered that the one main important point under the topic of Past Experience in her resume toward singular living.

Breathing out easily, she replied, “Looking good won’t help you, Langley, when you’re slip-sliding off a roof.” She gave a brisk nod. He smelled too damn good for a roofer. Time to make him sweat. “You can put your foot back down. Your shoes look fine. You can start by taking the toolboxes and air hoses up onto the roof.”

It wasn’t easy to sound businesslike when she was talking to an expanse of male chest, but she didn’t think leaning back and looking up would give her any advantage. Moving sideways, she eased out of the warmth of his male body and made her escape with a pretended air of looking busy.

Nick followed the sway of those enticing hips for one moment longer before turning to look into the back of the truck. If he weren’t careful, he was going to get himself fired before he’d even started on his new job. He didn’t know why he took such perverse delight in trying to rile up Jay Barrows, but the deliberate cool and distant attitude of hers was like an itch just out of reach.

Hoisting three coiled air hoses onto one shoulder, he picked up a box of nails under his free arm, his mind still on his new boss. She might not know it, but Jay Barrows affected him too. He’d watched her a long time yesterday. She was cool as the ocean breeze in the summer heat, working with silent determination while others wiped away their sweat, and seemed to be all business, rarely smiling. However, Nick had been trained to look for the weak links in his opponent’s armor; it was his job to break in, examine, and leave his mark.

Erase, replace, destroy. That was his core job in his unit. There were nine of them, and each was programmed in one specialty, although essentially, they had been trained for one thing.

Nick put that subject out of his mind for now. He would worry about getting his hands on a computer later. Right now, he had to concentrate on his newly-chosen line of work. After reading the instructions on the shingle wrapper he’d picked up the day before, he now had a basic understanding of how to install shingles on a roof, but suspected on-the-job training was very different from mere words written by some technical writer. He, the Programmer, should know that.

And he was proven right.

A few hours later, perspiration pouring down his face, stinging his eyes, his tank top drenched into a useless rag, he marveled at the inhuman coolness of his boss. The other roofers, Dicker and Lucky, were taking a cigarette break, sitting on top of several bundles of shingles, but Jay Barrows was methodically laying her shingles one after another, moving in a crab-like manner across the roof.

His current duty was to tear open a bundle of shingles and put several within her reach all the way up the roof, so that she didn’t have to stop to get the shingles herself. She had given him a utility knife with a hooked blade, showing him how to cut “starters” out of the fiberglass shingles for each row.

She was a good teacher. Instead of explaining and instructing in the sweltering heat, she went straight to work, leaving it up to him to watch her, pointing out ways to do things quicker in short sentences. Too much explanation usually distracted from physical work and roofing, he quickly found out, was all about working efficiently and constantly.

The starter shingles went on first, over the drip edge, then the first course, six inches or so off the left side. Each time, her nail gun flew over the shingles with a precision and speed that belied the difficulty of being in such a cramped and awkward position while wielding the tool attached to the air hose. All in humidity-drenched hundred-degree heat.

“We break for lunch in half an hour,” Jaymee said, as she continued laying shingles without looking up. “You can stay on the site or go to a diner. Up to you.”

“What do you do?”

She gave him a brief glance, then resumed nailing. “I go to a diner. It’s good to get out of the heat.”

The heat had turned her ponytail into a mass of unruly curls, and Nick felt the urge to run his fingers through them, to feel what those little corkscrews were like.

“Can I come along? I’m still quite lost around town.” It was a small lie, but he wanted to see that delectable mouth chewing on food.

Jaymee hesitated. It would be ungracious to refuse. “Sure,” she told him, and changed the subject. “Get me a lead boot for the plumbing pipe from the box, will you?”

He was a good worker, she thought. He hadn’t complained about the heat yet, and followed every order without question, an essential requirement while roofing and dying of thirst. The latter was somehow surprising to her, as he didn’t strike her as someone who took orders easily. It was there behind that lazy grace—a man who did things his way—and she had the feeling he was merely biding his time.

For what, she hadn’t the faintest idea, but one thing was certain. Nicholas Langley definitely had never been a construction worker. Why was he working as a laborer? There were only a few reasons people picked her kind of work. They were uneducated, or addicted to drugs and thus couldn’t find a steady job, or they started really young and had made this their livelihood, or they were running from the law. The first three reasons didn’t fit. Nick Langley appeared educated and his body certainly didn’t look abused. He didn’t look like some roofing apprentice, since he was probably a few years older than she was, which left one last alternative theory.

Somehow, he didn’t fit the description of a hardened criminal either, but Jaymee had seen them come and go enough these past years to know not to be surprised. Perhaps Langley was a criminal. That would make perfect sense, since she, Jaymee Barrows, was attracted to the criminally inclined, and would do well to remember her debts from that one mistake.

Nick lifted a brow when she finally waved him to stop, stood up and stretched. “Lunch?” he asked hopefully. He was getting hungry.

“Lunch,” she agreed, then disengaged the nail gun from the hose. She pulled out the foam plugs protecting her hearing.

“I need to get some of those,” Nick remarked.

Jaymee smiled. More proof that he wasn’t in construction. Roofers rarely bothered about hearing protection in Florida. Most of them were partially deaf by the time they turned forty.

“I have some extra ones. I’ll give them to you after lunch.” She walked to the ladder leaning against the roof and turned to the other two roofers. “Coming to lunch, Dicker?”

“Nah, I’m going to stay here. Brought my own today.”

“We’ll be here when you get back,” the other man said.

“OK. I have to go pick up some more roofing cement, so I’ll probably take longer today,” Jaymee told them. “Make sure you cut the valleys before the sun heats them too long. The last time we left them till the end, the whole side of the white roof had tar stains, and the builder complained."

“OK, boss.”

Nick watched with interest when Jay pulled off her tee-shirt after she got down from the roof, displaying a colorful bikini. She went to the tap on the side of the house and sluiced her body with water to cool off, wiping herself with the shirt. Now that was a great idea. He proceeded to take off his tank top and did the same, putting his head under the gush of water as well. That felt wonderful, cleaning off the dust and the sticky sweat.

Jaymee swallowed hard. She shouldn’t be looking, but God, the man was nothing but sleek muscles. His body was lean and hard, the same dusting of fine dark hair arrowing down to an “outie” belly button, just above the top of his jeans.

“Maybe it would be better if I wore shorts tomorrow,” Nick interrupted her wayward imagination.

Jaymee blinked. Shorts. Meaning naked thighs and calves. Shaking her head, she said, “You’ll regret it. The fiberglass shingles’ll cut up your knees in no time, and it’ll also burn you every time you kneel down. Remember, the shingles are baking in the sun.”

Nick nodded. He should know that by now. Every time he held on to one too long, the heat had burned his fingertips. No wonder she wore gloves. She, he noted, was golden all over, at least where he could see. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her, and that scrap of cloth she had on right now barely covered unexpectedly full breasts. She wasn’t shy about walking on the job site either, obliviously passing the other men who were looking at her like they would like her for lunch.

As far as he could tell, she was unmarried and unattached. Perhaps she was looking for a man. His eyes narrowed a fraction. No. She hadn’t sent any such signals to any of the men she’d talked to all morning. She had been serious and totally businesslike. Jay Barrows was obviously unaware of any male attention, except for his. He hadn’t missed the heat that showed up in her lively eyes now and then when she looked at him, which was often, heat that would disappear as quickly as it flared up. She was fighting it, and for some reason, it made him want to add fuel to the fire.

Donning a fresh tee-shirt, Jaymee beckoned to him to climb into her truck. “Don’t you have another shirt to wear?”

“It’ll dry in the sun,” Nick said, shrugging. Jaymee sighed, then pulled another shirt out from behind her seat. She threw it onto his lap. “I doubt your shirt would fit,” he wryly commented, indicating her smaller size.

“All my tees are in large and extra large sizes,” she countered, starting up the truck. “Unless you’re a three hundred-pound football player, you’ll fit.”

“Why the large size?” It fit fine, although the printed message—‘I’m woman. I’m strong. I’m tired.’—didn’t.

“Comfort. I like my clothes loose about me.” She looked at the message emblazoned across his chest and laughed in surprised amusement. “I’m sorry. That’s the only clean shirt I have left.”

Nick liked the sound of her laughter. It was a low bubbly chuckle, like a child’s. “I hope you aren’t inviting other workers to lunch,” he said. “I hate to declare that ‘I am woman’ at first introduction.” The dimples appearing in her cheeks were captivating. He wanted to make her smile like that again. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Hungry Boys,” Jaymee announced, still grinning, “a great diner. Full of macho men at lunch. You’ll like it. Of course,” she added considerately, giving him a sidelong glance, “you might be too tired—”

He looked down at his shirt again. “It all depends,” he said lightly.

Dangerous ground, she told herself. She endeavored to change the subject. “So, Langley, where were you before you arrived here?”

“Nick.”

“Hmm?”

“Call me Nick. Or Nicholas, if you like.”

“OK, Nicholas.”

Interesting. She didn’t choose Nick, like most people would. “Is Jay your real name?”

“No.” She frowned. Maybe he didn’t want her to know anything about him. “And you’re changing the subject.”

“What is it?”

Two could play at being obtuse. “What, you mean the subject?”

“You know perfectly well I was asking about your real name.” The thread of mockery in his voice was unmistakable. “Is it a roofing secret?”

“A roofing secret?” She was beginning to enjoy bantering with him.

“Yeah, like why not cutting the valleys would leave stains on the roof,” Nick replied.

Jay pulled into the parking lot of Hungry Boys. She got out and rolled up the window. “If you leave the valley uncut in the summer,” she explained, “the sun melts the tar strip on the underside of the shingle lying on the roof.”

“Ah, I get it. The sun bakes it and the tar sticks on the roof, staining it.” He locked up his side of the truck and fell in stride with her.

“Strong, as well as smart,” Jaymee quipped. “The men are going to love you in there.”

“Then I’m going to have to place myself in your care,” he calmly retorted. “I can’t fight them off all by myself.”

Somehow, she had the impression he wouldn’t have any problems fighting off anyone, male or female. At the entrance, she held out a protective hand, a grave expression on her face.

“Walk behind me then, Nicholas. The best way to ward off unwanted attention is to let them know you belong to me.”

She strode in through the doors without a backward glance.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Two

Stupid, stupid, stupid. What the hell made her say that?

Hungry Boys was its usual crowded noon business. Jaymee liked it there—the food was a disgustingly generous portion for a decent price and just the way she liked it, with no thought for one’s health. And the desserts would defeat the most voracious appetite.

They both sat at the counter. Two tall glasses of iced tea immediately appeared in front of them and the waitress patiently waited as they drained them of the sweet liquid.

“Thanks, Mindy.” Jaymee smiled. “You’re an angel.”

Mindy, a tall platinum blond with bold eyes, refilled the glasses. “I’m the angel among the animals,” she acknowledged, grinning back, then slid a long look at Nick. “And what type of animal is he?”

Jaymee chose to ignore the question. “What’s the special today?”

Her friend wasn’t the type to back away when something caught her interest. Mindy turned to Nick, jutting out her generous bosom. “Do you want to have the special today? It’s definitely for a hungry boy.”

Jaymee sighed. She recognized that particular look. Mindy was going to have her claws in her new worker and no one was going to stand in the way. Somehow, the idea didn’t please her, but before she could say anything, Nick drawled, “I’ll take what the boss is having.”

Mindy’s eyes narrowed. “The boss, huh?” she scoffed at Jaymee. “Baked chicken and vegetables. Chicken rice soup.”

“I’ll take it,” Jaymee told her.

“And you, sweetheart?” Mindy’s bright red lips pouted prettily. Jaymee rolled her eyes.

“Sounds good,” answered Nick, returning an easy smile, amusement lacing his low, gravelly voice.

Mindy scribbled the order down and handed a straw to Jaymee, poking it right under her nose. “Looks good too, girlfriend,” she said loudly, then disappeared.

She allowed the embarrassed silence to hang as long as she could, then finally mumbled, “Sorry, Mindy is just a joker.” The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was after him.

“That’s OK. After all,” he solemnly reminded her, “I needed to establish I belonged to you.”

Her tan couldn’t hide the deep blush staining her cheeks. She shouldn’t have joked with him. Now he was too familiar with her, and that was always a no-no in her book about wolves. She decided to change the subject back to him again.

“Tell me, what exactly do you do? I know it’s not construction.” She looked at those elegant hands. If not for the calluses, they could have been a surgeon’s hands, with those long artistic fingers that made her look down forlornly at her own short ones.

“I do all kinds of things,” Nick answered. “It all depends on where I am.” He wasn’t technically lying.

Jaymee took a sip of her tea. He was hiding something, and must have been doing it for some time, sliding easily out of answering questions with hardly a pause. She didn’t want to pry, rarely cared about her workers’ sordid pasts, but his deliberate evasions challenged her. It had been too long since she had been so intrigued.

“What sort of things?” she probed. “And where were you when you were doing them?”

Nick’s slate-colored eyes were a few degrees cooler as he contemplated her. “I survive,” he said, quietly, remembering the fiery explosion which had nearly killed him. He grimly wondered about the others. Had their boats blown up too? “I always survive, no matter where I am.”

Before she could push further, the food arrived, all at once—soup, meal, vegetables, potatoes. Mindy arranged the dishes in front of them. “Anything else?” she asked.

“No, thanks, Min,” Jaymee said, digging into her food.

“You eat too much,” observed the waitress.

“I’m a hungry woman,” retorted Jaymee, slurping up her soup.

Mindy’s eyes twinkled back at her. Leaning forward, she jerked her head meaningfully in Nick’s direction and stage-whispered, “You’re hungry for the wrong thing.”

Jaymee choked on her soup. Nick obligingly patted her on the back. To her relief, the waitress left them alone for the rest of the meal, only coming back to refill the glasses with iced tea, casting obvious glances at Nick. Jaymee ignored her and concentrated on eating her lunch in a hurry to avoid another comment from her friend.

Nick ate quietly, studying the woman next to him. That temporarily put off her questions. She was persistent when she decided on something, and downright as good at evading questions as he was. She sidestepped any gestures to get closer to her like a seasoned defensive tackle. It was fear that lurked in her eyes whenever he manipulated their conversation off safe topics. It was the kind of wariness that was very seductive to a man like him, who made it his business to find out what put fear in the opposition.

It wasn’t just the obstinate touch-me-not façade she put up that attracted him. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that made him want to find out more. He had a weakness for tall, leggy blondes, and she definitely didn’t fit that description, but every time she threw him one her wide-eyed challenging looks, his body tightened up in male response.

She wasn’t exactly beautiful. Her eyes were small and slightly tilted at the corners, but they were bright and inquisitive like a bird’s. A strange muddy color, sometimes hazel, sometimes almost green. She had an expressive nose that she wrinkled whenever she was thinking, and a willful pouty mouth, the kind that belonged to a woman used to getting her own way. Her hair, N unruly mop which was always secured behind her, was thick and irresistibly unmanageable. Just like the owner. All willful and unmanageable passion held back by a dirty, frayed ribbon. He wondered what it would be like to snap that ribbon, and let loose all those glorious emotions she was desperately keeping under control. It was that edgy wariness that added fuel to this strange urge growing in him—to go after and pounce. He blinked at the image those words brought up, recalling quite easily the toned body under the baggy tee-shirt and the surprising swell of her breasts.

Jay Barrows was a contradiction in demeanor and attitude. Her body language was carefully asexual. Everything about her was concentrated on being efficient and professional. Yet he still noticed those little feminine things about her—the way she took off her shirt to clean herself, like any typical woman would after a hot workout, the way she moved, and most telling of all, definitely the way she kept him at a distance. Again, he felt the urge to find out what made her tick.

They were almost done with their meal when someone came to stand between them at the counter. “How are you supposed to make money wasting time sitting on your butt?” The voice was slightly slurred.

Jaymee stiffened and slowly whirled her stool around to face the intruder. Nick looked at the weather-beaten face with the bloodshot eyes. The telltale odor betrayed the old man’s condition, even though he appeared steady enough, glaring down at Jaymee.

“I’m having lunch,” Jaymee calmly stated the obvious.

“You can’t eat at the job? Do you think you can get work done driving around town in the truck?” the man sneered. Nick considered interrupting, but Jay’s reaction stopped him. Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t just take that kind of talk from anyone. Therefore, this older man must be—what, a relative? When Jay still didn’t say anything, the old man continued, “And what is this about firing Chuck and Rich? They’ve been working for me since you were still Miss High and Mighty College Student. How are you going to get work done shorthanded?”

“I was wondering when you’d show up. I have a few errands to run and I felt like eating here,” she finally cut into the tirade. “As for firing Chuck and Rich, it’s none of your damned business. Everything’s taken care of.”

“It’s my business and don’t you forget it, Jaymee girl!”

Jaymee, Nick repeated silently. Jaymee Barrows.

“You need to go home, Dad,” Jaymee quietly said.

“Don’t talk down to me!” His voice was higher now, attracting attention.

Nick came to a decision. “Come on, let’s go,” he said, standing up.

Jaymee knew, any minute now, her father was going to go into one of his rants. She hadn’t told him about her decision to fire the old-timers precisely to avoid this. She nodded and caught Mindy’s quick eyes.

“Go, sweetie. I’ll put it on the tab,” Mindy called from the other end of the counter. She then turned to glare at Jaymee’s father, but her voice was sweet. “Want something to eat, Bob? Coffee, perhaps?”

Jaymee didn’t wait for his reply as she walked out, after leaving a tip. She knew her father well; he wasn’t done yet. She suspected those two former workers had probably shared a couple of drinks with him and talked about the past, which usually led to more drinking and bitter memories. Suddenly, the bright sunshine outside the diner felt like hell on earth. She wondered what her new help was thinking as he walked silently beside her.

“Don’t you walk off like you own the business, Jaymee Barrows!” Bob Barrows called at them, a little out of breath. He stopped in front of the blue truck and coughed long and painfully. “I have a right,” he said, in between horrible wracking noises.

Jaymee sighed. “Go home, Dad. We’ll talk later, all right?” She gentled her voice. Sometimes that worked. “I’m going to the supply place to pick some materials up, then I’ll be back at work. You just rest up and don’t worry about the business.”

Bob snorted. “Don’t worry? You destroyed the business once. I’m going to keep an eye on you so you don’t do it again.” He finally caught sight of Nick standing by. “Who’s this?”

“He’s the new help.” She didn’t bother to introduce Nick.

“I get the picture now. A pretty face.” Bob’s face turned purplish with anger. “You let a pretty face take the place of two valued workers. You’re going to ruin my business, you are.”

He walked threateningly toward Jaymee, only to be blocked by Nick’s six-foot plus body. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Barrows,” stated Nick, pleasantly.

Bob Barrows looked up at the tall man, and undaunted, poked a finger into Nick’s chest. “You can’t lie to me, boy. You ain’t nothing but a distraction for my daughter. I can tell you ain’t even a worker, and she has work to do. She promised me! She promised to…”

“Dad!” Jaymee’s voice was arctic in spite of the melting heat, cutting off whatever Bob was going to reveal. “I’m getting into the truck and driving off now. If you don’t go home, I’ll be late for work. Do you understand me?”

That seemed to get the old man’s attention. “Work. Yes, work. Go to work,” he muttered and turned away. “You just keep working, Jaymee, and pay the debts.”

“Should he be driving?” Nick asked, as he got into Jaymee’s truck.

“He drove here. He can drive back,” she bitterly replied, and started the truck. She was mortified. Everybody in town knew about the Barrows’ story, so it wasn’t like it was a big secret, but somehow, she didn’t want Nick Langley to know. She didn’t want those see-too-much eyes to look at her with pity. Suddenly, she wished she could just forget the sense of duty that had forced her to endure her father’s bitterness.

Nick could feel the ice forming back around her, that armor that made her so machine-like at work, but could see the hurt in her hazel eyes and in the slight trembling of her hand as she shifted gears.

“Want to talk about it?” he invited.

“None of your business, Langley,” snapped Jaymee, her eyes on the road. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry my father was rude to you. He isn’t well.”

“Is that the reason he thinks you’re ruining his business?” He knew he was treading on forbidden territory, but for some reason, Jaymee Barrows was fast becoming more than a passing interest. Besides, one curious cross-examination deserved another.

She braked a little too hard at the red light. Tossing her head back, she flashed angry eyes at him. He noted they were green now.

“Look, leave the subject alone,” she grated, her voice slow and even. “It has nothing to do with you. You just started a job. Do it right, and I’ll pay you well, Langley.”

“It doesn’t hurt to have a friendly ear sometimes,” he casually commented.

“I don’t need anything friendly from you. Everything is under control. You work. I pay. The work gets done. Badabing, badaboom. Get it?” The honk from behind told her the light had changed back to green, and she cursed before accelerating jerkily.

Her fury was an interesting contrast to the cool and controlled woman with whom he’d been working all morning. “Nothing is ever so simple,” he pressed on, wanting to add fuel to the fire, wanting to push her.

Jaymee felt like screaming. She wanted to be alone, to calm down, but every sentence the man beside her uttered seemed to rile her further. He was just trying to be friendly and concerned, a small voice reasoned, but that made her even more furious. She pulled into the parking lot at the supply warehouse, tires squealing.

“What are you, a psychologist out of a job?” she lashed out. “Do you think it fun to try to analyze and understand me from a mere conversation? What, you’re so bored, you have to push and probe and pretend to make psychobabble conclusions?”

She was a lot closer to the truth than she realized, Nick thought. When under extreme danger, like disengaging an explosive, he liked to relieve the pressure by analyzing it. Sometimes, it added to the “fun.” His team sometimes didn’t agree. Unable to help himself, he grinned.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not getting out of the truck.

Jaymee stared at his lips. She watched the crooked wolfish smile slowly appearing on his lips. Confident. Cocksure. Somewhere in her mind, a warning siren started. She’d seen that smile before on another male face, one she’d thought she—

“Yeah, what?” she demanded, but she kept staring at the smile.

“Yeah, I want to probe and push.” He paused and moved closer, his body heat surrounding her, trapping her like invisible bands of steel. His head dipped and, pausing a few inches from her upturned face, he added, “I want to see what turns Jay Barrows into Jaymee Barrows.”

He had found her out. All thought disappeared when his head descended. She sat still as his lips touched hers, her heart roaring like a speeding train. She was prepared to fight and resist, but his lips were gentle against hers, soft and persuasive.

Nick didn’t deepen the kiss, only slanted his head for more access into her sweet mouth. It was an impulse he chose not to resist. He didn’t know why he felt the need to comfort her as well as hold her, but she drew a strange reaction from him. Her response was making promises to him he knew she wasn’t consciously giving. There was an enticing innocence about the way she sat there and kissed him back, and he knew, there and then, with absolute certainty he was going to take Jaymee Barrows to bed sooner or later.

Later. After he’d straightened out some things.

He reluctantly lifted his head, his breathing uneven. He smiled into eyes so slumberous that he wanted to start kissing her again. “Better?” he asked.

Jaymee could only stare back at him. She hadn’t been kissed in—God—years. Her last date was exactly a year and three months ago, a blind arrangement forced on her by Mindy, an awkward, uncomfortable experience she vowed she’d never repeat. She’d decided then she could live without dating until she got her life straightened out, and here she was, kissing a stranger. And probably a criminal on the lam.

“I ought to fire you,” she told him. It was difficult to sound boss-like when one’s voice sounded breathy and aroused.

Nick cocked his head, those long eyelashes unbelievably sexy as he watched her through half-closed eyes. “You shouldn’t. You’re shorthanded,” he reminded her.

That was like a wake-up call. She had a house to finish. “It won’t matter if we both die of heat stroke in this truck,” she retorted with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Come on, I’ve got to get busy.”

She didn’t let him get through her armor again that day, and Nick was wise enough not to try. She kept the atmosphere thoroughly businesslike, giving him chores that had him climbing up and down the ladder. As the day ended, she let him do a couple of the last rows of shingles, showing him how to cut the rake of the roof. The other two roofers left at four, as most construction workers did, but Jaymee Barrows, he discovered, was either a workaholic or a woman on a mission. She kept on working till almost six. He stayed on, even after she told him he could leave any time. She didn’t object.

Jaymee had to get the house done, no matter how late it would be when she finished. She was one roof behind, and couldn’t put off the builder from insulating it tomorrow. Used to working past normal working hours alone, she was pleasantly surprised to find her new help willing to stay on. Of course, this was just day one. He could be gone after a few days of this.

With focused effort, she tried to keep the memory of his lips on hers at bay. That kiss unnerved her more than the confrontation with her father. She had thought herself quite able to control her emotions after eight years of practice, but in less than ten hours, this stranger had managed to get under her shield where she sometimes yearned to be touched.

Instantaneously, she ruthlessly pounced on that admission. Yearn. Oh no, not yearn. Jaymee Barrows did not yearn for anything from a man. Ever. Especially from someone who looked like this man. He would be a mistake, her second mistake. The cost of her first one had been high—her father’s health, her mother’s death, and more than one hundred thousand dollars in the hole, courtesy of her father’s business acumen. Nick Langley could cost her everything else.

Behind the dumpster, and out of sight, Jaymee touched her lips. He could cost her what she thought she had mended with super glue—her heart and her pride. She wasn’t going to allow the past to repeat itself.

***

By the end of the week, on payday, Nick was feeling the soreness of previously unused muscles. He was a superb athlete, trained to swim for miles to escape enemy land, able to climb up cliffs to avoid being detected by dogs, and had undergone covert programs to shift physical and mental pain when tortured. However, a man’s body, he admitted, wasn’t created by the Almighty to squat and kneel for untold hours on end, dragging a tool attached to hundreds of feet of heavy air hoses. Especially, he added, a long, lanky body that had to bend more than normal to nail a shingle.

In the short week, he’d discovered his kneecaps could protest with noisy complaints after a daily regimen of eight hours of being squashed into kneepads and being subjected to crawling like a toddler up a slope. The arches of his large feet, clad in soft-sole rubber, ached from the constant pressure of his weight pushed on the front. He imagined those ancient Chinese women who bound their feet probably felt like this, as he ignored the pain and kept on laying shingles. The fingertips of his left hand were raw from constantly scraping against the fiberglass shingles as he pulled them apart to be nailed. And, his nose was sunburned. That was the most difficult part, ignoring the heat and continuing to work with speed as the day got hotter and hotter.

His boss, the cool Jay Barrows, was totally unaffected by the weather. She watched over him like a hawk, spotting every mistake he made. She was a tyrant, a pint-size general, approaching each roof like a battle in a great war. After only four days, Nick had a healthy respect for her. She might look tiny next to him and could barely carry a five-gallon can of roof cement across the length of the roof, but the lady could outwork every man around her, with a horse thrown in for good measure.

She had been so very polite all week, except that one time he messed up and walked all over the shingles with tar under his shoes. He had trekked black prints up a whole side of the roof’s hip before she noticed, and the colorful language she’d used while tearing off the whole row of shingles would have put his fellow operatives to shame. He still grinned at the memory. Wouldn’t Command just love to see a tape of one of their top commandos standing meekly while being dressed down with heavy sarcasm by a barely five foot-two termagant?

The thought of Command sobered him. Getting paid tonight would give him some cash. It wouldn’t be enough to buy cheap electronics and the hardware he needed, but it would be a start. He wished he could just use his credit card and buy a damn laptop. He shrugged. If necessary, he would build a crude system, if he had to. He rejected the easy use of a phone, since phones could be traced, and he hadn’t any control of the fiber optics without his usual toys. And emails would be monitored as well. His agency had a super-computer that would trace his exact location within minutes and right now, he didn’t want to be found.

No, he would bide his time. Knowing Command, they would give him a reasonable amount of time before deciding he was dead. Or before sending a tracker on his trail, he added, rubbing his jaw. Damn, he didn’t like trackers, mean S.O.Bs who shot first and asked later.

The little house at the end of the dirt trail came into view as he followed Jay’s earlier instructions. The property was a few acres, surrounded by a wooden fence. He could see some sort of a lake behind the house. Parking the Jeep next to the familiar blue truck, he slowly got out, looking around. Behind him, two other trucks pulled in. Dicker and Lucky were in one of the vehicles. Two other men got out of the other mud-splattered truck. Nick nodded at Dicker and Lucky.

“Hey, Langley,” greeted Dicker. “Getting your first paycheck, huh?”

“Yeah.” The two roofers didn’t talk to him much, and he never encouraged them.

“How do you like roofing?” asked Lucky, lighting a cigarette. “The sun tough on you?”

“It’s all right,” Nick answered, taking in the two approaching strangers. They were, undoubtedly, roofers; they had tar all over their clothes. They nodded at him, but didn’t seem very friendly.

“This is the new man we’ve been telling you about, Chuck,” Dicker said, gesturing at Nick. “Nick, this is Chuck and that’s Rich. They used to work for Jay just prior to you showing up.”

Lucky’s gap-toothed smile was positively wicked. “Yeah, you boys can forget about convincing Jay to give you another chance. Nick here replaced both of you.”

The one named Chuck spat to one side. “Sure, that’s for one week. How long do you think he’s going to last?” He looked suspiciously at Nick. “You ain’t no roofer, man. How long are you going to stick around?”

Nick shrugged.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

“Oh, he talk,” Lucky said, still grinning. “He talk fine with Jay. I think he’s learning lots from Jay.”

“Well, I just want my check for what she owes me,” the other man, Rich, said. “Miss High and Mighty thinks she can do everything herself her way. She’s welcomed to it.”

They all walked up the trail toward the house. Nick followed along as they went the back way, instead of up the front porch. Dicker turned to him.

“Boss doesn’t like us walking in the front with our dirty shoes all tarred up. Her office is at the back, next to the kitchen. That’s where we get paid.” He looked at Nick up and down. “Of course, you’re all cleaned up regular, aren’t you? Look at that, boys, no tar on him at all.”

The four of them studied Nick like he was some alien. He returned their stares, unperturbed.

“He ain’t no roofer,” Chuck repeated. “She’s going to call us back as soon as he’s gone.”

“Not if you keep leaving things half done, like you’d been doing,” Lucky declared.

“She’s just plain bitchy,” said Chuck, and spat again. “We weren’t doing nothing particularly wrong. We’ve been working for her daddy before she even knew how to hold a hammer, let alone swing it. Now she gone and fired us.”

“Yeah, and just because she got to run the company doesn’t mean she could just treat us like dirt,” Rich agreed.

“Well, boys, she’s the boss right now,” Dicker told them.

“Well, Dickhead, I beg to differentiate from your opinion,” retorted Chuck.

“Ha! Differentiate from your opinion,” snorted Lucky. “You sound mighty educated with them big phrases, Chuckie. Now, if you can only remember to nail six nails in the shingles instead of two—”

“Shut up! Shut up, man!” Rich yelled, losing his temper. He was the one to keep an eye on, Nick decided.

Dicker climbed up the back porch steps. “You better keep it down now.”

“What, is she afraid her daddy might hear? We already done told him she got rid of us and he wasn’t too happy about that,” Chuck sneered. “He told us he would help us get our jobs back.” He gave Nick a hard look. “What do you think of that, boy?”

Chuck wasn’t that much older than Nick, probably by four or five years, with a balding pate and a beer belly protruding over his pants. “Surf rats. College smarty pants,” he went on. “You all think you know everything, don’t you?”

Nick leaned lazily against the banister. “Sounds to me like you two tried to cheat with some shoddy work,” he drawled. It was easy to put two and two together from the other men’s conversation and it was even easier to push these men’s buttons. “I’d say firing you was a justifiable action on her part, nothing dirty or bitchy about.”

“Justifiable action.” Lucky sat down on the porch steps, his gap-toothed laugh coming out in hiccups. “I want to see you try to differentiate your opinion with Langley, Chuckie. Maybe you can give him some justifiable actions.” He hugged his knees, laughing so hysterically even Dicker smiled.

Rich put a threatening hand on Lucky’s head. “The only action you...”

“What’s going on out there?” Jaymee’s voice broke them apart. She was behind the screen door. “Rich, Chuck, if you want to collect your last check, I suggest you don’t cause my porch any damage. Come on in and give me your bills. Be careful where you step, please. I just had the carpet cleaned in the office.”

She pushed open the screened door, a scowl on her face. She was wearing shorts for once, and Nick got to appreciate her bare legs. They were shapely, toned from all the time she squatted down, and he noticed they weren’t as tanned as her arms, which made sense, since she was constantly in those long tight pants at work. Her bare feet revealed pretty pink toenails, which for some inexplicable reason, made his mouth water. You’re losing it, boy-o, getting hot about painted toenails.

It wasn’t that, he amended, as he entered the kitchen, a surprisingly large room. It was the woman herself who turned him on with the little unexpected displays of her feminine side. One moment she was tough as nails, throwing bundles of shingles around like they weighed nothing, then he would catch a whiff of the flowery perfume she wore. Another moment, she would ignore a cut as she kept on laying shingles, blood trickling unheeded down her arm, and then he would see her adjusting her bikini and rubbing suntan lotion over her arms and shoulders. Today, she had been covered in dust and dirt from climbing under the overhang of a dormer to pound down a nail, hair disheveled, face smeared, curses streaming from her lips, and now, she was soft and clean, delightfully dainty, wearing a very feminine flowery blouse. And God, such pretty, sweet, enticing painted toenails. She was driving him crazy.

Her study was a small room stacked with boxes and file cabinets. It smelled vaguely of her, as if she spent a lot of time there. A sofa was against one wall, and two of the roofers went to sit on it. The others pulled two of the kitchen chairs into the room. Jaymee walked to the desk by a big picture window and sat down—Nick froze in mid-step—in front of two computers.

“Sit down, Nick,” she said, frowning when he just stood there.

Nick tore his gaze from the computers and looked around. He was too big to sit on the sofa with the two men, and there weren’t any more chairs in the room.

Jaymee sighed and relinquished her big office chair. “Here, take this. I’ll be moving around signing checks anyway.” When he hesitated, she impatiently pounded the arm of the chair and ordered, “Sit! I’ll sit on the desk if I have to.”

Nick sank down into the large leather chair, softened from constant use. He immediately thought of her tight little ass sliding on and off it as she did her paperwork every night.

Jaymee picked up her checkbook and turned on one of the computers. “I’ll pay you two first, Chuck and Rich, and will print out a record for you to keep. I’ll send you all the appropriate forms at the end of the year.”

“Didn’t your daddy talk to you?” asked Chuck, a sullen expression on his face.

“He did,” Jaymee answered, “and I said no.”

“Where’s he? I want to talk to him!” Rich loudly demanded.

“He isn’t here,” Jaymee informed him curtly, “and you were talking to the wrong person. I don’t need your kind of work giving my business a bad name. Let’s just get this done, Rich. Give me your bills and I’ll sign you a check and a bonus.”

The two men were angry, but they could see that they were wasting time. So they did what they were told, muttering between themselves. Jaymee started a program on the computer, then punched in some numbers. While the printer started, she signed the checks and handed them over.

“After all these years I’ve worked for your daddy...”

“It ain’t right, the way you treat us...”

Jaymee took the sheets from the printer and gave them to the two men. “Don’t lose these,” she said over their voices. “I’ve added a bonus in your checks. ’Bye.”

She folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, leaning a hip against Nick’s chair. She wasn’t aware she was touching his forearm.

Chuck looked back and forth from Jaymee to Nick. “I see what’s going on,” he said, as he and Rich walked out. “Let’s go, Rich. You and I ain’t pretty enough for Miss Barrows.”

Nick felt the temperature in the room drop as the two men left. From the study, they could hear part of the disgruntled conversation of the two departing roofers as they slammed the screen door shut.

“You know about her and pretty boys...”

“Ain’t her old man gonna get another stroke if she bought another high lift...”

Laughter. Silence. Dicker shifted in his seat. “Never mind them, boss,” he told Jaymee. “You don’t need to dwell on nothing they’ve been saying, insinuate-like.”

“It’s OK. What do I owe you this week, Dicker?” Jaymee asked, picking up her pen.

Dicker gave her a bill, then Lucky did the same. “Come on, Luck, I need to get me some bait to go on my fishing trip this weekend,” he said. “’Night, Jay.”

“’Night, Dicker. Catch a good one.”

“Will do. ’Night, Langley.”

“’Night.”

Jaymee realized suddenly Nick and she were alone, something she had avoided the last few days.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Three

Nick rotated the chair and watched Jaymee as she entered some numbers into the program. On rollers, it slid silently into position behind her, until she stood between his open thighs. “Need a seat?” he asked.

Jaymee slowly turned around, managing not to fall onto his lap as she gripped the table behind her. She tried to sound cool as she looked down at him, but her heart rate was, as always, when he got too near, speeding up with maddening awareness. “You need to give me a bill for my records.”

He made her nervous this evening. There was a different air about him as he watched her with those deceptively lazy eyes.

Nick shook his head. “I’d like to be paid in cash.” He placed his hands on her hips, holding her.

Her knees were going to buckle. “Are you a criminal?” she asked lightly.

As if he would admit it, even if he was one. He shook his head.

“A tax dodger?”

“Negative.”

“An escaped convict?”

“Nope.”

“An illegal alien, then?”

His smile was wicked, sexy. “Which accent do you want me to put on for you?”

Jaymee folded her arms protectively over her chest. That smile was dangerous to a woman’s peace of mind. “I’m entitled to an explanation.”

She had paid cash to some past employees before, those whom she knew were transient workers who had no address for her to contact at year’s end. The construction industry was seasonal and laborers came and went.

However, Nick Langley called to her like no one had for a long time. His mystery fed her curiosity. She wanted to solve it, and hopefully, eliminate this senseless attraction she felt. All week, she had kept him at arm’s length, not wanting him to make more of that kiss in the truck. It frightened her, the way he made her feel. He’d caused her to forget herself and every one of her self-imposed rules. She wanted to use her head this time because the last time she followed her heart, she’d been conned into believing the man to whom she’d give it to was sincere. She knew better now. Men like Nick Langley didn’t stay sincere for long, and certainly wouldn’t stay around for long after they got what they wanted.

When he remained silent, she pressed on, “Well?”

“I’m trying to straighten some stuff out,” Nick said, a smile teasing his lips. “It’s nothing criminal, so you don’t have to worry about helping a convict, but I just need some time.”

“Some time for what? What exactly do you do, Nicholas?”

That crooked smile was awfully distracting and she refused to succumb to the temptation of bending over and kissing those lips.

“Construction?” he asked, his blue-gray eyes twinkling.

Jaymee gave a snort. “Yeah, you’re just the typical construction man.”

“And what does a typical construction man look like? What does he have that I don’t?” He flexed an impressive bicep at her, questioningly wriggling his brows.

Jaymee wanted to run her hand over the arm, to feel its hard strength. Then she wanted to—she cut off her thoughts abruptly.

“Nails too clean, shoes too clean.” She counted each item off on a hand. “Owns a pretty new Jeep, paid off, you told me—that, Mr. Construction Man, is a big telltale clue. Paid off? Do you know how much a new Jeep costs? And lastly,” she gestured grandly, then, not able to help herself, she ran a light finger on his bare arm and whispered, “No tattoos.”

She was good, a worthy opponent indeed. “Do you always stereotype people?” asked Nick quizzically. “Are you a stereotypical roofer?”

Jaymee frowned. “You know, mister, I can see right through you,” she told him.

“Oh?” Nick leaned back comfortably, lacing his hands behind his head. He was beginning to enjoy this bait and wait exercise with his new boss.

“You always pretend to answer my questions, but all the time you try to divert me by putting me on the defensive. Not so?”

Oh, she was good. “Why would I do that?”

“You men are all the same, talking all the time like I’m not here. I’ve grown up among men all my life, Nicholas. I know how they think, what they do, why they talk the way they do. They talk differently when women are around them, except I’m around them so much, they forget I’m a woman sometimes. I know every which way they talk down to women, every half-truth they utter to them, to each other.”

“Ah,” Nick said sagely, “an expert in evasive tactics.”

Jaymee looked startled for a second, a slight frown on her face. “Evasive tactics?” she repeated, then nodded, pleased. “Yes, I like that. I’m an evasive tactic expert.”

Nick grinned at her. If she only knew.

“So, back to the original subject, what exactly do you do?”

He noticed she didn’t say she wasn’t going to pay him in cash, which told him plenty about her decision already. He relaxed. “I’m good with electronics. You know,” he placed his hands on the table on each side of her body, and tapped a long finger against the keyboard, “computers. Radios. Stuff like that.” Missiles. Bombs. Satellites. He continued in silence.

Jaymee studied him for a few moments. Those long elegant fingers and artistic hands. Yes, she could see him playing with electronic things, assembling, wiring, rearranging. Clever, knowledgeable fingers. She shook off the sudden torrid images of those hands on her body. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Her imagination, so long buried under piles of debts, had suddenly decided to stir from its coma.

She wasn’t, by nature, a prying person, and since he had answered her question, she was satisfied enough to let it go for now. Maybe he would tell her more later, when he finished straightening out whatever needed straightening out, but right now, at this moment, she needed to understand why she was reacting in this way.

“OK, I’ll help you out,” she told him, and smiled at his surprise at her sudden capitulation. “Let me get my figures into my program, and turn the computer off.” She waited a beat. “You have to move and give me room, Nicholas.”

“What’s wrong with my lap?”

Jaymee looked down her nose. “Get your own laptop.”

He laughed, his teeth very white against his new tan. “Done,” he said, and without warning lifted her onto his lap, turning her to face the computer on the desk. The big arms closed securely around her waist as he scooted the chair closer toward the table.

Jaymee swallowed hard. Reaction? How about internal combustion? The numbers on the screen didn’t make sense. She’d probably messed up the whole program, as she tried to concentrate on the task instead of his roaming hands. They seemed to be everywhere, around her waist, on her thighs, up her back. Then they were pulling her blouse tucked into her shorts. Her brain refused to work any longer.

“Stop it,” Jaymee huskily commanded, and almost slammed her palms down on the keyboard when his hands touched flesh. They glided across her quivering stomach, his fingers teasing the top of her shorts, one finger lazily exploring her belly button, before moving higher. She clutched those clever hands just before they reached their target.

“Stop it,” she said again, trying to push them back down.

“Don’t you like it?” he whispered into her ear, that gravelly voice low and seductive.

Too much. She hadn’t been touched or caressed for.... In a last ditch effort, she moved to scramble off his lap, but her body went on strike when his teeth caught her earlobe. The sudden shot of electricity from that sensitive spot caused her to arch her hips in helpless response, seeking to make a live connection. She began to tremble.

“Yes, you do, Jaymee. Tell me.” Nick’s thumbs curled under her lacy brassiere and stroked the underside of her suddenly sensitive breasts.

Jaymee grit her teeth. No, she would not. “Yes.”

The admission came out in a moan—helpless and unsure. She didn’t protest when he undid the front clasp of her bra with a practiced ease she took note of before he diverted her attention by possessively cupping her released flesh. Her eyes closed to savor the intimate sensations his touch generated.

Nick couldn’t see her face but her soft moan was sexier than any words. She was softer than the Egyptian cotton of his favorite shirts and utterly enchanting in the way she responded to him. Her breasts eagerly spilled into his hands, heavy and baby smooth, her nipples turning pebble hard as he played with them. Her restless hips were doing wonderful things to his body as she arched and squirmed in his arms.

Jay Barrows had all but disappeared. In her place was Jaymee, a passionate bundle of womanhood, far more exciting than how he’d imagined her at night, and Nick desperately wanted this woman. He wanted to keep her in this state of aroused need, just to see this part of her revealed, and he was glad, possessively, triumphantly glad, she was showing it to him. He knew, bone deep, she didn’t—hadn’t been—out of control in a long, long time.

Jaymee melted into his chest and lifted her chin. He didn’t need a second invitation, placing his lips on hers. His kiss was tender and exploring. Somewhere among the exploding sensations, a part of her felt the restraint he was exercising, as if he didn’t want to frighten her. Hooking an arm around his neck, she pulled him closer, trying to get closer, wanting more, making a sound of protest when he broke off the kiss.

She opened her eyes with great reluctance. The animal heat in his gaze made her heart beat faster. His eyes roved her flushed face with a predatory gleam.

“Kiss me like you mean it,” she recklessly said, ignoring the moment of reprieve he was giving her.

“If I do, Jaymee, it won’t be a simple romp on an office chair. Are you prepared to give me what I want?” His voice was gentle, even though his eyes glittered with suppressed emotion. In a slow caress, his hand moved over her thudding heart. “I want what your heart’s promising me. I want you wild and crazy under me. You’ll have to take off that leash you’ve put on yourself.”

Jaymee couldn’t say a thing. She should be, but she wasn’t at all shocked this stranger understood her so well. He had seen through her enough to know where to pierce her armor, and he was telling her if she let him make love to her, she would lose the thing at which she worked so hard, her control. And she knew, without a doubt, sleeping with him would mean relinquishing a lot. He had already proven it moments ago, and that was with him holding back his own needs. He would be the kind of lover who’d take everything, control everything, and expect total surrender, in the pursuit of mutual pleasure. Nothing less would do. It was there in his eyes, in the quiet expectancy of his strong body so close to hers.

He stared down at her solemnly, as if he could read her racing thoughts. “I want you to think about it, sweet Jaymee,” he continued in that deceptively gentle tone, “because if you let me have you, I won’t allow you to hide anything from me. There’ll be no stopping once I start because I want you very much. I won’t even listen, baby, if you change your mind, because I’ll be unleashed too. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way too.”

They were quiet words but still caused her to tremble with fear and longing. Unleash the wolf. She understood exactly what he was warning her of. If she said yes, it wouldn’t be the tender controlled kisses and soft caresses. It would be wild. It would be powerful. It would be...heaven.

All that would probably kill her.

She didn’t realize she had spoken aloud. “No, sweet Jaymee,” Nick said, shaking his head as he traced her lips with one long finger. “I’m going to free you. You’ve locked yourself inside that delectable body for too long. It’s nice. It’s safe. I’m neither.”

Oh, she agreed. He was neither nice nor safe. The feral gleam in his slate eyes gave her fair warning. There was a humming heat emanating from his body, like a race engine idling, waiting, and she could feel the power of a waiting predator inside this man. There was nothing safe about him at all, not the hands that continued stroking her, or the hard flesh beneath her nudging intimately.

“So, if I say no, you’re going to let me go,” she stated, her breath catching when his thumb scraped a sensitive nipple.

“For now,” he agreed. “I’ll give you a little time to get used to me.”

“Get used to you?” Jaymee frowned. “What about get to know you?” But she already knew the answer. He didn’t stop her when she sat back up, adjusted her blouse, and added, “You aren’t staying long, are you?”

Nick gave her a considering look. “No.”

At least he was honest. Not like.... She clamped down on her past with the usual iron determination. She hated to be reminded—yet, of course, while she continued to pay for that mistake, she was reminded—of it every day. One was supposed to learn from one’s mistakes, unless there was some sort of mental retardation, which, she told herself with wry amusement, was probably what was wrong with her. She was actually going to repeat history and fall into the arms of the wrong type of guy. Time to change the subject.

“In that case, I’d better get your tax records updated all the time,” she said in a calm, logical voice. “That way, I won’t be caught without records of labor hours if I ever get audited.” She leaned forward, still sitting on his lap, and punched in a command. “I’ll fiddle with the program later. Let me make some notes and then I’ll pay you so you can go enjoy your weekend.” She reached for a legal pad lying a few feet away.

Despite his discomfort, Nick had to smile. If he ever needed a partner during a mission, he would surely take Jaymee Barrows. She was one cool customer, able to adapt to situations with an innate perception that had caught him off-guard several times already, and nothing—nothing—escaped those bright eyes. When she’d looked at him, he’d noticed they were no longer green, but an unrevealing mix of flecked brown and gold. He was learning to read her moods and found how subtly manipulative those colors were as he caught himself adjusting his behavior and reaction whenever he saw a change. Right now, the dark flat look managed to prick his conscience about taking her while offering nothing in return. Now that, he acknowledged with a certain awe, was power. No one, male or female, had ever managed to do that to him in all his years in covert work. The trained part of him was already preparing for battle, even with a woman who hadn’t any idea of her power over him, and he decided to make a quick retreat, so he could analyze the situation.

Besides, there was something else on which he had to get his hands, besides Jaymee’s irresistible body. He looked at the computer over her shoulder as she made notes on her writing pad. When she tried to get off his lap again, he held her still, his hands returning to her waist.

“No. Not yet.”

“You’re being presumptuous. I don’t play games.”

Nick nuzzled her neck and rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at the computer screen. “Games can be fun, Jaymee. You get to know how the other person thinks, see what they do. Like right now, I keep wondering what you’d do if I pulled that barrette off your hair and ran my fingers through that thick mane. Why do you keep it tied up all the time, anyway?”

“I don’t feel like being mistaken for a broom,” she muttered, “and if I cut it, I look like Shirley Temple on speed.” She sighed. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Computer stuff?”

“That, and other things.”

“Why do you have two computers?”

“One of them is brand new,” Jaymee said, pointing to the other computer on the desk, “and it’s a piece of crap.”

“What do you mean?”

She liked the way his chin rested on her shoulder. He smelled of soap and clean male scent, his thick black hair tickling her ear. “I bought it off the Internet so I could transfer my files to a computer with more memory and then I wasted a whole day on the damn thing because the files won’t open! Some stupid message kept appearing, saying some program is running that I’ve to close, but there wasn’t any program on! Anyway, the screen would then freeze up. I almost pushed the stupid thing off the table after five hours of playing with it.”

“Why didn’t you call up the company that sold it to you?”

The look she gave him told him she didn’t appreciate him thinking her so dumb. “Of course I did. Some technical support line. I don’t have the time during their hours to sit here and talk mumbo-jumbo with some expert. It’s a lost cause.” She clicked the icon to close the program. “As long as this works, I’ll just make do till I have time to fix the other one.”

“Maybe I can help.”

That got Jaymee’s attention. She tried to twist around to look at him.

“I suggest you don’t, ah, move your cute little ass so much, sweetheart,” he drawled, “or that little time I promised you will be withdrawn sooner than expected.”

Jaymee felt the warmth rushing to her cheeks, but she was secretly pleased with his masculine reaction. She was so out of practice, she’d forgotten how heady feminine power could be. Without considering the consequences, she moved her bottom experimentally and smiled with wonder at the hard nudge that answered back. She repeated it, too totally immersed in her delight to notice the man holding her was looking down at her with exasperation mingled with lust.

Nick wanted to focus on the computer, but damn, the woman was downright irresistible. It was obvious she hadn’t allowed herself so close to a man for a long time. She seemed to have no idea that doing what she was doing was courting danger, that she couldn’t expect a red-blooded man not to throw her onto the sofa behind them and have his way with that sweet body. But something held him back, even as his body painfully requested release. He wanted her to get used to him, didn’t he? Maybe he’d spoken too soon because she certainly was taking him at his word. He growled in agonized pleasure as one particular squirm rubbed him the right way.

The little moan startled Jaymee back into reality. Oh my God, what had come over her? Her face flushed even redder. “I….” She licked her lips, not knowing quite how to explain her outrageous behavior.

“It feels good, babe,” he said, although he sounded a trifle tortured.

“I’m sorry, I don’t...” She shrugged helplessly, then looked around for an excuse. Better change the subject. “The computer. Yes, you did say you know computers. Do you mean you can fix it?”

There was a short pause. Jaymee made sure she sat very still.

“Would you like me to check it out?” He was laughing at her; she could hear it in his voice. “I can probably find out whether it’s a hardware or software problem. It would narrow down the possibilities.”

“Right. Of course,” she said. “Will you let me get off now? Then you can look at the computer a lot better. I’ll turn it on for you.”

He gave a sexy soft laugh. “You turn on everything, Jaymee.” Pushing back the chair, he watched her make her escape. “Sorry, couldn’t resist that.”

Jaymee didn’t want to play word games or any other type of games with him. His double entendres were too clever by far, and his behavior was making it difficult for her to think straight. Already, her out-of-control imagination was playing games in her head, as she saw herself dressed in red and saying, “What sexy hands you have, Nick Langley,” to which the big bad wolf replied, “The better to seduce you with, dear Jaymee.”

“Turn it on, Jaymee.” She looked down at him. “I mean the new computer.”

The laughter in his voice sent her scurrying to find the master switch of the surge protector connected to the second computer. She could feel sweat forming at the back of her neck as she snapped the switch on. She couldn’t believe she’d stared at the bulge in his pants, that she had come this close to actually smirking out loud, “What a big...” What was wrong with her? She had to get away from him for a few minutes, to gather herself again.

“Excuse me for a bit,” she said, trying not to sound flustered. “I’ll be right back. Want a drink? Beer? Soda?”

“A beer sounds great,” answered Nick agreeably, half-regretting he had to let her go. He was very close to finding the trigger to this mysterious woman, but the answer to his prayers was sitting on the desk in front of him. Seducing Jaymee would have to wait. As soon as she closed the door behind her, he drew the chair close to the table and got to work.

***

In the restroom, Jaymee rubbed her heated face with a damp cloth. She’d gone insane. Somehow eight years without a man had built into a pressure cooker of crazed lust without her knowledge, and a man with hungry eyes and incredible hands had, wittingly or unwittingly, taken off the tight cover.

She stared into the mirror, seeing the strange wild glitter in her own eyes, the unnatural rosiness of her cheeks. Lust. She lusted after this new man in her life and his hot tough body. And he wanted her just as badly. His body told her so, and his words were just as brutally honest. It’d be a simple affair and no more, something to which she’d never agree. Never. She bit down on her lower lip. She wouldn’t, right?

She groaned aloud in the little room and rewetted the cloth to wipe her face again. She couldn’t hide the truth any longer. She would. She would settle for an affair if that was what Nick wanted. Or she could try to fight it. It’d be, she decided with firm grimness, just a matter of determination. She refused to be Red Riding Hood, being seduced by his eyes and hands and...and...other big parts.

There were other fairy tales which had big bad wolves in them. “I’ll be the third little pig instead,” she told her image in the mirror. “I’ll be the smart little pig that built the house of stone.”

She nodded, as if her solution was some brilliant strategy of war. The wolf couldn’t get the little pig in that story. Then she grinned at the ridiculousness of her thoughts.

Feeling a modicum of control returning, she turned off the lights and reentered the kitchen. She eyed the closed door to her study, then went to get some beer from the refrigerator. An electronic background, she noted, meant someone with training, maybe even a degree. What was he doing laboring as a roofer in a town in the boondocks? It just didn’t add up. What was it he had to straighten out, and why was he in hiding? She really didn’t want to help him, if he had done anything illegal. The less she knew the better. Let him leave soon. He was far too threatening to her world.

Nick didn’t look up when the door opened, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he played with the computer’s operating system program. He could detect her floral scent as she came closer, and nodded his thanks when a bottle of beer appeared in front of him. Taking a swig, he sank deeper into the chair and scanned the screen. He was beginning to like the chair a lot.

Jaymee looked at the screen. Those lines looked like nonsense to her, but Nick appeared to know what they meant as he grunted and typed something, then moved the cursor around.

“What’s the problem, do you know?” she questioned, pulling up a chair alongside his. “What are these things?”

“I’m just directing some basic self-testing programs,” he explained. “The computer can zero in on where the problem is. It looks promising. If it’s software, it’s fixable without anything being taken apart.”

“Oh.” Whatever. If he fixed it, she would be eternally grateful. She had cried at the possibility of spending more money to replace whatever was wrong with it. “Can you really fix it?”

Of course he could. The Programmer ate computer chips for breakfast, and, he added after giving his companion a brief glance, sexy roofers for dinner. “It might take a while. I’ve nothing to do this weekend, so if you want, I can come back and play with it.” And get to his connections.

“You’ll have to tell me when. I won’t be home much.”

“Going somewhere for the weekend?” He wondered what she did for fun.

“No, I’ll be in and out, but if you tell me when it’s convenient for you, I’ll be here.”

“How about eleven in the morning? Then you can feed me lunch.”

Jaymee nodded. “Fine. How much are you charging me to fix it?”

Nick shrugged. “Let me work on it first.” He eyed her with outrageous wickedness, and added, “I’m very negotiable about payments.”

She was determined to stick to business. “Cash, then,” she said, gulping down her milk. “If I’m not home when you arrive, just wait in the back porch.”

Turning off the computer, Nick stood up, stretching his back. His knees creaked and popped in protest. Hearing it, Jaymee tried to hide a grin. Week one for Roofer Wannabes was always a painful experience.

“You think it’s funny, don’t you?” He made a threatening step toward her and she quickly pulled the two kitchen chairs between them. “You like seeing me in pain.”

Jaymee tugged the chairs behind her as she went back into the kitchen. “Is the big construction man in pain?” she mocked back, feeling safe with the chairs as protection. “Come, come. What about those tough muscles?”

Nick finished his drink and put the empty bottle in the sink. He watched her arrange the chairs at the small table before walking to the counter. Pulling out the top drawer, she withdrew some cash.

“Come on,” she said, “I’ll help you to your Jeep, poor limping thing.”

“It is getting dark and scary outside,” he agreed. “Hold my hand?”

Her voice was Southern sweet in the semi-darkness. “I hope the mosquitoes eat you up, Langley.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Four

Nick showed up at the little house early on purpose. Jaymee’s truck was where she’d parked it the night before, so she was either home or hadn’t used it to go wherever she had to be. Walking down the path, he admired the clumps of hibiscus bushes in full bloom. He didn’t really look last evening, but the property was quite picturesque, especially in the backyard with the view of the lake.

A wooden picnic table stood under an elm oak with dipping branches. He recognized Jaymee’s shirts on a clothesline nearby. The lake was quite big, shared by surrounding properties, and he could see an upside down canoe on the bank.

If he stood quietly at the porch, he could hear the lazy buzz of summer all around — the bees and the frogs competing, the creaky clothesline, the hushing whispers of leaves as they rubbed each other, even the occasional watery plop from the lake. Nick paused for a long moment on the steps. He could see it very well. A laughing Jaymee sitting at that picnic table with her three kids quarreling and fighting in this backyard. They would all have curly dark auburn hair like their mother’s, with the same green and brown eyes, and be just as feisty, probably just as stubborn; and in the middle of all the bedlam, Jaymee would raise her laughing eyes at him and —

He almost fell off the steps. He had no business fantasizing about Jaymee Barrows like that. It wasn’t like him to make up scenarios that could never be. The moment Command found out he was alive, the instant he was briefed about the situation, he would be gone, with new orders. And Jaymee would still be here, running her small business like it was part of a grand plan. She’d meet a safe man, someone who would give her those things she wanted, and it’d be his eyes she’d seek over the noisy chatter of her children.

Nick calmly crushed the aluminum can in his hand, and turning away from the backyard, he tapped on the back door. It was Bob Barrows who came to answer, his gaze turning suspicious at the sight of the visitor.

“She ain’t here.”

“She told me to meet her here,” Nick informed him. He wondered what it was that made this old man so hostile toward his hard-working daughter. “I was just making sure she isn’t home yet.”

“She’s busy enough without you taking up her time,” Bob said, not opening the door any wider. “You ain’t no good for her, man. Why don’t you just leave her be, so she won’t get her heart broken?”

“That’s a strange way of caring about your daughter, isn’t it?” Nick politely asked. And because he wanted more details about Jaymee’s past, he added, “Could it be you’re just making sure there’s no possibility of her abandoning the business, and therefore, you?”

Bull’s eye, Nick thought, as he took note of the man’s sharp intake of breath. The old guy’s switch, he disdainfully concluded, was pathetically easy to find. He knew there was more to the story. Jaymee apparently wasn’t knuckling under a bullying father; she was doing this of her own free will, and he intended to find out the reason.

“Well, is that Miss High and Mighty’s story to you?” Bob Barrows’ runny eyes narrowed into malicious slits. “You may fall for all that college knowledge she pretends to have, but if she was so smart, how come she’s in the hole she’s in?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Nick leaned nonchalantly against the railing.

A crafty smile fanned the wrinkles on the old man’s face. “I can still see pretty good with my old eyes. You want my daughter, don’t you? You got the same look Danny boy had whenever he cast his wicked eyes in her direction.”

Bob pushed open the screen door and came out, shuffling his feet as if he wasn’t sure how far the floor was. He squinted up at Nick.

Sloshed. Probably been so since last night. Nick studied him for a second. “Who is Danny?”

Sitting down slowly in the rocking chair, Bob gave him that shifty, knowing look again. “Why, her fiancé, of course.” And he laughed, enjoying Nick’s surprise. “I knew I could get you with that one, boy! She already got herself a pretty boy, she doesn’t need a second one.”

Nick was unprepared for the surge of anger that swamped him. A fiancé. He hadn’t expected that piece of information at all. Reason told him the old man was lying, but his own reaction to the news, even if it were untrue, jarred him. This wasn’t him at all. The Programmer rarely acted on emotions. Through the years, he’d gotten used to efficiently studying a system and taking it apart, and out of habit, he did it to people around him. It helped him put distance between him and his targets. This jumble of emotions—anger and yes, jealousy—startled him.

Before he could probe Bob further, he heard footsteps coming from the side of the house, then Jaymee rounded the corner, with her usual fast strides. She stopped abruptly at the sight of him and her father, looking from one to the other as if to gauge what was happening. Wearing rumpled clothing and with her hair in its usual untidy ponytail, she looked tired.

Nick narrowed his eyes. She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. He squeezed the crushed aluminum in his hand tighter.

“Hi,” Jaymee greeted, climbing the porch steps. “’Morning, Dad. Feeling better?”

Her father just grunted, rocking the chair, his eyes half closed.

“Hi,” Nick said.

“Come on into the house. I need a glass of water. God, it’s hot today.”

Jaymee frowned slightly, sensing something wasn’t right. Nick had followed her silently into the kitchen and watched her pour water into two glasses. He was angry about something. She could feel it, even though his face was cool and unreadable.

Nick waited till she drank down the glass of water. “You look tired.” He studied at her disheveled appearance again. Wherever she’d spent the night, she hadn’t taken her truck with her, which meant someone had picked her up and dropped her off. The seed of suspicion put a scowl on his face. “Busy morning?”

She was looking away, so he didn’t bother hiding his black stare.

“Hmm,” she agreed, yawning on cue. “Nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix, though. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the study. I’ll be right there as soon as I wash up.”

He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, turn her around and demand to know where she’d spent the night. Was it with this Danny person? Without a word, he did as she told him, sitting himself in front of the new computer. He didn’t wait for her, turning on the machine.

Jaymee quickly ran a brush through her tangles and pulled at her clothes in an effort to look less unkempt. Normally, she wouldn’t care what she looked like, but then, she hadn’t acted normal since Nick showed up. She gave herself a critical lookover in the mirror. She made a face. She wasn’t a fresh-faced twenty year-old any more. Eight years of the kind of work she did had dissolved the baby fat around her face, leaving her far too lean and hollow-cheeked. There was nothing there to attract a man. Boring hazel eyes. Boring lips. Bad hair. She sighed. Maybe some lipstick would help. And definitely keep that tangled mess of hair off her face.

The sound of fingers tapping on the keyboard came from the study as she crossed the kitchen, her hands busy securing the pin in her hair. She could hear the rocking chair outside the kitchen window, and she stuck her head out to check on her father. He had dozed off, as was his mid-morning habit. Good. She didn’t want him confronting Nick again. He probably hadn’t even noticed him standing on the porch.

“Any progress?” she asked, walking in and standing beside Nick.

She had no idea what he was doing as he kept typing senseless sentences. It must be the right thing since the computer seemed to be talking back to him, flashing messages on its screen and blipping encouraging noises.

“Mmmhmm.”

Several minutes of silence went by before she tried again. “Is it a serious problem?”

“No.” She found his fast-moving fingers absolutely fascinating.

“Can I do anything?”

“No.”

Jaymee sighed. He was treating the damned machine like some long lost lover, and what was more, it was responding to his touch with a lot more enthusiasm than an inanimate object ought to have. It was obviously a female computer. “Well, I guess I’ll fix us something to eat and do some chores. Holler if you need me.”

“OK.”

She studied him a moment longer. So much for freshening up. What’d it be like to be at the receiving end of that unwavering concentration? At that moment, he raked an impatient hand through those dark, luxuriant too-long locks, muttered something back to the machine, and went back to typing. His eyes hadn’t left the screen since she came in. All that lipstick, she mournfully sighed again. Wasted.

When she left the room, Nick heaved an answering sigh of his own. Frustration dominated the jumbled emotions he felt. Frustration and anger. It was disconcerting. He had, before him, what he needed—easy access to spend time online and break through firewalls so he could leave a message for his contact privately—and he should be feeling elated at his good luck. Instead, all he wanted to do at the moment was lock the study door and kiss a certain woman into telling him her secrets. The memory of the taste of her mouth called him, and the thought of her kissing somebody else after he left her the night before felt like a 100-lb weight on his chest.

Everything about her told him she was a loner, unattached, and had been for awhile, but he could be wrong. Maybe she did have a fiancé somewhere and he just hadn’t shown his face around the job sites, that was all. And maybe the fiancé would have his face smashed in, if he ever did.

Nick took a deliberate deep breath and exhaled. She was interrupting his focus. With resolute grimness, he pushed everything to the back of his mind, allowing only thoughts about the computer to remain. He was almost done playing with the operating program. Fixing what was wrong was easy enough, but he needed to rewrite parts of the program for his needs.

Just as he’d suspected, Jaymee wasn’t using DSL or wireless. He kind of understood her thinking by now. Hell, he’d seen her cheap cell phone. He’d also noticed the TV antenna on the roof. She was cutting back on every little luxury most people took for granted. That would be over a thousand dollars of savings there in the bank.

He’d come prepared. Looking under the desk, he disengaged the phone line that hooked up the older computer to the wall outlet. Then he stood up and checked the back of the new computer and found the phone line dangling loose. Holding the line in his mouth, he pulled out a small plastic packet from his back pocket and poured its contents onto the table. Several tiny flat microchips the size of fish flake food scattered out.

Nick cocked his head, listening intently for Jaymee’s movements outside the study. He heard her moving around the sink area. Making lunch, from the sounds of it. Pulling out a pair of tweezers from the other back pocket, he used them to pick up a chip. He released the line he was holding in his mouth into his other hand, and with a quick practiced twist, he inserted the microchip into the connector, firmly pressing it into place. He plugged it into the outlet in the wall.

It took another five minutes before his link went through. He hesitated when the password was requested. If he gave it, Command would know he was alive, and so would anyone else monitoring his password. They wouldn't be able to read his message, but they’d know he wasn’t dead, and after the narrow escape from his boat, he had a feeling his demised condition was very important to the enemy. If he’d been betrayed from the inside, then their attempt to kill him had failed.

No. He would have to break in. There were only a few personnel in his agency who could trace or recognize his encryptions, and really, only one who knew how to decode it, and then disguise a similar message back to him. Step by step, his mind took him through the logistics. Override the security checkpoints. Invade through disguise. Disrupt by merging simple commands. Then make sure only one person would come across it.

He plucked at his lips as he manipulated the command strings that moved across the screen in rapid succession. He had no idea when the man for whom he left the code would come across the message, and he was going to need another excuse to play with the computer.

Swiftly, he removed all traces of his activities and returned the screen to MENU. Jaymee probably wouldn’t know he was breaking into the government’s most secured lines even if she was watching him, but Nick didn’t want to bet too heavily on that. His boss had a way of grasping a situation very quickly.

“Lunch is ready! Nick?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done,” he called back as he finished up.

***

Jaymee couldn’t figure him out. It was her source of pride since her unfortunate brush with the deceptive side of the male gender that she’d learned to read every one of them and put them in their rightful category. Through the years, she and Mindy had exchanged notes. There was the Bear, the one she could leave at a job site as long as there was honey, the promise of better pay if the job was done that day. There was the Rabbit, the worker who hurried, hurried, hurried to finish a job. From her list of restaurant adventures, Mindy, in her typical droll sense of humor, had added in the Drunken Monkey, the Snake, and the Peacock. But he wasn’t any of those.

There was one more in her list, the most dangerous animal of all because he was the most deceptive, knowing when to hide under sheep’s clothing and be nice, only to turn around and devour women like her. And nothing about Nick Langley had convinced her he was anything but a wolf, out on a hunt, only after a good time.

But sometimes she wondered whether she was wrong. She couldn’t figure out why he was in her world at all, and most important, why he wanted her. Unlike before, she didn’t have any money or assets now to interest a wolf. Eight years of eluding men had taken away any confidence of how she could affect any male interest.

She flashed him a smile. “How’s it going?”

Nick sat down at the kitchen table. “Almost done. I need a Philips screwdriver to open up the case. I might as well check everything while I’m at it.”

Jaymee put the plate of cold chicken salad and a glass of milk in front of him. “Go ahead. I’m just glad the the computer isn’t a lemon, even though it’s a refurbished one.”

Nick smiled at the food in front of him. How long had it been since a woman fed him cold chicken salad and milk for a meal? It was an uncomfortably homey gesture, and warm pleasure blunted the anger he’d been carrying.

“It’s not a Z-28,” he agreed, lifting a fork, “but it’ll take you where you want to go.”

He watched her take a sip of milk from his glass. Nice lipstick. Tempting lips.

“Let me get my dad to join us,” Jaymee said, heading for the screen door. “Dad! Dad! Come in and eat your lunch.”

She turned to Nick and warned, “Just ignore his bad manners, all right?”

Nick nodded. Bob shuffled in, giving a wide yawn. He cast a resentful look at Nick.

“Still here? I thought you said he was your laborer, Jaymee, not your bodyguard.”

Jaymee set a place for him, then took the middle seat. “He’s fixing the new computer.” She gestured. “Here, take your medication and get some food in you.”

“I don’t want milk,” the old man growled.

“Sorry, beer and medication don’t go together,” she calmly informed him. “If you end up in the hospital this time, I’ll have to mortgage the house to pay the bills, and then you won’t get your business back in the black for sure.”

Nick suddenly realized Jaymee dangled the roofing business in front of her father like bait. Every time he pushed her too far, she would bring up the subject of getting the business back in the black, and it always had the desired effect. The old man sat and washed down the pills with a glass of milk and obediently started on his meal. Nick wondered what it was all about. The father seemed to have a hold over his daughter, and in a strange way, vice-versa.

“So, will I be able to use the new computer soon?” Jaymee wanted to know.

“As soon as you get everything updated and reconfigured.”

She sighed. “That means another month or so.”

Nick frowned. “What do you mean?” Transferring programs and files was assembly work, like eating.

“My abilities with a computer don’t go beyond turning it on, pointing the mouse, and saving a file,” confessed Jaymee with a wry smile. “Anything more difficult usually means reading a manual, deciphering lots of error messages, redoing the same procedure a dozen times, and God knows what else. You’ll see. What with all the other chores I’ve to do, it’ll take a month before I get the new computer set up.”

She made it so easy, the operative in him mocked him for taking advantage of her. “I can do it for you,” Nick offered, calmly reaching for a roll. “I can help you out in the evenings, do anything you want.”

Bob grunted at the other end of the table and his watery eyes told him exactly what he thought of the offer. “I’ll bet you would do anything she wants,” he said. Turning to Jaymee, he added, “You ain’t learned a lesson yet, I guess you just ain’t as bright as I thought. Help you out in the evenings, do anything you want. You just stick him back to real work and watch that pretty face wilt in the sun.”

“He does work in the sun,” Jaymee quietly said, but her face was slightly flushed at her father’s none-too-subtle accusations. “You don’t have to like everyone I hire, Dad, and if you’ve nothing good to say, why don’t you just keep it to yourself?”

“He ain’t got much to say to defend himself, does he?” Bob sneered at Nick.

Nick looked across the table, calmly chewing, then swallowing. “What your daughter and I do isn’t your business, Mr. Barrows.”

“Nick...” Jaymee began.

“Ain’t my business?” Bob barked out in sudden wrath. “If I don’t keep an eye on her, she won’t have any business left at all. The last time she mixed business with pleasure, she near bankrupted me! And sent her ma to an early grave, she did!”

“That’s enough,” Jaymee cut in, her voice low. Why, why, why did he have to keep bringing it up?

As if her father heard her, he continued, “I’ve to remind her so she won’t forget. She wants to play, let her do what she promised me, let her pay for her mistake first. My daddy taught us to always pay for our mistakes, and she…”

Nick stood up. He’d had enough. “As far as I can tell, you’ve got the most hard-working daughter around.” His voice was no longer that lazy, gravelly drawl. “Let’s go for a walk, Jay. I need to work off a sudden indigestion.”

There was a cold, dangerous edge to it, and Jaymee shivered at the sound. She stared at his outstretched hand and looked up into calm and steady eyes the color of winter sky. She couldn’t read his thoughts as those unfathomable eyes demanded her to do as he said. She placed her hand in his and got up.

Bob continued eating, already forgetting the outburst of a few moments before. “Go for a walk,” he repeated. “I’ll clean up.”

Summer heat blasted them the moment they stepped off the porch into the bright sunlight. The air was thick with humidity and tension. In silence, Jaymee walked toward the lake, heading for the picnic table under the elm oak. The shade beckoned invitingly as the heat beat down on their unprotected heads.

“This used to be my favorite spot,” she said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I used to sit right here to do my homework. Only the lake kept tempting me, and I always ended up in that small canoe.” She sighed, wanting those easy days back.

“You have a nice piece of property here,” Nick agreed, as he looked toward the lake.

“It’s not mine. It’s Dad’s,” Jaymee corrected. Plucking a small branch of hibiscus off a bush, she pulled out the flowers, plucking the petals off one by one.

“It’ll be yours one day.”

Her eyes were the muddy color he knew echoed her mood. “I don’t want it. My goal is to move out in two years.”

“Why two years?”

“You aren’t the only person with stuff to straighten out, Nick.” She gazed at the lake with its bright gleaming ripples of gold. “I’m sure you noticed my father and I don’t get along too well.”

“He isn’t exactly there all the time,” he agreed. “Drinking will do that to you, though. The violent mood swings, I mean.”

Jaymee nodded. “Yes. He’s gotten worse the last year but he’s a tough old bastard, even after the stroke. He’ll be OK when I hand him back his business.”

“But why the time table? Why two years?” Nick stretched out his long length next to her body on the grass, leaning back on his hands.

He was so easy to talk to, but she wasn’t going to tell her story to this man beside her. She’d already let him in too much. Besides, why would a sad tale of a misguided, trusting young woman interest him? He was only interested in staying long enough to make some money so he could move on. She kept plucking at the spray of hibiscus in her hands.

Nick studied her bent head. She wasn’t going to tell. He could see it in the set of her lips, the determined hunch of her small shoulders. She just didn’t trust men, especially him, enough to open up and it had to do with whatever happened to the father’s business and a certain other man.

“Tell me about Danny.”

He spoke so softly, Jaymee was sure she’d imagined it, but those seductive eyes told her she hadn’t misheard. When he looked at her like that, with those long, dark lashes hiding his thoughts, he had a hypnotic effect on her. She couldn’t drag her gaze away, even blink. It was a strange sensation, as if he could probe into all her secrets just by staring into her eyes.

“How do you know about Danny?” she demanded, still imprisoned by the strange, searching look.

“I hear his name here and there,” Nick told her. She wasn’t aware of how much those eyes of hers betrayed. He saw hurt and a deep, dark scar. “Tell me, Jaymee.”

“It’s history,” she said, shrugging. “I’m reluctant to dig up old bones just to satisfy your curiosity. It isn’t like you answer my questions about you.”

She was a strong woman. Nick already knew it before. Very few people could resist a light probe, the subtle approach he’d been trained in to get information, without revealing a few details. But here was an untrained, unsuspecting woman, the simplest target for a quick exercise in subliminal pressing, retaliating with the ease of an evasive expert. She batted away every attack with a simple defense — change the subject and remove herself as the focus.

Nick had never wanted to dissect a non-target as much as he did this woman. He wanted to know why she was the way she was, what she was thinking, what made her tick; in short, everything. Most of all, he wanted her under him, naked and unafraid, as he explored every inch of her, physically and emotionally. And he was going to do it. He’d take and explore her until she yielded all her secrets to him. He’d give her what she feared most and make it what she wanted most—he’d like to restore in her the power to give herself without fear.

Subtle didn’t work. Push harder. “Is he really your fiancé?” he asked, catching her busy hands in one of his.

Startled that he knew so much already, she dropped the wretched bloom. “You’re a busybody and persistent as hell.” She tried unsuccessfully to wriggle her captive hands free. “He was my fiancé, OK?”

“Was?”

“Yes! Well, he hadn’t really broken off our engagement when he disappeared, but eight years ought to qualify it in the past tense, don’t you agree?” She wriggled her hands harder.

“Do you miss him? Do you still want him?”

“No!” She glared at him, disgust in her eyes, as if he’d conjured up something distasteful in her mind.

Nick released her and picked up the mangled spray of hibiscus on her lap. Plucking out a still untouched blossom, he tucked it behind Jaymee’s ear.

“Good,” he said. And kissed her.

***

Three days and Jaymee still could remember the feel of his lips. She understood she’d been given an ultimatum that afternoon. He hadn’t said anything, but he didn’t need words. The kiss said it all.

She forced it out of her mind, as she’d been doing for several days now, as she watched Nick at work. He seemed to be getting the hang of roofing, moving around as if he’d been doing it for years. She now let him shingle the back side of the roofs, where it was usually the easiest, without the complicated roof designs. At the rate he was going, she ruefully noted, she’d have to raise his pay soon, but she had to be careful, or the other two roofers would be grumbling.

She liked watching him at work. The way those smooth muscles rippled as he carried the boxes of nails on his shoulder. The way his lanky frame looked impossibly graceful in that awkward position for a tall man. And even that beautiful, exposed throat moving as he thirstily gulped down cold water from a bottle made her catch her breath. And, he had developed a marvelous golden tan that made those blue-gray eyes glitter even more potently.

Her fingers lifted to her lips. Since he had kissed her, he hadn’t attempted to touch her again. When he showed up for a few hours on Sunday, he was reserved and distant, his mind seemingly focused on her computer. She was almost jealous of the damn thing, although she had to admit that watching him at it was a fascinating exercise indeed. His mind seemed to be laid bare in front of her when he was immersed in whatever it was he was doing to her computer, and after sitting by him quietly for a while, she had added one more clue to this mysterious man. Nicholas Langley, despite his easygoing demeanor, had a brilliant mind. She could see it in the intense light burning in his eyes as he “talked” to her computer, in the way he solved one problem after another. What was he doing as a laborer? The question gnawed at her even more since the incident by the lake.

The kiss. God, if that could be called one. She had very little with which to compare the experience, but she felt branded, like he’d marked her somehow. She could still taste him, a hot salty mixture of lust and possessiveness. His lips had been firm, unyielding, and his teeth had deliberately drawn blood where he bit her on her lower lip. Ignoring her startled gasp and struggle, he had sucked on the little wound and licked the blood off with a slow and tantalizing tongue. He’d left her with the strange feeling she’d signed some sort of blood pact with the devil.

The last few days hadn’t lessened the feeling. The silent ultimatum stretched like a live wire between them. She strove to look normal underneath his unruffled watchfulness, but she wasn’t fooled. The wolf, she realized, was showing itself. It was there in the glitter in his eyes, whenever she caught him looking at her as she washed the dirt off her body at lunchtime. She felt it every time she stood too close by him. Nick was, and she didn’t need him to tell her, as he put it, letting — no, making — her get used to him. Meanwhile, lest she forgot, he deliberately stalked her like a predator about to decide on the moment of attack.

Jaymee shivered in the asphalt-melting heat. Fear and excitement jostled for position. For the first time in eight years, she was unsure of herself. Catching his knowing eyes on her, she decided to do what she did best — change the subject.

“Lunch,” she said, unnecessarily, since Dicker and Lucky were already off the roof. She decided a crowd would lessen the danger of a wolf on the move, and went to eat at Hungry Boys. She should have known that escape was not in her future.

“What’s the special today?” she asked Mindy, after gratefully gulping down a glass of ice tea.

Mindy tucked a stray lock of blond hair back in place as she ignored Jaymee, her eyes hungrily moving up and down her companion instead. Nick was the picture of healthy manhood, tall and glowing with his new tan.

“I’m looking at it,” Mindy drawled.

Nick gave her a crooked sexy grin as he winked back at the bold waitress. “You’re looking good, Min.”

Jaymee had known Mindy forever, and her friend didn’t know what blushing was. Until now. She stared at the flush of pleasure on her friend’s face as she preened, then coyly teased, “Well, you’re looking at dessert, my hungry boy.”

Jaymee wanted to empty her glass of tea over Nick’s head. He was seducing all the female population in the restaurant with that smile, she thought, as she surveyed the avid attention of the three waitresses, the owner’s wife, and the three old ladies sitting by their table. It was too bad, she dolefully mourned, that her glass was empty.

Coughing superciliously, she politely chipped in, “I hate to interrupt such a delicious exchange, but there’s an extremely hungry woman here.”

For a moment, she was tempted to add, “and that man is my dessert,” but curbed such catty behavior. Jay Barrows didn’t fight over any man.

Mindy sniffed and pulled out a pencil from her apron. “Roast turkey, stuffing, vegetable soup,” she recited, glaring at Jaymee. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Jaymee answered, glaring back at her friend.

“Nut,” muttered the waitress, as she wrote the order down. “You, too, hon?”

“Sounds good,” agreed Nick, obviously very amused at something.

“Nut!” Mindy repeated for Jaymee’s benefit as she walked off.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jaymee called after her, exasperated.

“You could have gourmet, and you opt for meat and potatoes. Nut!” she called back over her shoulder as her generous hips swayed their way back to the kitchen.

“She must be a good friend of yours,” Nick commented, breaking open a packet of sugar.

“What, do you want me to give you her phone number?” Jaymee asked, irritated and a little jealous.

“If I wanted it, don’t you think I could just ask her?”

That shut her up. She pursed her lips mutinously and snatched up the newspaper left on an empty table nearby and opened it in front of her face.

“It reads better the right side up,” her tormentor wryly told her.

Sure enough, just like her world had been lately, the newspaper was upside down. Jaymee obstinately kept the paper that way, glaring fiercely at the reverse picture of a banana. After a few minutes, Mindy came back with soup. She surveyed the scene and arched a penciled brow at Nick, who calmly began on his soup. After putting down the other bowl, she snatched Jaymee’s paper from her fingers.

“What now?” Jaymee growled at her unrepentant friend. She was used to Mindy’s brand of brash friendship, but today she seemed to be even more intent on getting her cornered.

“Next Saturday,” Mindy said, hand on hip.

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jaymee informed her, “but after today, you can expect cellophane tape for your present.”

“Cellophane tape?” Mindy repeated, puzzled.

“Yeah, rolls and rolls of it. Enough to tape your mouth shut until your next birthday,” said Jaymee, and stuck her tongue out.

Her friend laughed, a loud husky chuckle. She looked at the quietly eating Nick. “This is what I get from my best friend for inviting her to my birthday bash.” A wicked light entered her blue eyes, and she turned to Jaymee, darting a glance at Nick, and added, “On the other hand, cellophane tape could contribute to a nice, sticky situation.”

Jaymee rolled her eyes, then mockingly lifted her hands heavenward. Nick laughed at the two of them, enjoying the sight of her at a loss for words. She was smiling fondly at the waitress, even while appearing exasperated with her.

“Happy birthday on Saturday,” he said, trying to play peacemaker.

Mindy slapped a palm on her forehead as if it just occurred to her. “You’re invited, big guy. My special guest. Let Jaymee bring you along.”

Jaymee almost groaned aloud. The last thing she wanted was to go with Nick to a party as a couple. She wouldn’t look at him, picking at imaginary lint on her pants instead.

“Love to,” Nick said, looking across the table.

“Excellent!” exclaimed Mindy. “Jaymee?”

“What now?” she muttered, picking up a fork.

“Bring more cellophane tape.” The sassy waitress didn’t wait for a reply as she tucked the empty tray under one arm and trotted off.

“She’s something else,” Nick commented, still amused.

“A regular stand-up comedienne,” agreed Jaymee, still unable to believe her supposedly best friend had steamrollered her.

“If you don’t want me to go, I won’t,” Nick softly told her.

“If I dare show up without you on her birthday, I might not live to see mine,” she informed him, shuddering at all the possible paybacks of which Mindy was capable. From experience, her friend was more than original in the art of revenge.

Nick grinned. “In that case, then it’s my duty to take care of my boss. I promise to behave at this…bash, as she called it.”

“No one behaves at Mindy’s birthday bashes,” Jaymee warned. “You’re expected to eat her barbecue, drink her beer, dance with the birthday girl, and there’s even karaoke, if you’re drunk enough.” She sighed, gave in, and smiled. “You’ll enjoy it. Mindy is a great person.”

Buttering his roll, Nick casually said, “Since I won’t be able to transfer your files on Saturday, let’s do it tonight then. I’ve a few free hours after work.”

“If you want to. I don’t want you to feel you have to.”

“No problem. Why let you muddle through when I can do it for you painlessly?”

“Thanks, Nick.” She was relieved he offered to do it. She really wasn’t looking forward to reading Windows for Dummies. “You’ve been a great help.”

Nick ignored the twinge of guilt and smiled back winningly. “You’ve been more help to me than you realize, too.” He gave her the buttered roll.

As someone who had been in tighter spots, Nick had learned not to question providence when opportunity arose. He told himself he wasn’t taking advantage of Jaymee, knowing his feelings for her were complicating the very simple issue of survival. What he was doing had to be done. It was that simple. In return, he helped her out with her computer problems.

Fair enough. So why the unexpected guilt? Because he wanted to be honest with this woman, that’s why. When he’d kissed her last Saturday, his savage need had shocked him enough to make him step back to evaluate the whole situation. He accepted the desire for Jaymee, that the attraction he felt was more than any feeling he’d ever experienced for another woman. He could even deal with the strange possessiveness he had for her. Something about her pulled new emotions from inside him. Maybe it was her innocence. Or, her tightly-reined control. Whatever it was, he realized her response to him was instinctive, despite of her fears, and that in turn transformed him to some chest-beating primitive. He laughed under his breath at the notion. The woman was driving him crazy, that was what was the matter.

That kiss, he admitted now, made him realize for the first time since he joined his covert agency, he wanted to step out of the shadows and share his own true self with somebody. He wanted Jaymee Barrows to know who he was and to accept him for what he was. He also realized, knowing her abhorrence of deception in his sex, that the longer he deceived her, the more hurt she would be.

Hopefully, some communications would be waiting for him when he checked tonight. The quicker he ended this situation regarding his mission, the better. Then, he glanced at Jaymee, who was obviously enjoying her turkey special now that Mindy had quit baiting her, then, he could fully concentrate on more pressing matters.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Five

When Nick showed up at her house later that evening, Jaymee was again not at home, even though the blue truck was parked in the driveway. He sat on the railing of the back porch and watched the sun disappear behind the tall pines across the lake. Where did she go that didn’t need her vehicle? Was she with Mindy? He knew now it wasn’t the missing Danny, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t seeing another man. His frown deepened as he realized he’d taken for granted she was unattached; she’d never said she didn’t have a special someone. After all, it was inconceivable to expect her, or anyone, to be without a partner for eight years.

She appeared suddenly, panting hard, as if she’d been running at full speed. She bent over, hands on knees, breathing hard.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I forgot the time. Got back as fast as I could.”

“It’s OK,” Nick said.

He wanted to ask her where she’d been, but that would only make her wary of him all over again. Right now, mentally, she was where he wanted her to be. She was opening doors that were locked before, and he wanted her to open them herself, for herself. Even if his own personal program was in jeopardy of crashing every time she was within his sexual radar. Even if he had a perpetual discomfort in his pants at night when he thought about her. He smiled, amused at his own thoughts.

Jaymee looked up. His smile made her feel even giddier as she tried to catch her breath. God, he looked good enough to eat. She took in the white cotton shirt and khaki pants, which set off his tan to perfection. The top few buttons were left undone, revealing curling hair. She wanted to bury her nose in that chest and breathe in the warm musky masculine scent that seemed to make her think indecent thoughts. With sudden dismay, she realized she still hadn’t changed from her day at work. Who would get turned on at the sight of her in tarred-up work clothes, still sweaty from the day, so totally unappealing?

Unlocking the back door, she flipped on the light switch, knowing her father would still be at one of his friends’. She sighed at the pile of dishes in the sink and bent down to pick up scattered newspapers by the kitchen table.

“Sorry, the place is a mess. I should’ve come home earlier to straighten up.”

“Stop apologizing.” Nick saw the shadows under her eyes, noticed the quick roll of her shoulders in an attempt to relax. He didn’t like her overworking like this. “Look, I can do this without you in the study. If you trust me not to steal your silverware, why don’t you go and take a shower or a bath? It’ll take me an hour or so to transfer your files and play around with your programs, and that’ll give you time for a good soak.”

“You don’t mind?” A hot soak sounded so good. “I mean, you won’t think I’m rude not to...”

“Go,” he ordered, giving her a slight push. “If I need you, I’ll find you.”

Jaymee didn’t need more persuasion. A hot soak. As in bubble bath. Heaven. She didn’t even look back as she went off.

Nick wistfully looked after her as she went off. That little ass out of her tight lycra pants. The sudden image of Jaymee in a bathtub wasn’t going to make the next hour comfortable at all. Ruefully, he looked down at his predicament.

“Down, boyo,” he softly muttered, “or I’m going to have to reprogram you.”

He decided to get his business done first before transferring Jaymee’s files from the old computer to the new. That way, if she joined him after her bath, he’d be finished. Within minutes of connecting, he was in, and he navigated through the high-tech daily changes in the protective links that his agency used to confound the usual breed of hackers. Scanning through, he found what he needed; the right person had recognized his communication.

He printed out the jumbled, coded puzzle, deciphering the message, which read: SITUATION RED. ASSESS. F2F. COORDINATES. He had already expected the warning of danger, but the caution to remain dead, as well as to evaluate the situation was a double warning to be careful. Interesting. He considered for a moment, then relayed another coded encryption. If he had to look out for a “face-to-face,” that meant serious trouble. Trust no one.

A triple warning, he amended. Hesitating, he tried to decide whether to reveal he didn’t escape the boat without first taking care of business, that he had the assignment in his possession. He’d been in the process of decoding its secrets when he’d sensed something was wrong. Since his escape, he hadn’t had a chance to continue his work without a computer. He had never turned over an unfinished assignment. He signed off without adding anything further to the message.

All he could do now was wait.

***

Ahhhhhh.

This was definitely what she needed. Jaymee sank deeper into the steaming water, blowing bubbles that landed on her nose. She had washed her hair while waiting for the tub to fill up. It felt so good to be clean and soft. She needed to do this more often.

She promised herself she’d take a few hours off a week for rest, for personal well-being. Besides, Mindy’s party was coming up and she needed to spend a few hours to make herself human again, so she could face all the friends attending the bash. She smiled, wondering whether she’d remember how to enjoy herself at a party. She hadn’t gone out in a long time, what with her having to stay out later ever since she had to work shorthanded, and on top of that, spending all available time as well as weekends trying to get everything accomplished within her crazy self-imposed schedule. However, even she had to admit she couldn’t burn the candle at both ends indefinitely. Her yawn was huge. Even Superwoman needed to recharge her batteries sometime. The hypnotic effect of gently lapping water had her half-dreaming as the bubbles popped quietly.

She didn’t know how long she floated in the hot water, but the sudden jolt of pain up her left leg shocked her to wakefulness. She gasped loudly and the violent jerk of her body created a wave that splashed onto her face and into her mouth, causing a fit of coughing as she choked out a scream when she tried to move.

The pain was horrendous. Hot tears spurted out as she struggled to stand up, but her left leg was totally useless, knotting tighter and tighter until she had to kneel on her right knee for balance. She leaned out of the tub, her wet hair dripping water all over the tile floor as pain repeatedly pounded up her injured leg. She tried to stand again. And gasped out a few choice words. Someone was pounding at the door. It became more insistent as she held onto the tub’s rim.

“Jaymee?” Nick called from the other side of the bathroom door. “I heard you scream. Are you all right?”

Using her elbows, she somehow managed to lift herself up high enough to sit on the side of the tub. “Yes,” she choked out, then gasped in agony as the cramp worsened.

The door flew open without warning and Nick’s large frame was suddenly in front of her. Squatting down, he held her by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asked brusquely.

Through the haze of pain, she stared at Nick’s face, then realized she was sitting there naked.

“Get out!”

She tried to squirm out of his hold, desperately reaching for the towel hanging nearby. However, the floor was too slippery and she lost her balance. She cried out when she tried put weight on her leg.

Silently, Nick easily gathered her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders, and carried her out of the bathroom into her bedroom. Jaymee couldn’t even protest as she held onto the knotted muscle with both hands. He lay her down on her bed.

“Don’t move,” he tersely ordered, and disappeared back into the bathroom. He returned with a towel and swore softly at the sight of her trying to pull the tucked bed sheets loose to cover herself.

“You’re just going to hurt yourself doing that,” he told her, then sat down right beside her naked body.

“Don’t!” Jaymee weakly tried to fight off the big fluffy towel rubbing her body. She didn’t actually object to the towel. It was the pair of hands rubbing her dry that was cause for alarm. She couldn’t believe she was actually lying on her bed with his hands on her. She’d fantasized about that, without the agony of a cramp. It was too frighteningly like her fantasies, and she struggled more earnestly, understanding with sudden clarity her own danger.

Nick sighed and took the only option left to get her to stop. He stretched his long length on top of her, using his weight to quiet her struggles. Her body felt temptingly soft.

“Be still,” he told her softly.

As if she had a choice. Her thigh still throbbing, Jaymee glared up at him, torn between embarrassment and pain. “Get off me, Nick,” she said. She might be in pain, but she hadn’t lost her sense of self-preservation yet.

“Which leg cramped up?” he asked, ignoring her demand. “You were squirming so much I couldn’t see for sure.”

“I’m feeling better now,” she lied, then gasped aloud when he calmly tested one thigh by putting pressure on it with his knee. It was a lucky guess. “You bastard!”

“You won’t tell me.”

“I didn’t want to!” she yelled.

“Too bad.” He got up on one hand, pulling the scrunched up towel across her body. “There, almost decent. Let me see you move your leg.”

Did he know what he looked like from her position? Jaymee stared at him as she lay on her bed, naked except for a wet towel on top of her body. He was half-on and half-off her, the front of his shirt and pants wet. A very warm hand lay on her injured thigh. A long moment passed.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling,” he drawled. “Move your leg, Jaymee.”

She tried, and bit down on her lip at the immediate spasm that followed. He nodded, his hand pressing down on the knot.

“A pulled muscle. I’ll take care of it.”

Looking around, he saw the bottle of body lotion on her bedside table, and leaned across her to get it. Mesmerized, Jaymee watched him pour an indecent amount into those beautiful hands. She swallowed hard as those hands rubbed together.

“You aren’t going to do it,” she announced, panicking.

“It isn’t going to hurt, babe,” Nick told her, and two slick hands were kneading down on her thigh, his thumbs pressing and massaging the sore spot.

She cried out something incoherent. Did he say it wouldn’t hurt? So why did her body feel like one giant cramp?

“Relax, or I’ll have to massage your whole body.”

He was teasing her, but the thought of those hands doing similar things to the rest of her made her insides flip somersaults. She eyed him with the keen knowledge of a cornered prey. He had her trapped and the glint in his eye told her he was very aware of it. Her mind worked feverishly, trying to see a way out. Even if her leg had allowed it, she couldn’t jump up and run off with just a towel clutched to her front. She couldn’t see herself screaming in maidenly despair; she wouldn’t know how. She could just quietly lie there, like an animal playing dead, pretending his fingers weren’t sliding up and down her thigh. She could, if her blood wasn’t boiling over from the suggestive up and down motion. His laughter brought her attention back to him.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“You. You’re so transparent, Jaymee darling. Right now you’re busy trying to find a safe subject to talk about, as you always do when you panic.”

Was she so easy to read? Annoyance replaced embarrassment as she pulled the towel a little higher, then realized only gave him more view of her thighs. Keep talking, she thought. “What’s wrong with that?”

“OK, let’s do it your way. We won’t talk about my hands on your thigh. Let’s talk about your breasts.”

Jaymee squeezed her eyes tightly shut, refusing to look any longer into those laughing wolf eyes. That made things worse, since now his roving fingers were all she could feel.

Without her sight, she caught the change in the tone of his voice. “You have beautiful large nipples. Rosy pink, like seashells. I want to....” Jaymee started to tremble and covered her ears with her hands, trying to keep the sex voice out. She didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to hear. He wasn’t going to get to her. His muffled voice came through her cupped hands. “All right, we’ll change the subject.”

His hands paused and lifted from her body. Jaymee sighed with relief. Maybe he was done. Maybe...she shrieked as a hot, wet tongue traveled up where the hand was a moment ago. Her eyes flew open, her hands dropped from her ears, and she scooted high up her bed to escape. The hot, wet tongue followed, and the world suddenly exploded into shadows and sound. She kicked at him with her good leg, giving him the opening he wanted, and she found herself under siege as a slow invasion began.

She fought. How she fought. She tried to buck him off and found herself arching into his deepening kiss. She tried to push off with her one free leg and a strong hand held her down, easily gaining more access. The siege was gaining higher ground. She took tufts of his hair in her hands, but just as she was about to yank hard, he found her vulnerable bud. His tongue slid over it, going in lazy circles.

Jaymee forgot to breathe. She forgot about her hands holding his dark hair like reins. An incoming tide of desire overwhelmed everything else. There was, simply, no escape from his tongue. He kissed her intimately, sexually, giving her the same attention she had earlier envied her computer, seeking to get some answers from her as she arched toward helpless surrender.

The long drawn-out kiss from his magical tongue left her gasping his name now. She stood from some unknown height and was unwilling to make that jump. Mindlessly, she undulated against his mouth, desperately trying to tell him to stop. To hurry.

But Nick wasn’t in a hurry. He had all he wanted right there, a feast for his senses. All he could think of was the sweet taste of Jaymee Barrows and he wanted to keep on feasting. He felt her uncertainty, her fear of losing control, and he wanted to show her there was nothing to be afraid of. So he took her slowly, pulling her nearer to the edge without pushing her, savoring her with careful ardor. He finally tasted her increasing need, her urgent hands pulling his hair. She was ready.

Jaymee’s head moved from side to side as she edged closer and closer. She was in a dark, sensuous place, with only the feel of that tantalizing tongue guiding her intense longing for release. Each stroke, each lave, was pure dark magic, until...

His fingers. She’d forgotten about those long, elegant fingers.

And suddenly, it was his mouth and fingers. She whimpered when she felt them touching her, opening her. His mouth caught her throbbing desire and his fingers plunged in deep, and Jaymee fell down that cliff of unbearable pleasure, her body clenching and convulsing in a drenching climax, her hands playing with his hair.

She lay helpless, still climaxing, when he lifted his head and kissed his way up her body. With the towel long gone, his lips lingered softly against her belly, her breast, her neck, until he reached her mouth. He kissed her with the hungry need of a man who wanted a woman, a sexual twining of his tongue with hers, slanting his head one way, then another. She could taste herself on his lips, and she shivered when she felt him hard through his pants.

“Look at me.” His voice was ragged, husky. Jaymee’s breath caught at the piercing need in his eyes, blue outlines around darkened irises. “I want to take you to bed. I want to make you scream under me, holding me, while I’m inside you. I can have you now, but I won’t, because I don’t want you making excuses about what happened. I meant it when I told you I’ll give you time to get used to me, and I intend to keep my word.” He smiled that dazzling, crooked smile of his. “That doesn’t mean I won’t do it this way every night to pursue my case. I kinda like the idea.”

Her cheeks tinted prettily. “Is that what you do?” she challenged softly, her heart rate almost back to normal. “Pleasure your women until they give in?”

That sexy smile widened even more. “Whatever it takes. Wait till tomorrow.” He laughed at the look on her face, then shook his head ruefully. “I don’t think it’ll be good for my health in the long run, though. I’ll have a perpetual cramp myself.”

Jaymee couldn’t help smiling back, a naughty curl of her lips. “I could knead and massage it away.”

Nick groaned, laying his forehead against hers. “Tease.”

She licked her lips. “Nicholas, I’m afraid.”

“Let me have you, Jaymee. Let me take you to all those places you’re so afraid of.” He kissed her again, and added, “Let me be your lover.”

Jaymee sighed. How on earth had she thought she could resist this man? “For how long?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“For as long as I’m around. I’m being honest, Jaymee. I can’t promise you more.”

How could she argue against a man who was promising her honesty? “I....”

“Shhh. You aren’t required to answer me tonight. You’re tired and need to sleep.” She made a sound of protest when his weight left her body. “Sit up a minute, sweetheart.”

She allowed herself to be pulled up to a sitting position. She felt shy about her nakedness and self-consciously pushed tangled curls away from her face, gathering the heavy mass of damp hair in one of her hands. He pulled her hand away.

“No, don’t. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to see your hair loose like this.” He splayed his fingers into the curls, arranging them around her bare shoulders. “Where’s your brush?”

“I can’t use a brush with hair like this. I use a hair pick.” She pointed to the dressing table, and he went to retrieve it.

“This one?” He sat back down beside her and then did something no man had ever done to her before. He combed her hair. Jaymee closed her eyes, enjoying the sensuous pull of the comb as he worked on her tangles, running through it repeatedly until her scalp could have moaned in pleasure. She could...get used to this kind of evening. “You have beautiful hair, Jaymee.”

“Bothersome,” she mumbled, too relaxed to really want to argue. “Unmanageable.”

“Beautiful,” he told her again, and gently pushed her back against the pillows. “Gypsy hair. Passionate, sexy, arousing.”

Jaymee giggled sleepily. “Passionate hair. Arousing hair. A pig with gypsy hair.”

“Pig with what?”

She stretched with artless grace, then yawned behind a hand. “As opposed to Red Riding Hood,” she explained.

She wasn’t making sense at all, but she was too sexy to sit around just for a conversation. Not when other parts of his body wanted to communicate in other, more satisfying, ways.

“Go to sleep, little pig. I’ll let myself out,” Nick said, thinking he was going to regret this decision for the rest of the night.

“Hmmm. Are you leaving me?”

“I’d better,” he replied, wryly looking down at his damp pants. If he stayed, he would definitely not keep his word.

“Yes, Dad will be home soon...”

He kissed her eyelids and they fluttered shut obediently. “Sleep,” he ordered.

She smiled, her eyes closed, as she drifted off.

“Jaymee?”

“Hmmm?”

“Where do you go after work? Before you come home?”

She stretched and sighed with pleasure when he tucked the covers over her. “Working,” she told him.

“You’ve another job?” Nick kept his voice light, but anger reared at the thought she had to work so hard. For what? He wanted to know the whole story. Was she really in such debt?

She must have read his mind, because she answered him so softly he had to dip his head close to her face. “For my future,” she said, and fell into a deep slumber, her body satiated for the first time in eight years.

***

A smart Red Riding Hood would take a different route to avoid the Big Bad Wolf, and a smarter little pig would barricade herself inside her house of stone and not come out till the wolf was gone. However, both Red and the pig didn’t have a contract to keep, a job to do, and most of all, they didn’t dream of being naked with the Big Bad Wolf.

He had seen her naked.

Jaymee looked at the reflection of her body in the mirror. It wasn’t like she covered herself from head to foot under the Florida sun, she told herself defensively. He had seen what she looked like when she stripped down to a bikini top at lunchtime. Except that he had kissed there. And, there. A slow flush crept down her face, all the way to her toes.

She touched her breasts with renewed curiosity. She didn’t look any different from yesterday, but she felt like a new person, someone who had tingling breasts and sensitive skin. Someone who also, she added with sudden humor, seemed to have pet butterflies in her tummy.

Could he really want this body? It was hardly the kind to interest any man. She looked at the strong arms and legs, a fit and trim body toned by her line of work. There was nothing beguiling about muscles and strength. She didn’t have Mindy’s generous curves and she’d lost the easy comfortable softness of youth. She wished she could be feminine again, the way men wanted their women, smelling good and with time to take care of her body; she wanted to look good for.... With a brisk shake of her head, she turned away from the mirror. Jay Barrows didn’t want to be feminine for anybody. She had roofs to do, debts to pay, and bigger goals to reach.

It was going to be difficult to face him this morning, and more difficult to say no to him. It would be easy to sleep with a man like Nick, but why should she? Why should she, just because he was the most magnificent male to cross her path in eight years, and the only one who had managed to stir her cold, lonely heart since Danny? A brief affair would be disaster. He’d break her heart, even after giving her fair warning. He’d destroy her carefully constructed armor and...and discover the little girl inside. Silly, guileless Jaymee, who loved with such an ambitious, romantic heart. Already, she could feel the stupid, vulnerable side of her stirring, responding. That Jaymee, she smiled tightly, wouldn’t know how not to love Nick Langley. She would tumble straight into love, and then, what would she do when he left?

Torn apart with anxiety and a need to see him, she drove to work, wondering if she could bear to say no at all, when her body betrayed her at every chance.

***

Nick was used to not sleeping. The Programmer had been trained to withstand any number of punishments the enemy might use against him. Lack of sleep, synthetic drugs, hypnosis, pain—every operative in his particular unit had a defensive mechanism and the ability to turn their emotions on and off. Some of them had gone so far they were always off, to make sure nothing interfered with their work.

For the first time in his operative experience, the Programmer, known for his abilities for covert counter-programming of both the electronic and human mind, couldn’t control his own emotions. Nick pondered this problem as he drove to work. It was a problem because it—she, he corrected—was becoming more important to him every day. He sighed. He had a new on/off switch and her name was Jaymee, and she’d been eating at him like one of his own subversive programs. And succeeding.

When he reached the job site, Dicker and Lucky were sitting in their truck, smoking. He got out and approached the vehicle.

“What’s up?” he asked. They weren’t unloading the tools, or getting ready to get on the roof.

“Trouble, man,” Dicker said, thumbing at two parked cars on the other side of the road.

Nick looked and saw two men talking by the permit board. “Who are they?”

“That’s the builder and the other is one of the city code-inspectors.” Dicker flicked cigarette ash out of the window. “The builder won’t let us start work, saying he wanted to talk to Jay.”

“And that means trouble?”

“It smells like it,” the roofer said.

Just then, Jaymee’s blue truck pulled up. Nick watched her frown up at the roof, not seeing any work being done, then looked around searching for them. Her frown deepened when she looked in their direction and caught sight of all the vehicles.

“The boss is going to have a wasted day,” prophesied Dicker.

“Shoot, I should have stayed home,” Lucky muttered, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray. “It’s too damned hot to sit in the truck while they go back and forth about God knows what.”

Jaymee’s eyes were still on the two other men when she reached them. “What happened?” she quietly asked.

“The builder wants to talk to you, Jay, that’s all he told us,” Dicker informed her. “Here they come.”

“’Morning, Mr. Anderson,” Jaymee greeted a burly man. Nick assumed he was the builder, since the other man was in uniform.

“Hello, Jay.” He towered over Jaymee as he stood in front of her. In his fifties, he had the sunburned complexion of an outdoor man, slightly balding with a shaggy mustache peppered with gray. He looked irritated, and Nick stepped closer, standing behind Jaymee. “We have a problem.”

Jay could feel Nick’s presence, but kept her eyes on the builder. She didn’t like this at all. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“John wants to have a random inspection of some of your roofs.” Mr. Anderson nodded at the inspector beside him.

“What’s wrong?” Jaymee calmly repeated, this time directing her question at the other man.

John wiped the sweat off his forehead with a crisp, white handkerchief. He stood like a military man, a clipboard clutched to his chest, his thin lips a straight line across his narrow face. “We’ve received a complaint about your roofs,” he told her in a clipped, accusing voice, slightly high pitch. “A code violation.” He cast her an equally accusing glare.

Jaymee sighed with the impatience of someone waiting for a punch line. “And?” She made a “continue, please,” gesture with one hand.

“Beg your pardon?”

“What is the complaint?” Jaymee asked, trying not to be rude. “What code have I violated?”

“Well, someone called in and said you’ve been undernailing the shingles. Instead of six nailing, you’ve been telling your men to four-nail, even two-nail. You’ve also not been properly applying tar in the valleys.”

Nick saw the slight stiffening in Jaymee’s shoulders, but her voice sounded mildly surprised. “Really?” She folded her arms. “Who filed these complaints?”

“You know we can’t reveal that information.” The inspector wiped his forehead again, then adjusted a piece of paper on his clipboard. He clicked on his ballpoint pen with an important flourish. “I can’t let you or your men start work until I’m sure everything you’ve done is up to county code. This is a serious complaint, Miss Barrows, and I’m very thorough with my inspections.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jaymee said, with a polite smile. “Can you give me a few minutes to rework my men’s day before I follow you to whichever roof you want to check?”

“Of course.” John noted something down onto his clipboard. “Are you coming with us, Anderson?”

“What for? Either the roofs are done right, or they aren’t. My being there won’t make any difference. I’ve other things to do. Call me on the cell phone when you’re through, will you, John?” When the inspector walked back to his truck, Mr. Anderson turned to Jaymee. “This is serious, Jay. If you really did that, I want you off my property effective immediately. I can’t have the word getting around that Excel Construction cuts corners and violates code ordinances, or some of these zealous inspectors will just give me headaches looking for more violations.”

“There aren’t any problems with my roofs,” Jaymee assured the big man.

“You know how it is, Jay. The more codes they add, the higher our cost. Right now, I don’t make much per house as it is. You understand, as a businessman, I’m always listening to bids and deals from other subcontractors.”

Nick didn’t like the man’s implication. He wanted to step between them, to protect her, but of course he couldn’t. For the first time, he wished he had the right to do that.

Jaymee heard Mr. Anderson’s warning like far-off thunder. “It’s your right to compare prices, of course,” she murmured politely.

“We’ll just have a talk after you get through with John.”

“Sure.”

Jaymee gave a cold smile, then turned her back to the contractor, effectively dismissing him. “Dicker, go pick up the order at the warehouse and leave the material at my house. Then you and Lucky can meet me there after lunch.”

“OK, boss.”

Jaymee ignored Mr. Anderson as she headed back to her truck. “Bring your tool belt, Nick.”

The burly contractor stared at her retreating back, then looked at Nick. Nick stifled a grin, obeying orders. General Jay, as he usually called her when she acted that particular way, wasn’t in the mood to be intimidated, even by the big man who signed her check every week.

When he joined her in the truck, Jaymee finally smiled at him. Starting the vehicle, she turned on the air-conditioning to a full blast before turning the truck around to follow the inspector’s. She blew hair out of her eyes.

“The day is shot,” she said, with a sigh, “and I haven’t even climbed on a roof yet.”

He took hold of one of her hands and gave it a quick squeeze. “I assume this is Rich’s and Chuck’s doing?”

Her smile became a grimace as she nodded. “Petty creatures. I want to punch the lights out of them.”

“What if the inspector finds something?”

“He won’t.” Her voice was confident as she kept her eyes on the inspector’s truck, following him through the subdivision. “I went back on every roof those two have done, and made sure there wasn’t any undernailing after I caught them. I think they just started doing this stupid stuff recently, when I let them work alone without me.”

Nick could imagine her checking everything. Others might have shrugged and hoped not to get caught, but Jaymee was a perfectionist, a detail-meister. “So what would the inspector want you to do?”

She shrugged. “Probably climb onto a roof with him and lift up a couple of shingles here and there to show him the nailing. John has a reputation of being a pain in the butt, if he doesn’t like you. And he doesn’t like me, so don’t be surprised if he wants all kinds of things done.” They slowed down in front of a stucco house. “Bingo. One of Rich’s and Chuck’s houses.”

She parked the truck. Nick ran a hand down her back and felt her shiver.

“Want to have some fun with Mr. John Inspector?” he asked, a slight grin forming.

Jaymee would much rather have fun with the man beside her. He had that glint in his eyes again, she noticed, the one that made him look roguish. She watched the inspector step smartly out of his vehicle, brushing his pants with the perfect starched creases. Her eyes narrowed.

“I’m losing money, anyway. Might as well have some fun.”

They discreetly slapped a high-five.

The next two hours, as the sun went higher and higher in the sky, Jaymee dallied as long as possible on each roof, calling out to Nick to retrieve tools that somehow managed to slide off the roof. Like he’d warned, the inspector was very thorough on the first roof, but as he became hotter, he cut down on his requests to check the smaller stuff.

“The shingles are stuck down good, aren’t they?” Jaymee cheerfully commented as she took her time detaching the one at which the inspector was pointing. Using a flat bar, she finally loosened it enough to flip it up for him to see that there were indeed six nails in that shingle. “Any other area?”

“Over there, by the valley,” the inspector said, puffing up the incline.

Nick took the flat bar and imitated Jaymee, but being a novice, he soon poked a big hole through the shingle.

“Ooops.” He looked adoringly apologetic at Jaymee, and it was all she could do not to smirk at the schoolboy expression on his face. “Sorry, boss.”

Jaymee shook her head. “Go down and get some cement. We’ll have to patch it up.” She turned to the inspector and said, “He’s rather new at this, but he’s quite good for a beginner.”

“Uh-huh,” muttered John, wiping sweat off his flushed face.

“As you know, it’s all cemented down at the valley,” explained Jaymee, “so it’ll take a little longer to peel it back.”

“Never mind,” the inspector said. “If it’s cemented, that’s all I need to know. Just patch that up and let’s go on to the next roof.”

“Oh, sure. Nick, where are you?” Jaymee yelled, standing at the edge of the roof.

“I’m looking for the cement,” he called back.

Jaymee rolled her eyes. “It’s the blue can in the back of the truck!”

“Oh!”

“He’s a little slow,” she sweetly told John. “Gosh, it’s hot today, isn’t it? Must be a hundred degrees up here.”

By the third roof, the inspector’s crisp, white shirt was plastered against his skinny frame. The pants lost the starched-up look. The man was sweating so profusely, Jaymee gave him a towel to wipe off.

“We should take a break, John,” she told him. “Let’s do that, and then continue with the other houses. How many more did you want to see? We’d better get on them before the noon sun bakes them up.”

John shuddered as if he couldn’t bear the thought of staying out in the heat all day. “This is it,” he firmly declared, marking down on his clipboard. “Everything looks fine to me, Miss Barrows. The complainant was obviously wrong.”

She pulled off her tee-shirt and wiped the perspiration from her body with it. She gave the inspector a brilliant smile and tilted her head back. “Can I get a copy of your inspections? If any other contractors have doubts, I can just show them your forms. That’d really help me out, John.” She walked to the flushed-face man and handed him her water bottle from the cooler. “Something to help cool you off.”

A few minutes later, she waved jauntily at the departing inspector, then turned to find Nick leaning with folded arms against the tailgate of her truck, his head cocked to one side.

“What?” she asked.

“Come here,” he ordered, softly. The schoolboy look was gone. Jaymee slowly approached him, wondering what had brought out that glint in those blue-gray eyes. When she stood in front of him, a long finger slid under her chin to tilt her face up. She stared, squinting against the bright sunlight. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Tease a man like that. The poor son of a bitch almost had a heat stroke when you took off that tee-shirt.”

A slow, sultry smile spread on her face, making Nick catch his breath. Without her usual guarded expression, she was like sunshine, her face warm and inviting.

“Serves him right,” Jaymee said. “I wasn’t teasing him, anyhow. I was hot, too, what with your great acting talent in making us suffer through all your mistakes.”

They both started chuckling, and the humor grew into full-scale laughter as they remembered the poor inspector toasting in the heat when Nick dropped the hammer off house number one, forgot the inspector’s nail-puller on house number two (that had caused them to drive back to retrieve it), and lastly, disappeared for almost fifteen minutes to look for a portable bathroom. All minor, but added to the minutes on each baking roof.

Jaymee found herself in his arms, still laughing helplessly. It felt good to be hugged by a man again, to share funny moments like this. His hands traveled up and down her back, and she laid her cheek on his chest, inhaling the scent of sweat and man.

She was so small, he could drape her over his chest like a pet, Nick observed, as he circled her waist with his hands. So tiny, and yet, so strong. He wanted her so much.

Jaymee could feel him growing hard against her and she rolled her head back. His gaze was hot and untamed, and she could see the tic of his jaw muscle just under his left ear. For the first time in eight years, she didn’t feel the usual fear, the need to back away from such blatant invitation. Her spirit was strangely light, as if some burden had been taken off. Boldly, she placed her small hands on his muscular shoulders and braced her weight on them, then she climbed onto the bumper, planting a leg on each side of the tall, lanky man, trapping him between the vee of her legs. His gaze blazed a few degrees higher.

“Do you know, Nick Langley, you have the longest and sexiest eyelashes on a man I’ve ever seen?”

Her face so close to his he could see the changing green flecks in her eyes. “Is that right?” he drawled, easily balancing her weight against his body. Draped on him like a pet, he repeated silently.

“Mmmhmm. It’s terribly unfair what those eyes do to a woman.” There was a growing excitement inside Jaymee that made her feel sexy, invincible. Tentatively, she licked his crooked smile with a pink tongue, tasting him. “Delicious,” she murmured, and did it again, this time, a lot more boldly. “You’re incredibly edible.”

He was so hard he could feel his pants’ zipper. “I...” He slid his hand behind her neck. “...just found out something that’s been puzzling me.”

“What’s that?” Jaymee nibbled on his lower lip. She felt his thudding heartbeat under her palm.

Nick growled, trying to catch those teasing lips. He applied pressure on her neck. “I couldn’t see how you and Mindy could be such good friends, but now I know why,” he muttered, pressing her closer.

“Oh?” She resisted a little longer.

“There’s a lot more Mindy in you than you let on, Jaymee girl.”

“Mmmmmph!” And that was all he allowed her to say as he tugged hard and her teasing mouth fitted against his demanding one. He kissed her with a leisurely thoroughness that zoned out the world, until they both forgot where they were, and how hot it was, until a passing truck honked. Some guys hooted as they drove by.

“Ravish me too, lady!” one yelled.

“Give him a heat stroke, babe!” another suggested with a leer.

Jaymee surfaced, slightly out of breath. “What are you doing to me?” she demanded, still dazed from the kiss. “I’m standing on the bumper, at a job site, letting you kiss me!”

“Umm, excuse me, boss,” Nick drawled, his own breath slightly uneven too. “I’m the one being ravished.”

He pointedly opened his arms to show how helpless he was under her. His hair was sexily tousled by her roaming hands. His shirt was untucked, almost pulled off his shoulders.

Did she do that? Jaymee jumped off the bumper. She must appear like a desperate woman, tearing at his shirt in bright sunlight!

“That’s all I need! Get a reputation for shoddy work, then get another for running around with the help.” She pulled on a dry tee-shirt over her bikini. Why was she behaving so strangely? This wasn’t her at all, this bold, restless woman. She’d better get back to normal, dependable Jay as quickly as possible. She took a deep breath. “Let’s get this meeting with Anderson over with. I’ve a bad feeling about what he wants.”

Nick sighed. He was so aroused, he’d have flipped down the tailgate and had her there, if they weren’t out by the road. He couldn’t recall a single time when a woman switched from kissing him to business with barely a blink of an eye. He must be losing his touch. He tucked in his shirt. His sanity, obviously, was a lost cause, what with his libido creating havoc every time this woman was around. He watched her behind as she climbed into the truck and grinned. This kind of insanity, he decided, was a lot more fun than the kind with which he usually dealt.

The reminder of his actual life sobered him. Watching Jaymee smooth back those tempting curls, her cheeks still rosy from the sun and his kiss, it occurred to him there were other things, much, much more enjoyable in the real world than playing hi-tech games with mostly unseen enemies.

***

When they were on the way to the contractor’s office, Nick asked, “Why all this worry over the contractor? The inspector didn’t find any violations, so there shouldn’t be any problems, right?”

Jaymee’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “You don’t know this area very well, do you? He’s going to ask me to cut my price.”

“Can he do that? Didn’t you sign a contract with him?”

“Where have you been?” Jaymee gave him a long stare at the stop sign. “Construction down here doesn’t work like that. If they want to fire you, they fire you.”

“Can’t you take them to court?”

Jaymee laughed. She pulled the truck in front of a building with a big sign that said “EXCEL CONSTRUCTION.” Leaning over, she pinched Nick. Hard.

“Ow!” He rubbed the spot, frowning.

“Just making sure you aren’t dreaming,” she smoothly told him with a mischievous smile.

“I’m going to paddle your ass for that!” Nick promised, still looking at the mark.

“Poor baby. I’m going to add this to that list about clues to not being a construction man,” she teased.

“What’s wrong with going to court?” Nick demanded, when they were walking toward the office. “Broken contracts are litigable, according to tort law.”

Jaymee stopped dead in her tracks and burst out into such hard laughter, she had to sit down under a decorative palm planted in the parking lot. As he continued to frown down at her, she went off into another round of chuckles. She held up a hand, asking for his help to get back on her feet. When he did, she wiped away tears with the heel of her hands, then cleaned them on her tee-shirt.

“I’m not laughing at you, not really,” she said, in between gasps. “You know, the last time I heard talk like that, I was taking a college business law course.”

Nick arched a questioning brow. “College, huh?”

Jaymee copied the gesture, lifting her brow in answer. “Yeah, except none of those things work like that. Small businesses like mine don’t have the money or the time to go chasing after contracts and small claims, Nick. We’re too busy trying to keep the business going. By the time you pay off the lawyer, you’re probably worse off, so why bother?” She started toward the building again. “Come on, I’ll show you how it is in real life, Mr. Programmer.”

The off-handed nom de guerre almost made him trip. Jaymee didn’t notice the sharp look he gave her, already skipping up the steps to the office. She called over her shoulder, “Hurry up. I want to get back home to see what trouble Dicker and Lucky are in now. They’re still on the clock.”

He grinned. The woman was cocky, confident, and damned arrogant when it came to her business. He couldn’t wait to see the softer side again, when he finally got her into his bed.

***

“You don’t seem disappointed about losing the subdivision,” Nick commented later, as they drove back to where his jeep was still parked.

Jaymee shrugged. She was devastated, but that didn’t matter now. “That’s how it goes.”

“Why didn’t you come down in price as Anderson wanted?”

The competition, according to the builder was offering two dollars less per square for material and labor, and he wanted Jaymee to match or beat that price. A square was approximately a hundred square foot, and Nick calculated dropping two dollars for a forty-squared roof would probably eat up the little profit she’d make per job. He’d stood there and admired the way she’d refused to back down and give in, choosing instead to tell Anderson he should hire that other company, if they could give him the same quality of work at a lower price.

“My price is very fair as it is, and he knows it,” Jaymee scoffed. “The competition’s Gregg’s Roofing, and I know Gregg’s. They’re a huge operation, with high overhead, and I know they can’t stay with this lower price without losing money.”

“So, either Gregg’s will raise the price later, or Anderson’s merely gambling on the fact you might swallow the two dollars,” Nick concluded. There wasn’t much difference between price wars and covert wars, he surmised. Mostly a game of chicken.

“Yeah. Even if I’d been crazy enough to give that price, I have no guarantee next month he won’t find another competitor with another lower price offer. How much cheaper can I go before I cut my losses?”

“So you just walk away and find another subdivision?”

“I have other builders that need roofers. Don’t worry, you still have a job, Nick. Here we are.” She stopped the truck behind his fire engine red jeep.

Nick took her averted chin between his thumb and finger and gently tugged on it till she reluctantly looked at him. Her eyes were that dark, murky color again, the swirl of emotions tightly hidden in their depths. She was more upset than she let on, he realized, remembering the constant pressure of some debt she owed.

Running his thumb across her obstinate lower lip, he asked, “After work, in the evening, what other job do you have?” At her look of surprise, he added, “You mentioned something like that last night, remember?”

Did she? She couldn’t remember a thing about last night except...except.... She felt the telltale heat suffusing her face again. Her wandering thoughts brought out an answering heat in his eyes, and she hastily stammered, changing the subject to anything, anything, but that, “It’s nothing, really.”

Nick wouldn’t let her chin go. “You said about your cramp last night too,” he told her in the same quiet voice. “You worked till your body gave out on you, Jaymee. Why?” His voice went lower, to a gravelly growl. “I want to be with you tonight.”

A slow burn started at those direct words, an unfamiliar aching that pulsed inside her. Jaymee swallowed hard, trying to compose herself. “I...I have stuff to do.”

“You’re a non-stop working machine, but unless you tell me what job you do after work, I’m going to stay and tire you out.” He leaned so close she could smell that intoxicating masculine scent that seemed to drive away all her common sense. “Babe, there are shadows under your eyes at night. You could barely stay awake when I worked with your files, and yet you still go about vacuuming and housekeeping. Now I find out you actually work somewhere else in the evenings. No wonder you’re always tired. No wonder your leg cramped up.”

He made her sound so horribly ugly. Shadows under her eyes. Tired-looking. She must be so boring. When did she become like that? Jaymee impatiently pushed away her self-pity. She made a last resort to defend herself. “I like to work.”

“Not till you drop,” he countered, but he didn’t sound accusing or mocking. “Look, I’m not criticizing you. I know how strong a person you are, but lean a little, damn it.”

“On whom? My dad?” she shot back, one corner of her mouth lifted in disgust.

“On me.” Nick’s hand slid from her chin to her shoulder and he pulled her even closer. “For now. You’re an amazing woman, Jaymee, but give yourself a break.”

Amazing? Strong? She stared back in confusion. Did he just praise her?

“Your eyes say you don’t believe me,” he remarked, when she didn’t say anything.

“It’s difficult to jump from being told you’re tired-looking and owl-eyed to you’re amazing and strong in less than a minute,” she pointed out.

Nick grinned. “Women,” he complained. “They always zero in on the wrong things first.”

Jaymee’s eyes were green and suspicious. “And how many women have you been telling they’re strong and amazing?”

He gave the query a long enough consideration to see her small eyes narrow into warning slits. She looked like a cat about to pounce, he thought, amusement rising. This new switch was unexpected; he hadn’t realized he could make her jealous.

“Not any who looked tired or owl-eyed,” he finally drawled out, then kissed her on the lips hard before she could respond. “I think it’s safer for me to be in my Jeep now. I’ll be a good worker, but you’re going to talk to me after work—” He opened the door, and added, “—boss.”

***

Not that there was much work to do for the rest of the day. “The day just isn’t meant to be,” she said to no one in particular, as she stood in her driveway staring at the looming dark clouds descending like angry warlords.

“Where do you want us to meet tomorrow, Jay?” Dicker asked from under a tree in her front yard.

“Do we have any job, seeing that Excel’s fired you?” Lucky wanted to know, scratching the back of his neck with a twig.

Jaymee didn’t correct the wrong assumption, that she was fired. Still looking at the ominous sky, she said, “I’ll line up a few jobs. We were supposed to do a roof this Friday for another builder, but I’ll see whether it’s ready for us tomorrow. Meet me here in the morning.”

The two men moved toward Dicker’s truck. “Who did Excel get to replace us, do you know, boss?” Dicker asked.

Jaymee shrugged. “I think it’s Gregg’s, but I don’t really know.”

“Say, that’s where Chuck and Rich said they were working now,” Lucky commented.

“Mighty good timing, if you ask me,” observed Dicker, as he closed the big toolbox mounted behind his truck. “See you in the morning, boss. Bye, Nick.”

Nick nodded as he adjusted the hood that protected his Jeep from the elements. “Yeah. See you, Dicker.”

Jaymee watched him for a moment. “Need help?”

“No, I’m almost done.”

“I’m going inside for a late lunch. Hungry?”

He gave her a look that sent her scrambling toward the back of the house with his laughter following her. How did he do that? She nervously rubbed her hands on her pants. One look, and she felt like a tar kettle on fire. Where were her well-practiced rebuffs? A few weeks ago, she’d have squashed such blatant come-ons like a gnat, and the poor man would have left her alone after that. But of course, Nick was a humongous gnat, and she laughed at her silliness. Another thing—where did this silliness come from?

Big plops of rain came down just as she climbed up onto the back porch. She waited for a minute or two, but he didn’t turn the corner.

“Nick?” she called over the rush of wind that usually signaled the beginning of a Florida summer storm. It was suddenly dark outside, all sunlight curtained off by rain-swollen clouds.

“Get inside, Jaymee. I’ll be there,” she heard him answer. Satisfied, she went into the kitchen to prepare a quick snack.

Finishing his task, Nick glanced around the front yard, ignoring the fast falling rain. He had an uneasy feeling he was being watched, and he scanned the terrain carefully. With the wind picking up, he couldn’t really see anything among the moving clumps of trees in the acreage. Big sheets of rain descended suddenly, ferociously, and he hurried to the back of the house. Too late, he was instantly drenched to the skin.

Jaymee took one look at him and shook her head. “What were you doing out there?” She put away the bread and screwed the cap back on the jar of mayonnaise. “Guess I’ll get you a towel first, and something dry to wear.”

She disappeared in the direction of her bedroom. Opportunity knocking, he quoted his favorite saying under his breath, and promptly followed her.

Jaymee had a suspicious inkling she was walking into a trap of her own making. He didn’t make a sound as he casually walked behind her, past the sofa in the living room, round the corner, past the spare bedroom. Her room at the back of the house was down a long corridor and it usually only took a minute from kitchen to bedroom door. Today it appeared to last forever as she trotted down seemingly narrowing walls.

She stopped outside, turned around and firmly said, “You can’t come in here. I’ll get the towel and a shirt.”

“I’ve been in there before,” he reminded her and came closer.

Was that thunder from outside or was that her heart? “Nicholas...you’re not making this easy,” she breathed out.

Nick gently reached behind her and opened the bedroom door. “Easy is laying shingles in the summer. Easy is working till you drop.” He backed her into her own room, drops of water trickling onto her dry clothes. “Handling me should be a piece of cake, Jaymee.”

Despite the precariousness of her situation, she couldn’t resist a small smile. “So you compare yourself to a job for me to handle?”

“Don’t you take care of every detail in your work?”

His drenched shirt contoured the muscles of his chest and stomach. His long hair, dripping wet and blown by the wind, looked like a mane. She could see the tic under his ear again, the sudden flair of his nostrils, the tightly-drawn passion on the plains of his face.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Don’t you make sure everything is perfect when it comes to your work?”

She couldn’t deny her obsession for getting things right. “I...try.”

“Don’t you remember everything there’s to know about every one of your roofs? The color, the square footage, down to the day you were on it?”

She stared into those blue-gray eyes, drawn by their seductive power. “Yes,” she said again.

Nick’s eyes became intensely, fiercely demanding. “That’s how I want you to handle me, Jaymee. As easily as you handle your perfect roofs.”

He didn’t have to tell her her time was up. He’d waited and patiently let her get used to him, as he had so arrogantly told her. It must be magic. He’d brought out the Jaymee she’d desperately tried to hide and now, he summoned her like a pagan witch calling for a spirit under his power. The rain outside drummed on the roof and danced against the windowpanes, like some incantation that rendered her powerless to this man. His foot kicked back, and the door behind him clicked shut.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Six

The bedroom was darkened by the storm outside, and Jaymee couldn’t see Nick’s face. In the shadows, his words coursed through her veins like warm brandy, and she felt hot and out of breath, like she’d been running fast. Except she couldn’t run any more. She realized he’d stalked her all this time, allowing her to move away only because he wanted to.

Now, with her bed behind her, the door shut, the rain a steady rhythm outside, and no job to finish, there was nowhere she could hide, no work for her to use as an excuse. With small, jerky movements, she backed away. Nick’s hand snaked out and held her arm, pulling her inexorably closer.

“Easy,” he repeated softly, as if she was a nervous mare. “Easy, sweet Jaymee. We’ll do it slow and easy.”

“You’re all wet,” she said belligerently.

Of course he was all wet. She was going to get him a towel and that was what got her into this situation. Her mind fought for control over the internal storm muddling through her system, as she allowed herself to be backed all the way into her bathroom.

“Dry me,” he murmured in that soft, gravelly tone of voice. The look in his eyes made her gut clenched. She swallowed.

Without thinking, she automatically pulled the towel hanging on a hook, then stupidly stared at the wet clothes on him. Her eyes followed the heaving motions of his chest, moving up to study with fascination the droplets of water that were still running down his strong neck, and still higher, all the way to the wet lock of dark hair curled over his forehead.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“You have to take off my clothes first,” he whispered back. “Take care of me, Jaymee.”

She opened her mouth but words wouldn’t come. Instead, she pushed the toilet seat down and gestured at it. He sat, opening his long legs and pulling her between his thighs. She gave him a desperate look, mutely begging him to release her, but he only took the towel from her and then placed her hands on him, near the waistband of his jeans.

The glitter in his eyes seemed to pull at her. He had a power over her like no other man.

Jaymee found herself pulling the wet shirt out of his pants, tugging it as he helped her by lifting those muscular arms. Picking up the towel from his lap, she slowly rubbed his chest with it, one hand following the path of the towel. It was strangely empowering as she moved over him, taking her own time at it, exploring every part of him that had fascinated her. He was cool to the touch, and she pulled the towel languorously over his chest, then down those abs she was sure didn’t come from roofing work, her finger scraping over the little “outie” belly button. The feel of his skin—the texture, the softness of his body hair, the ridges in the abdominal muscles—mesmerized her. Had she ever felt a man’s body like this before? All power and promise and patience. For her. Just for her.

It was exciting to feel a man’s passion, and she reveled at his barely suppressed desire under her exploring hands. It moved like an electric current everywhere she caressed. Over the taut shoulders. Slowly down the broad back. And up the flat of his belly over his broad chest.

Nick kicked off his shoes and stood up, waiting. Her teeth biting down on her lower lip, Jaymee reached cautiously for the top button of his jeans, and his belly sucked in as she released it. Her fingers hesitated over the zipper. She stared with intrigued rapture as the bulge under the restricting material grew, daring her to touch it. He still didn’t say a word, just stood there, but she could hear his deep and harsh breathing.

For her.

She touched him, and heard a groan, but her eyes were riveted to the part of him that was pulsating under her hand. It felt impossibly huge, hidden from her, and she wanted to see him. Slowly, tentatively, she pulled at the zipper. He helped her with it, and she soon found out why.

Nick Langley wasn’t wearing any underwear. He was all male glory under those jeans and his erection sprang into her waiting hands. She gasped at its heat—a fierce, powerful arousal that called out to her, demanded her.

Nick’s eyes closed for a moment as he checked the immediate painful need to thrust into those small hands. Sweet baby Jesus, but the woman didn’t know the torture she was giving. With a smothered groan, he sat back down on the toilet seat. It was either that, or push her against some wall and go at her like a mad, lusting bull.

Instead he sat still, letting her take charge. Her hands were heavenly soft and wildly exciting. She touched him like a man wanted to be touched, with teasing gentleness mixed with a tinge of sadistic torture. At least, that was how he viewed it, as those hands moved down his hard length and cupped his softness, running her fingernails with unexpected mischief back to the tip where it was most sensitive. He growled, unable to bear it any more.

Startled, she looked up, a dreamy expression on her face. “You wanted me to take care of all the details,” she said, still stroking him.

He felt himself hardened even more at her words. “You’re doing an excellent job,” he told her, the harshness in the tone of his voice bringing a smile to her face.

He watched her pull at his jeans and he kicked them off. He wanted her naked and reached for her, but she surprised him by kneeling down between the vee of his thighs. All muscles tensed. It was all he could do not to growl again when she leaned down and tentatively tasted him.

That did it. No more.

Nick dragged her onto his lap. She sat willingly astride him, intimately pushing against his engorged need that was begging for release.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

He removed the pins and barette in her hair, scattering them onto the tile floor. The heavy tresses flowed down in ringlets, just the way he wanted it.

“My big, bad wolf,” she whispered. “Not nice. Not safe.”

He’d warned her about that in the study. “And definitely never easy,” he admitted, and with one fluid motion, ripped her old tee-shirt to rags.

Her almond-shaped eyes grew huge as he impatiently pulled at her bra, snapping the material in half. He was still in control—barely. His turn to taste.

Jaymee gasped as he sucked at her nipple. His mouth felt shockingly hot, in contrast to the coolness of his skin. The pleasure zinged through her body. Wanting more, she rocked back, giving him more access, even as she pushed down against the rock-hard length burning so intimately against her. To know a man would want her so—the scent of clean male flesh, the feel of his heartbeat under her hand—was the most erotic sensation she had ever known. She whimpered at the sensuous assault of his mouth and tongue, and dug her nails into his shoulders.

In response, he wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and stood up, and she clung on as he strode back into the bedroom. Standing at the foot of her queen-size bed, she felt his hands grope the back of her Lycra pants and easily rip that apart too. Her body trembled with shock at the barely contained violence of his actions. He lowered them both onto the bed, and she lay there passively, staring up into the dark shadows of his face.

His head lowered and she closed her eyes. His kiss was hard and possessive. His tongue danced across hers and demanded response until she became lost in a vortex of desire and need. Licking her lips, he ran his tongue down her neck, over her breast, stopping on one rosy nipple, then traveled down her torso to dip into her belly button. She arched helplessly and heard the front of her pants ripped to shreds as well. His roving tongue went lower, over skimpy panties, and tasted the soft, silky flesh between her thigh and her waiting, aroused sex, and she moved restlessly, letting him get rid of what was left of her pants from each leg.

“I’m going to eat you,” Nick promised, from between her legs and bit down on the soft flesh of her inner thigh. A soft wail erupted from her as he started to nibble the vulnerable flesh. His hand on her tummy held her down and nudging the panties aside, he began to do exactly as he promised. Unlike the night before, he wasn’t teasing or patient; this time, he was all conquering male, intent on taking what was his. Her breathing came out in gasps as she tried valiantly to hold onto some sort of control.

Shifting position, he put two hands on her last piece of protection and with a savage hiss, tore her wispy string bikini away like pieces of paper. A moment later, his weight was on her, and he held her face still between his large hands. Staring deeply into her eyes, he began to push inside her. He nudged her thighs higher, demanding more.

Control slipped away like the outgoing tide. Jaymee whimpered. He felt hard and immensely huge against her vulnerable flesh, and every one of her feminine muscles bucked inside with panic at the unfamiliar siege. Unfamiliar, because it had been eight, long years. Her muscles, taught to resist, fought to stop the invasion, tightening and pushing back.

“Relax, baby,” Nick said, sounding strained. “Let me in.”

But her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and was determined to forbid entry. He inched in, and despite her readiness, she groaned at the discomfort. A niggling doubt arose. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she just wasn’t good at this and was going to embarrass herself. Panicking, she started to push and fight him off.

Nick felt her growing alarm and looked down at her, her eyes so tightly shut, little drops of tears squeezed out at the corners. He immediately stopped pushing, kissing her eyes until she opened them again. He could feel every tremor of her body. His own was trembling too, desperate to have her. He’d never wanted—needed—a woman more in his life, and determined not to frighten her, he fought for every ounce of control that was left in him.

“Look at me, Jaymee.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears and her lips trembled. “I c...can’t do it, Nick. You’re too...big.”

Nick just smiled tenderly down at her and told her, “Yes, you can, darling. I forgot to go slow and easy, that’s all.”

Fiercely clamping down on his raging desire, he rained soft kisses on her face, until she started responding. He searched for a distraction and found her ear.

Jaymee jerked when his tongue slipped into the erogenous shell and helpless gurgled as it wickedly explored. All the blood in her brain seemed to disappear. She tried to squirm away, but it insistently plunged in and out until she melted into the pillows, moaning softly, incoherently. In the helpless throes of that clever tongue, her body let its guard down, and with one decisive thrust, Nick pushed inside her, filling her all the way. She gasped at the fullness of his possession. He pushed her thighs higher still and sank even deeper inside her.

Nick fought for control. God, she was tight, holding him as possessively as he wanted to take her. If he moved, it’d be all over. A roaring need blanketed everything else, and he groaned at the sheer agony of needing to thrust and yet not daring.

Jaymee couldn’t breathe, gasping for air, as his hard length continued to fill and stretch her. The discomfort disappeared as her body adjusted and accommodated to his size. Every nerve sang with anticipation. Why wasn’t he moving? She needed him.

“Please,” she moaned. “Please, pleasepleaseplease...”

Nick moved out, then slid back in. They both moaned in unison.

He moved slowly at first, carefully, as if he were afraid to hurt her. The pleasure from the tortuous slide of his thick length inside her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. And each time he plunged deeply, she didn’t want him to leave her, and he returned, steady and sure, to take her even higher. She arched up, wanting more.

Wet and hot. Nick closed his eyes at the feel of her womanly softness. Home and paradise. Every stroke was bliss and agony, and with every thrust, he wanted to go deeper into the woman. Bury so deep, his thoughts would just fixate on this feeling of being taken and giving himself. So deep, like this. And this. Take this. He didn’t think he’d ever get deep enough.

There was taste and texture, as flesh slapped into flesh, as tongue tangled with tongue. Mindless pleasure built until each glide of his flesh was a mini orgasm, and she couldn’t see or hear anything but their beating hearts echoing each other. And then the world simply tilted off its axis and the universe was bright with exploding stars.

They shuddered against each other, still mating with tongue and flesh and soul, speaking a universal language as they strained and pressed again and again. At last, a warm, sweet darkness overtook their frenzied dance. Minutes, or forever—they couldn’t tell—went by. The rain still pattered on the rooftop. The room was dark and musky. In the shadows, still joined, they stared at each other, afraid that if they moved, the magic spell might be broken.

Jaymee searched for words, but none came. Never had she given herself like this to a man, so totally her body felt like it was no longer hers, her mind in a stupor from the experience. Whatever she’d felt before for Danny was some silly myth, compared to this churning maelstrom. Her heart rejoiced, but her mind mourned, because she knew she’d fallen in love. She loved him, and he’d told her he was leaving.

Nick stared down at the passionate woman under him. Did he think he could switch her on and off, give her what she wanted and needed, and somehow avoid any long-lasting effect on himself? He’d known from the very first she was different, that his feelings for her were more complex than mere attraction. What they just shared proved it—she belonged with him. He belonged with her, damn it. And there was nothing he could do to make it last. It was simply not possible. He couldn’t see her away from her business, plucked from her responsibilities she took so seriously.

Jaymee stirred under him. “I think I died,” she said, awe in her voice.

He smiled down at her. “Am I too heavy?” He shifted.

“No,” she immediately protested. “Don’t. Not yet.”

He understood. Like him, she didn’t want to disconnect yet. He was, to his amazement, still semi-aroused. Not possible, after the mind-blowing orgasm that had had him pounding into her like a wild animal, but the hard evidence was undeniable. He surged back in, and they both sighed with pleasure.

“I can keep going till the storm stops,” he offered.

Jaymee smiled in the darkness. “I don’t think it will ever abate,” she told him.

Her honesty touched him. She was a woman who didn’t play coy or hard to get. She had resisted out of fear, and once she’d discovered the fear was nothing, she’d given herself wholly, taking back ecstasy in equal measure. He loved her lack of pretense. He loved her passion, which she’d hidden behind her work.

He inhaled sharply. Did he just say he loved?

“Do you still want lunch?” she asked, her shyness interrupting the sudden earth-shattering disclosure.

“Hmmm?” he asked, still grappling with the truth.

“Food,” she repeated. “Sustenance.” Her stomach rumbled helpfully.

Nick laughed. “Woman, you’re bad for my ego. I kiss you, and you talk business with a contractor. I make love to you, and all you want afterwards is food.”

He pulled out of her, and she contracted, still reluctant about letting him go.

“I’m just fueling you up, that’s all. Can’t have you running on empty.” She laughed when he bit her shoulder menacingly.

“Later,” he promised, “but only after you tell me about your other job.”

Jaymee sighed. She’d forgotten about that memory of his. “See here,” she said, as she rolled off the bed, “there must be a fair exchange. I’ll tell you my secret, if you tell me yours.”

Leaning over the night table, she turned the light on, and they both blinked at the sudden brightness. She did it on purpose, wanting to look at him.

Nick lounged on his side lazily, watching her as she stood up. She was damned distracting, and she knew it, using her nakedness to try to get information from him. He grinned. If he didn’t know her, he’d have suspected her of being the enemy. His grin widened as she picked up the little rag pieces of what was left of her clothing, dangling it in front of her with bemusement, like she couldn’t believe those were once her clothes. So, the woman wanted to barter, did she? He wondered what she would say if he told her the truth.

“Every one of them?” He kept his voice light.

Jaymee heard the challenge. She had been around men long enough to recognize a retreating male when she saw one. Unaware of how she looked, she put her hands on her hips. “Scared? I’m not going to beg you to stay, Nicholas Langley.”

She was magnificent, her hair thick and unruly, teasing her breasts, which peeked temptingly at him between the dark auburn curls. In the lit room, her eyes glowed deep green. He wanted to give her everything she wanted, and more, but since he couldn’t, he would give her honesty, or as close to it as he could.

“Secrets can be dangerous,” he warned.

Jaymee just smiled, climbing back into bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t need to know your secrets to see you’re dangerous to me, Nick. I know you’re going to leave me, and I know it’ll be soon. Just let me at least know why, even if you have to lie.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” Withheld information, perhaps, but never lied. However, he’d deceived her, and he knew she hated deception, above all else.

“You don’t trust me,” she stated, her eyes downcast.

“No,” he denied. “It’s not that. We’ll eat, wait out the storm, and we’ll talk. With our clothes on.” He cupped her breast. “If we stay in this bed any longer, we won’t be talking for a long time.”

He put her hand back on his aroused state. Jaymee blushed. She still wasn’t used to this kind of intimacy. Looking down, she unconsciously licked her lips and heard him groan. She looked questioningly at him.

“Don’t, darling,” he said, amusement and exasperation in his voice. “That look ought to be banned for indecency.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said, huffily.

“Lustful. Simply sinfully indecent.” He kissed her long and thoroughly, then reluctantly got off her. “I need some dry clothes, after the way you tore mine off.”

Jaymee stared at him incredulously. “Why you—” He was already walking away, and she got up and went after him. “Tore your clothes off you! Of all the twisted, chauvinistic—”

His laughter drowned out her accusations as she beat on his back all the way to the bathroom.

***

Nick liked her company. The release of their pent-up tension put them at ease. They were relaxed and talking comfortably. She was surprisingly well-informed about current affairs, and her interests covered a variety of subjects which had nothing to do with construction and business. They conversed like old lovers, sometimes touching, sometimes kissing, in between jokes and discussion.

The mood remained light and companionable as they ate and waited for the rain to stop, until Jaymee’s father returned some time later. He scowled at the sight of them lounging on the sofa.

Nick studied him for a few seconds. For once the old guy wasn’t drunk.

“You lost the Excel contract,” Bob said, not even stopping to greet either of them.

Jaymee sipped her coffee, not moving from the curled up position against Nick’s hard frame. “Word gets around fast,” she observed, as she stirred the hot liquid with a spoon, “or did you just get your gossip straight from your good friends Chuck and Rich?”

“They tell me the inspector’s got a complaint about you,” Bob accused. He came closer and stood behind an armchair. His face was red with anger, as he glared down at them. “You were cheating on the job, they said, and got caught.”

Nick put down his cup on the coffee table and sat up straighter. Jaymee didn’t even stir, sliding comfortably against his arm as he shifted positions. He couldn’t get over how cool she always was when it came to handling her father.

“Is that so?” Bob continued his tirade against his daughter. “Did you ask them to undernail the shingles?”

“If I told you I didn’t, would you believe me?” she quietly countered.

“Excel fired you. Obviously, you did something wrong. Look at you, sitting on your butt on a work day. I wouldn’t have done anything like that in the old days, but since you took over, everything’s gone wrong.”

Jaymee was used to these accusations, but she wasn’t going to allow her father to spoil today. Not today. Without answering, she drained the rest of the coffee, took Nick’s cup from the table, and got up to go to the kitchen, leaving her father alone with Nick.

That didn’t stop Bob at all. Without bothering to lower his voice, he turned on Nick. “It’s you, isn’t it? She’s got her mind on you and not on what she’s supposed to do. Instead of taking care of the business, she’s sitting here and telling the men to cut corners.”

“She has never told us to undernail or cut corners,” Nick said quietly.

“How would you know?” the old man sneered. “You just hang around her, and probably couldn’t tell a nail from a staple.”

Nick stood up, towering over the other man. “I know your daughter would never do anything that’s dishonest. I can tell you just like to stand around and point a finger at everything, yet you don’t bother to help her at all. Why don’t you stop tossing down that alcohol and see the world clearly for once?”

“I can see all right. I can see she lost a good account and Gregg’s got it. It’s clear she doesn’t care such bad news gets across town quickly.”

Nick wanted to shake him hard. If he didn’t know how frail the old man’s health was, he’d do more than that. He took a step forward. “If the alcohol hasn’t killed off all your brain cells yet, why don’t you ask around town whom Chuck and Rich work for these days? How come they know about the undernailing, if they didn’t do it?”

He watched as Bob frowned with sudden confusion.

“Let it go, Nick,” said Jaymee from the kitchen doorway. “The rain’s stopped. Let’s take the walk I promised you.” She sent her father a hard glance, and said to him, “Either you want me to run the business my way, or you don’t. I’ve been keeping my part of the bargain, Dad. You keep yours.”

Bob snorted and turned to sit down on the sofa. Picking up the television remote, he pressed the ‘ON’ button. “The good Lord knows I’m going to die before I get my money,” he said, changing channels.

“Oh, you’ll get your money,” Jaymee promised softly. “Every damn penny of it.”

She took Nick’s hand and led him out the back door. Once outside, she set off at a brisk pace, going deeper into the woods on one side of the property.

The trail was muddy and slippery from the rain, but she was surefooted, as if she had used it many times. Nick followed, looking around now and then. When the silence continued, he put a hand on her stiff shoulder and stopped her.

“Don’t let him do this to you anymore,” he said, turning her around to face him. He stroked the lines around her mouth, thumbing her lower lip gently. Her eyes were glittering from unshed tears. “If I hear another one of his accusations, I’m going to bash his face in, your father or not.”

“Oh, Nick!” Jaymee had to smile, even though she was still angry. “You don’t even know why my dad is the way he is.”

“I don’t give a fig. He has no right to say those things when he doesn’t even know what you do. I’m tired of standing by while he batters you like you’re some punching bag. He’s nothing but a frustrated drunk. I don’t know why he’s so bitter, but drinking isn’t the way to solve any problems. And certainly,” he looked down at her possessively, adding, “not by treating my woman like dirt.”

Jaymee stared. She wasn’t used to having someone else defend her, fight her battles for her. It was confusing and...thrilling. Not knowing what to say, she latched on to the one important phrase. “Your...woman?”

Nick’s gaze was steady. “You have a problem with that?”

“Yes!” she said, then turned away. “You can’t say that to a woman, then leave her!”

“What if I have no choice?”

She could understand that. She’d had no choice for eight years. She sighed. “You told me you aren’t a criminal.”

“I’m not.”

She started off on the trail again, looking over her shoulder. “Come on. I’m going to show you my secret and then you’re going to tell me yours, and it’d better be as good a story as mine, or I’ll...I’ll fire you!”

Unexpected amusement rose in him. The woman could run circles around him and tie him in knots with the speed she changed subjects. Part of the reason why he was so attracted to her was precisely the way she could delve into things without asking questions. By changing topics and circling around, she always managed to get what she wanted. A true businesswoman, he grudgingly admitted, and a worthy evasive expert, even if she didn’t know it. Curious about this secret of hers, and wanting to know all he could about her, he didn’t say anything any more, following her deeper into the woods.

“We’re now on the neighboring property,” Jaymee told him, about twenty minutes later. “It isn’t as big as my dad’s and it’s pretty overgrown. Once we get out of these woods, you still won’t see much because of the huge bushes and tall weeds.”

Pine trees and sabal palms rustled in the wind as they made their way. “Did you run back home to meet me from here the other day?” Nick asked, recalling how she was out of breath.

“Yes. It’s usually an easy jog when it’s dry, and the shade keeps out the heat.” She pointed ahead. “There it is.”

‘It’ was a two-storied weather-beaten ranch house sitting forlornly on a neglected lot. Overgrown bushes grew over cracked cement paths and long branches criss-crossed too closely to the house. It was obviously in need of work, judging from the peeling paint, rotten overhangs, to the dirty, cracked window panes. Nick tested his weight on each of the front wooden steps before walking onto the porch.

“Don’t worry, the wood is fine there,” assured Jaymee. “It’s rotten in the back porch, though.”

Taking out a key from her pocket, she opened the surprisingly large door. Once inside, Nick noticed the house had been swept and cleaned out. It was in various stages of remodeling. The carpet had been stripped from the floor, revealing old terraso tiles. Tools were scattered all over, as well as cleaners and polish.

“What do you think?” she asked, standing in the middle of the mayhem.

He looked around, dumbfounded. “This is your other job?” Would the woman ever cease to surprise him?

“Uh-huh. I’m working on the floor now. They carpeted over these tiles, can you believe it? It’s in pretty good shape, so I’m going to clean it up. Then I’m going to take out the old trim and replace it with something fancy.” She kicked at the connecting doors between the rooms. “The doors are next, although I kind of like them. They are the old heavy oak, not the cheap hollow junk they sell at the House Depot these days.”

Jaymee knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. This had been her secret for such a long time, and now she had someone with her, she wanted to show off. She was very proud of all her work, even though she still had a long way to go.

The glow of pride radiating from her did funny things to Nick’s insides. “Do you plan to live here?” he asked, wondering why that would be a secret.

“No, of course not.”

“You said it had something to do with your future.”

“Remind me not to talk to you when I’m about to fall asleep, OK?” she said crossly, and sat down on a small stool.

Nick grinned crookedly. “That’s the only time, it seems, you can be cajoled to answer my questions. Either that, or it’s because you liked what I did to you before.” He loved making her blush, still couldn’t get over such shyness at her age. Joining her on the floor, he stretched out his long legs, leaning against the wall. “OK. I see a big house in need of major work. I know you work here in the evenings. You don’t plan to live in it, so being the businesswoman I know you are, I assume you’re going to sell it and make some kind of profit.” He blinked, suddenly understanding. “Money for that debt about which I keep hearing? Money for your future?”

Jaymee unwrapped a stick of gum and popped it into her mouth, studying him thoughtfully as she chewed. “A detective, right? It’s Nick Sherlock Holmes Langley, isn’t it?”

He shook his head and didn’t offer any clue. Instead, he took one of her hands and laced his fingers through hers. Bringing it to his mouth, he kissed her knuckles one by one. Feeling her heart beating faster again, she told him, “Oh no, you don’t. Don’t even try distracting me.”

“Why do you work so hard, Jaymee?” His breath was warm against her skin. “Tell me about the debt. How much do you owe, and why?”

Jaymee stared at their intertwined hands. He didn’t know how hard those questions were to answer. They would bring back painful memories. She was afraid of the usual accompanying pain and loneliness.

His grip tightened. “Trust me,” he said.

She jerked away sharply. “Don’t say that! He said it too. Those were his exact words that got me here.”

God, it had started, the awful torrent of memories pushed into her consciousness, and as always, she felt helpless against the onslaught of those hateful emotions—shame, guilt, hopelessness.

But Nick just prodded on, wanting to know everything. “Who? Your old boyfriend, Danny?” When she refused to answer, he pulled at the hand he held until she reluctantly fell into his lap. He held her close and although he was gentle, the tone of his voice was that of someone who was used to giving orders. “You’d better not even try to compare me with that guy. Do you think about him when I kiss you? When I make love to you?” The thought made him angry as hell.

Jaymee was startled at the notion. “Of course not! I haven’t thought of Danny like that in years.”

That calmed him down a little. “But he’s still playing you like a puppet, isn’t he?”

“What do you mean?” It was difficult to concentrate when he was so close. She breathed in his scent and she wanted to kiss him again.

“Jaymee, baby, much as it pleases me you haven’t had another lover after that scumbag, it also tells me why you’ve been rejecting men for so many years.” Her head jerked back and he calmly met her glare. “Danny was a huge mistake. Not only did he betray your trust, but he also used you and stole more than money. And worse, you had no one to turn to, what with your father blaming you and losing your mother. You’re afraid of being hurt again, so you hide behind your work. You continue letting your father bully you...”

“Stop right there,” she cut in. She poked a finger at his chest. “You have no right to judge me. You don’t know anything about me.”

She jumped off his lap and walked to look out of a dingy window. Staring unseeing at the dirt streaks across the panes, she took a deep breath, then exhaled. She needed to gather her scattered thoughts, if she were to tell him about Danny. She wanted to tell a clear story, to explain why she was the way she was. It dawned on her she needed to face her past, not run from it all every time it’s mentioned. Why not now, when she stood there in the place that represented a new life to her, with the man who already dominated her thoughts more than any past love?

“Have you ever seen a path so strewn with flowers, so lit up by stars, that made you so sure you couldn’t possibly get lost on it, because it could only lead to paradise?”

The words tumbled out haltingly, and her voice sounded far away, cool and flat, at war with the beautiful image she evoked. Nick wanted to walk to her, but found himself caught by the need to hear more. He knew without a doubt this very private woman had decided to show him herself at her most vulnerable, and he felt humbled by her trust. She didn’t know it, of course, but she was essentially giving the Programmer the switch to her operating system. He could stop her because he didn’t like her vulnerable to him, but he kept quiet. He would deal with the guilt later. The need to understand her overtook everything else.

“I guess I was a hopeless romantic,” Jaymee continued, in the same faraway voice. “I was so sure of myself back then, and Danny was...” Her shoulders slumped. “...well, Danny turned out to be a snake in my paradise. We met at college, and Mom and Dad were captivated by him. He was suave, handsome, smart, and talked passionately about making it big. Dad sang his praises to me, and I didn’t need much encouragement. He was Mr. Perfect, you know? I was a roofer’s daughter and had no idea about life.

“My dad loved talking to him. Danny had such great plans, telling my dad he could expand his business if he’d only invest in roofing materials, keep them in a rented warehouse, and stock the roofs himself. Labor didn’t make enough profit, he said, but materials, now that’s where big money could be made. He drew plans and showed Dad five-year projections of how much his company could grow, even bigger than Gregg’s Roofing, the biggest company in town.”

Jaymee stopped, unable to go on. The hard part was next. She was a different person now—tougher, stronger, wiser—yet she felt like some creature that lived in a shell about to be exposed to danger. Suddenly, she felt Nick’s presence behind her, his warmth comforting and reassuring. His hands were gentle on her shoulders, massaging the tense muscles.

“Continue,” he encouraged. “Were his calculations wrong?”

Jaymee laughed bitterly. “Oh no, that wasn’t it. I backed up his projections, showing my dad all the calculations from my business classes.” She blinked hard several times. “See, Dad, I had proudly said, Danny was right. Most large companies made their money from materials because they could buy wholesale and sell at retail. Blahblahblahblah. Macro economics. Business theories. My dad loved it. Meanwhile, Danny and I got engaged and the plan grew out of sight. Dad was suddenly seeing himself bigger than Gregg’s, no longer working in the sun, just living off the company run by his son-in-law.”

She leaned back, her head against his chest. Nick’s arms crossed in front of her, holding her securely. She listened to the steady thud of his heartbeat. It felt like home. “Dad gave Danny down payment for shingles and to set up the warehouse. Then Danny suggested buying a highlift so we could stock the roofs.” A soft sigh escaped her. “Dad borrowed heavily against the business and the new house he’d just built for Mom.”

Nick had seen enough greed and evil in his profession to know the conclusion of this tale was the kind that destroyed lives. “He gave cash to Danny,” he said grimly.

It never failed to hurt. No matter how many years had gone by, the pain would still be there, waiting. Jaymee choked down a lump in her throat. “Yes.”

“No materials. No highlift.” Nick felt her pain, understood how difficult it was for her to face that kind of failure. He could only imagine the young woman she had been when she lost everything—her love, her security, her pride.

“Yes,” she repeated. She tried to move out of the circle of his arms, but he wouldn’t let her. After a brief struggle, she gave up and let his warm embrace seep through the cold mantle that always settled on her whenever she thought about Danny and what he did. “He...didn’t come back from out of town. Never answered my calls. Dad had a stroke not long after. Mom...well, Mom had always been weak, and the idea of losing her house....She loved her house. It was her everything, sitting in that back porch and watching the sun set. Dad blamed me for her death. The drinking started then.”

“This is the same house you live in now?” Nick wanted to kill the long-gone Danny for the havoc he’d wrought on Jaymee and her family.

Jaymee clenched her hands into fists. “Mom had insurance and...do you know why Dad hates me? She willed it to me, and instead of using the money to pay off his company’s debts, I paid off the house instead, so Mom will always have it. Does it make sense? She can sit on that porch in spirit, as long as she wants to.”

“Yes.” But he could guess the showdown between father and daughter over that.

“It didn’t to my father. We could always move, he said, but the business wasn’t going to survive in the red. The debt was mine, because I had to show off my fancy college education, bring home a no-good college swindler. I was nothing but a...”

“No,” Nick interrupted. “I don’t want to hear you belittle yourself.”

“But it’s true.” Jaymee looked down at her clenched hands, and willed them to open.

“No, you’re just repeating Bob’s words. Don’t ever, ever make your father’s accusations your own, Jaymee.”

But she had. She knew she had. She saw nothing but her own stupidity that had destroyed her future eight years ago, how with misguided trust, her dreams had turned to ashes. She couldn’t move on with her life, not with her father penniless and her mother dying. Nick turned her slowly to face him and she didn’t resist, knowing he couldn’t see the turmoil inside her.

Nick shook his head. That cool, unruffled look was exactly the same face she put on whenever her father started on a tangent. She thought she could hide from him, but she didn’t know about her eyes, so dark they were almost black, and he wished he knew how to make the green come back.

He was filled with rage against the old man and his crazy accusations, against the bastard who had broken her heart and forced her to bury herself like that. He was a man used to getting his own way, usually in charge of counterattacks. This new feeling, of being unable to help, rankled. He was a fucking man of action, all right. He, who was so good at covert action, but so helpless when it came to normal activities. His job had always been to fix problems, but they were technical ones, the kind over which nations killed each other. This was different. How could he fix a broken pride? A ruined optimism?

He didn’t need her to finish her story. It didn’t surprise him anymore how well he understood her. Jaymee had essentially taken over her dad’s business to pay off those debts because she’d accepted her father’s foolishness as her own. He was so angry he was trembling. She had worked for eight years, essentially paying off a huge debt that was her father’s. He knew how hard she must have worked, taking over a business at that young age and trying to make ends meet, at the same time dealing with her own mother’s death and a father’s bitterness. No wonder she had retreated from emotional entanglements and turned into a working machine. It was her way to block out pain, her own on/off switch.

Nick kissed her forehead, breathing in her unique fragrance. This was his woman, and he’d find a way to make life a little better for her before he left. He’d replace the painful past and give her something good to remember for the future.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Seven

This was the first time Jaymee had talked about what happened eight years ago. Not even Mindy knew the whole story. It wasn’t as difficult as she had thought, or maybe it was just because it was Nick and not somebody else. She looked at him closely, and was relieved not to find pity in his eyes. She didn’t think she could handle his pitying her.

“How much was the business in the red?” Nick interrupted the silence.

“Once the house was paid off with the insurance money, the business was left with liens of a little over a hundred thousand dollars,” Jaymee replied flatly. “I couldn’t risk Dad having another stroke, so I made him a deal.”

“You negotiated your future for his business,” Nick told her. “You felt so guilty you condemned yourself into hard labor.”

Surprise fleeted momentarily into the dull bleakness in her eyes. “I’ve never looked at it that way before,” she admitted.

“Of course not. You were too busy accepting the blame and taking on your dad’s responsibilities.”

“I am to blame.” Her voice was soft, despairing. If not for her naïve trust, she wouldn’t have brought Danny home, nor encouraged her father to let Danny meddle with his business.

“No, Jaymee,” Nick said quietly, and stepped back from her a little so she could look up at him without getting a crick in her neck. “I want you to listen at me. From now on, you’ll only hear my words when you think about this. You—are—not—to—be—blamed. Your father was the businessman, damn it, not you. You were a college student, not someone savvy in business dealings. Your father got conned by greed and a smart-mouthed charmer.”

“So was I,” Jaymee pointed out, jerking her chin up. “I was just as stupid as Dad, and I bought into Danny’s stories just as much as he did.”

Nick shook her hard. “Will you let that damn guilt go? You were in love with a bastard. That was your mistake, and for your information, darling, it’s a very common one. It’s a mistake you could learn from, with consequences you could live with. Believe me, there are some mistakes that have more dire results.”

Like walking into a trap. Like the needless deaths of innocent people. He pulled her back into his arms. He didn’t want to let her go, ever. But what he wanted didn’t matter compared to the kind of life his job demanded. He didn’t need to think it over to know a single mistake could haunt him for the rest of his life. He sighed, focusing back on Jaymee. “Look, sweetheart. I’ll grant you you paid a higher price for that mistake than most others, but place the blame in the right places, woman. Your father’s business sense wasn’t quite straight if he gave cash to someone he hadn’t checked out, son-in-law-to-be, or not.”

When did she grow to need his arms around her? “There you go again, Nick,” Jaymee mumbled into his chest. When did standing in his embrace become natural?

“What?”

“Checked out,” she repeated his words. “You’re talking like a detective again.”

How could he not be crazy about her? She never missed a thing he said. “Does nothing escape you?” he teased, lightening the mood.

“Details are important in roofing,” she retorted. “One mistake, and you might fall off. One mistake, and you’re in the hole for one hundred thou.”

“I’m not a mistake.” He solemnly gazed down at her, and was privately relieved to see a little green returning into her eyes.

“Not yet.” Jaymee calmly returned his glare.

“Are you comparing me with Danny again?” His voice was cutting, threatening.

“You aren’t like Danny,” she denied, shaking her head, “but you can hurt me like he did, maybe more. You don’t tell me about yourself; nor did he. I’ve a feeling you’ll take away something very precious to me, and there’ll be nothing of you left when you’re gone.”

Not if he could help it. He’d never hurt her. He’d leave her something. Looking around the room, he picked out the things needed done. Maybe he’d even tell her something about Killian Nicholas Langley, just a little of the truth.

“As long as I’m around, I’ll help you with this project,” he offered.

“This house?”

“Yes. I’m a very good carpenter, didn’t I tell you that? I’ll repair all the rotten wood and do the heavier work.”

“Why would you want to help me?” She asked, puzzled. No one had ever offered to help her in anything before. What she had, she’d achieved on her own.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Tell me something, how much does your company still owe your lienors?”

Jaymee cocked her head. Nick’s choice of words often struck her as someone at ease in the world of law. She was getting more confused about him by the minute. She decided to test him. “About twenty thousand, give or take a few.”

“Once you sell this house, is the profit going to pay off the lien?”

She laughed and broke away from him, giving the room a sweeping glance. “This place was barely habitable when I got it, Nick. It belonged to the owner’s grand-uncle or something, and she couldn’t sell it in its condition. It was, however, perfect for someone like me, with all those liens and bad credit. I made her a deal.”

“A land contract?” Nick guessed.

She was right. Electronics, now lien laws and property contracts. Interesting. Turning her back to him, Jaymee hid her triumphant smile. She pretended to pick up some tools. “Yes, the easiest contract between two parties. She lives in New York and was relieved to not have to worry about property taxes as well as get the place back into order.”

“Contract written out by a lawyer, I hope?” He couldn’t help it. He knew she would see to all the important details, but there was a need in him to make sure she’d be protected.

Jaymee smiled at him. “You’ll be insisting next to check out the contract yourself,” she teased. The serious look he gave her told her he was actually going to ask that, and she shook her head. “Nick, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” Nick ruefully conceded, running a hand through his hair. She followed the movement, and wished to do the same too, remembering how soft it was. “Still....” He shrugged, unable to explain.

“It’s not terminal, but definitely difficult to cure,” Jaymee agreed.

“What are you talking about?”

Two dimples appeared and disappeared as her amusement grew. “Macho-sitis,” she told him, trying to keep a straight face. “A kind of male itch to take over.”

Nick laughed. “Imp.” He helped her put away the tools scattered around. “OK, I’ll back off the contract thing for now. Tell me about your big profit margin.”

“There isn’t going to be one,” she told him. “I’ve invested all my own spare change into this house and when it’s done and sold, I’ll be lucky to clear ten thousand, max., Nick.”

He frowned. “So much work, so little profit. Is it worth it?”

It wasn’t a logical undertaking at all, as far as he could see. There were easier ways to make twenty grand.

Jaymee could read his mind. “It isn’t what you think. This project isn’t for the roofing business. This is for me, for my future, remember?” She reminded him of her words the night before.

“I don’t get it.”

She waved her arms dramatically. “The roofing business is doing fine. I use most of its annual profit to pay off the liens—sometimes ten thousand, sometimes fifteen in a good year. Excel Construction was the big fish. It would have cleared all the remaining debt in a year and a half. That is,” she amended a little bitterly, “if I hadn’t had to let it go.” She picked up a broom and leaned it against the wall. “No, this house is for myself.”

“Is that what you meant when you said it’s for your future?” Nick asked, getting more curious by the second.

She nodded, excitement creeping into her voice. “Yes. See, I don’t want to be a roofer forever, and once the liens are paid off, my bargain with Dad is to sell his business and give him the retirement money he lost in one lump sum. I wouldn’t owe him anything any more.” She ran a finger along the wall and looked at the dirt on it. “I’ve lost my college education and don’t have the finances to return to school, so I decided to remain in construction, only this time it would be in remodeling. The license and state exam cost about three to four thousand dollars. The rest of the profit goes into start-up costs for my new business, as well as moving expenses when I leave Dad’s house.”

Nick was sure she had every detail down pat in that brain, determinedly following each step toward her goal. He admired her tenacity, her independence. “I like the plan,” he said.

Walking with slow deliberation around the room, he saw a way to leave her something of himself. By helping her with this house as long as he was here, the profit she made would have part of him as a memory. And by giving himself to her this way, he’d play an important part toward her future too. He’d be with her that way, as a good and happy memory, and he would know, wherever he may be, that she was happy and secure in a future he’d helped provide. Yes, he was determined to give her that, at least.

Jaymee wondered about the thoughtful light in those slate-gray eyes. She felt empty, depleted of every emotion, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Talking about her bottled-up plans and memories had been strangely cathartic. It wasn’t the past she was afraid of. It was the future without the big, silent man with her.

For eight years, her goal had been simple enough: she had meticulously planned out her life in the safest and most logical way. Having been burned once, the safest course was to avoid emotional entanglements and consciously or unconsciously, she’d steered clear of anything that remotely jeopardized her organized, working world. That is, until this man came along and showed her what she had been missing.

He was a stranger and yet, he wasn’t. She seemed to have known him forever. No. Don’t even go there, Jaymee. Forever wasn’t possible with Nick, as he’d as much warned her. But she wanted forever. What was she to do?

She’d do what she knew best. Change the subject and carry on. “I think that’s enough of the Jaymee Barrow’s ‘This Is Your Life’ show,” she said, giving him a quick smile. She took the chewing gum out of her mouth and wrapped it up in a piece of tissue before throwing it into a nearby trash can. “Now you know where I am in the evenings.”

Nick grinned back. She didn’t know how that particular mystery had kept him awake the past few nights. He headed toward the stairway on one side of the room. “You’ve done a lot by yourself,” he noted. “Come on, show me the rest of the place. We’ll make a list of things that need work.”

Jaymee wrinkled her nose. Taking over seemed to be second nature to Nick. Already, he was telling her what to do about her own project! “I have a list already,” she told him.

“Good, then I’ll make one for myself,” he said, mockery in his eyes. “I know you view your last eight years like it’s a prison term, babe, but you’ve to realize you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s Danny who committed the crime, your father who got conned out of his money, not you. Stop punishing yourself.”

She didn’t know whether to be angry or amazed. “And what do you think my problem is then, Dr. Langley?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Since, of course, you’re saying the missing hundred thousand dollars is just a figment of my imagination.”

Good. There was some color back in her cheeks, a returning combative sparkle in her eyes. “Do you want my professional or personal opinion?” he countered, and not waiting for her reply, went on tour of the house for himself.

She made an exasperated sound and followed him into the kitchen. “Both, of course,” she said to the broad back, then stuck her tongue out.

“Cabinet tops need replacing. Sink too.” He looked in the pantry and nodded in approval. “Nice and roomy.” He grinned at the snort coming from behind him. He did enjoy riling her so. Turning around, he continued, “Professionally, I think you could reach your goal, but you’re going to need help with the heavier work. Yours truly is volunteering, so why not just accept it gracefully? Gratefully, even.”

“Gratefully?” He was making her more and more irritated.

“Yeah.” They walked out of the kitchen and Nick strolled into the back room. “I like the archways,” he said approvingly. “What’s this room? Sitting room? Study?”

She chose to ignore his observations. “Gratefully?” she repeated through clenched teeth.

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, showing me your gratitude will earn you points,” he said drolly. “You know, I like this room. You must too, since you sleep here.”

“How did you...?” Jaymee pursed her lips when he sat on the huge sofa bed at the end of the window and lifting up various articles of clothing, dangled her underwear from a hooked finger. “Give me those!”

She tried to snatch the cotton and lace triangles from him, but he kept them out of reach. Laughing, he lounged back, his head against the sofa pillow lying on the armrest.

“Great sofa. I could actually stretch my legs all the way.” Another thought made him frown. “This place is very isolated. I don’t think I like the idea of you alone in this house. Don’t do it any more.”

That did it. Jaymee launched on top of him, forgetting her weight was meaningless to his muscled strength. “Listen, you overbearing, arrogant man,” she said, ignoring the crooked grin forming on his lips. “I’ll do as I like, sleep where I want. Nobody tells me what to do, much less where to go to bed at night.”

“Exactly,” Nick agreed in a deceptively mild voice. She was so mad she didn’t notice his own leg curling over hers, effectively trapping her against him. “That’s why you need someone like me to knock some sense into you. Someone could come out to this deserted place and here you are, all alone. Stupid, dangerous idea.”

Jaymee glared down at him. “This house is locked. I have electricity, so it’s not like it’s dark and deserted. What’s the difference between sleeping here, or at the house, alone? Any man can do it and no one will say a thing, but the moment a woman does it, hah! It’s suddenly soooo dangerous!”

She scowled when he waved her underwear at her again. She stretched out over his body, trying to reach them. Too late, she realized his trick, as his other arm went around her waist, arranging her until she lay across him, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. She was suddenly aware of another part of him, nudging into her. Her eyes widened as she realized her predicament.

Nick’s smile was devilish. “Exactly,” he said again, curling his other leg over hers, locking her limbs with effective ease. He deliberately nudged against her again. “You can sleep wherever you want, Jaymee, as long as it’s with me.”

There must be something wrong with her. She wanted him again. It was as if some dam had broken, and now there was no holding back the torrent of emotions held in check for so long. How could a musty-smelling, cluttered old house suddenly become so charged with sexual energy? She could feel his male heat, pushing hard and insistent, through his jeans.

“You said we’re supposed to talk,” she reminded him huskily.

“Later.” His hand went under her shirt. “Listen, it’s raining again.”

“So?”

“So, we aren’t going to work anywhere for the rest of the day, are we?”

“I told you, the day’s shot.”

“Hmm. All that unused energy surely needs an outlet. And that’s the doctor’s personal opinion.”

Her whole insides shook. How was it possible he could make her weak from mere words? Determinedly, she mounted one last defensive battle. She was in control of the situation still, wasn’t she? They were going to talk, no matter what, she vowed.

Using the age-old female excuse, she said, “I’m too tired.”

An empty house. A bed. A desirable woman. And a whole night ahead. Nick Langley couldn’t have executed a better program. He wanted this woman more than ever, now that he knew her story. She had the softness that drove him crazy, and the toughness that challenged him to keep taking her over and over, just to make her grow soft for him.

He wanted her. Now.

Slowly, deliberately, he showed her those lacey panties again, and watched her eyes widen as he moved them closer to his lips. With devilish purpose he kissed the crotch of the little triangle, feeling her immediate reaction as the corresponding part of her body pushed against him in shock. He almost groaned from the pleasure. His murmur was low, promising. “I know a way to wake you up.”

Jaymee could only squeak. Did she vow they would talk first? Later, she amended.

***

Much, much later, and after expending energy in the most satisfying way, Jaymee lay on her side, resting her head on one hand as she studied the sleeping man beside her. Her lover, she told herself. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. She was supposed to be using her head. She was a sensible and wary woman, keeping out of trouble for her very valued peace of mind. Where was that common sense now? All but gone, stolen by this man with his clever hands and determined seduction. She grimaced. How, she asked as she looked at his gloriously nude form, was she supposed to resist that?

Nick lay asleep on his back, one arm flung over his eyes to block out the dim light from the old lamp by the sofa bed. His other hand was on her thigh, fingers possessively splayed over the soft inner flesh. His naked body, as she knew now, was warrior-hard, with the supple muscles that suggested training. She made a mental addition of this new clue to his mystery, wondering whether she would ever know, or whether he would just disappear from her life without her ever finding out.

Just like some tall, dark stranger in a Western novel. Don’t forget handsome, she added with silent wryness, taking in those long, incredible eyelashes that cast shadows on the masculine plains of his face. He looked relaxed, and thoroughly sated. She flushed at the thought.

She wanted to trace her finger around those sensuous lips that hadn’t left a spot on her body untouched. Moving lower, she admired the broad chest with its diamond-shaped sprinkling of hair that arrowed down a flat stomach. She lingered even lower. Talk about insatiable. That part of him was asleep too.

A small, intimate smile touched her lips. She couldn’t believe the things she’d done with this male body. Perhaps she’d imagined it. However, one glance around the room and the wreck they’d made of it, testified to the hours of pleasure in which they had indulged recently. There were items of clothing strewn everywhere. She squinted. Was that her bra in the corner? His jeans were tossed in a bunch right across the room. There were sofa pillows all over the place. She vaguely remembered him placing one of them under her hips and her face flushed pink as she recalled the incredible pleasure that particular position had brought, as he pushed deep into her again and again.

It still scared her, the way he could make her forget about everything else but him. He was a demanding lover, making sure every part of her responded to his touch as he described in sexy detail what he was going to do. How he could talk when she was a mass of moaning sensations, she would never understand, and that was what was so unsettling and frightening about him. He seemed so in control all the time, and a part of her resented it, wanting him to be as wild as he drove her.

His muscles rippled gently as he stirred. The hand on her thigh caressed her, his long fingers teasing slightly before letting go to slide lazily up his tanned stomach to scratch his chest with sleepy satisfaction.

Jaymee reluctantly sat up, sweeping the tangled curtain of hair from her face. Her body felt sore in unfamiliar places. Fingers curled around her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nick’s voice was a husky drawl.

She glanced back at him. His eyes were still shut. “Bathroom,” she told him. “I wonder what time it is.”

He grunted and turned over onto his front, giving her a tempting view of his tush. “It’s about Oh-four-hundred hours. Come back to bed soon.”

This was weird. She was used to falling asleep here some nights, but never had imagined she would be traipsing around the place naked, with an obviously equally-naked man asleep in one of the rooms. And who could tell time like that? She checked the little clock in the kitchen area. Four fifteen. Oh-four-hundred hours. Who the hell talked like that during the wee hours of the morning?

He was still in exactly the same position when she returned, and she wanted to run her hand up and down those muscular flanks and ravish those sexy buns. She fought against her naughty urges and looked around for her clothes instead.

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked, finding a shoe under the sofa bed.

“Nope.”

“I have some crackers and cheese somewhere.”

“Ugh.” He held out a hand. “Come here.”

When she placed her hand in his, he pulled her back into bed, turning on his side to make room for her. “Nick!” she protested. “I have to get up.”

“For what? It’s four in the morning.”

“Four thirty,” she corrected. “I thought I would get up and get some stuff done. I didn’t do a thing today. Yesterday, I mean.”

“So what are you going to do at this Godforsaken hour, little workaholic?” he asked, amusement lacing his sleepy voice. “Mow the grass? Lay a couple of squares of shingles in the dark? Maybe wash your truck?”

Jaymee chuckled at his ludicrous suggestions and ran a teasing hand up his chest. “Sarcastic beast,” she pleasantly chided, pulling his chest hair hard enough to get him to grunt. “Some of us have paperwork to do. Besides, I wake up around six, anyway. This will give me a head start.”

Nick groaned, finally opening his eyes. As usual, she managed to amuse and exasperate at the same time. “Only a workaholic will see being awake at four in the morning as a head start.” He bent his head close to hers. “There are other, more interesting, things to do at this time of the morning.”

He kissed her with a slow thoroughness, tasting the mouthwash she’d used in the bathroom. He pressed against her.

“Nicholas...” she began, when his hand slid between her legs, but her voice trailed away.

“I don’t know about you, Jaymee girl,” he whispered, as he explored her silky secrets, “but I can’t seem to get enough of you. Each time gets better and better.”

She appeared to agree. Blindly, she reached for him.

“What about the paperwork?” he teased, as she undulated wildly against him.

“Stuff the paperwork!” she fiercely announced, and bit his chest.

***

They walked back to her house early enough for a quick bath, a change of clothing and breakfast. While Jaymee made coffee and scrambled some eggs, Nick disappeared into the study. A moment later, she heard the unmistakable beeping noises of the computer and printer.

“Is the new computer set up for my business files?” she asked loudly, over the sizzle of bacon.

“Yeah. I’ll show you later.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Checking on something.”

Jaymee shrugged, going back to preparing the meal. Having a computer as a rival was better than another woman, she supposed. Besides, she was too hungry to care.

In the study, Nick frowned at the screen. No communications. It had only been a few days since he gave out his location, but he’d hoped for an affirmation of some sort. Something just didn’t feel right. He would have to make a decision soon, if…

“Breakfast!”

He turned off the machine and went back into the kitchen. His mouth watered at the smell of bacon and eggs. Jaymee poured him a cup of coffee, then sat down next to him. Her almond-shaped eyes were bright with laughter as she looked at him.

“You owe me a load of laundry, at the rate you use up all my favorite tee-shirts,” she said, giving him that delightful chuckle he loved to hear.

Nick looked down, then grinned. He had just pulled the first shirt out of her dresser and put it on in the dark. It was another one of her crazy tee-shirts. This one said: ‘She Must Be Obeyed.’

“I’m a browbeaten man,” he told her, showing the proper humble demeanor, then spoiled it by promptly taking a big, noisy bite of toast.

They bantered back and forth, until Bob came downstairs. Nick was surprised again. The old geezer was sober and actually looked alert.

He looked at the two of them at the table, then groused, “I hope he didn’t spend the night here. It’s still my house.”

“No, he didn’t,” assured Jaymee briskly, and got up to get an extra cup. “Coffee, Dad?”

Bob grunted and sat down next to Nick. Slowly chewing on his breakfast, Nick nodded at him. “Good morning, Mr. Barrows.”

“Either you’re darned early for work, or you stayed here overnight,” Bob accused, eyeing them with suspicion, as Jaymee quietly set a plate in front of him, along with his coffee. “Which is it?”

“Neither,” Jaymee replied, while Nick finished chewing his food.

“Don’t tell me he ain’t been with you all night, with that shirt of yours on him,” her father went on, nodding towards Nick.

“She didn’t tell you that now, did she?” drawled Nick, buttering another piece of toast.

“I don’t get it. She ain’t got nothing left for the likes of you to want. Let me make it clear, boy. I ain’t going to mortgage the house to back another money-making scheme, you hear?”

The morning’s cheerfulness escaped the big kitchen like a slow leaky balloon, leaving an uneasy, tense silence. Jaymee didn’t say a word, just returned to her seat, and began eating her bacon and eggs like nothing was wrong.

“More coffee?” she asked Nick, holding up the pot.

Nick pushed the cup closer to her, and without taking his eyes off Jaymee, said in a pleasant voice, “There’s plenty of her to want, Mr. Barrows. You’re just too blind to see it.” He smiled when Jaymee’s startled eyes darted up to meet his.

“Listen to him, Jaymee girl,” Bob sneered. “He’s as smooth a talker as that other one. Only this one doesn’t know you’re up to your eyeballs in debt, and there ain’t nothing left for him to steal.”

“Dad, maybe he likes me,” Jaymee lightly suggested, returning Nick’s smile. She took a nibble of the bacon, still looking at his handsome face.

Bob gave a short laugh. “Haven’t you learned? They don’t like you for yourself, they see the business, the money they can get from you! Even I learned that. And at your age, you ain’t going to catch a young stud’s eye that easily, Jaymee girl. Why, your ma…”

Nick cut in. This time, the tone of his voice was no longer pleasant. “I suggest you shut up, old man. Either that, or get back into your booze, so I’d at least have an excuse not to punch the daylights out of you.”

“Nick...” warned Jaymee, hesitantly, shaking her head. This wasn’t going to do any good. She used to argue with her father when he started to act like this. Now she just walked away. After all, what was there to say to a man who suddenly lost his business, wife and health all in a year? “Just eat and let’s go. I’m used to it.”

“No.” He was inflexible. His blue-gray eyes, no longer lazy and amused, glittered as he looked at Bob Barrows. It was time to put an end to this. He studied the old man’s quickened breathing, the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. No better time than when he was still clear-headed.

Jaymee couldn’t see Nick’s expression, but he must have conveyed a strong message to her father, who surprised her by dropping his gaze. Her father, who never backed down, actually looked nervous. She shivered slightly when Nick spoke up again. His voice sounded so cold and lethal, so unlike that warm gravelly drawl she was used to.

“There’s a certain type of man who takes advantage of young girls, isn’t there,” he said to Bob, “the kind that steals their innocence and betrays their trust? You know it, don’t you, old man, being a father and all? You saw how your daughter was tricked. And there’s another type of man, who shirks responsibilities, preferring to blame everyone else but himself. You know that too, don’t you, Barrows?” Being polite, Nick thought, was a waste of time with this man.

Bob slammed his hand on the table, spilling coffee. Jaymee stood up to get a cloth, but was stopped by Nick’s hand. She silently pleaded for him to stop, but he was still staring at her father.

“Don’t let him talk to me like that, Jaymee!”

Jaymee licked her dry lips. In spite of how her father hurt her feelings, she still was concerned for his health. Besides, she would rather not have a family confrontation in front of others. “Nick...”

“No.” Again, he refused her plea, his eyes burning her with their intensity. “I told you yesterday not to let him put you down again. If you won’t do it, I guess I’ll just have to be the one to make the point clear.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jaymee told him, although the look in his eyes was intimidating. She wasn’t used to anyone taking her side. From experience, when others heard about what happened, they commiserated with her father, not her, and of course, excused his drunkenness and behavior. She tugged at Nick’s hand holding hers.

He merely ignored her, turning his attention back to Bob. “Let’s talk about type of daughters now, shall we? There’s the type who can’t wait to leave home to start her own life, isn’t there, Barrows, the one that has a family of her own? And, there’s the type of daughter who doesn’t strand her father with a mountain of debts, choosing instead, to help him back on his feet. Great daughter, don’t you agree, old man?”

The fingers handcuffing her wrist were as implacable as the man. Jaymee didn’t know what to say. She had always chosen to just walk away when her father’s words began to hurt, retreating back to work. There were always reasons to excuse her father’s anger towards her. She had made them all, and accepted each accusation without retaliating. She now realized by not defending herself, she’d made her father worse. It’d never bothered her before, until this man—her lover—took exception to her father’s treatment of her.

“Nick, he’s on medication,” she said quietly.

“If he can’t stand to hear the truth, there’s always booze,” Nick scornfully said. “Deaf and blind. Nice way to live.”

“You don’t know what she did!” Bob’s face was livid with resentment. He looked shocked, unused to being put down by anybody. “I lost everything because of her! Everything!”

“What did she do? Took over your dead business and brought it back to life again? Paid off a house that would have been lost? What exactly have you lost, Bob Barrows? What’s missing but your pride?”

Bob just stared back, stunned. He looked like a bundle of shingles just hit him on the head. Nick calmly finished his cup of coffee and stood up, still holding Jaymee’s hand. Picking up another piece of toast, he walked to the door, with Jaymee in tow.

With a last glance at the silent man at the table, he added, “You just think about it, Barrows. What material things have you lost these last eight years you don’t have now? And who made sure you didn’t lose them? That fancy college education wasn’t such a waste, was it?”

Nick stepped onto the porch and turned to Jaymee, who stood staring up at him with mute amazement. A light smile touched the corners of his lips. “There’s no way I’m going to allow my woman to be treated like that. Now, where are we going to work today, boss?”

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Eight

Jaymee sat in the garage of the new house, sipping a bottle of cola, during a break from work. Oh boy. She was in much, much more trouble than possible. Nick had taken her truck to get some ceramic tiles to fix a leak later this evening, when it would be cooler. It had been barely an hour and she was already missing him. She massaged the back of her neck, frowning. She sighed. Definitely, absolutely in trouble. She was in love with Nick Langley.

It had warmed her insides to see him defending her so fiercely that morning. No man had ever done that for her. It made her feel special she meant something to this man. But…she still wasn’t sure how to deal with him. She’d been so sure he was merely amusing himself, yet he did these things that confounded her. He was protective. And tender. And caring. She sighed again. The qualities that were so darn attractive.

There were so many things about him she didn’t know although she was piecing the puzzle together little by little. First, he was definitely not on the run. He didn’t strike her as someone who was constantly looking over his shoulder. Second, underneath that potent charm was the alertness of a hunter. After witnessing this morning’s episode with her father, she hadn’t a doubt Nick could take down anyone who was on the wrong side of him. Lastly, he was some kind of electronic expert who spoke legal and political terms with the ease of one educated in related fields. He watched; he played with electronics; he was in top physical condition. She smiled wryly at the last observation. Oh yes, she was very sure about the last fact. If she didn’t know how her imagination tended to be colorful where this man was concerned, she’d make him out to be some sort of military guy, like the Green Beret, or something. She’d read somewhere the Green Berets were electronic experts, could speak several languages, and trained like a machine. Oh yeah, right, Jaymee girl, she mocked, as she took another sip of her cola. Didn’t the same article showed some Green Berets carrying big, wicked-looking Bowie knives? She tried imagining Nick with a green beret and a Bowie knife. Cute. And she was going bonkers.

“I heard old Mindy is having her annual bash tomorrow, boss, is that right?” Dicker broke into her reverie.

“Hmmm? Oh. Yes. Are you going?”

“Maybe. If I’m not fishing or something.”

“Mindy makes the best barbecue, man. I’m going,” Lucky chimed in.

“Yeah, and if I go, I’ll have to shop for a birthday present,” Dicker grumbled, wrinkling his nose. “I ain’t no good with women’s things, man.”

“I would guess the same things your old lady likes, Dicker,” Lucky said, rubbing his beard.

“What, you mean Mindy wants me to paint the fence and buy her some lottery tickets?”

Jaymee laughed, shaking her head. “Now, Dicker, I’m sure you didn’t buy Rosy lottery tickets for her birthday!”

Dicker scratched his neck, looking sheepish. “Sure I did. Ten dollars worth. She was mighty happy coz she won a hundred bucks.”

“Man, you don’t have not one romantical bone in your body.” Lucky puffed out his chest. “I’m going to buy Mindy one of those sweet-smelling perfumes, what is it called — Possession.”

Dicker and Jaymee laughed at the misnamed product. “You mean, Obsession, Lucky,” Jaymee said.

Grinning back at them good-naturedly, Lucky shrugged. “Obsession, Possession, bah! I can name them perfumes way better.”

“And what are you gonna call your perfume?” Dicker wanted to know. “Fish-ion? Shingles?”

They all chuckled. “Roofing Cement Potion,” suggested Jaymee, still laughing.

“Or just plain Sweat,” Dicker bantered.

Lucky assumed a thoughtful air as he continued scratching his beard. “Nah, not sexy enough. I’ll name my perfume Lucky Charms. Yeah, just like me.”

They all hooted, and that was how Nick found them, laughing uproariously in the garage. One of his dark brows arched up. “Not laughing at some of my mistakes, I hope,” he said, putting down a can of roofing cement.

“That’s it! That’s it! Nick’s Mistake!” Lucky thumped an empty box and laughed so hard he fell off the cement block on which he was sitting. He managed to gasp out, “Oh, that would be some foul-smelling perfume.”

“We’ve somehow gotten around to naming Lucky’s new perfume which he’s going to give Mindy tomorrow,” Jaymee explained to the mildly amused and perplexed Nick, smiling up at him. “So far, our top contestants are Roofing Cement Potion, Sweat, and Lucky Charms. Besides Nick’s Mistake, of course.” She didn’t hide her laughter, as she added, “Not that we’re making fun of your work, Nick.”

All three of them went off again. Nick grinned, not minding being the butt of their jokes. It’d been a long time since he was made fun of that way, not since his days training with the army Rangers. Besides, he liked listening to Jaymee’s laugh. She didn’t do it enough.

“Nick is smart, man, he can name a perfume for a woman,” Dicker said, when they stopped for breath. “Unlike Luck-man’s Possession.”

“Sure he can,” agreed Lucky, his gap-toothed smile cheeky. “Remember he knows them big words that got Up-Chuck all flustered.”

“Now that’s what I would name my perfume for my old lady,” cracked Dicker. “All-Flustered. Perfect. What would you name your perfume, Langley?”

Jaymee chewed on her lower lip while the other two men turned expectant eyes at Nick. She knew it hadn’t escaped their notice Nick was wearing her tee-shirt that morning. She didn’t care whether there would be gossip. Enough with living with the fear people would continually bring up Danny. She’d never felt so alive, so comfortable. Looking at the tall man who had changed her outlook so much, she couldn’t even remember much about her old feelings for Danny.

There was simply no comparison.

She was also glad he was getting along with her workers. Dicker and Lucky now included him in their daily chats, and she liked the way Nick mixed with them so easily. Right now, his eyes were half-closed as he considered Dicker’s question about naming, of all things, a perfume. It struck her he just wasn’t the type of man who would sit around a bunch of guys playing name games. Again she had the odd feeling he was hiding something.

“I don’t know. You guys have chosen all the good ones,” he joked. Leaning over, he picked up Jaymee’s cola and finished it off. She stared at him in fascination. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he continued, “I supposed Smartass is out of the question? Or, Scary Screamer? Or Maniac?”

The other men chuckled, as if sharing some in-joke. Jaymee rolled her eyes, then stuck her tongue out at Nick. She would bide her time to punish smart-mouthiness. She was the boss, after all.

***

“Don’t feel so smart now, do you, Mr. Big Words?” Jaymee mocked Nick later that day. She’d left Dicker and Lucky at the job, taking him with her to fix the leak in the tile roof. At the moment, she stood with perfect balance, each foot planted on a ceramic tile, hands on her hips. She looked smugly at Nick, feeling slightly avenged for the knowing chuckles her men had given when he named his perfume. Tease her, would he? Well, let’s see how he felt being at the other end.

Nick concentrated on first making sure he didn’t slip. The ceramic tiles weren’t slippery, but because of their inverted ‘S’ shape, his big feet couldn’t fit on the dented part of the tile, like Jaymee’s did, and so he had to put his weight awkwardly on the rounded curve.

Crrrunch.

A crack line appeared under his foot. Wincing, he put his other foot down. Another crunching sound.

Normally, Jaymee would have given any employee the proper tongue-lashing, but the sight of the big man gingerly trying to walk toward her was almost worth the money she was going to lose, at the rate he was breaking the tiles. She just stood there, a big grin on her face.

“I’m going to take all the damage out of your paycheck tonight, if you don’t stop breaking them,” she warned sternly, but her mischievous smile gave her away.

“It’s like walking on eggs,” muttered Nick, when he reached her.

“You’re lucky I had you pick up those extra tiles this afternoon, or we’d have some missing pieces, what with those big feet of yours!”

Nick grinned. “OK, so I made it up here. Now what?”

Jaymee cocked her head. “Ever made love on a ceramic tile roof before?”

He groaned. “No, and I’m not going to start now.” He watched Jaymee turn around and nimbly walk up a few rows higher. Her butt was at eye level. He groaned again. “OK, we’ll do it.”

“Not if you can’t catch me,” she teased, squatting down and loosening one of the tiles. She pulled a few out of the way, and said, “Here, you can stand more comfortably on the fern strips below the tiles.”

Nick did as she suggested.

Jaymee pointed to the material exposed by the tiles. “That is called base sheet, and it’s thicker than felt paper. It’s meant to protect the roof, in case water gets under the tile.”

“Obviously, it doesn’t work, because the roof is leaking,” observed Nick.

“Usually it’s because there is a hole somewhere the previous roofer didn’t patch up, or they didn’t use base sheet, opting for lower grade material instead, and it rotted away because of the water. Sometimes they didn’t layer it properly.” She tapped on a water stain where she had taken out a tile. “There, see? That’s a clue, dear Mr. Watson.”

“How does water get under the tile, Sherlock?” Nick asked, squatting carefully down beside her.

Jaymee shrugged. “Cracked tiles, holes in the lead boot, could be a number of things. That’s why this ‘underlayment’ is very important. Finding leaks on tile roofs can be tricky, since water stains showing on the ceiling inside the house don’t usually match the spot on the roof. That’s because water moves differently when it travels under the tiles, like underground caverns, you know?”

“And these fern strips act like diverters, shooting the water in different directions, right?” Nick traced the water stain pattern above the little strips of wood that supported the tiles.

“Right. So, we have to follow this water stain, take off the tiles as we go, and tada!” Jaymee gestured dramatically.

“The leak!” Nick finished for her.

“Elementary, my dear Watson!”

By the time they were done, it was almost six o’clock. Nick enjoyed the new lesson. Searching for leaks on roofs wasn’t that different from the other kind of leaks he specialized in, he supposed. Look for the source and eliminate. In a general perspective, life in the outside world could be just as exciting. Then he remembered what was left of his beloved boat. And not so dangerous.

“So when can I add ‘leak expert’ as part of my construction man resume?” he quipped, as he loaded the truck with broken tiles.

Jaymee couldn’t resist it. Putting on her best Chinese accent, she parodied a line from a famous TV show. “When you can walk on tile and leave no crack, my son, then you are leak expert. Until then, I am still master.”

Nick grinned as he watched her throw her head back and laughed. She was getting feistier by the day. And suddenly, he wanted her again. She stopped in mid-laugh.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he said, his voice low and full of dark promise. “Then I’ll show you who your master is, little Red Grasshopper.”

Jaymee made a face at him. By now she’d learned to recognize that blatant male look. “What bad puns you have, Mr. Wolf.”

For the first time in eight years, she couldn’t wait to get home. After paying Dicker and Lucky, they prepared a simple meal together. Dinner was the way Jaymee had always imagined romance to be — on the back porch, with the view of the setting sun and the shadows and golden lights of the lake in the distance, and her lover feeding her cold meat and wine. They kissed and joked, drawing out the evening into night.

“Tomorrow, I’ll help you with the old house,” Nick said, lazily twirling her curls with his forefinger. The sunset was bright, making her hair a fiery halo. He remembered it against him, the way it caressed down his chest when she trailed kisses down his body. He shifted position.

Jaymee snuggled deeper into his lap. “You’re a hungry monster,” she murmured, absolutely aware of his discomfort.

“Wolf,” he corrected. “Let’s get to bed, so we can have your head start tomorrow.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure you want to just rest, so we can work on the remodeling,” she mocked.

“Of course. You don’t have to do a thing, just lie there,” he promised, and gently nudged her off his lap.

They were making their way to the old house, kissing and teasing each other, when Nick suddenly pulled her to a stop. He looked around sharply, his eyes alert. Puzzled, Jaymee followed his eyes, but there was nothing but trees and shadows.

“What is it?”

“Shhh.” Nick hadn’t been able to shake off that ‘being watched’ feeling for a few days now. This time, he was sure. Putting Jaymee behind his body, he carefully looked for signs.

Jaymee stared at the appearance of a knife in Nick’s hand. A huge, ugly thing, with serrated edges. A Bowie knife. Where had he hidden that thing?

A voice suddenly came out from among the shadows — disembodied, hushed, deadly. It made her blood run cold. “I was beginning to wonder whether you’d lost all your training.”

Jaymee gasped, looking around. She couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a swishing noise, and something streaked past. Nick cursed and grabbed his arm. She turned and gaped in horror.

It was the strangest feeling, as if she were watching everything from far away. But this was real; she knew it was unbelievably real. That was real blood oozing out between Nick’s fingers where he was clutching his bicep.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Nine

The evening sun was spotty among the trees and bushes, making it impossible to discern between shadows and shapes. Jaymee looked around, trying to calm her overworking imagination. Right now, even the trees looked gothic and menacing.

She glanced back Nick, who had instinctively pulled her closer. He wasn’t paying attention to her right now, his gaze darting around and searching for their unseen assailant. The deadly expression on his face made her catch her breath.

There was a whooshing sound from her left, and he immediately pulled her out of the way. The thing, whatever it was, flew by her at tremendous speed, so close she felt the little breeze it made. She was too shocked to make a sound.

“Better,” the disembodied voice continued, dark and sinister in the stillness. “I think I’ll go for the jugular next.”

“Come out, damn it!” Nick challenged.

Jaymee could only stare in muted horror as a shadow jumped in front of him and started attacking. Nick pushed her from him with one hand while his other blocked a chop. She watched with disbelief as the two men fought, both strangely silent through their exertions. They moved in some kind of stylized exercise, although the grunts of pain when their punches and kicks connected told her the fight was quite real. Their assailant had his back to her. He wasn’t as tall as Nick, but was obviously as strong and capable, as he countered Nick’s blows with swift retaliation. She found herself gripping her throat in horror when one of his kicks connected and Nick cursed, grabbing at his wound, before he ducked low. The Bowie knife fell on the ground.

There must be something she could do! Wildly searching the ground around her, she picked up a sturdy looking branch. Without further thinking, she charged at the stranger with the branch high and aimed at his head. Either she missed, or he moved, she didn’t know—she had her eyes closed—and the momentum of her forceful blow brought her right in the middle of the action and she landed on her knees. Frightened out of her mind, she hurled the branch in her hand at the attacker, then whatever she could grab—rocks, twigs, dirt, whatever. Someone’s arm encircled hers to her body and lifted her off her feet. Screaming, she kicked out in panic, trying to escape, her loosened hair flying around her shaking head like a whip.

“Stop it! Damn it, Jaymee! Stop!”

It took a few frenzied minutes before it sunk in it was Nick who had imprisoned her in his arms, and that the attacker was standing in front of them. He just stood there, watching, his hands relaxed by his sides. Jaymee ceased her struggles and stared back, her breath coming out in short gasps.

“Damn it,” Nick said in a low voice, “what the hell did you do that for? You could have met with me later.”

It took a second or two before Jaymee registered he wasn’t talking to her, but to the stranger. She went limp with astonishment. He knew their attacker? Why, then, did this man try to hurt him?

“How?” asked the stranger. He was very soft-spoken, as if he seldom raised his voice. There was a hint of mockery in it now. “I didn’t know you’d grown a Siamese twin for company. It’s been almost three days, and I still haven’t seen you actually alone yet.”

Nick gently put Jaymee on her feet. Turning her around, he studied her dirt-streaked face, making sure she was unharmed. He lifted a few curls plastered against her cheek. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

She nodded, still trying to grasp what was happening. “Your arm! He…he shot you or something!”

Rage filled her at the thought of his being injured, and she was about to whirl around to confront the enemy again when Nick gathered her into his arms. He looked down at her tenderly, a small smile forming on his lips.

“It’s OK,” he assured her, reading her mind, knowing her fiery temper by now. “He didn’t really hurt me. He was playing around.”

Jaymee looked up and followed his gaze as he looked over her head at the other man, who lifted an insolent brow in answer. She frowned, more than a little confused.

“Playing around?” She touched Nick’s injured arm, checking the wound that had stopped bleeding. There was a vertical slice across the flesh, but it didn’t look very deep. “This is playing around?”

Her voice was slightly higher than usual. She showed him the blood on her fingers.

Nick sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Jaymee...” he began.

But Jaymee wasn’t in the mood to be placated. She turned around to face this man who was “playing around.” The first thing that caught her attention was his strange eyes, set off by the tanned face. They were very light, the color of chipped ice, as they glittered out of his face. Her mouth gaped as realization dawned.

“Why, you’re related!”

He had Nick’s eyes, the same shape, down to the long eyelashes, although there was no blue in them as he returned her stare with the same familiar watchfulness Nick had. The deadly coldness in them made her shiver, in spite of the humidity of the evening. Wolf eyes. And this one was a killer wolf. He was shorter, but had the same slanted shoulders, the same whipcord leanness. His face was rugged, with chiseled features. She realized he looked so menacing because there was simply no expression on his hard face. But those eyes. And those long, long lashes.

Nick stroked her tensed back. “Yes, this is my cousin, Jed.”

The man didn’t attempt to shake her hand or acknowledge her in any way. Instead, he turned his attention back to Nick.

“I got tired of waiting. After checking her out, I calculated no risk in exposing myself when she’s with you.”

“You didn’t answer my message. I couldn’t know for sure whether you’d reach me so soon,” Nick explained.

Jed nodded. “Too dangerous. I need to talk to you face-to-face.” The corner of his lips lifted in a mere trace of mockery. “I’m sorry to have to interrupt your plans. I’ll try to make this quick.”

Nick squeezed Jaymee’s shoulder lightly, then walked over to his cousin. She continued staring, absorbing the meaning of “checked her out” and “too dangerous.” She watched the two men lock arms in salute.

“Long time, cousin. Hoo-yah, Airborne.”

“Hoo-yah. All-the-way,” Jed greeted back softly. “We thought you didn’t jump out of the boat in time.”

Nick shrugged. “It was close.” He stepped back, then moved toward a clump of trees. “Were you standing here when you tried to scare me, you son of a bitch?”

“No, I was at six-o’clock.”

He frowned. “Funny, I thought I saw a shadow here first.” A wry smile suddenly curved his lips, and he gave a loud sigh. He called out, loud and mocking, “If I find worms in my hair this time, I’m going to turn you over my knee!”

The rustling of leaves above Nick caught Jaymee’s attention, and her eyes widened even more when someone popped out from the low branches, hanging upside-down. A woman—she noted, growing ever more amazed—because of the two pigtails hanging down.

“So if they’re spiders, I’m OK, right, Cousin Kill?”

Not a woman, Jaymee realized, but a teenager. With green hair.

Nick reached up and tugged at the green pigtails. The owner deliberately tumbled down and he caught her in his arms without missing a step. “You’ve grown, little trouble,” he said to the bundle he held.

“Little Trouble” wrapped her arms around Nick’s neck and gave him an affectionate smack on the lips. Jaymee felt a tug of jealousy. “Not so little. I’m a grown woman, Kill!”

“One with green hair. How interesting,” drawled Nick. He set her down and looked at Jaymee again, his arm around the younger girls’ shoulders. He gave her a searching look, but couldn’t gauge her mood. “This is my second cousin, Jaymee.”

“Little Trouble,” chirped the girl with an impish grin, giving a small wave.

Jaymee liked her immediately. She had an engaging smile and the face of a doll.

“Grace,” Nick said, pulling a pigtail. “Her hair is usually a very normal brown.”

Grace, Jaymee assumed, must be Jed’s child, although with her green hair and dark brown eyes, she didn’t share any family resemblance to the two men. She was actually very exotic looking. She must also have a foreign mother, judging from the almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. She was about her height, with a slim body, a lively face, and especially bold eyes.

“Hello,” she greeted back.

“Sorry we startled you, Miss Barrows. Jed didn’t mean it, honest.”

Jed? She called her father Jed? This was giving Jaymee a headache. And how did this girl know her name? With a helpless shrug, she glanced back at Nick. He was studying her, that watchful look back in his slate-gray eyes. With his dirty tee-shirt, his black hair dampened by sweat, and dried blood staining his arm, he looked intimidating. Letting go of Grace, he walked back toward her.

His voice was soft and persuasive. “Look, I know you’re confused and have questions, but I can’t talk now. I need to have a private chat with Jed. Why don’t you run back home first and clean up? I’ll join you later.”

Jaymee cocked her head to one side as she regarded Nick for a moment. Soft and persuasive wasn’t going to save Nick Langley from telling her exactly what was going on. He wasn’t going to sidetrack her with that killer charm this time. She was getting profoundly tired of making wild guesses.

“I can do that, cousin Kill,” she acquiesced, but her eyes spoke volumes. “Have your relatives eaten dinner? Maybe they would like a bite to eat?”

Nick glanced over his shoulder at Jed. He saw the questions in Jaymee’s eyes, and knew the night of hot wild sex he’d planned wasn’t going to happen. Another painful thing he could blame on his dear cousin, and, for whom, he added, he had a few questions too. Like, why was Grace with him? It was the first time he’d seen his cousin bring his daughter anywhere while on a mission. Something definitely wasn’t right.

“A drink will be nice, but no need for food, thank you,” Jed replied for Nick. “May Grace go with you, Miss Barrows? I promise to get her off your hands as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Jaymee said, and smiled at the teenager. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“She isn’t allowed anything but water,” Jed said.

“Don’t you trust me, Daddy Dearest?” Grace mocked, suddenly sounding very grown up. Her calling Jed ‘dad’ confirmed Jaymee’s suspicion of their relationship, but her demeanor was hardly daughter-like, as she stood there, laughter in her eyes. So different from that cold, expressionless man she was addressing.

“I just wanted to make sure Miss Barrows doesn’t tempt you with orange juice,” he replied calmly.

Grace groaned, as if in pain. Then she pouted.

Jaymee frowned, puzzled. “She can’t drink anything but water? Do you have a special diet, Grace?”

The young girl sighed dramatically. “No,” she answered in a doleful voice. “I’m in training.” Realizing Jaymee’s incomprehension, she continued, “I can’t eat for two days, you see, and I’m addicted to OJ. See you later, Jed.”

Moving down the path Jaymee and Nick had earlier taken, Grace turned to look back at the two men, with a cheeky smile and the two green pigtails that made her look like an imp. “Oh, by the way, how much do you want me to tell her when she questions me, Nick?”

Her voice was innocent enough, but Jaymee noted the very adult mockery in those dark eyes. She seemed to be taking a lot of delight in riling her cousin.

“Enough to live up to your name, trouble,” answered Nick wryly.

Grace chuckled and skipped out of sight. Jaymee threw Nick a troubled gaze before following the younger girl, backtracking to her house.

Nick plowed his fingers through his damp hair. “What was with that fucking dramatic entrance? You scared the hell out of her.”

Jed calmly brushed dirt off his clothes. “She’s quite brave, attacking me like that.” He gave that ghost of a smile again. “Protecting her big, strong lover.”

Nick considered Jed more his brother than cousin. They had grown up together—Jed on the streets in Dublin and he, in a farm house, not far outside the city. His parents were very poor, but his cousin had it worse, showing up now and then at their door with bruises left by his stepfather. He loved his cousin, but the son of a bitch was proud and refused any help of any kind. One day, he’d just disappeared and they’d all thought him dead. One never knew with Dublin. Gang warfare, crime, poverty, and political assassinations were tough on a kid living on the streets.

A few years later, Jed had suddenly reappeared—a very different Jed, in uniform—and had invited Nick to get out of Ireland, like he did. Nick went. He had then served with him in the same Ranger platoon.

It was Jed who had recruited him into COMCEN’s Virus Program, as part of the nine-member unit, a team of evasive experts trained in various ways to destroy. Nick’s expertise was in the electronic area, in breaking codes and eliminating enemy plans by planting counter-programs within their computer, missile, and satellite systems. Jed had similar training, but his job was deadlier. He assimilated information when there was no way to steal into the system electronically, and he was, simply put, an assassin. Jed was one of the few people Nick knew whose switch was always off. Those few years he’d disappeared—whatever training he’d undergone had taken away a part of his soul.

“Gracie mentioned she’s in training,” he said, a slight frown forming. “Why are you doing that?”

Grace was sixteen or seventeen—he could never remember—but being that she barely saw her father between assignments, the fact she was in training with him now was significant.

Jed didn’t answer immediately. Walking behind a bush, he pulled out two backpacks. In a voice devoid of emotion, he said, “They cancelled Diamond’s wife.”

Nick inhaled sharply, shocked. “Emma is dead?” he repeated the information slowly. He couldn’t believe it. Emma was part of an independent agency called GEM. An old girlfriend, in fact. Good friends afterwards, he was the one who had introduced her, code-named Emerald, to Diamond, joking they would make the perfect engagement ring. They had hit it off immediately and he had been glad for them. Anger struggled with rising grief. “Not…like my accident?”

Jed slung one backpack on. “There was nothing we could do. Diamond and I were standing on the beach.”

“Explosives,” breathed out Nick. His hand fisted. He cursed once. Twice. But it didn’t ease the pain of losing a friend. “How’s Diamond taking it?”

“He’s AWOL at the moment. There was also a bomb planted in Winter’s farmhouse. They’re targeting family members.”

Realization dawned. “That’s why you have Gracie with you.”

Jed nodded. “I left a message at Command saying I won’t be back till they find me. That should give me enough time to train Grace. I connect through to check up on activities now and then, and caught your message. That’s why we’re here so soon. Grace and I were in the vicinity, since I wanted to train her in jungle heat for a while.”

“Does this mean the killers know all our identities?” Nick asked. Things were worse than he’d suspected. He’d thought only he was the target, not the entire unit.

“No way of knowing, but they’re looking for the few of us from that last assignment. Command sent out trackers to neutralize the situation. It’ll take some time.”

“That’s why you left me the message to stay dead. You didn’t want the enemy to know I was still alive.”

“Not until you were aware of the situation,” Jed agreed, throwing the other backpack at Nick.

They made their way slowly toward Jaymee’s house. Jed kept quiet, giving Nick time to absorb and process the information.

Nick ran through the events that had led up to the last meeting. He mentally skipped past the knowledge his friends were dead. Not now. Later.

A few minutes later, he said, “They think they’d gotten rid of me, but they aren’t sure whether the others have my information. Someone betrayed us because they knew our rendezvous point.”

“That means they are after four of us, me included,” Jed said without any inflection in his tone. “I suspected as much. Now you know why I want Grace with me, prepared to defend herself if needed.”

Nick nodded. Grace was probably the only person in the world Jed loved. There was no closer relationship he knew than Jed’s and Grace’s, and certainly none stranger. They were more equal friends than they were the usual father-daughter bonding. Grace had known about her father’s “different” lifestyle since she could talk, and had basically grown up without a parent, living with her maternal grandmother in Ohio. Nick loved her, but sometimes she was too mature in her observations even for him.

Jed interrupted his thoughts. “Do you have it?”

Nick understood his reference. “Yes.”

“Where is it?”

“I haven’t broken the code yet.”

“We have to do it and give the code to Command. That’s the only way to neutralize them, destroy their satellites.”

“Yes,” Nick agreed. “I’m close. I’ll hook it up tonight and you can take a look. We’ll decide on the course of action.”

“What about your other plans with Miss Barrows?” Again, that very light mockery seeped back into Jed’s voice.

Nick sighed. “I’m going to have to make some deft explanations.”

“Lie,” Jed suggested.

“She hates lies, and sees right through them.”

Jed arched an eyebrow. “It’s part of the job, Nick. Evasion is our unit’s core work,” he reminded him smoothly.

“She’s not an assignment, Jed,” said Nick, in a low and furious voice.

“She’ll be your weak link, and then they will come after her.”

“Not going to let that happen.”

They broke out from the woods, walking into the well-kept back yard of the house.

Jed’s light eyes glittered in the setting darkness. “Don’t make my mistake.”

Nick didn’t say anything, although he knew what Jed meant. Jed never spoke about his wife to anyone else, not even his daughter. Grace had grown up thinking her mother had died a natural death.

Staring up into the lit windows of the ranch house, with that back porch he had grown to like, Nick remembered the vision of Jaymee and her children. He recalled his silent promise to leave her with good memories and a hopeful future. There wasn’t much time left, now that Jed had shown up. There was a mission he had to accomplish, and once it was over, he was going to have to leave Jaymee. He had to, for her safety. There was no way he was going to put her in danger and lose her. Like Diamond lost his wife. His lips set into a tight straight line as he made his way toward the lit house. His companion didn’t utter a word, his silver eyes hooded and thoughtful.

***

Back at her house, Jaymee brought out some washcloths, knowing she would probably need some for the two men who were coming behind them. The initial fright when she first met this strange father-daughter team had disappeared, especially since the younger girl was a normal, talkative teenager. Granted, she looked weird with that green hair and she did come up with some very adult observations now and then, but she found Grace a very smart and interesting young lady.

In fact, she felt startlingly calm about the whole thing. In the back of her mind, she knew she was just going through the motions, that in reality, she wanted to scream and pound on something in frustration. Instinct told her she was going to lose Nick—was that even his real name?—very soon. She breathed in deeply. She would stay calm. No sense in being angry over what she’d warned herself all along.

Pushing away her troubled thoughts, she studied the younger girl as she cleaned up at the sink. With the green hair and exotic features, she looked extremely alien in Jaymee’s very normal kitchen. Small boned and doll-like, her skin shone like fine porcelain, rosy with the bloom of youth. Now that they were in a brightly-lit room, she could see where the girl resembled her father. She had the same mouth, the lower lip full and generous, except she tended to keep hers in the typical sulky teenage pout. It made her look very grown-up. And on her chin was a tiny dimple she’d noticed on her father’s, not as deep a cleft, but still emphasizing her mouth like an exclamation point.

When Grace was done, Jaymee offered her another glass of water. She went to sit at the kitchen table, meeting her scrutiny with knowing eyes, as if she had been aware of being watched. Her brown eyes sparkled with a boldness beyond her years, which from a quick guess, was either fifteen or sixteen. She took several greedy swallows of water, reminding Jaymee of the earlier conversation in the woods.

“Tell me about your training,” she said, wetting a washcloth for herself. “Are you sure you can’t take anything but water?”

“Don’t even show me any OJ,” Grace said, then rolled her eyes before smiling cheekily. “Jed is drying me out. I’m doing survivalist training, a more sophisticated way of calling dieting to near-death.”

“Sounds horrible,” Jaymee remarked casually.

“It is horrible. You should hear my tummy after two days without food.”

“What?” Jaymee put down her cloth, shocked. There was simply no reason to put a young girl through that. Maybe they were just too poor? “You’re going to eat right now.”

However, Grace just shook her head emphatically. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Jaymee was outraged. That cousin of Nick’s must be insane. “You don’t have any extra pounds to lose, Grace.” She walked to the refrigerator. “Come on, don’t be proud. What would you like to eat? Chicken? A hamburger? Salad?”

Grace leaned back in her chair, her eyes clear and solemn. “Thank you for caring,” she said, suddenly very polite, “but my dad and I have a program to follow. We’ll eat tomorrow, don’t worry. Maybe he’ll even let me have some juice.” She tempered her refusal with a smile.

Jaymee shook her head in exasperation. “This is getting more confusing by the minute,” she said to no one in particular. “Tell me something, Grace, why did your father hurt Nick?”

The girl shrugged, playing with the rim of her glass. “He was too slow.”

“What?”

“Jed would never hurt Killi…Nick intentionally, Miss Barrows. Nick was...ah...not paying attention.”

“That doesn’t explain anything!” Jaymee exclaimed. “People don’t go around hurling missiles at their cousins to see whether they’re paying attention!”

People didn’t go around with green hair either, but here was one person doing that. In fact, people didn’t go around pretending to be construction workers when they were electronic experts either, and she knew of someone like that too. All in all, she decided she was seeing too many people who weren’t what they seemed and she was getting heartily tired of it.

Grace just gave her a wink, then examined her fingernails, which were also bright green. “I’ll leave Nick to explain that one,” she told her, humor in her dark eyes.

Jaymee looked at Grace across the room, not at all sure how to handle a fifteen year-old going on twenty. “OK, tell me this. What were you two doing on my property?”

“We traced Nick’s instructions to here, but couldn’t get him alone,” Grace explained. “I guess Jed decided he didn’t want to wait another night outside the other house. Too many mosquitoes in your woods, Miss Barrows.”

“Jaymee,” Jaymee said absently, still trying to untangle the knot of information in her brain. “What do you mean, traced Nick to here? Didn’t you know where he was all along?”

Grace stretched her back sinuously, reminding Jaymee of a lazy kitten. Twirling the end of one of her pigtails with a finger, she sat considering an answer for a few moments. Finally, she replied carefully, “Nick hasn’t told you anything at all, has he?”

It was humiliating to admit such a thing, especially to a cocky teenager. She refused to feel angry or hurt, emotions she associated with the opposite sex, emotions she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for a long time now. She had no one but herself to blame, since she had known all along Nick was hiding something from her.

Stiffly, she acknowledged, “He told me he wasn’t running away from the law.”

“Oh, he certainly isn’t a criminal.” Grace looked in the direction of the door. “In fact, I hear them coming right now. I’m sure he’ll answer everything you want to know.”

“Right,” muttered Jaymee under her breath, walking over to refill the girl’s empty glass. “Like his real name, for starters. Didn’t you call him some other name?”

The younger girl grinned. “It’s easy, Jaymee. With men like my cousin, you just got to ask the right questions.” She leaned confidentially over the table, a very female smile on her lips, and added, “I’ll teach you how to handle an evasive expert, if you like.”

Jaymee stared at her. Evasive expert. He’d used just that term the other day, damn his soul. Was there anything he said to her which wasn’t part of a game?

“Oh joy,” she enthused in a flat voice.

***

Nick didn’t like Jaymee in her present mood at all. He sensed the change in her the moment he stepped into the kitchen with Jed. She was standing at the sink, washing the last of the dirt off her hands and arms, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She glanced up, caught his stare, then looked away. He especially didn’t like the look in her eyes. They were that murky color again as she gazed at him like he was some strange insect. He had expected anger, anticipated a heated argument, not this cool and withdrawn woman. He didn’t like it. It infuriated him she closed him off so easily.

After laying down the backpack, he walked in measured steps towards her, as she continued cleaning her hands with calm absorption. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, make her pay attention to him.

“Sorry to crowd up your kitchen,” he said instead, although he knew he needed to apologize for more than that.

Strange how very familiar he had become to her, standing there by her sink. In her house. Yet, she really didn’t know him at all. “No big deal,” she told him, dropping a clean, wet cloth into his hand. Averting her eyes, she turned to the other man. “Want a drink, Jed?”

“Please, thanks,” Jed answered, putting down his backpack. He looked at his daughter. “How many glasses?”

Grace showed him two fingers. Nick, unable to catch Jaymee’s gaze, joined his niece at the table. He gave her an affectionate smile as he wiped away the blood and dirt.

“Why the green hair, trouble?”

Grace shrugged. “It seemed a good idea at the time.”

“You should have seen her date,” Jed said. He accepted the glass of water and washcloth from Jaymee. “Thanks, Miss Barrows. He had purple hair.”

Laughing, Grace defended her date. “I thought he looked cute.”

“So your dad punished you by making you train with him, huh?” Nick teased, ruffling her green hair.

Grace wrinkled her nose. “Nah, I was going to drop him, anyhow.”

“Why, didn’t you like the poor boy?” mocked Nick. “Or, did daddy scare him?”

“I don’t scare her dates. I reason with them,” Jed said, leaning against the counter.

Grace looked at Jaymee and rolled her eyes. “He reasoned by standing threateningly outside on the porch and not saying a word to poor Tommy. Pfffft!” She stretched, again reminding Jaymee of a sleepy kitten. “Oh well, it saved me from hurting his feelings that night.”

“Why?” Jaymee asked, intrigued. Her own dating experience had been sadly lacking, and certainly never would have encompassed a purple-haired date.

“His hair color clashed with mine,” Grace explained with such dead seriousness the adults in the room burst out in laughter.

Well, two of them, anyway, Jaymee corrected. Jed merely smiled, if that slight tug of those lips could be called a smile. “We can’t have that,” she agreed.

“I’m staying at the beachside. You can bunk there, if you like,” Nick told Jed.

“A bed? A shower?” Grace chipped in, grinning. “Wow, what’s that?”

Jaymee frowned. This was going too far. She usually disliked prying into other people’s business because she resented it when others did it to her, but the idea of a young girl being forced to live without food, bed and shower was too difficult to accept. Didn’t she need to go to school, or something? She must help this child. She looked at Jed.

“Where were you two staying when you were waiting to get Nick alone?”

“I’m sure you know that we were trespassing on your property, Miss Barrows.” Jed’s light eyes met hers squarely.

“Please call me Jaymee,” she said. “I don’t understand this training business Grace has been telling me about. You can’t do that to a growing girl, not allowing her to eat for two days! It’s unhealthy, to say the least. And what’s this about no shower or bed?”

Jed shot Nick a glance, which the latter answered with a crooked grin. “It’s called survival training for a reason,” he told her, in his soft-spoken manner.

“Training for what?” retorted Jaymee. The man had to see he couldn’t starve his daughter. “Armageddon? I’m taking her to an outdoor birthday party tomorrow, and she’ll be eating and drinking.”

She stared back challengingly at the dark and brooding man, very aware of Nick’s watchful gaze on her. She was still afraid of this cousin of his. There was something very elemental about him that made her extremely uncomfortable when he stood too near. But Grace brought out inexplicably motherly instincts in her, and she felt the girl needed a woman’s hand. There was something wild about her.

Grace laid her head against Nick’s shoulder and purred out, “I like her. She’s yelling at Dad.”

“Better him than me,” murmured back Nick amiably. He hid his frustration as he willed Jaymee to meet his eyes, something she had steadfastly avoided since he and Jed came in. “She does have a temper, Jed.”

“We’ve witnessed it first hand, when she yelled on the roof,” Jed told him. He placed the empty glass on the counter and straightened up. “Grace is supposed to eat tomorrow, anyway, so I won’t argue. She can go with you.”

“You can come along too,” Jaymee invited.

“No, thank you. I don’t attend parties.”

“Free food, Dad. Come on,” coaxed Grace. “You can torture me later.”

“You go ahead.”

Nick stood up. “Come on then. I’ll take you to my place.” Tossing Jed the keys to his Jeep, he added, “I assume you know which vehicle outside is mine. I’ll join you in a few.”

Jed nodded. “Grab the backpack, Grace.”

His daughter obediently did as she was told, and the two of them went outside after greeting Jaymee goodnight.

Nick studied Jaymee as she gathered up the empty glasses and dirty washcloths. She was banging the glasses a lot louder than needed, although the blank expression on her face betrayed nothing. He felt his own anger surging as she gave him the silent treatment. Oh no, she wasn’t going to withdraw the same way she did every time her father bothered her. He wouldn’t allow it. A few swift strides and he was behind her at the sink and without warning, he turned the water off.

Jaymee calmly wrung the washcloths dry. She fought the urge to lean back against his hard body, to feel his arms around her again. “So, where did you learn how to move like that?” she casually asked, flapping the wet cloths.

Nick reached over and pulled the cloths out of her hand before turning her around. “It won’t work, you know.”

“What won’t work?”

“I won’t let you withdraw from me, Jaymee. You can try your polite sarcasm on someone else, like your father. Look at me, damn it!” He forced her chin up. “I know I owe you some answers, but I’ve to go with Jed right now. Will you be up late tonight?”

That did get her to look at him. “You’re presumptuous. Maybe I don’t want you to come back tonight,” she said.

“Where do you suppose I’m going to sleep, with Jed and Grace in my little efficiency?” He caressed her back, felt the involuntary response. “What, are you a use-em-leave-em kind of woman?”

“You aren’t getting off this time, Nick or Kill, or whoever you are,” Jaymee warned, glaring at him now. “You’ve put me off with kisses long enough. I want to know.”

His crooked smile only made her madder. She balled her hand and jabbed it into his flat tummy. She couldn’t really draw her elbow back enough to land the hard blow she had in mind, but the grunt it elicited gave her a certain amount of satisfaction.

“What was that for?” he asked, rubbing where she hit.

“I thought that was the standard greeting from your family and friends. They attack you without warning,” Jaymee sweetly told him. “I was assured by Grace you usually jump out of the way fast enough, that this time you weren’t paying attention.”

“I was distracted,” Nick agreed. He continued his caress. “Let me come back over tonight, Jaymee.”

“I need time alone. I want to think things over.” Not that it would help, since she couldn’t make heads or tails about this man, except she’d fallen in love with him. “Besides, I need to do some paperwork tonight.”

Pride made her bite down on the questions churning inside her. If he wouldn’t tell her, she wouldn’t ask. She would never ask anything from a man again.

“I want to be with you, you know that,” Nick said, his eyes glittering with suppressed emotion. “Why do you think I’ve been spending virtually every moment with you?”

Jaymee let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” she replied, suddenly tired. “I do know, yet I don’t know. I want to know, and I don’t want to know.”

She drew a tentative finger down the front of his tee-shirt. He grabbed her finger and lifted it to his lips, feathering a kiss on the tip, then lightly biting it. She closed her eyes at the feel of his tongue and his teeth.

“All right.” She gave in. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked. I’ll probably be up in the study.”

“No, lock the door,” Nick ordered. “Give me a spare key.”

It rankled he expected her to trust him so absolutely. Such male arrogance. “And if I don’t?”

But Nick had been on Programmer mode since Jed had pulled that stunt on them in the woods. Even as he fumed over Jaymee’s sudden coolness, the trained part of him was calmly assessing his options. He needed her to give in, and knew which switch to pull to get her to give in to him. Although another part of him recoiled at the thought of taking advantage of her, he blocked it off. He was the Programmer, and manipulation was what he did best. Later, he would study this unnatural reluctance when it came to Jaymee, but right now, he acted by instinct.

He smiled, and watched the sudden wary look in her eyes. Amazing how she was always aware something was wrong, even though she never knew what he was up to. It was easy to reassume the role of lover, before Jed’s unexpected interruption. All he had to do was think of her in his arms. Naked. And doing… He gave an inward sigh. Bad idea. He leaned closer, wishing he had more time.

“If you don’t give me a spare key,” he cajoled, “I’ll huff and puff till your house falls down, and then you’re going to be sorry, because I’d probably eat you.” He caught the beginning of a hint of humor on her tempting lips, and felt relieved. “Give me the key, sweetheart, and a nice kiss before I go.”

Jaymee could never resist him when he smiled like that. The horrid thing was, she knew he did it on purpose too, that he was being exactly what she’d known him to be. By acting like the bad boy she’d accused him of, he sweet-talked with words, seducing her to do exactly what he wanted. She just couldn’t resist that smile.

She faked a glare as she allowed herself to be led from the sink area. Pulling out a drawer, she found the spare key and dropped it into his open hand. She continued glaring at him when he pointed at his lips with a long, index finger. Putting both hands against his hard chest, she stood on tiptoes, and when his head came down, she gave him the merest wisp of a kiss, then gave him a slight push.

He grinned. “It’s Killian Nicholas Langley, so I haven’t been lying. Lock up behind me.”

He turned and disappeared out into the night. Jaymee stared at the door for along moment, then turned the lock. She felt as empty as the house.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Ten

Balance the checkbook. Update the payroll. Write down the week’s mileage. Check the inventory. Jaymee went through her routine, finding comfort in the familiar. This was what she had deliberately made her life, and boring as it may be, it offered a sense of security, a sense of control. When Danny had left them in chaos, she’d come up with a plan. Simplify. Cut out everything and just simplify. It was an escape and a solution. It helped her to stay sane when her mother’s health worsened and her father went to the hospital, fallen by a stroke. It gave her a sense of direction when she was lost under a pile of credit lawyer mail, demanding payments.

Numbers and planning. The step-by-step climb back to some semblance of control had counted on these details, and Jaymee found out the more she simplified things, the more she got things done.

However, somewhere along the line, she had also decided to ignore her emotional needs. Emotions fed chaos, she reasoned, and thus, she’d simplified her life one step further—stay away from relationships.

The first few years after Danny went by in a blur. She buried her pain under a mountain of responsibilities, and by the time she surfaced, she’d retreated inside, hiding behind work. There were times when she was lonely, but it was used to forge another brick into her wall of resistance.

Jaymee liked living inside her little self-contained area. Life was simple. And safe.

So, why did she venture out of her nice, safe haven? Neither nice nor safe. She managed a small smile as she plugged numbers and signed checks. Nick—Killian—had warned her he was neither, and she’d still plunged unheedingly into a relationship with him. She took a long swallow from her drink, staring at the columns on the screen.

The problem was, the parts she knew of the man on her mind wouldn’t add up like her balance sheets. He could charm and seduce like the best of them, all right, but she had also seen the side of him that was edgy and powerful. Tonight, there had been something dark and frightening in his eyes when he thought they were being ambushed.

And what ordinary person got ambushed, for God’s sake? She speared her hair in disbelief as the possibilities of what that incident meant played havoc with her imagination.

The sound of the back door caught her attention, and she heard her father’s familiar walk. “Jaymee girl?” he called out.

“I’m in here.”

Bob opened the study door and looked into the room before walking in. “Alone?” he asked.

Jaymee waited a beat for the usual deprecatory remarks that followed, but none came. Looking at her father, she was surprised to find him clear-eyed.

“Yes,” she answered, studying him.

Bob glanced at the computer and the papers on the desk. “Have you found more work to replace the Hidden Hills subdivision?”

Jaymee shook her head. “I haven’t been looking around. Several builders have some work for me, so I’m not too worried.”

“Yes, but a subdivision is steady work. It’s a shame we lost the account.”

We? Did she hear right? It had been forever since her father included himself in the business. “That’s true,” she agreed. “Is there anything you needed, Dad?”

Bob picked up a bill from the pile, looked at it, then put it back. “I just wondered how the inspection had affected our business, that’s all. Builders don’t take kindly to undernailing. I’m worried that word might get around.”

Her father was behaving very strangely. Something was different, the way he spoke, the way he looked at her. Pushing her chair away from the table, she stood up.

“Nothing to worry about,” she said. “I had the inspector give me copies of his findings. Whoever sent in the complaint didn’t know I’d gone back to check the roofs.”

She left out Chuck’s and Rich’s names. Bob surprised her by bringing them up himself.

“You went back because you knew about Chuck and Rich all along.”

Jaymee shrugged, wondering where her father was trying to trip her up. “I had my suspicions.”

“And you made sure those roofs were done right after firing them, didn’t you? You’ve always taken care of everything, haven’t you?”

“Why the sudden interest, Dad?”

He fidgeted with the papers again, drawing a slight frown from Jaymee. “Everything’s in order, right?” he continued in that half-stating, half-questioning tone of voice. “All caught up.”

“Dad?” She wondered whether he was really as sober as he appeared.

“That computer makes all the paperwork so much easier, doesn’t it?” he went on, still fidgeting with the bills.

Jaymee studied her father a few seconds. “Paperwork is still paperwork,” she said slowly. “I’m really behind filing these bills away.”

Bob cleared his throat. “Is it still the same system?”

She nodded, too stunned for a moment to say anything. Finally, she said, “There’s a pile of bills in the shoebox that needs sorting.”

Her father avoided meeting her eyes. “Good. Well, good night. I suppose you’ll be at Mindy’s party tomorrow.”

“Yes. Good night.”

She remained where she was as her father closed the door behind him. She couldn’t recall the last time her father hadn’t been caustic or drunk while talking to him. Tonight, he was neither.

She was tired. It had been a very long day and a nap sounded a lot more tempting than house chores. She dimmed the lights and lay down on the sofa. If Nick didn’t show up by midnight, she would go to bed. Closing her eyes, she let out a long sigh. She didn’t even know where he stayed. Details, she needed details.

***

Nick checked the time as he made his way to the back of Jaymee’s house. She had left the porch light on for him. He paused for a second before inserting the key into the lock and turned. Such a familiar act, turning a key and walking into a house in the dark. Familiar and intimate. He smiled humorlessly.

Things hadn’t quite gone the way he’d wanted this evening. Jed’s sudden appearance not only changed his plans, but also sped up his intention to slowly reveal himself to Jaymee. There was no hope for that now, knowing how her mind worked. Not after she’d witnessed that little display in the woods. Jed had done it deliberately, of course. Jed, who never stopped pushing anyone to his limit, who constantly tested everyone around him. Nick’s lips curled up resolutely. He’d be damned if he allowed his cousin to test Jaymee or toy with her in one of his usual mind games. Not this time, cuz.

Light shone from beneath the study door and he quietly opened it. The computer was still on, but Jaymee was curled up on the couch, her face hidden against the back pillows. Closing the door, he lay down the book bag he’d brought along, and went to sit on the floor by the sofa. He heard her soft, even breathing, and didn’t have the heart to wake her. She didn’t sleep enough as it was.

He glanced back at the computer. He’d shown Jed how far along he’d gotten before he was alerted there was an explosive aboard his boat. After debriefing him, Jed had agreed they needed to break the code before he could surface again. If the program fell into the wrong hands now, the loss of lives thus far would be a waste. Most of all, they needed to get the ones who were responsible for his near-demise, as well as their friends’ deaths. Their enemies weren’t stopping there, that was certain, and Jed wasn’t going to wait around for them to dig and find out about Grace. Nick could understand his determination, especially now he knew about Emma’s death. Reaching out, he wrapped a long ringlet of Jaymee’s hair around his finger. He didn’t think he could bear it if she was hurt because of the nature of his job.

He took out a flash drive from the side pocket of the book bag. Jed’s programs were nowhere near the capacity of what his specially-designed software could do, but since his precious belongings were at the bottom of the ocean, he would have to make do. It would take some time, with some serious rewriting, to get these programs ready the way he wanted them. Might as well get started while she slept.

***

Jaymee heard him at work even before she was truly awake. With her eyes still closed, she could see with her mind’s eye the expression on his face as he concentrated on the screen, his mouth occasionally quirking as he thought out a problem, his fingers moving knowledgeably on the keyboard.

She opened one eye. The room was in darkness, except for the illumination from the computer screen casting a silver gray glow over the man in her chair. He typed. Her computer flashed back answers to his commands. He typed some more.

She doubted she’d understand anything on the screen even if she were close enough to make out the lines. His familiar profile, silhouetted in the shadows, projected a mind in its element. He worked efficiently, communicating with that damn machine as if it hadn’t given her fits for months. She wrinkled her nose then gave in and smiled wryly. A man in deep thought was a very potent draw to a woman like her. Slowly, she sat up.

Nick didn’t turn around. “Don’t turn the light on,” he said, his fingers continuing their dance on the keyboard. “Come here, babe.”

It didn’t even surprise her any more, the way he knew she’d awakened. She rose, pushing away the sofa pillow, rubbing sleep from her face, and went to stand behind him. She was right. Nothing on that screen was comprehensible, as rows and rows of what she usually termed computer garbage flashed and disappeared. She wanted to touch him, but didn’t. At the moment, he had become a stranger.

He clicked the mouse, and after a series of beeps, her usual normal MENU popped back on the screen. Then, he whirled the office chair around to face her.

“Did you have a good sleep?”

She wished she could see his face, wondering why he’d turned off the lights. “Yes, I did. Is it very late?”

“Around midnight.”

She angled her head. “Not zero hundred hours?” she asked softly. When his hand reached up to touch her, she took a step back from him. “No. You aren’t going to divert me tonight with your evasive tactics, Nick.”

“I see you’ve been getting information.”

“Grace unintentionally let me know.”

His laughter was lightly mocking. “Wrong, sweetheart. Jed’s daughter never slips information unintentionally.”

Jaymee frowned. “You mean, she wanted me to know?”

Nick settled back into the chair and sighed. “Grace is her father’s daughter,” he explained. “She likes to test people. She obviously liked you enough to give your unasked questions some answers.”

“Not all my unasked questions. She wouldn’t tell me what it is you do.” She gestured at her computer. “What it is you were doing just now.”

In the darkness, his voice was enigmatic, with none of his soft drawl. “Tell me. What is it you think I do—was doing just now?”

He wasn’t fooling her this time. Glibly, she told him, “Certainly not my taxes. And you’re doing it again, making me go round and round while you sit there all detached. It’s pissing me off big time.”

There was a smile in his voice. “You haven’t done so badly, Jaymee. In fact, you’re closer to the truth than you think.”

She didn’t want to guess, didn’t want to be toyed with, any more. Glaring at the dark plains that were his features, she lashed out, “I know what my truth is, but what’s pissing me off is your deliberate ways to avoid telling the truth to me. Oh yes, let’s kiss Jaymee and distract her when she gets too close. Let’s bounce her on the bed if she asks too many questions.” She fought back hot tears. “You used me, Nick. Or Killian, whoever you are. You were playing with my mind all along, knowing my secrets, taking me down this far and no further. Well, no more, damn you! I’m not going to let you push my buttons, you...you....”

She wanted to call him a hurtful name, but couldn’t even think of any. Her heart ached too much.

Nick could see light reflecting from the tears in her eyes. His own feelings were a jumble of anger and regret. She was right, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to ease her pain. Even as he wanted to comfort her, the trained part of him was analyzing her and the situation, always in absolute control. How was he to explain he depended on that detachment to survive?

Her anger was justified, and he couldn’t bear to see her in pain. Yet he couldn’t deny a single one of her accusations. He’d taken and hadn’t given back, and he knew, for her, honesty was the most important thing in her life.

“Jaymee...” he began.

“No,” she interrupted. She took a deep breath and said in a clear, even voice, “I won’t be accused of emotional blackmail. You feel sorry for me now, so you’re going to throw out a few crumbs. You can keep your stupid secrets. I told you I grew up among men, and I understand more than you think…Nick. Placate the crying female. Stroke and pet her. Bah!” She made to turn away.

“Don’t. Don’t turn away from me.”

If he had shouted back, Jaymee would have walked away, just the same way she always did when her father went into one of his tirades. But Nick’s words were commandingly quiet, threaded with steel. She stood there, watching, as he stood up and loomed over her in the shadows. She could feel tension emanating from him and once again she was frustrated by the darkness in the room.

He read her mind. “Do you know why I won’t let you turn on the light?” he asked as he drew closer.

There was something very dangerous about this dark, faceless Nick, and Jaymee backed away, shaking her head. This was silly. She would not be intimidated. Forcing herself to stand still, she waited as he closed the few steps between them, until he was barely a few inches away.

“Do you feel the difference, Jaymee?” His hands snaked out, gathering her into his arms. His voice was just as dark and dangerous, and she could hear her heart begin to beat faster. “Do you feel this darkness that blankets us? Full of unspoken emotions. Danger, even. And then there’s the sunshine you work in, the hot and bright light in which you happily oversee every detail of your roofs. Up there, the sky’s always open, the breeze hits you in between blasts of heat, and you feel it and you marvel at how a breeze could make you feel so damn great. And if you see any storm clouds coming, you cover up the roof as best you could.” He sighed, and continued, “You can’t see where you’re going in the darkness, Jaymee. You have to rely on instinct, on manipulating every obstacle to your advantage, so you don’t trip over the unexpected. How do I make you understand? Maybe I can show you the difference”

His hands dropped away from her and this time it was he who stood back. The tension between them beat in unison with her heartbeat. Jaymee was very conscious of his anger, his frustration, his desire for her, as they stood facing each other. She had an odd feeling she’d just unleashed the real Nick Langley.

***

Jaymee shivered. She had wanted this, to unmask the mystery of her lover. This dangerous, shadowy figure was still Nick, yet…she sensed she was seeing him for the very first time. Here, in shadows, was the wolf she had always called him, without his disguise. She swallowed. Okay, maybe she should call him Killian right now.

Standing inches away, he didn’t attempt to touch her, but she was more aware than ever before of the idling power he always held back. Somehow, she’d been aware of this side of him, and had resented his self-control enough to constantly try to uncover his disguise. Now she wasn’t so sure whether that was such a great idea. She realized he was waiting for an answer.

Slowly, she reached out and placed both hands on his chest. His heart beat strongly under her palms. She slid them upwards, tracing the outline of his broad shoulders, and brought them down his biceps, feeling his unyielding strength as she massaged the muscles of his forearms. Moving closer, she brushed her body against his as she moved her hands back up his thighs, his sides, and pectorals, to link them behind his neck. She massaged his neck lightly and laid her cheek against his chest. Hot and musky. And totally male.

He may finally have revealed himself, but he was holding on to his control, as was his nature. She understood him better than he thought. He was trying to tell her his world was this maelstrom of darkness, the complete opposite to hers.

Not so opposite.

“There are risks in all aspects of life,” she said, carefully keeping her voice steady. It was difficult when she could feel his hunger for her vibrating like a live wire between them. Taking one of his limp hands, she placed it over her heart, and closed her eyes briefly to savor the feel of his touch. “I’ve been avoiding risks for eight years, until you came along. I came out of my own kind of darkness for you, darling.”

Her words, so softly spoken, acted as a grenade, blasting the granite restrain, and releasing the undercurrent of emotions he was holding in check. Jaymee felt a shot of hot breath. Caught a whiff of his scent. Then his lips were on hers, hard, bruising, possessive, as his tongue pushed inside her mouth. One hand tangled into her hair and pulled, making her gasp, opening her mouth wider for his taking.

Deliberately, he straightened up, and with his other hand against the small of her back, he forced her to follow him, until she stood on tiptoes as he continued kissing her, devouring her. She could only cling blindly, as he ignored her lack of height, arching her and pulling on her hair. Her feet dangled helplessly as she held on to her only support, the sheer dominance of his body purposely showing her his power. And it was she who had unleashed it.

This was the Nick she had often glimpsed when he was into her computer, totally absorbed in some program, absolutely in control of the situation. And there was nothing she could hide from him as she clung to him, depending on him not to let go, not to destroy her.

Vaguely, she felt him drag her pants down, along with her panties, and her helplessness multiplied a hundred-fold when his hand slid between her legs from behind and touched her. His tongue and fingers moved in rhythm until she went into a frenzy, kicking her pants off in her need to open her legs for more of his touch. Her whimpers against his mouth went unheeded as he continued his slow assault until, lost in the throes of desire, she could no longer hold onto him, her hands losing strength, as he brought her closer to climax.

It was an utterly devastating sensation, this sense of falling, as she gave up trying to hang on, and her whole weight sagged against his body. His hand was twined tightly in her hair, his other hand deeply imbedded in her. The more she slid down, the deeper she let his fingers inside her.

She cried out, half in fear of falling and half in shock at the unbearable tension coiling itself tighter and tighter till she thought she would explode. She could weigh ten pounds instead of her hundred and fifteen, the ease with which he held her, stimulating that most sensitive part of her with his fingers. She moaned, garbled protests in between pleas, every one of which was muffled by his mouth, as he walked toward the sofa behind her. Each movement rocked her, slid her up and down his knowing fingers, and she was completely in his power, to do as he pleased.

When he released her lips, she found herself being lowered into a half-sitting position on the soft seat of the sofa, and she moaned at the loss of the feel of his hard body. She opened her eyes at the sound of his zipper and tried to focus on the dark form before her.

Hands went under each of her knees, pulling her forward off the sofa until she was almost falling off again, and helplessly opened, she could only hold on to the wedge between the back sofa pillow and the seat as he thrust into her.

With one stroke, he invaded her soul.

Each time he pulled out, he took her a little further off the sofa, deliberately creating that defenseless, falling sensation. He let her know she depended on him. That he was the master controller.

Deeper, harder. And he opened her wider as he pulled out.

Jaymee couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could only feel the raw power of the man taking her. She moaned, the burning need for a release taking hold.

“Don’t scream, or I’ll stop.” His voice was rough.

And fingers touched her where they were connected and an incoherent cry rose from her lips, only to become a wail when he did exactly what he warned her he would do.

He stopped.

“No…!”

“You have to be quiet.” He touched her again.

“Yes,” she moaned back. Anything. Just...don’t...stop.

“I won’t. No screaming.”

She didn’t know she’d spoken aloud. She felt her legs being moved even higher, against his shoulders, and he was so deep, every stroke was a statement of possession.

“I don’t like it when you turn away from me, babe. It makes me want to turn you around and do this. Make you want me as much as I want you.”

His fingers came back to torture her as she bit down to stop from crying out loud. She was so close.

“Not yet,” he told her, and took his fingers away.

There was nothing she could do. She discovered she was utterly powerless. She didn’t want him to stop. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t push him away, in her position. And he was still stroking into her, slow and hard, nudging her inside until she whimpered at every thrust.

His breathing was faster now, but he was still ruthlessly in control of her body, as he started to play with her eager flesh again, rubbing as he pushed, teasing with the rhythm of his body. She followed his lead, letting him take her closer to release. But he seemed determine to prolong the torture.

“Please, darling,” she finally pleaded, her voice breathless, after the third time he denied her.

“Don’t turn away from me again,” he told her, his voice raspy and thick. “You drive me crazy when you do that. Crazy. Crazy.” He leaned forward, going even deeper. She gasped. “Don’t scream, baby.”

Engulfed in sensations, she couldn’t answer him. The darkness shimmered with flashes of light. A heady heaviness built into a crescendo from her gut, and she tried to control it, fearing he would stop again, just to torture her. If she could just keep it quiet, he wouldn’t know, and she would get what she wanted so desperately. Her head rolled back, her body arched, and she bit down on her lower lip as she tried not to clench down on him, or he would know.

He seemed to know anyway, slowing down until she felt like dying, each thrust in making her moan, each stroke out a silken torture. She didn’t think she was even breathing any more. A part of her understood he was punishing her for trying to walk away. He was making a statement, showing her no mercy at all this time.

“Now.” He choked out her name and slammed into her, one hand on her mouth, the other pressing down hard where she was wet and needy.

Maybe she did scream. She couldn’t tell. Darkness swallowed her as pleasure exploded behind her eyelids, and she plunged into an endless free fall that went on and on. She held on to the only thing that mattered.

Nick. He was her everything.

***

Darling. It was the first time Jaymee had ever called him an endearment. Nick wanted her to say it over and over. She was the sunshine in his shadowy world, and he wanted her, needed to take her, completely. When she’d started to turn away, something inside him snapped, but he’d hung on to his control, trying hard not to pull her into his arms. Until she called him darling. And dared him by touching him.

He gave in to his desire. He needed to take her the way a male took a mate, staking a claim. He wanted her so desperately, it angered him, because he couldn’t stop this need to have her. She wanted truth. She wanted to know how much he really wanted her. So he took her the way the Programmer was best—with unswerving concentration, obliterating any defenses standimg in the way, and achieving total understanding of every part of the thought process.

Except Jaymee took him along with her. She wasn’t one of the problems in the programs he tackled, nor was she another assignment whose mind he sought to probe. She gave him everything without his asking, offering him more than he dared take. And the more he possessed her, the more she owned him, because he wanted, needed, her softness.

This delicious oblivion with a woman was something new. She made him think of no one else. And he dared not take what she was offering, not with this new danger, of close ones being taken out one by one. He trusted her, but he couldn’t put her at risk, as Jed’s daughter was. As his friend, Emma, had been, and for which she’d paid the ultimate price. Not Jaymee. Not ever.

She stirred under him. “Are you all right?” he asked, unsure whether he had been too rough, knowing very well how much loss of control frightened her. He moved, positioning her more comfortably back onto the sofa.

Jaymee wrapped her arms around Nick’s waist. “You may do this all night, but you’re still not going to get out of answering my questions.”

Her voice sounded husky. She felt weak as a newborn baby. What was it about this man made her give in to him like that?

Nick looked down at her and then swallowed the urge to laugh out loud. His body shook with silent amusement. Did he think he ever could anticipate her every move? She had managed to provoke him at every turn, surprise him with every twist of this relationship. And her bullish determination only made him want her more. He’d never met a woman so intent on getting what she wanted once she set her mind to it, be it settling a hundred-thousand dollar debt, or getting to the bottom of a mystery. Details, it seemed, were her forte. He almost wished he could get Command to recruit her, so he could get her into his world.

Tired of his silence and his amusement, Jaymee dug her nails into his back. “Well?”

“You won’t succeed if you tire a man out with wild sex, sweetheart.”

He was back, the lazy, indolent Nick with the mocking drawl, propped over her satiated body, looking down at her through the darkness. “Wild sex part of your evasive tactics?” she asked sweetly.

“Invasive,” he countered with devilish mockery.

Jaymee was glad he couldn’t see her blush. His invasion had been a thorough victory. “Invade all you want,” she invited, her voice low, “but don’t evade me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I do work for the government,” he finally admitted.

Relief flowed through her. He was letting her in, a little. “I gather that.” She kissed his chin, his jawline. “I had visions of CIA and FBI, and all those agencies with acronyms.”

“It isn’t that simple. We are linked to them, in a way.”

“You mean, you do their dirty work,” Jaymee said dryly. “I do read the newspapers, you know.”

He sighed, resigned to the fact it wouldn’t be an easy task to hide anything from her. “That’s all I can tell you,” he told her.

He hadn’t denied her guess. She smiled in the dark, suddenly liking his inability to see her. This was the way it had to be then. She would take what he would give. “What, no acronym?” she teased. “None of those fancy-schmancy Soldier of Fortune names like Delta Force, Night Hawk, or something macho sounding?”

Nick smothered another laugh. It was her talent, this ability to make him relax his guard. He growled when her teeth nipped a sensitive spot on his neck. He relented. “It’s CCC,” he murmured, “short for Covert-Subversive Command Center. They call us COS Commandos when they’re being nice.”

“Oooh, macho,” Jaymee whispered into his ear, then blew into it. He nipped up her neck till he found her ear and returned the favor. She shivered at the sensual flicks of his tongue. “I gather Jed is also one of these commandos? Or am I forbidden to ask?”

“He showed himself to you. It means he likes you, Jaymee.” Nick nuzzled deeper into her neck. “Yes, he is one of my unit.”

“Unit?”

“Yes. There are different units trained for different jobs, just like any company.”

“And Grace is being trained for a job in this company? She mentioned being in training.”

Nick sighed again. “Sometimes I wish you’d miss or forget something, sweetheart.”

He could only admire her skill, even as he saw right through her. She was attempting to get more information about him by changing the subject and focusing on his cousin and Grace. Like he’d known from the beginning, Jaymee was a worthy opponent.

“If he didn’t want me to know, Grace wouldn’t have mentioned it,” Jaymee pointed out with cheeky logic. “Maybe they were both testing me, to see whether I would remember.”

She was reminding him of what he’d said earlier, that his cousins liked to put people through some kind of test. Nick chuckled, reluctantly easing off her so he could sit up. He had better weigh his words carefully. At the rate her mind was working, he’d be telling her everything while she seduced him with that delightful body.

“You’re an incorrigible imp,” he accused, becoming more somber. “OK. He’s training her because of what happened to certain members in our unit. My…boat was rigged with an explosive.”

Jaymee jerked up. “What?” She hadn’t expected that.

“You wanted the truth,” Nick gently reminded her.

She swallowed. “I do.” She repeated the words firmly. “I do. I want to know what you do, so when you leave me, I’ll understand.”

That was why he couldn’t resist her. She never beat around the bush. He could waste time diverting her again and again, and each time, she’d find a way to get her answers. That was how she was, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.

“I was on assignment, and I escaped.” He kept it as simple as he could. “They still think they got to me, and now they are after the others who were on the same assignment. Because we’re evasive experts, Jed thinks their easiest targets are our families. My friend’s wife was recently killed, and that’s why you see Jed training Grace, so she can take care of herself in case something happens to him.”

“Evasive expert,” Jaymee muttered. “That’s really a job description, like construction worker?”

“Nothing I can state on a resume,” said Nick, a grin forming. “We have lots of fancy names like that.” Like trackers, he silently added. Mind probes. Assimilators. All living in darkness and shadow.

“It isn’t so bad,” she consoled, a trace of mockery creeping into her voice. “I’ve to explain what a leak expert is.” She moved restlessly against him. “All right, Nick, you don’t need to tell me any more. Your truth is as close to my idea of it as it can ever be. I just wanted you to tell me without fudging around.”

Nick realized that had always been all she’d ever asked of him—to tell her the truth, not of what he did, but of what he was. And having gotten that from him, she was content not to need further details.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before,” he told her.

“I can only imagine the kind of life it must be, to always be afraid of people betraying you.” Jaymee touched his face. She wanted him to know she understood and accepted what he was. “To have to be careful all the time.”

Visions of an exploding boat filled her mind, and she shivered. That was a close call. She might have never met him, if he hadn’t been able to….

Nick felt her shiver and understood her fear. What was second nature to him was unfathomable to normal people, and he sought to comfort Jaymee. “It isn’t so bad. I get to play with lots of neat toys.” He kept his voice light, soothing her with slow caresses. After all, the Programmer did have fun dismantling some of the world’s most sophisticated satellite systems. “Besides, it isn’t that different from your job.”

Jaymee laughed in astonishment. “Right. I have relatives zinging weapons at me while I nail shingles.”

“You have your back stabbers, Chuck and Rich,” he pointed out, “and you have to be careful all the time while you’re on the job. One misstep, and you might fall and break your neck. A careless backward step, and you might fall through a skylight hole.”

“Nicholas Killian Langley, you aren’t seriously trying to convince me what we both do is equal?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or get angry with him. Here she was, worried about his safety, fearing for his life, and he mocked her with comparisons of the dangerous aspects of roofing.

Nick was only too happy to get her to laugh again. “You even have a gun,” he pointed out, “and the bad guys all know you as Jay the Boss. Pretty dandy nickname.”

They both laughed.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Jaymee chided in between chuckles. “You’re never serious when you’re supposed to be.”

Nick shrugged, smiling. Getting up from the couch, he pulled her up with him. He slipped her hand into his unzipped jeans. “I can show you what you can do with me in your bed,” he invited naughtily.

“I’m going to have to deduct room and board from your pay,” she teased.

“What?”

“Yup. Also, the torn shirt and pants. The hairpins you keep throwing away. And…two dirty tee-shirts. At least. Let’s see, that leaves…why, you owe me money on your next paycheck!”

“Oh, yeah?”

She should have heeded the tone of his voice, but she was busy putting her pants back on. As soon as she straightened up, she found herself lifted over his shoulder. As he made his way out of the study and to her room with unerring ease, he told her softly, “I’m going to pay you back my way, sweetheart, with compound interest for any extra charges, of course.”

When Nick finally allowed her to curl up and fall asleep on top of him, she’d tallied up an exorbitant account of extra charges.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Eleven

Saturday. Jaymee mentally ticked off each day, hoping it wouldn’t be the last day Nick—it took too much effort to call him Killian in private and Nick when they were around the others—spent with her. It wasn’t difficult to conclude, with the appearance of his cousin, part of his “unit,” Nick needn’t stay with her much longer. They would be gone soon, off to straighten out whatever they were straightening out. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach whenever she imagined Nick dying in that explosion about which he’d told her. He led such a different life from hers. He’d seen so much, done so much, and all she’d ever done was dreamed. She wondered what he saw in her that made him want her so.

Not because of this mop, that was for certain, she grimaced wryly, as she pulled the wide-toothed pick through her hair. Securing it into one thick braid, she considered whether to put any make-up on, then frowned. Why bother? She would sweat it all off in an hour, and Nick would still see her the way she always was—sweaty and untidy. Not this evening, she vowed. This evening, she would show him Jaymee Barrows cleaned up good.

“Got a tee-shirt?” His crooked smile was bland, his eyes innocent.

Jaymee met his gaze in the mirror. She still couldn’t get over him walking around her half-naked, in her room. She watched him sauntered toward her dressing table, still wet from the shower, a towel wrapped casually around his waist. “I thought you brought a change of clothes in that little bag,” she said to the moving image.

“That’s for later. I need something to work in.”

“I think you’re just sleeping with me for my tee-shirts,” she said, wrinkling her nose at his reflection.

Nick played with her thick braid of hair. The urge to mess up her work and just watch the strands curl out rebelliously tempted him, as it always did. He was fascinated by its softness and rebellious nature; in fact, he was fascinated with the whole package standing in front of him.

“No, sweetheart, I prefer you without them on,” he teased.

Color warmed her cheeks as she recalled the night before. She flicked at his outreaching fingers. “Don’t mess up my braid up,” she warned lightly.

“I don’t know why you always tie it up. I’m just going to loosen it later.” He bent down to kiss her exposed neck, nibbling lightly. “Well, there’s at least something I like when you do it.”

Jaymee shrugged her shoulder to nudge him off. “Nick, didn’t you tell me you were a good carpenter?”

“Besides being so good in bed, you mean?” He was in a great mood today, having gotten his planned night after all.

“Big head,” she said good-naturedly.

“Big appetite,” he came back, a sexy smile on his lips. “You were insatiable.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re a big liar too,” she accused.

“Oh, are you telling me you we didn’t finish up a whole box of…”

Jaymee felt the heat on her cheeks again. “About the carpenter skills…” she hastily cut in. “Are you really going to help me out?”

Nick pulled her up and turned her to face him. “Still shy?” She looked adorable when she blushed and he enjoyed teasing her so. He could always tell when she was thinking about their intimate moments. The green flecks in her eyes heated up to an intense glow that made him hot all over. Like now. He sighed. “OK, I’ll earn my keep. Give me a shirt, some breakfast, and I’ll get to work…boss.”

He was really as good a carpenter as he’d boasted to be, Jaymee thought later, as she admired the muscles playing on Nick’s bare back. He was leaning over the saw while cutting the two-by-fours to be used to repair the rotten back porch. She had been working inside the house, and decided to take a break at half-past ten, to see what he was up to.

Jed and Grace showed up at that moment, coming up the overgrown unpaved driveway. Jaymee wondered how they managed to get there. Jed had taken time to shave and Grace looked less like a wild child, even with that green hair.

She studied Nick’s cousin. The man’s likeness to Nick was even more pronounced without the heavy stubble he had. He had a leaner face, with a stubborn looking cleft under his generous lower lip. His hair had the same unruly lock, like Nick, except it was a dark polished bronze color. His mouth was harder-looking too, unlike Nick’s lazy quirk, some might even described it cruel-looking, with lines bracketing both sides, emphasizing the deep indentation below. Same thickly lashed eyes, except that they were so cold. He was a good-looking man in a rugged sort of way, if he would just smile more. And if his strange, light eyes wouldn’t stare with such deadly intensity at their target. There was something very ruthless about Nick’s cousin, and she still wasn't certain how to talk to him whenever they were together. She had a feeling those odd little pauses between them were somehow deliberate. They sure made her feel awkward and uncomfortable.

Grace’s personality, on the other hand, was like Nick’s. She was warm and funny, and obviously adored her father and older cousin, paying rapt attention to everything they said. Jaymee pursed her lips, her usual cynicism questioning the wisdom of that. The teenager definitely needed some female advice regarding men. She wondered how a little girl grew up without a mother, to whom Grace turned when she needed guidance. Perhaps that was why she had this strange adult attitude, even calling her own father by his name. Jaymee couldn’t imagine calling her father “Bob.” She gazed at Jed again, watching him with a touch of disapproval. He didn’t treat his daughter like one at all, asking her opinions about things her own father would never dream of discussing with her at that age. She shook her head—what a strange twosome.

The two men talked quietly in between measuring and sawing and hammering. Jaymee couldn’t quite make out their conversation over the din, as she showed Grace how to pry the trim boards from the walls. “You don’t need to be too careful,” she said, as she gathered the pieces into a pile. “I’m replacing them with new trim.”

Grace proved surprisingly proficient with a hammer. “This is cool, Jay,” she said, as she used the catspaw to pull the nails out. “Are you going to put some fancy moldings? Perhaps up around the ceiling too? That would look like those antique mansions I see on TV.”

Jaymee smiled. “Good suggestion. Maybe you ought to study architecture or designing when you go to college.”

“I’m going to do something that lets me travel all over the world,” the teenager declared, as she pounded down the protruding nails. “There’s so much out there to see, you know?”

Jaymee’s smile turned wistful. The excitement of youth. She’d forgotten how grand the feeling was. “Yes, so much to see and do,” she murmured in agreement. Just don’t get eaten up by bad wolves, little girl. “So, architecture is an option, then? You get to travel and study all the wonderful ancient buildings.”

“I don’t know anything about building. Actually, I like what you do better.”

Jaymee laughed, startled. “You like roofing better? And how’s that going to be part of your world travels plan?”

Grace wiped her face with a dirty hand, smudging her nose and cheek with dust and dirt. Jaymee grinned. She was looking scruffy again. “What use is staring at those structures if I don’t understand the work and sweat put into its making? I don’t want to admire just the building. That’s boring. I want to look at it and see in my mind how they did it, what the builder did to create it, what the laborers worked with. You know how to appreciate that—you know what it takes to build a house. Foundation and structure. Way cool.”

She stared at the younger girl in astonishment. She’d underestimated her. Grace wasn’t as innocent and wild as she looked. “Well, maybe I’ll hire you as a roofer,” she told her.

“It won’t be way cool when you’re dying up on the roof in the heat, Trouble, especially when General Jay is working your butt off,” drawled Nick from the doorway. He’d peeked in to ask for a drink and overheard the last part of the conversation. “Believe me, it’s way hot.”

Grace grinned. “I know. Jed and I had a good time watching you sweat on the roof while we were resting comfortably in the shadows.”

Jaymee frowned at that revelation. “How long have you been watching Nick?”

“At least three days,” replied Nick, strolling in and grabbing a clean plastic cup from a bin.

“You knew?” Jaymee was perplexed. If he had known, how come he didn’t say anything?

He filled his cup with ice water from the five-gallon cooler. “I had a feeling,” he explained.

“Like I pointed out earlier, you’re obviously out of practice, if you just had a feeling.” Jed said softly. He was lounging against the doorjamb. His shirt, like Nick’s, was off. He was, Jaymee nodded, tanned all over. “We could have cancelled you.”

Nick savored the cold water in his mouth, then swallowed. His blue-gray gaze was steady. “Think so?”

Jed just cocked his head, his own gaze unwavering. “I have the element of surprise on my side. And...you were distracted.”

Jaymee dropped her hammer, deliberately obtaining the two men’s attention. She straightened up to her full height of five feet two inches. “I’m a little tired of being out of the loop,” she said, keeping her voice level, “and I am not a distraction to anybody.”

Nick tossed a cup at Jed’s direction, which his cousin caught without even looking, since his strange light eyes were studying Jaymee. “Is she always so blind about herself?” he asked Nick as he headed for the cooler.

“Only about herself,” Nick answered with a grin. “And, she gets you to give her answers, believe me.”

Jed finished his drink and looked back at Nick. “In that case, you’d better think of a way to keep her. If you don’t, I might go for her myself.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “It isn’t like you to poach, cousin,” he said silkily.

Jed headed towards the door. Jaymee, her mouth hanging open at the exchange, noticed flesh-colored scars criss-crossing his back. Walking back out into the back porch, he said over his shoulder, “I’ll do what it takes to keep you on your toes, cousin. I want your switch to be on all the time.” He disappeared outside.

Nick gave a succinct curse, and strode after Jed. “Dammit, Jed, this isn’t a game…”

The sound of Jed’s saw cut through the rest of Nick’s angry words. Jaymee stared at the open door, then looked at Grace, who had a big, amused grin on her lips.

What was all that about?” she asked. Surely, Jed didn’t say what she thought he said.

Grace arched an eyebrow. “That was testosterone talking.”

Jaymee looked incredulous for a moment, then burst out laughing. “I think it’s dangerous!”

“Quite potent,” agreed Grace. “I don’t think I’ve seen Jed and Kill at each other like that in a long time.”

Somehow, that didn’t sound very comforting. Better change the subject. “Tell me, Grace, why do you call your father by his name, but Nick is sometimes Cousin Kill? It’s strange.”

“Jed--Dad--wants me to,” explained Grace, twirling a pigtail. “Safer, if less people know how we’re related. Kill’s just a cool nickname. His buddies call him that sometimes and I picked it up. He calls me Gracie.”

Jaymee frowned. “This is really serious, isn’t it, this thing with your training and the relationship between your dad and you?"

Grace met her troubled gaze with mocking brown eyes. “Your relationship with Nick is just as serious, you know, Jay.”

“How so?” Jaymee bent and picked up the hammer she’d dropped.

“Why do you think Jed is testing Killian? He wants to see how far he can push him.”

That was enough to make Jaymee paused in mid-pull of a nail. “I think you lost me on that one. Why would Jed be testing Killian?”

“Because he wants to see how important you are to him, silly,” Grace sighed, as if she was wondering at her inexperience with men. “He wants Kill to acknowledge you’re important, like I am to him.”

“Why?” Jaymee wondered whether there would ever be a time when she didn’t have any questions about Nick and his relatives.

“Because it’s going to get you or Killian killed. See? Distraction leads to carelessness, which leads to being possible targets, and right now, Killian is a target, if whoever is after Dad’s unit knows he’s still alive.”

Jaymee saw the logic behind it, but still couldn’t believe she—boring, dependable Jaymee Barrows—could possibly be involved with people who talked about being targets like it was an everyday occurrence. “You mean,” she managed to calmly word out her fears, “since he was a target, then I’d be one too, like you are, because of your relationship to Jed.”

No wonder Nick wanted to leave as soon as possible. She understood it now.

“Yeah, but since they don’t know Kill’s still alive, you’re pretty safe right now,” assured the teenager.

“But Jed doesn’t want Nick’s guard down,” Jaymee ventured a guess.

“Righto, and Kill’s failing the test.”

“How so?”

Grace sighed again. “Jay, you’re really blind. Instead of ignoring Dad just now, Kill is out there fighting with him! Basic evasive tactic for Viruses—submerge when being tested.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Jaymee threw up her hands in exasperation. “You’re losing me again. First, your father isn’t interested in me, so he isn’t arguing over me. Second, what on earth are ‘viruses,’ is that what you said, ‘viruses’? Third, surely Nick will see through such a stupid test! After all, I just met you two last evening!” That seemed like a century ago.

Grace laughed lightly, obviously amused at something showing in her face. “Maybe Dad likes you more than you think?” she teased.

“What?” Jaymee stared back in consternation. “He wasn’t serious, was he? You told me he was testing Nick, to show him his weakness.”

Grace played with her pigtail as she considered for a moment. “Well,” she said slowly, but her voice still had laughter in it. “I don’t know. Jed doesn’t joke. Actually, Jed always means just about everything he says.” She took the broom out of Jaymee’s hand. “As for the question about Viruses, maybe you ought to ask Nick to explain it to you. Here, I’ll clean up. You can go out and calm the men down, maybe ask more questions.”

She grinned again, a mixture of childish humor and adult observation. Jaymee couldn’t believe a sixteen-year-old, who was also advising her on how to deal with men, was outmaneuvering her. But then, Grace sounded like she knew more about the opposite sex than she would ever get a chance to find out. What did she know about men like Nick and Jed, anyhow? She ran a nervous hand through her tangled curls. She had to take control again, somehow.

“Sorry, girl,” she firmly said. “Jaymee Barrows doesn’t placate testosterone. They want to make fools of themselves, let them. I’ve more important things to do. Come on, you’re going to learn how to strip the doors down to their natural wood.”

This she understood—the certainty of a finished task, the toil behind labor. Not testing and words and arguments. She could never win an argument like that. She eyed Grace thoughtfully. Well, if all the girl got from her father was cerebral food, it was time she was given a chance to enjoy the fruits of hard work. She did seem to enjoy it enough.

“Yeah, let Jed handle cousin Kill,” Grace agreed, putting away the broom. “Do you want to take the door knobs off the doors first?”

Jaymee nodded. “Good thinking. You do that while I get the rest of the tools.” She tossed a last glance at the back door. “We’ll give them an hour, then we’ll break for lunch.”

A chuckle bubbled from Grace. “I like you, Jay. You shoot straight from the hip. Maybe that’s why Dad is after you too. He likes his women tough.”

“For the last time, your father doesn’t have a thing for me!” She needed to steer the conversation off this topic. Grace was too perceptive by far, and was enjoying this too much for a teenager. She muttered under her breath. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“Don’t worry. Jed will make sure Kill growls even more than he does when you’re around.”

Jaymee groaned inwardly. That was all she needed. An angry big wolf to deal with while she was trying to tame him. She groaned again. Did she say ‘tame’? There was no taming a man like Nick. To them, she was just a distraction. That really rubbed the wrong way. What did they think she was—a toothache?

She shrugged. At least Grace had answered her questions, which meant Jed really did like her, enough to allow his daughter to give her information. She frowned. All this mental figuring was getting a tad complicated.

***

Nick didn’t see anything complicated about the situation at all. Someone was intruding in his territory and he did what he knew best—attack before invasion. He’d seen his cousin standing too close to Jaymee and talking quietly. He had noticed the way he looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention.

When Jed put down the saw to examine the length of pine, Nick quietly said, “I don’t need to tell you I don’t appreciate your unusual interest in Jaymee.”

Jed fitted the two-by-six piece of pine board into the empty space where the rotten wood used to be. Not looking up, he advised, “Keep her, or let her go.”

“Or else?” challenged Nick, as he donned his tool belt. He was angry with Jed, something that hadn’t happened for a number of years. His cousin had always challenged him, but never played with his romantic life. Jed had never needed to go after someone else’s woman before, and if he hadn’t realized by now Jaymee was taken, he’d better find out now. There was no way he was going to allow him to even consider Jaymee as fair game.

Jed whacked a six-penny nail into the wood. He glanced up briefly, and mockery glittered in his silver eyes. “Or, I’ll do it for you,” he informed Nick.

Going down on one knee, Nick clenched the half dozen six-penny nails in his hand. “This isn’t going to be one of your head games, Ice.”

His cousin kept nailing, his hammer pounding rhythmically, as he secured the two-by-six. “You aren’t functioning at top level because you’re indecisive. I won’t have any of my unit at risk because you’ve decided to expose your switch, Programmer.”

“No one’s at risk.” Nick’s voice was icy, dead certain.

“As long as you’re this way, everyone you’re with is at risk. Most of all, her. Face it, you can’t think straight where she’s concerned.”

“So you think you can make up my mind for me?”

“No. I’m saying, if you don’t, or won’t, make up your mind, I’ll make up her mind for you. She is, after all, very intriguing.”

Nick leveled a dangerous look at his cousin. “Get to the point. What do you want, Jed?”

The other man slapped the head of the hammer on his palm as he met him eye-to-eye. “Just do your job,” he responded unequivocally, “and you needn’t find out what I want.” His voice was soft, stressing the word ‘what’ with steely delicacy.

“Is that a warning? You’d risk our friendship to have it your way?” Nick tamped down the temper rising inside. A part of him knew what Jed was attempting to do, but he also knew women found his cousin’s dangerous air irresistible. And, the S.O.B. was considered attractive. Would Jaymee find him so?

“Let’s just say I’ll do whatever it takes to minimize loss,” Jed challenged back with calm arrogance.

Nick never underestimated his cousin’s determination. Jed was as lethal as he appeared, as ruthless as they came. He was COS’s number one silent assassin, and his reputation was legendary. He always did what he set out to do, and right now, he was warning Nick he would go after Jaymee himself, if she posed a risk to his men.

“I’ve been careful,” Nick said, deciding the best tactic for the moment was detached assurance. “The risk is minimal.”

“You’ve been lucky. So far. Unlike Diamond. Use your talents, Programmer, that’s all I ask. Write the program, execute the commands, and wrap up all the loose ends. Remove the bugs.”

“She isn’t a mistake.”

“I didn’t say she was the bug.” Jed moved back to the pile of pine boards.

Nick seldom lost in anything, and he especially hated losing to Jed. “Dammit, Jed. Stop probing.”

“It’s my job.”

One probe deserved another. “Do you think I’d let you near her, now that you’ve revealed your intention?” he asked.

Jed only shrugged, absorbed in his work. “Either way, I win. Now you’ll be on your toes at all times, won’t you—cousin?”

Nick cursed peremptorily, knowing Jed had him trapped in this war of words. He resorted to something General Jaymee taught him. He pounded down nails with satisfying savagery.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Twelve

Remodeling the old house was Jaymee’s solitary project, somewhere she could retreat and do things she enjoyed. She was used to being on her own, taking care of problems by herself.

It was, therefore, a new and pleasant experience to have company helping her. Something stirred inside her as she listened to the sounds of work around. The two men outside obviously didn’t need her supervision, keeping the air filled with the pounding and buzzing of tools and machines. She’d been alone for so long she’d forgotten what friends meant. She now realized how alone she had become these past years, so intent had she been at keeping her father’s business afloat. This was the first time in a long while someone was doing something for her, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry over the irony of three relative strangers being so helpful and kind.

As she washed off the brushes she and Grace had used, she studied the two men through the smudgy kitchen window. With the younger girl in the bathroom, she finally had a few moments alone to sort out her thoughts.

Looking at Nick and Jed working outside, Jaymee didn’t doubt any of the recent revelations. The two men worked bareback, and even from this distance, she could make out the muscles that rippled under their sinewy male flesh. These two were in superb shape, looking every bit the trained warriors she now suspected they were. They moved with the easy grace of active people who were used to working together, throwing two-by-fours and tools back and forth as if they’d been at this kind of job for years.

Her gaze was drawn to Nick. Sleek and powerful in a pair of dirty cut-offs, he exuded enough magnetism to give her a mild case of heart palpitation. It never failed every time. She sighed. How could just the sight of bare chest and muscles make her weak like this? She had seen enough half-naked men in her line of work, but that man out there was the only one who gave her bedroom thoughts. She eyed the small masculine buttocks encased in the jeans hugging so temptingly low on his hips. Very energetic bedroom thoughts indeed. She was turning into a sex maniac where this man was concerned.

Quickly, she shifted her gaze to the other man. Jed was leaner, with a hard, defined body that reminded her of a wild cat. She wondered again at the scars on his body. Besides those on his back, there was one on his side that looked as if its history was painful. Jed, she noticed, was very graceful. Every move he made was deliberate, as if he had very limited personal space, yet the very minimalist moves made her very aware of him whenever he was near her. And those eyes. They were always watching everything…no, she amended, they were stalking, like big animals looked at their prey. If Nick was trouble personified in her imagination, then Jed was danger in the flesh. She had a feeling Nick’s cousin had no compunction when it came to matters of life and death when dealing with the enemy. A total bad ass.

They must be talking about something serious by the look on their faces. Apprehension fluttered in Jaymee’s stomach. Maybe they were making plans to depart.

Her hand tightened around the brush in her hand. Tonight. Tonight would be hers. She’d forget about her fears and worries and get herself a memory of Nick to carry with her in the lonely nights ahead. Wiping her hands dry, she prepared two glasses of water, and putting a smile on, she stepped out onto the porch.

“Here comes the boss,” drawled Nick, brushing back the dark lock that fell over his forehead.

“You two have done enough for the day,” she said, handing the cups over. “We’ve to get ready for Mindy’s soon. Wow, you guys accomplished a lot!”

She examined the finished back porch with a critical eye. Despite the argument she and Grace had heard going on outside, the two men had done quite a bit of work. The repairs were finished, and only needed a few coats of water-resistant veneer. They’d even pulled off the rusty gutter around the back of the house.

She grinned, giving the thumbs-up. “Well, if you both ever need another job, you can apply right here.” She ran a hand down the well-used banister. “Good work, men.”

Nick lifted a dark brow, questioning whether she’d expected anything less. “I’ll help you with the counters and the doors tomorrow morning, but Jed and I have to take off sometime in the late afternoon.”

Jaymee’s smile dimmed. “Sure. Will Jed be going with us to Mindy’s this evening? You are still going, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dare risk Mindy’s wrath,” assured Nick wryly. “Grace and I are, but Jed needs to borrow the Jeep to do some errands. Can we take your truck?”

“Of course.” Jaymee looked at Jed, who was quietly putting his shirt back on. “Are you sure you won’t come too?”

Jed shook his head. “I have to get some things ready for the trip tomorrow, but thanks anyway.”

“You can still join us after you’re through with your errands,” Jaymee persuaded. She wanted the two men to be friends again. Maybe a relaxed atmosphere would make Nick realize that his cousin didn’t mean what he said.

Nick didn’t seem to understand. He interrupted silkily, “Jed doesn’t like to socialize.”

Jed’s lips curled. In an instant, he turned devilishly handsome, his smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. That odd intensity disappeared. Jaymee blinked, swallowing the sudden intake of breath at the amazing change. Sexiness was a family trait for these men, it seemed.

“Perhaps I’ll join you later, Jay,” he said, his silver eyes frankly appraising her. “That way, I can pick Grace up and take her with me without the need for you to drive her back.”

Grace, who was silently sitting on the railing, surveyed the three adults. Her grin was knowing, mischievous. “Yeah, use me as an excuse.”

Nick scowled and stalked into the house, leaving Jaymee to stare after him, then at Jed. “What did I do?” she asked carefully.

Jed shrugged. “Give me directions to this place you’re going,” he said, instead, deliberately diverting her thoughts back to him. After she told him, he walked off toward the woods, heading back to her house to get Nick’s Jeep. He called back, without looking, “Behave yourself, Grace Audrey.”

“Always,” Grace promised, swinging off the railing. She helped Jaymee put away the rest of the tools. “I can’t wait for the food,” she said, licking her lips in anticipation. “Hamburger sounds absolutely marvelous. Hmmm. With lots of bacon. Oooh, and cheese.” She rattled off more ingredients as her appetite grew bigger.

Jaymee laughed. “That’s going to be one humongous burger,” she teased. “I’ll do my best to satisfy your hunger, young lady. Let’s go get ready.”

First, she had to find Nick. He came out right at that moment, looking as if he had just used the shower. “Thought I’d better leave the bathroom at your place to you girls. I have no wish to compete with feminine beautifying.”

Jaymee felt the tension under his teasing words. He was still upset about Jed agreeing to be at Mindy’s party. But why? As Grace ran ahead of them in the woods, she mused, “That girl must be the Energizer Bunny.” When Nick didn’t respond, she paused in mid-stride. “OK, out with it. What’s eating you?”

Nick threaded his fingers through hers, his slate eyes intense. “You aren’t curious about where Jed and I are going tomorrow.”

“If I ask, would you tell me?” Jaymee challenged.

His lips quirked. “No.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “So that makes you mad at me? Because I didn’t ask, knowing you won’t answer?” She wrenched her hand out of his and turned away so he couldn’t see the desperation in her eyes. “I’m a big girl, Nick. I know you have a more important job to do than nailing shingles.”

Nick’s voice was low, but to her, it seemed to echo off every tree in the woods. “It’s for the best. I can’t have you and my job at the same time.”

“Why?” she cried, letting her frustration out. “Because I’m a...distraction?”

He placed two hands on her shoulders and turned her around gently. “Do you understand how difficult this is for me?”

Jaymee looked at his face, knowing every inch of it by now, from the lock of hair that always strayed onto his forehead to those eyes that could undress her with a look. The lips with the crooked, wicked smile, to the masculine lean jaw line that clenched intermittently whenever he was angry.

Pursing her lips, she asked, “When?”

“Soon. A week at the most.”

Less than a week. Jaymee swallowed the angry denial that threatened to burst from her. She glared up at him, hating him for making her feel so lost. “And you’ll leave me. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

Nick wanted to hold her, to take away the anger and pain, but he kept the distance between them. She had a right to be angry, and maybe this first step away from her would lessen the pain. Whose pain? A voice inside his head mocked. Yours or hers? He ignored that voice.

Anger was a good, cleansing emotion, unlike the way she had bottled up her emotions when he’d first met her. Let her be angry. He would rather have her angry with him, than have a wound festering inside.

When he didn’t answer, the little hope Jaymee had retained snuffed out. “You told me once I was afraid of losing control,” she told him in a quiet voice. “Yet, it’s you who needs to be in control. You’re always somewhere outside, standing and watching, while you go through the motions. You’re doing it now, for God’s sake. Even when we’re in bed, I can feel part of you constantly disengaged from me. You’re the one afraid of losing control. You’re the one who’s letting your fears imprison you.”

She turned and ran off, leaving Nick behind. He stood there among the sabal palms and giant oaks, hands thrust in his pockets, a bleak look in his eyes.

Her father looked up from the kitchen table when she walked in. There were piles of papers scattered across it. “There’s a girl with green hair in the living room,” he announced. “She said she’s waiting for you.”

Jaymee forced a smile onto her lips. “That’s Nick’s cousin.”

She walked toward him, waiting for a sarcastic reply when she noticed her father was arranging the bills she had stacked in her office. He didn’t look up from his task as she drew nearer. In silence, she watched for a few moments, then bent down and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I’m going to get ready for Mindy’s party, Dad.”

Bob nodded, not acknowledging the kiss. She went into the living room and found Grace watching television.

“Come on, let’s get dolled up, girl.”

The teenager looked up and gave her usual impish grin. “Are you going to put on some serious-looking clothes?”

“Does serious-looking mean a party outfit?” Jaymee guessed wryly. “I’m sure I have something that fits you. What’s your favorite color?”

“Maroon.”

“To go with that green hair?” she teased. She could imagine the look on Mindy’s face.

Grace chuckled. “OK. I’ll be good. I’ll cover it with temporary color.”

***

Nick entered the kitchen, closing the door softly behind him. The sight of Jaymee’s father only made him feel worse than he already did. Knowing the old geezer, he’d be hounding his daughter even more when he found out he’d left her. Determined to do at least one thing right, he advanced to the kitchen table. Bob didn’t greet him, sparing him only a cursory glance before resuming his chore.

Nick frowned. Damned if the old man wasn’t doing office work, arranging bills and filing them. “Busy?” he asked, pulling out a chair. “Need help?”

“Don’t you need a shower too?” the old man countered. “After all, you already practically live here, don’t you?”

At least the rancor was still there. “It won’t take me long to get changed,” he replied, picking up one of the stacks. He started arranging them in order. There was a short silence as the two men shuffled papers and files.

“I’ll be gone in a week,” Nick finally said, as he punched holes in the bills. His eyes met the older man’s. “I don’t want you to use my absence as a means to hurt Jaymee.”

He handed over the papers in his hands. Bob accepted them, and put them away into a ringbinder file.

“Does Jaymee know about your plan?”

“Yes.”

“And she didn’t hit you upside your head?”

Nick smiled humorlessly. “I’m sure she was tempted, but I have to go.”

“Are you coming back?” Bob closed the shoebox with the small receipts and put all the files one on top of the other.

“Not any time soon,” Nick admitted. Then, more firmly, “No. I won’t be coming back.”

Pushing his chair back, the old man stood up. “Beer?” he offered. At Nick’s considering stare, he added, “It’ll be the only one I’ll have tonight. I’m...cutting back.”

Nick nodded slowly. Something certainly had changed here. “Thanks.”

Bob took two bottles from the refrigerator, and passed one to Nick. They both popped them open at the same time, eyeing each other.

After some nervous coughing, Bob said, “I had me a long thinking yesterday afternoon. It occurred to me I hadn’t done that for a long time.” He took a swig. “It isn’t easy to come face-to-face with yourself and finding you don’t quite like what you see.”

Nick let the small silence settle around them as he took a measured swallow from his bottle.

The older man continued, “What you said the other morning made me look hard at what my daughter has gone through for me. I don’t suppose you’ll stay...if ...I apologize.”

It took a lot for a man as proud and obstinate as Bob Barrows to apologize, and Nick respected the old man for the attempt to make amends. The trained part of him was already taking note of the change in the other man. The Programmer could certainly manipulate this new switch to make things better.

“I can’t stay,” he said. To stay would mean to turn Jaymee’s life upside-down. “But, you can take care of Jaymee for me.”

Bob nodded. “She’s my daughter. She doesn’t need to work so hard by herself.”

“I’m glad we finally agree on something important, Bob.” He could even offer friendship, despite the years of pain this man had caused his woman. He could, because he wouldn’t be here for her, and she needed a father. A friend. His hand tightened around the beer bottle.

Bob surprised Nick by actually giving him a smile. The wrinkles fanned out, softening the harsh features. “The important thing,” he said, finishing his beer, “is to know when to change when opportunity knocks.”

How ironic the old man had stolen his very own line. Nick tossed down the rest of his beverage before he headed to the study to look for the clothes he’d brought last night.

***

Change, he decided later, must be contagious. He couldn’t take his eyes off Jaymee when she came back to the kitchen with Grace. She had changed. His throat went dry at the sight of her, and heat shot down his loins and threatened to set him on fire. He had to curb a growl of frustration. The woman was certainly fighting dirty.

Her hair, a mass of gypsy auburn curls, hung in untamed ringlets down her back—loose, the way he loved it. Several curly tendrils fell across her forehead, bringing attention to her face. She had done something to her eyes—he didn’t know what—but they looked bigger and more mysterious. They seemed to be greener than he remembered them. Her lips were a shiny ruby red and the smile she gave him started a cold sweat under his collar.

And was that supposed to be a dress? It was made of some luminous material, jade-green melting into some soft sunset colors and misty gray. It hung off her shoulders and wrapped around every sweet curve of her body until it flared out around her hips, so that with every step she took, the material swayed and caressed her thighs. There wasn’t any trace of the roofer tonight. Jaymee Barrows looked one hundred-percent woman. And Nick wanted to eat her for dinner. And dessert. And breakfast. He put a hand to the back of his neck, to wipe away the perspiration.

Jaymee stood at the doorway. She was nervous but determined. Tonight, she was going to teach her big, bad wolf a lesson. The sight of her father and Nick sitting amiably at the table was disconcerting, though, and she was too distracted to really grasp the fact the two men were arranging her bills, working together.

She wondered whether she’d overdone it. Grace, with the enthusiasm of a sixteen-year-old, had helped her with her hair, using some sort of glaze that made it shine and curl like a professional model’s. It felt strange, though, being dressed up like this. It had been so long.

She blushed at the blatantly sexual look in Nick’s eyes as he stood up slowly. Her heart drummed an erratic beat as his eyes traveled from her teased hair, all the way to her low neckline, and down to her three-inch heels.

“Jaymee girl, you look beautiful!” Her father stared at her.

She gave her a father a grateful smile, suddenly needing the reassurance she didn’t look like a dolled-up idiot. “Thank you, Dad.”

Nick approached Jaymee, those blue-gray eyes intent and penetrating. Grace sidled away with a knowing grin, giving Bob a wink as she sat down on the chair previously occupied by Nick. The old man regarded her with a frown, looking at her now pitch-black tresses.

“I see I’m going to have a busy night fending off other males tonight,” Nick said.

Jaymee’s smile widened. “They’ve seen me in a frock before.”

“Not for years,” her father stated.

“That,” Nick declared, as he touched the material, “is not a frock.”

“Aw, that’s a major party frock,” Grace disputed from behind him. “It has Jaymee written all over it. It’s a male magnet.”

Jaymee laughed. Nick frowned.

“A male magnet,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’t you like how I look?” Jaymee asked, gliding away as sexily as she could on her heels. As she headed out the door, she added, “I wonder how the others will like my new look? See you later, Dad.”

She sauntered out, not waiting for Nick.

Bob chuckled from his seat. “I get a feeling my daughter is out to have a good time tonight,” he said, amusement in his voice. “You had best keep an eye on her.”

“I intend to,” Nick replied grimly. Yeah, she was certainly out for his blood. And all he could think about was dragging her into a room somewhere and teaching her to tease him like this. He’d wanted her to be angry with him in a different way, but as always, the woman never reacted as she was supposed to. He hadn’t expected her to plan revenge.

As he and Grace followed after Jaymee, his young cousin pulled at his sleeve. “You didn’t even notice me,” she complained.

Nick grinned down at her. “I didn’t know it was you, with that black paint you now have on your hair. Can’t you stay with just one color a week?”

Grace lightly elbowed him. “Meanie. I was trying not to embarrass you and Jay by getting all the attention at this party.”

“Impossible. You always get all the attention, minx.”

She made a face at him. “Just for that, I’m not going to tell you what Jaymee’s planning to do, besides dance with all the men at the party.”

“Wait a minute...” Nick began, but Grace had skipped ahead of him, toward Jaymee, waiting by her truck. “Damn.”

His niece did that on purpose, of course. Women.

“Let me drive,” he said, when he reached them.

Jaymee shrugged and handed the keys to him, giving him instructions to Mindy’s place. Then, she climbed in beside him as Grace opted to sit closest to the window.

“So the wind doesn’t mess up your hair,” she said, innocently.

Her long, now black, hair emphasized her Asian features. She had tied a thin maroon colored braid across her forehead.

Jaymee couldn’t help but smile back. The girl had a certain style. Must come from having an unorthodox father. She wondered whether Nick would make an unorthodox father too, and blushed in the evening darkness, glad no one was watching her. Nick’s child. The picture of a black-haired boy with an attitude appeared. She blinked hard. No, she wasn’t going to go there. She wasn’t going to be sad tonight.

Tonight, she was going to show his leaving her wouldn’t mean a thing. Her pride wouldn’t let her tell him how much she would miss him, how much she really cared. What good would that do, anyway? He would still go. He would still believe she was better off without him. She felt his eyes on her, even as he bantered back and forth with Grace. Let him wonder what she was up to. She leaned against his arm, savoring the muscled strength against her sleeve, feeling his thigh tighten when she deliberately put a hand on it. A secretive smile curved her lips. She might still have some feminine wiles left in her yet.

Mindy’s house was already packed with guests. Jaymee hadn’t seen many of them for a while and was stopped numerous times as she wandered through the crowded room looking for the birthday girl. She introduced Nick and Grace as they moved on, and deflected the speculative inquiries with ease.

Finally, Mindy caught sight of them and came over to hug Jaymee. “My, my, dressed up in my honor,” she drawled, as she looked at her friend with approval. Out of her waitress apron, she looked slimmer and even taller. Flamboyant as ever, she was dressed in gold, with glitter on her eyelids, traces of gold dust on her chest. “Jaymee sweetie, you’d think to not outshine me on my birthday.”

“No one can, with all that gold dust on you, blondie,” retorted Jaymee, smiling as she hugged back. “Happy birthday. I see you’ve started without us.”

“Hell, we’ve been partying since the restaurant crowd went home after their Sunday brunches.” Mindy slanted a sultry glance at Nick. “Hi, handsome, how about a birthday smooch?” She winked with unabashed suggestiveness.

Nick grinned, bending down. After a naughty glance at Jaymee, Mindy wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her lips on Nick’s. The kiss went a little too long for Jaymee’s liking, and without changing expression, she calmly stepped on her friend’s foot gently, but with increasing pressure.

Mindy finally acknowledged the silent message. “Girlfriend, you’re a mean b…” She noticed Grace for the first time. “Who’s this?”

Nick disentangled himself, trying not to laugh at Jaymee’s glare. “That’s my young cousin, Grace.”

“Well, hello!” Mindy was popular because of her genuine generosity and her easy acceptance of everyone. She didn’t show any surprise at Grace’s mixed heritage. “So sorry I missed you, hiding behind this big and tall specimen. Come into my parlor.” She waved her arms in a flourish. “Go ahead and get yourselves food and drinks, OK? Deposit all payments—uh, I mean, presents—on the coffee table, my dears. In fact, why doesn’t Grace come along with me to the kitchen, so you two can hang around the adults? What would you like to drink, sweetie?”

“Orange juice,” all three of them chorused in unison. They laughed at Mindy’s questioning look.

“Inside joke, Min,” Jaymee explained. “Just get the girl some orange juice.”

Mindy curled a friendly hand around Grace’s elbow as she led the younger girl away. “OJ, huh? Well, you’re in the right state, honey.”

Mindy’s parties were always casual, boisterous affairs, and this one was no exception. Everyone loved Mindy, and she reveled at the attention. They sang a rousing ‘Happy Birthday’ and ate the triple-layered chocolate cake. There was plenty of entertainment—dancing, pool, chit-chat, even a game of darts in a corner.

Jaymee found plenty of invitations to dance. She was privately amused because she knew her partners weren’t interested in the real her. They were reacting to this new made-up version of her. Of course, she’d done it to get Nick’s attention, not theirs, but it couldn’t hurt to dance with a few other men. Besides, he didn’t ask her for a single dance, and he had plenty of female company since they arrived. Every single woman at the party had breathed down his neck at one time or another.

Even Mindy had pulled her to one side and said, “Jaymee, you have to hang on to him if you want to keep him.”

To which she’d shrugged and pretended non-interest. “I don’t keep men.”

Mindy had rolled her eyes and sniffed, “Silly me, I forgot your men-hating mantra. Come on, Grace, let’s check out the men.”

Grace had grinned and let herself be tugged away, a plate with the biggest hamburger in her hand. Mindy had obviously taken a liking to Nick’s cousin.

Jaymee knew Nick was watching. She knew because she felt his gaze on her, on every man she danced with. She grew a little bolder, accepting a slow dance with an old classmate she hadn’t seen in years.

Someone cut in and she looked up in surprise. It was Jed.

“Hi,” she said, instinctively putting a little distance between them.

Jed’s silver eyes glittered down knowingly. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, in that soft voice of his.

Her chin went up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. When did you arrive?”

“Fifteen minutes or so ago. I’ve been watching you.”

“And Nick too?” she mocked.

“Of course. He’s important to me.” Jed whirled her around, moving her further away from the crowd on the makeshift dance floor in the room. Seeing her uneasy expression, he told her quietly, “Relax. I won’t hurt you.”

“So why are you constantly trying to make Nick jealous?” she demanded, annoyed everyone seemed to be able to read her thoughts from just looking at her. “You’re the one playing a dangerous game.”

“I have a better reason than yours. I have to know whether he can function without you, or whether he can think when you’re dancing with another man.” He looked in the mirror hung directly behind Jaymee. “And he’s failing the test miserably.”

Jaymee frowned. “I don’t understand you.”

He acknowledged the comment with a small nod. There was a trace of a smile on his lips, but she wasn’t sure, since the man rarely smiled. “All I want is for you to know you can trust me.”

She cocked her head. “I trust you with Nick. I know you have his safety in mind.”

“You’re absolutely right. You can’t trust me with you,” he told her, reading her thoughts again. “If I could get him off your mind, I would. However, since I can’t....”

He gently drew her closer to him as they moved to the music.

“Jed…” Jaymee began, wondering what that last sentence meant.

Jed’s eyes held hers for a moment. “I like you, Jay. Under different circumstances, I might even give my cousin a run for his money, but tomorrow, he and I have to go back to where he was nearly murdered. After that, we have to get this unfinished business done before he can return as his real self. As the Programmer, not your roofer boy.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She would be calm about this, she told herself. She wouldn’t lose her temper. She wouldn’t let Nick or his cousin know how close she was to screaming her anguish.

“Because I like you enough to want to help you,” he murmured. “He has to make up his mind, but I’ll set the virus in motion.”

“Virus? What virus?” Jaymee asked in alarm.

“That’s what I am. What we’re called. Viruses. We’re trained to invade the enemy covertly, Jay.” He placed a hand behind her neck. “Will you trust me this time?”

Jaymee examined Jed’s face seriously. She was afraid of him, but she’d never felt actual danger to herself. It was just the feeling he was a dangerous man, the kind she wouldn’t want to cross. Yet, she would entrust him with Nick’s life without hesitation.

“Yes,” she answered simply.

“Then, let me kiss you.”

Her eyes widened. “What?” She must have heard wrong.

“I’m going to kiss you and you’re not going to struggle.”

He slowed down to a minimal sway as he bent closer to her. She stared up at him, not even thinking of struggling, as she watched his face come nearer.

He murmured, “Trust me.”

It wasn’t a friendship kiss. Jaymee felt the probing of his tongue and with his last words echoing in her head, she obediently opened her mouth. He deepened the kiss, drawing a reluctant response from her. She felt strange, but she kissed him back. His hand skimmed her back, and somehow they were still swaying to the music.

He was a good kisser, but he wasn’t setting out to seduce her or even to excite her. She could tell somehow; she could feel a part of him disengaged. Just like Nick. No, not like Nick. Nick sent her up in flames. Jed was just...deliberately removed. Yet, she could feel a certain need in him, a certain...

“Sorry to interrupt, but I believe this dance is over.” Nick’s voice was clipped, furious.

Jed lifted his head slowly, meeting his cousin’s angry eyes over Jaymee’s head. “Hello, Nick,” he greeted, as if nothing unusual was happening.

“I warned you about mind games and Jaymee.”

“So you did.”

“Do you think I just said it for no reason?”

Jaymee felt very small, standing between the two men. She thought she understood what Jed was trying to do, but right now, she didn’t think it was working. “Nick...”

Not looking at her, Nick very calmly took her hands from Jed’s shoulders and pulled her close to him. His eyes were hooded as he continued to stare down his cousin.

Jed didn’t blink. “I wasn’t playing any mind games with Jaymee.”

Nick’s hold tightened. Jaymee wondered whether he missed the slight emphasis of her name in Jed’s answer.

“She isn’t available,” he said between clenched teeth. “If we didn’t go as far back as we do, I’d call you out for what you’re trying to do.”

“Be sure of what I’m doing before you start anything.”

“And what are you doing?” Nick asked, as the tiny muscle in his jaw contracted. “Besides the obvious, that is.”

“You figure it out, Programmer. I’m just the point man, after all.”

The little confrontation wasn’t going unnoticed as Jaymee cast desperate eyes at Mindy across the room. As usual, her friend wasn’t much help, giving her the thumbs up for being so wonderfully ensconced in a territorial fight. She rolled her eyes when Jaymee glared meaningfully at her, and finally walked over, a gleeful smile on her face.

“What a nice surprise! Someone I haven’t met. Who is this unknown guest? Another relative of yours, Nick?"” She extended a manicured hand at Jed, as her studied look turned into an interested one.

“Min, this is Jed,” Nick quietly said. A slow devilish smile crossed his face and he added, “My present to you.”

“Ohhhh!” Mindy rubbed her heart. “All mine?”

Jed didn’t say anything, as he just stood there and looked at the blonde woman. His face was as inscrutable as ever.

“All yours,” agreed Nick. He addressed Jed, his voice now deceptively mild, “I trust you’ll take Grace back to the efficiency tonight and we’ll meet at the scheduled time?”

Jed didn’t answer.

“Don’t you worry about him, honey,” Mindy cooed, slipping her hand in the crook of Jed’s arm and walking him away. “I’ll take care of him.”

Jaymee stared after them in consternation. Didn’t her friend have a drop of sense in her? The man on her arm wasn’t to be trifled with! Couldn’t she feel that dangerous aura? She was about to go after them when she felt Nick pulling her away in the opposite direction. She looked at his set expression, and gulped.

“Where...are we going?” she asked. “Mindy...”

“We’re going home,” he told her grimly. “Mindy can take care of herself.”

“But...”

“Don’t push me right now, Jaymee.”

Heedlessly, she went on. “I want to stay,” she insisted.

Nick acted as if he didn’t hear her, pulling her toward the front of the house, stopping only to say goodbye to the few people who stood in the way. Jaymee reluctantly followed, not wanting to make another scene.

“You can’t bully me!” she told him, as she stumbled in the darkness outside.

Nick pushed her into the truck and got in. Then, and only then, did he grab her by the shoulders and capture her lips with his. It was an act of possession, as he thoroughly kissed her until she forgot she was supposed to be fighting him, and kissed him back. He kissed her until she was out of breath, only allowing her to surface for air before taking her lips again. Over and over, he made his point. Only he, and he alone, could make her feel like this.

“Now,” he said, when he finally released her. “I think I won’t spank you after all.”

It sounded so ominous, Jaymee was silent all the way back to the house, wondering whether it was really wise to unleash the wolf again.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Thirteen

Rage and jealousy burned inside Nick as he forced himself to ease up on the gas, slowing the truck down. He couldn’t think straight, wanting only to take Jaymee away from that party. He should question his strange behavior, but right now, all he wanted was her.

She hadn’t protested any further since his threat, hadn’t uttered a single word as she sat there, staring straight ahead. His hands clenched around the steering wheel when he remembered Jed kissing her. It was an irrational anger because he knew deep down Jed had initiated it, that Jed was testing him. Instead of ignoring it like his head was telling him, he chose to satisfy the jealousy that gnawed at his heart.

Silence suited him fine. He didn’t particularly feel like arguing or discussing. Tonight, with her looking so damned beautiful, her hair like some gypsy enchantress, she had given him a glimpse of what he’d miss most—her sweet sexiness mixed with that bulldog determination. He knew what she’d been up to, dancing with all those men. He’d understood her motives, and had given her the space to do it. She wanted to show him she could have fun without him, and he was equally determined to show her he wouldn’t let jealousy bother him.

Until Jed had appeared and danced with her. Until he had kissed her.

Next thing he knew, he’d crossed the room, a roaring fury howling in his head, and Jed, damn his manipulative soul, had exposed his weakness with his usual cold, surgical approach. Again, he ignored his training to analyze why he acted as he did; instead, he tortured himself with what he saw.

Jed had kissed her. And she had kissed him back.

When they reached her house, he took her by the hand and led her to her bedroom. She stood quietly by the bed, her hands clasped in front of her. Deliberately, he pulled down the window shades and turned on the bedroom lights before walking back to her. Her lower lip trembled slightly, but she didn’t say anything as she continued watching him. It was obvious she was expecting a fight, but it wasn’t what he had in mind. It was a shock to know he couldn’t stand the thought of her with someone else. After all, wasn’t that what he wanted? To take away her pain and let her live a normal, happy life? Yet, the moment his mind sensed real competition, in the guise of his too-knowing cousin, something primitive had taken over, and all he wanted now was to assure himself she wouldn’t reject him for another.

She just stood there, as he unzipped her dress and slowly pulled the soft material off until it pooled around her feet. For a long moment, he stared down at the lacy, strapless brassiere. Kneeling down, he slid his hands down her legs, savoring the silky feel of her pantyhose.

She just stood there, still in her heels, as he caressed her intimately. Suddenly, he buried his face in her belly, inhaling her soft fragrance.

His voice was muffled. “I don’t think I can let you go.”

The admission shocked him. Every trained part of him screamed out a denial. Letting go was essential. Letting go was control.

Jaymee’s hands were gentle as they framed his face, making him look at her grave, mysterious eyes with their speckled depths. “You don’t have to,” she whispered.

Nick shook his head. “It has to stop. This wanting. This needing.” He stood up and carried her to the bed. Placing her on the sheets, he sat down beside her. “I have to get ready for tomorrow.”

Jaymee understood. He needed to be alone. She felt the tension in his body, felt how much he truly wanted to be with her. She remembered how she’d fought a similar losing battle not so long ago where this man was concerned. Now it was his turn.

“Why?” she asked simply.

“Because I cannot let emotions take over. Jed already knows, and he keeps testing me. I have a job to do.” One that took him to too many places, too far away. Wanting Jaymee, and needing her, would interfere. Nick could see no way out. “I’ll be downstairs in the study, working. Go to sleep.”

Jaymee offered no protest as he left the room. She lay awake for a long time, waiting for him, but he didn’t come back. Finally, exhausted, she fell asleep.

As the hours ticked away, Nick worked on modifying the programs on Jed’s flashdrive, using it as an exercise to release his pent-up frustration. He had to get himself back in control. The next few days alone with Jed would be good for him, giving him a chance to distance himself from her.

It was very late by the time he finished. Jaymee’s bedroom light was still on and he hoped she hadn’t waited up for him. He was relieved to find her asleep. Standing by the bed, he stared down at her for a long while, as an unfamiliar deep longing grew inside. She was his to take, he knew it, but he wouldn’t take her away from her world. It wouldn’t be fair, taking her away from all that she’d built for herself, and for what? For a life of unknown danger with him?

No.

Quietly, he joined her under the sheets, careful not to wake her. She curled against his body like a contented kitten, snuggling trustingly when he slid an arm under her head. The longing grew like pins and needles. Staring into the darkness, he absorbed the pain, refusing to nurse the hunger. It would be so easy to satisfy what his body craved. It didn’t help when her hand reached out for him in her sleep, seeking and finding him. He stared in resolute silence into the darkness, ignoring her moving hand, ignoring his own hunger.

He would not give in. He needed his control back.

***

The tension between them was palpable the next day. Jed and Grace had exchanged a telling look and had gone about as if nothing was wrong. The men worked on the siding around the house, cut a skylight hole on the roof, then turned to the countertops in the kitchen and bathroom. Grace helped Jaymee finish the trim work, then they opted to start caulking and cleaning some of the windows.

They went out on the back porch for a late lunch. Jaymee sat on the steps, picking at the weeds as she ate, her mind busy reshaping the back yard, figuring out how to clear the brush back so it looked more presentable. Nick sat nearby, on the railing surrounding the porch, one tanned long leg dangling by her arm. The urge to lean against it ate at her, and she determinedly concentrated on the food and the weeds. She could feel his eyes on her, burning a hole in the back of her head.

Trying to ignore her own growing frustration, Jaymee turned her attention to Jed, who was sitting on the sawhorse, facing her. He looked at her fidgeting hands with interest, and she stopped moving them.

“How long will you be gone?” she asked casually.

“A few days. Three at the most,” Nick answered from above her.

She refused to make any direct comment to him. “Is Grace going with the both of you?” At the men’s silence, she demanded, “You aren’t thinking of letting her stay at Nick’s place without a car or company, are you?”

“I’ll be OK,” Grace assured her in a lazy drawl. She was sprawled on a picnic blanket a few feet away, sunning herself.

A sudden suspicion formed in Jaymee’s mind, and she turned back to Jed, her voice fierce. “Please tell me you aren’t going to let her live in the woods by herself.”

Jed darted a narrow glance at Nick, who drawled back from the railing, “Told you she doesn’t miss a thing.”

“You are!” Jaymee was appalled. “No!”

“She needs to…”

“No!” Jaymee stood up, glaring down at Jed. “Uh-uh, not in my neighborhood. You can train her another time, Jed. She’ll stay with me while you’re both gone.”

Grace turned onto her front, propping herself on her folded arms. She didn’t say anything, but her brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight as she enjoyed the sight of someone actually daring to oppose her father.

“She’s with me because she’s in training,” Jed told her in a quiet voice, but his face was implacably cold. “If I wanted her happily domestic, she’d be in Ohio with her grandmother.”

“Nick….” Jaymee finally looked up at him, appealing him with her eyes. Surely he wouldn’t agree to let the young girl do this.

Nick studied her as he chewed on an apple, watching the myriad emotions flit over her face. “It’s between Jed and Grace,” he finally proffered an explanation, not taking any sides.

“You’re all insane!” exclaimed Jaymee, agitatedly pacing between the two watching men. She folded her arms and stood in front of Jed.

“Uh-oh…” drawled Nick. “I’ve seen that look before.”

Jed returned Jaymee’s glare expectantly.

“I’ll make you a bargain, Jed,” she said briskly. She paused as he cocked his head. “You let her stay with me, and I’ll give her some training.” At Nick’s soft laughter behind her, she went on earnestly. “I can’t bear the idea of her on her own out there. She can work with me, learn how to do some sweat work. I’ll run her exhausted with ten-hour days. I’ll build her muscles carrying bundles of shingles. I’ll even stop her orange juice intake.”

Nick fell off the railing laughing, whereas Grace groaned aloud in mock horror.

“No, no, don’t listen to her, Daddy!”

Jed’s light eyes glittered with amusement, although his expression was passive as ever. “I don’t know,” he said mildly. “You might kill her with all that training.”

“She’ll be building calf muscles, biceps, endurance. She’ll be...” She stopped, realizing he’d just given her tacit permission. “Yes?”

Jed nodded. When Jaymee gave a sigh of relief, he turned to Nick, and said without inflection, “She’ll be fine.”

A muscle worked in his jaw as Nick abruptly stood up. “Let’s look at your program before we go,” he said flatly, ignoring his cousin’s baiting.

“Have you modified it?”

“Yes.”

“I have a notepad and laptop in the bag in the kitchen. We can check it out in there.”

The two men took what remained of their lunch with them. As he passed Jaymee, Nick stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. She wanted him to kiss her, but he was still in his strange mood. So she stared back challengingly at him.

“Nicely done,” he whispered, and his fingers lingered for a moment before he went in.

Grace sleepily slapped at a fly as she turned on her back again. “That was great, Jay. Jed seldom backs down for anybody.”

“That’s because he knows I’ll keep my word,” Jaymee threatened lightly.

“My last day of freedom, then,” sighed Grace, closing her eyes.

“Do you know where Nick and your father are going?” Jaymee didn’t want to pry, but couldn’t help it.

“Back to where Nick’s boat was. Sorry, can’t tell you the location.”

Jaymee joined Grace on the blanket, putting on her sunglasses. “It’s OK, I just need to sort of know.”

“I know,” Grace softly responded, her eyes still closed. “I go through it too, you see.”

For the first time, Jaymee understood the burden of loving someone like Nick. From what she could gather, Grace lived with her grandmother and seldom saw her father. She was a little girl who was forced to grow up fast. She wondered whether she was lonely without her parents, whether she liked what her father did for a living. Which brought her to wonder whether she herself could live like that, knowing Nick was always in some form of danger somewhere, whether she would be lonely.

But loneliness was nothing new to her. She had been alone and lonely before Nick came into her life. As for his lifestyle, she’d love him no matter what he did. She’d love him whether he was Killian or Nick, or whatever he chose to call himself. It was what made him the way he was, and she wouldn’t want to change him. She sighed with resignation. It all came to a very dismal conclusion. She wouldn’t try to change his mind to leave her. She wouldn’t want to change him.

The two men were sitting on the kitchen stools, staring at Jed’s laptop when Jaymee and Grace came back in forty-five minutes later. Jaymee trashed all the paper plates and refilled her glass with iced-tea. Grace hopped onto the kitchen counter and watched her father and uncle at work, her quick eyes reading the screen. She cocked her head and immediately the family resemblance with the two men became apparent.

Jaymee hesitated, unsure whether she was in the way. As if he sensed her indecision, Nick whipped out a hand while still talking to Jed, silently asking her to go to him. She placed her hand in his and he drew her close, until she stood in front of him. Taking the glass from her hand, he stole a sip of the ice tea, then set it down on the counter.

“...without the grid. The decoding should work but didn’t. Even when I reversed the code, the damned sequences gave errors,” Nick was telling Jed, as he crossed his long arms around Jaymee and laid his chin on her head.

“You’re missing something,” Jed stated.

Nick reached out and hit a few of the keys. “It’s there, right in front of me. I just don’t see it. Look at this sequence. And this one.”

Jaymee looked at the screen. Numbers. Patterns. Color dots. Map-like diagrams.

Jed pointed to one of the diagrams. “This is location.” He typed something. Apparently, Jaymee noted, all these Virus-men could type fast. “This is position.”

“That information is apparently unimportant enough for them not to hide. They didn’t care if we know we’re spying on them, Jed. They just don’t want us to find out which satellite and how. This computer program they’re using is dangerously versatile.”

“Of course. Their encryption board is our technology in the first place. It should have been child’s play for you to decode them.”

“I’m missing something,” Nick agreed.

“Unless they have developed a new encryption technology.”

“Possibly.”

“How long before you can break through?”

“Not long.”

“That’s too long.”

“You have so much confidence in my abilities,” Nick came back, wry amusement in his voice.

“The longer they can detect our information and break into our systems, the more our national security is under siege, and the more others in our unit are in danger.”

Jaymee felt Nick’s coiled tension, although his voice remained remote. “I know.”

“It’s definitely something we can use later down the line. If we can figure this out and stop it in time, we can play with the combined tech at COMCEN and create a super program.” Jed finally looked at Jaymee. “What do you think, Jay? Can you break the code?”

Her eyes widened and she studiously gave the symbols on the screen a careful lookover. “Looks like shingle codes to me,” she jibed. “Manufacturing dates and invoice numbers. And warehouse locations.”

She cast a triumphant glance back at the hard man beside her. She could toss strange terms at him like the best of them.

“A password would override all the walls,” Jed said, his eyes faintly challenging her to have a comeback for that line.

“With the new ASTM code, the shingles are supposed to withstand category two hurricane winds. Of course,” she said with her most serious face on, “I can’t guarantee about the walls.” She felt the rumble of amusement in Nick’s chest as his hands lightly stroked her bare arms.

“All codes are decodable,” Nick interrupted the little game, laughter in his voice. “I have the right sequences in one of those strings.” He kissed the top of Jaymee’s head. “Right, Jaymee?”

“Of course,” she gravely nodded. “Don’t mix the color codes. The shingles won’t match.”

The two men finally laughed, even Jed. Jaymee grinned back, rather shocked to see Jed showing his teeth. He had a deep-throated laugh. How sad he didn’t do it often. She turned her head to look up at Nick.

“What, did I say something funny? Mixed codes can cause a major problem, you know.”

“Minx.” His smile was sexily lopsided, and her heart flipped. God, she was going to miss him. “Think you know everything about codes, hmm?”

Jed turned off the program and snapped the laptop shut. “Good mind reflex, Jay,” he complimented. “You could have been an asset in COMCEN.”

Jaymee shrugged, picking up the glass of ice tea. She was getting the hang of talking at Jed’s level. She gave him her best Nick-stare, measured and bold. “All a mind game, I’ve learned. No sweat involved. Nothing to show off when completed. Just a lot of manipulation.”

Nick chuckled again, obviously enjoying her sudden scornful mood. Jed nodded appreciatively.

“Touché,” he acknowledged, a corner of his mouth lifted in mockery. He arched a brow at Nick. “I think we’d better leave to accomplish something, so we can show some sweat when all’s said and done.”

Nick gently released Jaymee and got off the stool. “You can’t beat Jaymee when it comes to making you sweat,” he agreed, giving her a suggestive leer.

Jed moved to the backpack, putting away his things. “I have the scuba gear in the Jeep. All I need are your things.”

“They’re on the front porch.”

“I’ll get them. Come on, Grace. Help me load the Jeep.”

The moment father and daughter were out of the kitchen, Nick kissed Jaymee hard on the lips. She opened to him without protest, desperately needing a final connection with him before he left. She told herself she wouldn’t show her anxiety. She wouldn’t distract him, so he would come back safely.

Nick looked into her expressive eyes, the muddied brown and green betraying her feelings more than she knew. He felt the now familiar tightness in his chest, trying to come to terms with his reluctance to leave her. She was doing her best not to interfere with his work, and he was a selfish bastard not to stop giving her hope. Yet, he needed to kiss her, to taste her, before he left.

“Three days,” he husked out.

“Promise you’ll be careful?”

“Promise.”

“One more thing, Killian?”

He stiffened at her using his name. “Yes?”

“Give me one more night when you come back? Just you and me, nothing else?” Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears, but she was determined to let him know she was prepared for his choice. She forced a light note into her voice. “Then I’ll consider your debt over my torn clothes and dirty tee-shirts paid in full.”

Nick gave her a long, passionate kiss, his tongue possessing her mouth with such evocative tenderness, she wanted to beg him to stay. He laid his forehead on hers.

“I always pay my debts,” he told her. “It’s a deal.”

Jed was already in the Jeep waiting when they went outside. Grace was perched on the hood, and she jumped off when Nick climbed in. He tweaked her cheek and returned his attention to Jaymee.

“Good luck,” Grace told Jed, as he started the vehicle. “I’m sure you’ll get the sequences decoded, Cousin Kill. Their computer language wasn’t that difficult, even with it in Chinese.”

“You’ve been practicing, I see,” her father observed, shifting into gear. “Nick?”

“One minute,” Nick said, and turned back to Jaymee, taking the basket she handed to him.

“Hey, Dad,” Grace said softly over the idling engine, deliberately waiting till he gave her his full attention. “Tell Killian thanks for the Chinese books he gave me. They have an interesting way of writing.”

Jed nodded, and the Jeep pulled away. Jaymee waved, and Nick saluted back. Grace just stood and watched.

“What lovey-dovey things did Nick say to you?” she teased. “You guys were just so sweet.”

Jaymee flushed. She wouldn’t let a teenager make her uncomfortable. “He was telling me how to access the new program for my invoices in the new computer, that’s all.”

Grace laughed merrily. “Ah, how romantic.”

“I don’t know how to do anything with the new stuff and Nick was supposed to teach me,” Jaymee retorted defensively. “He knew I’d be trying to use it when he’s gone.”

Grace linked her hand with Jaymee’s in affection. “Well, let’s bargain. Orange juice for help with the computer.”

Jaymee’s eyes narrowed. “How many glasses?” She should have known the darn kid was also computer literate.

Grace grinned. “Negotiable,” she offered generously, as they walked back to the house. “This is going to be fun...boss.”

Her imitation of Nick’s drawl was so on the money Jaymee laughed, despite missing him already. She would have to carry on, and not think of the lonely nights. Determined, she donned her tool belt.

“Fun...” she drawled back in a similar vein, “is for sissies.”

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Fourteen

Jaymee kicked a stone in moody contemplation as she walked through the woods toward the house. She was sweaty and tired. And she missed Nick. The last two days, without him, had been long and tedious. It was difficult to continue, when everywhere she went made her think of him—sitting in her truck, working on a roof, sitting in her study, even in what used to be her sanctuary, her project-house. It frightened her, this feeling of desolation. How was she going to cope when he finally left her?

Work herself to death, she supposed. That used to be her antidote to pain. Smiling wryly, she kicked at another stone. Poor Grace. She’d worked the teenager hard the last couple of days but she was a tough young thing and absolutely fearless where height was concerned. After going out to buy the right kind of shoes, she’d taken delight in running around on the roof, working without complaint in the heat.

Without the Hidden Hills subdivision, Jaymee didn’t have to meet many deadlines. Her workload, with smaller independent builders, was lighter, and she spent more time at remodeling, leaving Dicker and Lucky on the job. She’d sent Grace ahead of her today, to start cleaning out one of the upstairs rooms while she answered some messages on the business line.

It was a mistake walking alone in the woods. It made her think of Nick. She sighed. What didn’t make her think of Nick? The sound of broken twigs behind her halted her thoughts. Turning around, she saw two figures coming toward her. Very quickly. Two very well-dressed men, looking absolutely out of place. They didn’t seem lost. Or friendly. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun in one of the strangers’ hands. It was pointed at her.

***

Nick stared out at the ocean, wondering what Jaymee was doing at the moment. Working, of course. He smiled wryly. The woman was an incurable workaholic.

Jed looked up from the maps he was studying, his gaze hard on Nick’s contemplative stance. “You have to decide sooner or later, you know,” he said softly.

Nick didn’t deny Jed’s unspoken admonishment for letting his mind wander off. He knew Jed already guessed of whom he was thinking. His rejoinder was short.

“There’s nothing to decide.” His slate eyes followed the flight of a seagull as it swooped into the ocean. Stealing a page from Jaymee’s book, he changed the subject. “Two things bother me about the whole mission. First, how did they find me? I was in the middle of nowhere out there, yet they homed in on me as if I personally gave them a call. I know my boat was clean; I double-checked before starting sail. Second, how did they find the others, one after another? I can’t accept we were tracked down so easily.”

“It’s on my mind too. Emma’s boat was checked by Diamond himself.”

A muscle worked in Jed’s jaw. “He must blame himself.”

“He’s disappeared,” Jed told him, his voice expressionless. “The unit is in disarray.”

“And you also opted to disappear in the middle of this mayhem?” Nick turned around, walking back to where Jed was seated. “I’m dead. So is Winters. Diamond’s disappeared. You’re here. Who’s at the helm?”

Jed folded up the maps. “They’ll find me eventually. I know they’ll send out a tracker. Right now, training Grace is all that matters. And getting this mission completed. I want those responsible cancelled. For Emma. For the others.”

Nick nodded. They were all in danger as long as these people knew some way to get to them. “I’ll break the code soon, I swear it. I refuse to let those Chinese characters get to me. There’s a link in there somewhere. I can feel it.”

“Extrapolate,” Jed ordered. “That’s why we’re here. We move from what we know to the unknown.”

Nick turned around and kneeled on one knee as he scooped sand through his hand. It felt cool to the touch and he deliberately concentrated on the exercise, scooping a handful, then letting it trickle out. “After getting the encryption code, I made the copies and gave them to Emma to distribute to the rest of our team. Then we spread out, each with one for decoding and backup. That’s the last time I saw them. I was out there and while waiting for instructions from Command, I attempted to break the code.”

“Did you call Command or try to reach them by computer or phone, so they were able to trace you?”

“No. All I did was the initial decoding interface, and run a random overview. Nothing unusual.”

“What warned you?”

Nick dusted his hands. “You know my programs are different from the others. I have my own warning system. There was an incoming missile.”

“Incoming?”

“Yeah, underwater.”

“So you were targeted by an outside explosive, not pre-wired.”

Nick nodded. “Right, but there would still have to be a tag somewhere on the boat for them to know the exact spot to hit. It was too well-planned, as if they were out there hunting for us, knowing they would get us.” He ran impatient fingers through his wind-dried hair. “Maybe I need a refresher course in Chinese. Maybe I overlooked some important double meaning. I’ve tried every damned sequence.”

“You can reread those books you lent Grace,” Jed suggested.

“She’s done with those? She’s good with languages, you know. I’ve seen her memorize those pictograms in one sitting. She probably has the encryption code in her head by now, the way she was staring at the program so intently that afternoon.”

Jed’s silver eyes narrowed a fraction. “She gave me a message to pass along to you before we left. I didn’t think it strange then, because you were talking to Jay, but it did sound cryptic, now that I think about it.”

Nick grinned crookedly. “I wonder where she got that from.”

“She instructed me to thank you for the books, and to tell you the Chinese have an interesting way of writing.”

“She’s your daughter. Was that supposed to have an underlying message?”

Jed repeated the message, then arched a dark brow. “What were the books about?”

“Just essays, reprinted newspaper arti...cles....”

Nick suddenly sat back on his haunches, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. His curse was short and explicit. Silver eyes met Nick’s blue-gray ones when he opened them.

“I assume my daughter has caused some trouble?”

“Trouble,” snorted Nick, his mind racing. “Hell, Trouble has been playing her father’s little mind games.”

“Oh?”

“An interesting way of writing,” Nick repeated Grace’s message again.

Jed’s eyes glittered in the sunlight. “You’ve already tried right to left, the way they do it. Error, remember?”

“Yeah, but Trouble meant the books and articles I gave her. Chinese newspapers read up and down, Jed.” His lopsided grin was rueful. “I’ll bet if we just connect the pictograms up and down….” He stood up, his eyes far away. “Let’s go. I need to get back to Jaymee’s place.”

“Not yet. Our plan was to retrace your steps. We’ll start with you getting to shore and work our way to your getting the small apartment.” Jed stood up, jamming his sunglasses on his nose. “I need that piece of information to assimilate.”

“All right,” Nick agreed.

Jed’s specialty was information assimilation, assessing how the other side thought and compacting massive chunks of information into relevant details. Simplification, followed by the process to extrapolate cause or effect. Very useful for an assassin. No one could get into an enemy’s mind like his cousin, and certainly, very few could rival the Ice Man when it came to silent elimination.

Jed would find and target the enemy from within. As all Viruses were trained to do, Nick acknowledged. Invade and disappear. That was why all these attacks on them were unacceptable. No one was supposed to know about the Virus Program.

It had to be something tied with the targets and their relatives, Nick darkly concluded. Emma was Diamond’s wife. Jed said one other victim was a relative too. Winters was using his brother’s boat. Jed. Unlike the others, he didn’t have anyone vulnerable. Until now. A sense of protectiveness burned fiercely in him. He had to find these bastards and eliminate them. There was no way he would let Jaymee be jeopardized by unknown assailants who, one day, might link her to him. Even after he disappeared from her life. His eyes darkened at the thought.

***

Jaymee tried to hide her fear. The gun against the small of her back felt hard and cold, and she knew her captors wouldn’t hesitate using it. It was in their eyes, the way they marched her to the house, the swift slap one of them gave her when she made an unexpected move.

She hadn’t asked any questions. She had known instinctively these men were after Nick, that they were looking for him now. For the first time, she was actually grateful he wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. Maybe things did happen for a good reason.

“Open the door,” the one holding the gun commanded.

It shouldn’t be locked, but Jaymee took the opportunity to make as much noise as possible. She had to warn Grace somehow. Pushing at the door, she said to her captors, “The house isn’t lived in.”

“Perfect hiding place,” the other man commented, his voice echoing through the empty house. “I wonder why he rented the little apartment when he has this.”

Jaymee blinked in relief. Another reason to thank God. If she hadn’t argued with Jed, Grace would be in Nick’s apartment and these men would have gotten her.

“Decoy, of course,” the one holding her replied, pushing Jaymee roughly into a chair. “Now, Miss Barrows, you’ll tell us what you know.”

“I don’t know what you want to know,” she managed to say in a steady voice. “Please, do you have to point that thing at me?”

The armed man studied her for a second, then put the weapon away. He was a big man, and his expensive suit didn’t hide his physique. He stepped closer, and Jaymee smelled the musky cologne that clung to him. It made her more afraid somehow, and she wanted to vomit.

“Do you understand what I can do to you if you don’t cooperate?” His voice was quietly menacing. “I’ll break every bone in your body, starting with your little finger.”

Jaymee swallowed. She looked at him in the eye. “I still don’t know what you want.”

“The man you hired recently.”

“Nick?” Jaymee feigned surprise. “My new helper? But he’s gone.”

“Don’t lie to us, please. The two men we talked to told us you fired them because you’re sweet on this man.”

Damn Rich and Chuck, Jaymee silently cursed, even as fear unfurled in her stomach when the big man in front of her moved even nearer.

“I don’t really want to hurt you too much,” he continued, “but I will, if you won’t tell us where he is.”

“I’m telling the truth!” She was. She didn’t know where Nick and Jed went off to. “He left two days ago, said he was tired of roofing work.”

“Just like that.” Disbelief in his voice.

Jaymee shrugged. “Transients are like that in Florida. They make cheap labor.”

“And easy bed partners?” the other man sneered.

He pulled up another chair, and sat astride it. Leaning forward, he twirled a few strands of Jaymee’s hair in his fingers. She forced herself to sit very still.

“Keep your mind on getting our guy, Les,” the first man said.

“There are other ways to make her talk.”

“No. Go check out the rest of the house and see whether you can find any trace of him, or the board.”

Les reluctantly released her hair, and stood up. “What if he’s really gone?”

“Then we wait for the next time he plays with the encryption board. We’ll get him.”

Jaymee kept her eyes blank, trying not to show any emotions that might betray her. She dared not look in any direction, in case they saw clues of Grace’s presence. Her heart was beating so loudly, she had trouble paying attention to their conversation. She tried to calm down by counting slowly.

Nick, don’t play with the board, wherever you are. She didn’t fully understand it, but somehow, handling the encryption board would bring Nick danger. The foreboding feeling spread as she realized she was asking for the impossible.

Nick.

It was a hopeless silent scream.

***

Nick felt restless as they reached his efficiency. He wanted to see Jaymee, needed to hold her in his arms. A heavy sinking feeling settled in his gut as he faced the fact he’d have to live with this yearning for the rest of his life. He could only hope time would dull the edges.

He clamped down on all thought of personal needs. They had no place in his job.

“This is it,” he told Jed. “I laid low for a few weeks. After deciding to remain ‘dead’ until I could get word to you, I went to look for a job that wouldn’t call attention to me being a stranger in town.”

Jed cocked his head. “Roofing isn’t exactly your forte. I’d thought you’d try out something electrical, for computer parts.”

Nick shrugged and gave a wolfish grin. “No openings. Besides, my new job had unexpected fringe benefits.”

“A waste of this efficiency, then.” Jed took out the key to unlock the door.

“True,” Nick agreed, “but under the circumstances... don’t move.”

The last two words came out in a hiss, as his trained eye caught the signs. Jed stood very still, his hand still turning the knob, the door ajar wide enough for him to walk into the apartment. He nodded in comprehension at Nick’s nod toward the doorknob, keeping it turned clockwise while Nick slipped under his arm.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said we’d to stick close together,” Nick commented as he squeezed his muscular frame between Jed’s body and the door to peer behind it. “Ahh...”

He was silent for a minute as he studied the device.

“Can you disengage it?”

Nick passed him a mocking look. “As long as you don’t release the knob, we’ll be fine.” Because this was what he was trained to do, the cocky façade of the Programmer fell in place seamlessly, as he slid into the apartment to have a closer look at the little trap laid out for him. He knew it was for him, of course. Eyeing the gadget, he told his cousin, “Five minutes.”

“Good. If I may add that Jaymee and Grace are in danger, perhaps you can hurry a little?”

“Damn you, Jed. What have you assimilated from all this?”

“I’ll tell you as you work, to keep your nerves steady,” Jed said, with the calm assurance of complete confidence Nick would get them out of this jam.

Nick was already on his knees, studying the contraption wired to the knob. “What do you mean Jaymee is in danger?” His voice was soft, his hands steady.

“Extrapolate.”

“Damn you, Jed.” Nick slowly took off the plastic cover.

“What happens every time before some explosives show up in your wake?”

Gently. Gently. He unscrewed the panel covering the wires.

“I’m working here. Why don’t you tell me?”

Cockiness was essential when walking on the edge. Fear would only breed nervousness. Every COS commando’s first lesson was cockiness at all times, especially when death was close.

“What important thing did you do before they found you?”

Which wire? Nick hesitated with his wire-clipper. His hand was very steady as he hummed under his breath.

“I was...” The clipper moved nearer to a wire. He cut through in one clean motion, then held his breath. Adrenaline rushed through, as he knew it would, as it always did. Standing up, he continued, “You may release the knob now.”

Jed let go and stepped in to take a look. “Four minutes. You’re getting slow.”

“You distracted me with a question.” Nick breathed in deeply, settling the lightness in his head. “Each time before they found me, I was trying to decode the encryption board.” He cursed as realization dawned. “You mean I have been calling them myself every time?”

Jed nodded. “On the boat. Here, the night I arrived.”

“Shit. In the kitchen of Jaymee’s house.” Nick was already out the door. Oh God. He had brought them to Jaymee’s house. They ran back outside. The Jeep’s gears screeched in protest as Nick backed out of the parking lot.

“A homing device triggered every time you tried to break the code. They were counting on everyone to try many times, so they could cancel each one of you.” Jed went on with his analysis in the same calm tone of voice, as if Nick wasn’t driving at breakneck speed, breaking down all the assimilated information. “Emma and Winters could have been doing the same. You were warned because of your own computer system the first time. You probably sent them a signal from the efficiency, and this time, because you spent the night with Jaymee, you avoided them again. Luck saved you, Programmer.”

He didn’t add Jaymee and Grace were the next probable victims.

“I’ll kill them if they got to Jaymee and Gracie,” Nick said, his eyes on the road.

Jed’s eyes were unreadable as he stared ahead. “They lay a finger on Grace, and they are mine. Every single one of them.”

Luck. He didn’t need luck for himself. Nick cursed at himself over and over as he stepped on the accelerator. A homing device, Jesus. And they’d been gone over two days, ample enough time for the enemy to trace to that location. This wasn’t such a big town, and the right people would easily direct anyone to Jaymee’s house, if they were asked. For the first time, he forgot about his training. Fear for Jaymee’s safety clutched at his heart, at his very soul.

***

Thirsty and weary, Jaymee sat quietly on a chair in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Her two captors had searched every room and Grace’s and her tools on the floor had caught their attention. Their assumption, though, was wrong.

“Two sets of tools?” the one with the strong cologne inquired, eyebrows raised. “If he was supposed to be gone, why didn’t he take his tools with him?”

If they looked closely, they would realize the belts were sized too small for a man, but Jaymee hadn’t any intention of pointing that out to them. At least Grace was safe. She had no idea where the teenager could be hiding.

“The tools are mine,” she told them truthfully.

“Or, he might actually be back soon,” the one named Les said, “although I’m getting tired of standing around waiting.”

A muffled sound came from inside the other man’s jacket, and reaching in, he pulled out a slim cell phone. “Yeah,” he answered in a curt voice. “Nothing to report, except this is a male, probably the leader of the three.” He paused, listening to the speaker on the line. “He’s still deciphering the e-board. We’re now at the last place he used it, but he isn’t here.” Pause. “I’m still not sure whether he’s gone or not.” Pause. “Fine, I’ll cover the bases. I’m pretty sure this one is the last of the three, so once we get him, Les and I expect full payment.”

He flipped the phone shut. Jaymee eyed him warily as he approached, then slowly circled her. The more she listened to them, the more it was apparent these men didn’t even know exactly who Nick was. They were after three people, and he was one of them.

Didn’t Nick tell her two people who worked with him were dead? Cold sweat ran down the back of her neck. She knew without a doubt this man was going to kill her too.

“What do you intend to do with me?” she asked quietly. She wouldn’t show him how afraid she was.

Something akin to admiration lurked in the stranger’s eyes as he looked down at her. “You should be frightened, lady. Your fate is in my hands.” He touched her hair tumbling around her shoulders in mass disarray, having come loose from their rough handling. “Such pretty hair. Dark flame. Are you afraid of fire?”

Sick to her stomach, Jaymee clenched her hands in her lap. She jutted her chin defiantly, her eyes blazing contemptuously. “Melodramatic threats don’t scare me.”

He laughed and held on to her hair tightly. “Too bad I don’t have time to play with you, lady. I have much to do, just in case your man does return.”

“I told you, he isn’t going to come back!”

His killing eyes were pitiless. “Then you will die alone,” he told her.

***

Please let her be alive. Nick prayed as he drove. Unused to desperate measures, he was forced to acknowledge, for the first time in his life, he feared failure.

“She should be home cooking dinner for her father right now,” he said to no one in particular. “She works like clockwork.”

Jed hadn’t said anything since making his analysis. He’d turned inward, aloof, preparing himself for battle.

The Jeep made a cloud of dust down the unpaved road and the brakes squealed as Nick turned into Jaymee’s ranch house. To his relief, he saw her blue truck there, as well as Dicker’s vehicle and another one. Chuck’s and Rich’s truck, if he remembered right. Yes, he could see them on the front porch, talking to Jaymee’s father. Frowning, he searched for Jaymee’s familiar figure as he turned off the engine and jumped out. He could hear Jed’s steps behind him as he stepped toward the group of men, all of whom had turned at his noisy arrival.

Nick ignored Chuck’s sneer when he reached them. She wasn’t there. “Where’s Jaymee?” Not bothering to greet any of them, he asked Bob, who was standing on the top step.

Before the old man could answer, Chuck interrupted, “Get him off your property, Bob, before he gets you arrested for harboring a wanted man. I tell you, you’re going to need Rich’s and my help again once he’s gone.” He eyed Jed, who stood a few feet away. “That one is probably one of his accomplices, man. Look at him. I wouldn’t trust them with your daughter, Bob, not after those men said he was a criminal.”

He pointed at Nick, as Jed looked disinterestedly back. Nick turned to Chuck.

“What are you talking about?” he asked in a silky voice.

Chuck spat out some tobacco juice, then gave a triumphant smile. “You heard. I told them FBI boys when they came around town looking for a newcomer that may be acting suspicious-like. You came to mind, acting like you’re a construction man, when you ain’t.” He drawled out the acronym to sound like Eff-bee-yai-boys.

“Yeah,” Rich chimed in. “They told us they you’re a felon, man. We wanted to save Jaymee from the likes of you, so we told the FBI we thought you’re probably the one they were looking for.”

“You sent them here?” Nick said through gritted teeth. “To find Jaymee?”

Mistaking Nick’s anger for fear, Chuck went on, the sneer on his face bigger. “Yeah, once they talk to her, she’ll fire you and we’ll get our jobs back.”

Nick turned to Bob again. “Where is Jaymee?” he asked, enunciating each word in measured control, his eyes glittering in his pale face.

Bob studied the younger man for a moment. “She disappeared into the woods with that green-haired girl earlier, but told me she’d be back to make dinner,” he told him, “but she still hasn’t turned up.”

He frowned, as if realizing something was wrong.

“She’s probably talking with the FBI right now,” Chuck cut in again. “They told us they needed to protect her from...”

He never got to finish his sentence as Nick’s fist shot out in a blurred move. The other roofers stared down at the unconscious man on the ground, blood coming out of his nose.

“Bob, I need a rifle,” Nick said, his voice deadly soft. “Got one?”

“There’s a hunting rifle in my bedroom,” Bob answered without hesitation, his gaze still on Chuck. “I’ll get it.”

Nick turned to Rich, who cowered behind Lucky. “If anything happened to Jaymee, you and that scumbag will pay dearly.”

***

She wasn’t scared. She was not scared. Not scared.

Jaymee didn’t dare move. She couldn’t move. And she was sweating profusely under the blanket Cologne Man had draped over her. It must be getting dark. She wondered at the time. As if it mattered. Well, it should. At least she would know what time she died.

Grace. She had to warn Grace to get out of here, but the gag in her mouth wouldn’t budge and her hands...no, she refused to think what her hands were holding onto. The blanket was like an oven but she dared not roll over.

It must be at least fifteen minutes since the two men had left her, and still no sound of Grace. Jaymee hoped she’d escaped. Those men wouldn’t think twice about hurting a sixteen-year old, and if they knew who she really was…. She now had a notion of what being Grace must be like, constantly aware of danger.

She shivered despite the heat, knowing her own chances of survival were slim. The man with the horrid-smelling cologne had explained exactly what he was doing every step of the way, had enjoyed watching her face go whiter and whiter.

Finally, he’d smiled, and said, “Better not make any unexpected moves, my dear. But then, someone is bound to try to wake you when they see you huddled under this blanket, don’t you think?”

He didn’t mention who he thought might be the one who would wake her.

Grace mustn’t come anywhere near her. In desperation, she worked her tongue and teeth furiously against her gag. It moved just a little but the exertion tired her face out after a while, and she felt numb and helpless. Maybe she was imagining the gag didn’t feel as tight as in the beginning. Gingerly, she lifted her shoulder to rub against her mouth, careful not to move her fingers. It hurt as the ropes cut into her flesh, and she struggled between pain and concentration. Her panting made her realize her gag was finally loose enough for her to make some kind of sound.

What came out of her throat was a hoarse croak, barely audible through the blanket. No one heard her.

***

Nick didn’t like the silence at all. He circled the house under the shadows of the giant oaks, but couldn’t see any movement or light from within. His own stomach burned as fearful imagery invaded his thoughts. Was she all right?

Behind him, Jed was as silent as a shadow. Evasive training ensured light feet and quick reflexes. “Wait,” his soft voice cut through the quietude of the area as Nick ventured closer to the front porch.

Nick paused, his hands already on the wooden railing, about to heave himself over. Looking in the direction to which Jed was pointing, he saw a red reflector sticker on the eave.

“That’s Grace’s,” Jed told him, coming nearer. “It means danger.”

That didn’t ease his fear one bit. “I’m going in,” Nick asserted.

“No. Red means to stay put. We’ll walk around the house again, Number Three.”

The sudden use of his code name forced him to act rationally. Nick hesitated, reluctant to follow his leader’s direct order. Jaymee’s safety was on his mind. Jed’s gaze was piercing as he waited, and after a moment, Nick released his hold on the railing. As they circled the house one more time, they noticed more red reflector stickers spaced on various parts along the eaves.

“How did she find time to go around the house to do that?” Nick wondered. “And she would need a ladder to reach that high.”

“Not if she was on the roof,” Jed suggested.

Nick frowned. Why would Grace be hanging upside-down on the roof pasting reflector tape? Unless....

“Is she still up there?”

“I’m here.”

The sound of disturbed foliage made them turn around, and Grace suddenly emerged from a clump of trees, a little out of breath. She had on a camouflage body veil, a one-piece lightweight construction which covered her from head to foot, and the two men wouldn’t have made her out from among the trees, if she hadn’t spoken up.

“Where did you go?” Jed asked, as he watched his daughter peel off the hand loops, then push the material back to reveal her dark head of hair.

“I followed the two men to make sure they were really gone before I attempt to get to Jaymee.” Grace shrugged out of the mesh.

“Jaymee’s OK? Where’s she?” demanded Nick.

“She’s inside the house.” As Grace gave them a synopsis of what happened, she folded the body veil into a surprisingly small square with quick, practiced movements and pushed it into the unobtrusive butt-pack she had on. “The two men are gone now, and I’ve got their car plate number. It’s a rental.”

Jed nodded. Nick didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Later,” he told Grace. “If Jaymee’s in there, why aren’t you with her?”

Grace pointed to the reflector stickers. “That was to tell you guys to leave the place alone if you happened to get back before I do. Jay’s safe as long as you don’t go inside. At least, that’s what it looked like to me, when I saw them wiring every door and window before they took off.”

Nick’s heart dropped into his stomach. Fuck. The damned place was rigged. “Jaymee is in there alone?” He stared at the house, which now took on an eerie, mocking demeanor. “Why isn’t she trying to get out?”

Images of her dead inside. No! He refused to think of that possibility.

“I think she’s OK,” Grace informed them carefully, her brown eyes concerned, as she looked her second cousin over. “I sneaked out of the window in the upstairs room when they forced her inside, and I heard most of the conversation before they closed the windows.”

“If every door and window is wired, we’re going to need a team here to get inside,” Jed noted.

“No, you can go in, Dad,” Grace said, and pointed to the roof. “They forgot one opening.”

“The skylight hole I cut out,” Nick breathed.

“Yes, but I couldn’t jump down myself, so I couldn’t check on Jay,” Grace said, her voice apologetic. “I’m sorry, Kill.”

Nick forced his eyes from the house and turned to Grace. He pulled one of her pigtails with affection and knuckled her chin. “You’ve done enough, Trouble. Now stay out of sight, hmm?”

Grace nodded, then pointed to a ladder lying on its side by the house. Nick gave her a strained smile, and went to get it. As she watched him prop the ladder against the house eave, Grace exchanged a glance with her father.

“Dad, it’s the encryption board. It has some sort of tagging device.”

“We already figured it out.”

“Did you pass on my message to Kill?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been thinking. I suspect there’s a homing device of some sort on the e-board. The signal led them to him and the others. I don’t think they were after the Virus unit.”

“Too bad for them. Now the unit’s going to be after them.” Jed said, deadly intent on his face.

“Hired mercenaries,” Grace notified him, her eyes gleaming. “I’m very sure of that, Dad. Probably hired by either the Chinese or the people your team took the board from.”

Jed’s eyes glittered back from his dark, tanned face. “Don’t let me stop you from finishing my job for me, little Trouble.”

Grace smiled brilliantly, then sobered up. “Cousin Kill will need help down the skylight hole, Jed.”

She looked up as the tall, lanky figure disappeared over the peak of the roof.

“Stay at a safe distance,” Jed ordered, heading for the ladder.

Grace nodded, then turned and disappeared into the woods.

***

Jaymee heard the creaking sounds. She recognized what they were, having heard them a thousand times before. Feet walking up a roof. The plywood echoed everything, from the moving feet to something being pried apart. She hadn’t any idea what Grace could be doing up there. Then, silence. She strained hard for some more noise but the blanket made it difficult, muffling the quieter sounds. After what seemed an eternity, she finally thought she heard Grace approaching.

As loudly as she could, she cried out in a hoarse, spitless voice. “Don’t touch me, Grace! Stay away from me!”

She hoped her words were recognizable through the thick fabric. There was a short pause, then the cover over her slid off very slowly, and she let out a sigh at the sudden cool air.

“Jaymee.”

She stiffened. “Oh my God, Nick!” She couldn’t see him, slumped in the position her captor had placed her. “Don’t move me, OK? Don’t!” She quelled the rising panic, trying to make herself intelligible. In as calm a voice as she could manage, she continued, “I think I’ll explode if you touch me.”

***

Nick blinked away the red mist of rage obstructing his vision. This wasn’t the time to be angry. After climbing down the skylight tunnel with Jed’s help, he’d walked from room to room, wondering where they had put Jaymee, why it was so silent. A quick check had revealed the main doors and windows were indeed fixed to trigger off if disturbed. Thank God for Grace’s quick eyes and thinking.

Jaymee was in this box somewhere, maybe knocked out. Not dead. He refused to accept that.

His heart leapt when he spied the outline of what could be a body under the blanket lying on one of the old sofas upstairs. He knew, from the familiar shape, that it was Jaymee under there. It had to be. The position looked awkward—abnormal—and he felt a great abyss growing, breaking his insides apart, as he rushed toward the shrouded figure.

Oh God. Not a shroud. Shrouds are for...he was about to let out a howl of despair when he heard the muffled noises coming from under the covers.

Urgent sounding. Hoarse, almost inaudible, but absolutely, beautifully alive.

He closed his eyes in relief, blinking back unexpected tears, then hurried to take Jaymee into his arms. Something in the tone of her voice halted his frantic state of mind. She was trying to convey something important. He heard the last part of her urgent warning.

“I’ll explode if you touch me.”

She was repeating it over and over, like a fervent prayer.

Nick inched the blanket off Jaymee carefully. Taking several deep breaths, he said, in a soothing voice, “Sweetheart, shhhh. I hear you. Shhhh.” When she settled down, he continued, “I’m going to turn you over very slowly. You just lie still and don’t exert a muscle, OK? Are you hurt in any way?”

He needed to make sure she wouldn’t jerk in pain from some wound he couldn’t see. Her voice was thin, exhausted.

“I’m fine, at least, I think I am. I can’t feel my hands and feet too much because the ropes are too tight. Nick, go get the cops or something. It isn’t safe for you here.”

She was so relieved. He was here. Alive and here. His hands were reassuringly gentle on her, moving and turning her over with infinite care, and she gave a sigh as she slowly faced him.

“Don’t exert a muscle,” he reiterated, in the same soft tone. “Don’t think about the danger, just concentrate on my moving you. That’s right, baby. Almost there. Good. Now, let me look at you.”

Nick kept his face an expressionless mask as he took in the bruise on one of her cheeks and the marks left by the gag on her delicate skin. Her hair was plastered to her face, tendrils damp from perspiration. Her shirt was soaked from perspiration. He fisted at the sight of her small hands tied close to her chest, palm to palm. Her knees and her ankles, too, were crisscrossed with—his eyes narrowed—electrical wires. Her hands....

Jaymee stared up at Nick’s face, trying to get past the controlled expression. She realized he was hiding his reaction from her. She could guess at some of his emotions raging in there somewhere. Loving him for coming into the house for her, she sought to comfort, to reassure.

“It’s alright. I’m perfectly fine, as you can see. Now, why don’t you go and call the police or whatever department it is that takes care of...bombs.” She faltered on the last word.

Nick smiled down at her gently. “And leave you?” He guessed at her motive. “Do you think I’d leave you here alone, with this thing in your hands?”

“You have to,” Jaymee whispered back. “I don’t want you hurt.” She turned her eyes downward to study the small package in her hands, secured tightly in such a way any movement of her thumbs would hit the little lever on the module. That Cologne Guy, as she’d dubbed him, had told her exactly what would happen if she accidentally activated it. Desperation made her voice clearer as she begged him to leave her. “If I press down from fatigue, it’s going to go off and...please, Nick, get out of here!”

Nick pulled a small case out of the back pocket of his jeans as he locked eyes with Jaymee. His blue-gray eyes were clear and steady. “I’ll not do that even if you set it off accidentally. If you go, you’ll take me with you.”

He opened the case and extracted the small instruments inside.

“Nick, please.” She begged him with her eyes, her voice. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“Don’t you have confidence in my skills, babe? I’m more than a big, bad wolf, you know.” His voice was teasing, as if it wasn’t a matter of life and death at that moment. “You did say I have elegant, clever hands.”

Jaymee felt tape being pulled from her skin and she flinched at the sting of skin and body hair parting from the glue.

“Don’t move your thumbs, no matter what, sweetheart,” Nick continued, the deep timbre of his voice down to a croon. “Really, when I told you I wanted you tied up, I meant in a more spread out position, Jaymee. This one makes access difficult, to say the least.”

“Nick, this is no time to joke!” She couldn’t believe he was capable of such calm, even making fun of the situation.

“Is she all right?” Jed interrupted from the doorway.

Nick didn’t turn around as he slowly cut the knots and pulled at the tape binding Jaymee’s wrists. “Get out and make sure Grace and you are out of the way,” he calmly instructed. “This one will take some time, cousin. If you see my flashlight, come back on the roof to help me get her out through the skylight. I don’t trust any of the doors.”

Jed, understanding the situation, didn’t argue. “We’ll be waiting for your flashlight.” Then Jaymee heard his fading footsteps.

“Did you miss me?” Nick asked as he continued working at the tape.

Jaymee looked at those long eyelashes, the sensual lips, the stubborn lock of hair across the forehead. She noted the muscle ticking in his jaw. He probably needed distraction more than she did, she realized with sudden insight. The thought of her in danger would affect his concentration. She must keep him from thinking she was hurt.

“Maybe,” she told him, forcing her voice to relax. “But only the nice parts.”

She was rewarded with his sexy, crooked smile. He looked at her again. “The next tug is going to hurt. The tape is wound around your thumbs.”

She nodded. She understood the consequences if her thumbs jerked from any kind of pain.

“Ready?” he asked, keeping the smile on his face, although his eyes were oddly remote.

“Ready.”

She concentrated on her thumbs, stiffening them so they didn’t react from the expected sting. Her breath caught sharply when the tape was ripped away, but she managed to keep her thumbs inert. The air in her lungs hissed out in relief.

“Good girl.” Nick picked up another small instrument. “Now, which nice parts did you miss, hmm?”

It was impossible to undo the rest of the knots and tape without hurting her. He had to work while she still held on to the module. Slowly, he pried open the small cover on top of the casing in her cupped hands.

Jaymee closed her eyes, trying not to think of what might happen if something went wrong.

“Your ass,” she told him. “It’s a nice part.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick’s eyes narrowed as he studied the electronics in the device.

“Your lips. Your hands. Your chest. Your belly button,” Jaymee continued.

“You’re forgetting the best part,” he reminded her, as he spliced the wires.

She opened her eyes. “Which part is that?” she softly queried.

“The big bang,” he said, and gave her a leer. Reaching down, he picked up the tiny snips.

Her smile was brilliant, even though her lips trembled. “Is it going to happen next?”

She looked meaningfully at the snips in his hand. Nick leaned forward, carefully positioning the snips.

“Not if I can help it,” he whispered, his head dipping closer to hers. He looked at the module one last time before giving her his full attention. His eyes were unwavering, dilated from the intensity of his feelings. “Don’t move your thumbs.”

Jaymee couldn’t really see him through the tears threatening to come out. His lips were soft and warm against her own cold, dry ones. His tongue flicked across them, wetting her lips and comforting her gently. She didn’t mind if it ended this way, she thought in a daze.

“I love you,” she told him, as she heard the sharp snipping sound.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Fifteen

Silence. Nick counted his heartbeat, his lips still on Jaymee’s. Slowly, he straightened up, thinking Jaymee’s tear-streaked face was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“Silence is golden,” he gravely told her.

Her smile was tremulous, and the tears flowed again. “You owe me a big bang,” she managed through the tears. “I can’t deduct that from this week’s paycheck.”

“I’ll pay up,” promised Nick. If they got out of this helltrap safely, he added, as he methodically untied her bound wrists.

Her hands and feet hurt even more once they were free, and Jaymee moaned softly as Nick rubbed them with strong, tender hands. God, she loved those hands. And she remembered. She had told him she loved him, and she knew he’d heard her. Those words had come out naturally. Her only thought then was if she were to die, she wanted him to know the truth.

“Thank you, my hero,” she said aloud, getting off the sofa with his help and stumbling as her limbs refused to support her.

“You can thank me later, boss,” Nick drawled, then swung her into his arms. “Let’s get you out of here first.”

He carried her out of the room, stopped long enough at a front window to flash a light to signal Jed, and moved on back under the skylight.

Jaymee curled her hands around his strong neck, reveling in the easy strength and secured warmth. She had never felt safer. For a while, alone in the house, she’d imagined dying and him never knowing how much she loved him. Now he knew. And she didn’t care.

Jed’s dark head appeared above them, and minutes later, they were climbing down the ladder off the roof. When she finally stepped back from the house, Nick immediately lifted her off her feet again, and Jaymee didn’t protest. She felt weak and needed him close by. When Grace squeezed her hands anxiously, she smiled back at her.

“I’m OK,” she told her.

Nick passed Jed a telling look. “Don’t go in there. I’m going to have to comb through the whole house to make sure they didn’t leave any surprises.”

“No!” Jaymee tightened her hold around his neck. “No, call the police instead. Let it stay like that forever. I don’t care. I don’t want you in there.” The words tumbled out in panicked phrases.

“Jaymee…”

She didn’t care she was at the edge of hysteria. The thought of him blowing up with the house was even more frightening than when she was alone in there, contemplating death.

“No, no, no!” Her voice was adamant, fierce. “If you risk your life in that stupid...empty house, I’ll go back in there with you.”

“I’ll call in a team,” Jed suggested quietly.

“Then Command will know where you are,” Nick pointed out, as they kept walking. “I thought you wanted a stretch of time to do what you needed.”

Jed shrugged. “I’ll think of something. Disappear before they show up.”

“Please, Nick, don’t go in there,” pleaded Jaymee, interrupting the two men. She wasn’t in the mood to stay out of their business. This was her business now too, damn it!

Nick looked down at the face of the woman who had almost died because of him. The feeling of helpless rage he was holding in check was threatening to break through again.

She had almost died. And it was all his fault. It humbled him to know she would have willingly sacrificed herself so he would be safe.

“All right,” he relented. “We’ll work out an alternative. But no one goes near or into that place till it’s swept by a team.”

Jed nodded. “Go take Jay home now. We’ll talk later.”

“Meet me there in three hours,” Nick said, his eyes still holding Jaymee’s.

He carried her all the way back, hardly out of breath as he made his way through the woods. She clung to him, her hands stroking the back of his neck, her lips occasionally bestowing kisses anywhere they made contact. They didn’t say a word in the gathering darkness as he walked, yet their hearts whispered and conversed, knowing how precious each passing moment was.

Bob, Lucky, and Dicker were still at the house when Nick climbed up the back porch and entered the kitchen. Bob’s lined face was filled with worry as he took in the disheveled appearance of his daughter, the bruises on her face and arms.

“Good God, what happened?” All three men got up from their seats.

Nick shook his head when Dicker pulled up a seat for him. “I’m taking her upstairs. She needs rest.”

“What happened?” Bob asked again. “Are you all right, Jaymee girl? Who were those men Rich and Chuck were talking about?”

“Not FBI,” replied Nick, a hard edge to his voice. “Where are those two bastards, by the way?” He wasn’t done with them yet.

“Took off the moment Chuck came to,” Lucky said. “You OK, boss?”

“I’m fine, thanks to Nick. Don’t worry, I’ll be back to work in the morning.”

“You just rest up. I’ll take care of work,” Bob cut in. “Go on and take her to her room, Nick. We’ll talk about this later.”

No one questioned Nick’s actions, letting him take Jaymee to her room. They understood something serious had occurred, recognized Nick had saved Jaymee from something.

“Don’t you worry, Jay,” Dicker called after them. “Take tomorrow off. We’ll get the roofs done.”

Nick carried her straight into the connecting bathroom after he kicked the bedroom door shut. “A nice warm bath first,” he murmured. “You need a good scrub, woman. You’re all sweaty and dirty.”

“You too,” Jaymee said. “You can put me down now, you know.”

“I want to carry you forever,” he said, simply.

Jaymee felt his tension and understood his desire to keep her close to him. They had almost lost each other. “I love you,” she told him.

“I know.”

He didn’t tell her he loved her too, but she could see it in his eyes. There was a tenderness in them that seemed to make his eyes bluer, and her breath caught at the deep yearning in them. She felt his emotions in the way he held her so tightly against his body. She supposed it wasn’t easy for a man like Nick to say those words, not when he had been trying to sever the ties emotionally the last few days.

They bathed each other slowly, touching and exploring. She kissed him, soothing the fury that rose when he saw the ugly bruises on her in better light. He traced every part of her, as if committing her to memory, growling now and then as he found a scratch here, or a cut there. He handled her with the attention of a mate, with such a gentle touch it made her want to cry.

After the bath, he carried her to bed, babying her, taking care of her every need, as if she were the most precious thing on earth to him. And Jaymee let him. She’d never felt like this before, out of control, yet also still in charge. His hands were demanding, yet caring. His kisses had an urgency that was both passionate and reverent. His mouth found the vulnerable pulse in her neck, coming back to it again and again, as if her heartbeat reassured him somehow. He leisurely explored the hollow in her throat, the dip between her breasts, the womanly curve of her abdomen.

Jaymee returned his touches with the same reverence. His body was strong and powerful, and trembled under her hands. She kissed the back of his neck, traced her lips down the dip of his spine, molded her hands on the male grace of his small buttocks. He turned over for her eager lips, and moaned as she paid attention to the beautifully formed member that grew bigger with every stroke of her tongue and fingers.

Finally, a sheen of perspiration on him, Nick lifted Jaymee astride him, and she pushed down, taking him fully inside her, enjoying this possession of him, taking and giving pleasure, until they were gasping. It was what they needed, what words couldn’t describe. They were one and home. Nothing else mattered.

He lay there quietly, eyes half-closed and filled with passion, as he let her set the pace. His breathing was labored, but he didn’t move, except for the lazy teasing of his long, elegant fingers on her sensitive nipples until she went crazy for him, moving faster and faster as his fingers moved on down to rest where they met. She cried out when he pushed away the folds hiding her sensitive feminine bud and pushed down on it so every move she made gave her the utmost pleasure possible.

Nick wished he could make this go on forever. It’d always be imprinted in his brain, the way she looked on top of him, in the throes of passion. Her head was thrown back, with those wild ringlets all over her shoulders, and as she succumbed to her climax, she sagged forward, her hair enveloping the both of them. He loved the fragrance of her desire mingled with her unique scent, and when she opened her eyes as she braced herself on his shoulders, he was willing to drown in the limpid pools of green. She moaned at every downward stroke and sucked in her breath when she slid back up.

She drove him to the point of madness like that, moving so slowly, seeming to draw every ounce of blood to only one point of his fevered body. Every slick ride down brought shudders of need through him. The pleasure made him clutch the sheets. Not yet. He wasn’t willing to let go yet. Let her take him wherever she wanted. He wanted to please her.

Her breasts swayed temptingly as she rocked, and Nick reached up for them, caressing them until the nipples were hardened and she was gasping and moving faster. Oh please, faster please. He wasn’t sure whether he begged her aloud. It felt so good. Faster, baby, please.

And when her internal muscles began to clench around him, he went rigid, and without thought, held her hips tight as he thrust up in hard strokes. Harder. Deeper. And he was just as lost as she was in the swirl of heat waves that swept through his consciousness as he emptied his whole soul into her.

***

Jaymee fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, and Nick held her for a while before leaving her to go downstairs. She’d told him she loved him. And he hadn’t told her he....

He banished the words even before they were formed. Didn’t what happened today reinforce the dangerous aspects of having a weak link, a switch every two-bit mercenary could find? The knowledge Jaymee could have ended up like Emma turned his stomach and hardened his resolve.

But why couldn’t he just say those words?

No, he could never leave her if he ever did. He would want to stay. An impossible dream.

“Are you sure it isn’t going to be a problem for you to get a team to sweep the area?” he asked Jed in the kitchen. Bob listened to them, sitting quietly at the kitchen table.

“There won’t be, if I’m not here and Jaymee doesn’t say too much.”

“But they’d know you have been here.”

Jed shrugged. “I’ll be long gone.” His eyes were thoughtful when he looked at Nick. “What about you?”

Nick returned the gaze levelly. “I’ll be with you initiating the encryption board, except this time, we’ll be prepared for the bastards.” Revenge was going to be very sweet.

“Yes, they’ll think we’re still trying to decipher it, but we have to move fast.”

They agreed to meet the next morning and after Jed left, Nick sat down at the kitchen table. The old man offered a cup of coffee, and he accepted.

“Seems like we do our best talking at this table,” Bob commented wryly.

Nick’s lips lifted at one corner. “True,” he agreed.

The details he gave didn’t tell much, except Jaymee was caught in the middle and he had to leave, for her sake. Bob didn’t ask any questions, much to Nick’s surprise.

“As long as you don’t leave without saying goodbye to Jaymee, I won’t push for more information. That’s what happened the last time, you know, when Danny just left. I don’t think she can go through another sudden disappearance.”

Nick looked at Bob silently for a second. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said softly.

Bob nodded briskly. “Now, what else do you want me to do?”

***

Jaymee awakened the instant he rejoined her in bed, and she curled up eagerly against the heat of his naked body. “Where did you go?” she asked sleepily.

“Taking care of details,” he gently murmured against her cheek.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, wincing slightly at the stiffness in her wrists. “Are you leaving?” Common sense returned, now that she’d rested. If those men had traced Nick here, the next logical step was for him to leave. His sigh was answer enough. “Nick?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is it not possible?”

“Us, you mean?” Nick caressed her supple body, wondering whether he could ever forget the softness of her skin, her unique fragrance. “I can’t risk you, Jaymee. I can’t have your safety an issue every time someone comes after me.”

“Is it often someone comes after you?”

“No.”

“So, the risk is minimal, right?” she insisted.

There was a short silence. “I won’t risk you,” Nick said in a stilted voice.

“There’s risk in everything, you know.”

But he didn’t want to discuss risks or targets. He wanted to forget, to melt into this woman and dream of sunlight and impossible dreams. He didn’t want Jaymee to argue with his decision. It would only muddle his thinking, tempt him to give in to her. He did what the Programmer would do in this situation--evade and divert. It was for the best.

Turning her over, he covered her sweet, pliant body with his, crushing her in his need for her. When she gasped for breath, he kissed her deeply and pushed her thighs apart with his own.

This sweet oblivion. This unconditional surrender. This generous loving. No, he would never forget her.

***

“Forget you?” Jaymee couldn’t believe her ears at his words. “Can’t you think of something better to say as parting words?”

She wrapped her arms around her, as if that would keep her from hurling herself at him, to beg him to stay. She would not beg. Her chin tilted up and she sucked in air. Her insides were wound tighter than a spool of thread, and her mouth tasted like sandpaper. Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet, although she couldn’t quite manage a smile.

Nick just stood there, a remoteness in his expression that chilled her. She realized he’d already gone away, beyond her reach. And she, too, retreated inside, trying to rebuild the protective wall this man had broken through. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached up to touch him for one last time, pushing back the stray lock of black hair from his forehead, feeling the stubble of his unshaven face, the pulse that beat strongly at his throat. His face remained expressionless but she felt the betraying swallow under her hands. One last touch.

“Take care of yourself,” she whispered, her voice stiff with emotion.

His nod was curt and his slate eyes were wintry as they traveled over her, from the top of her auburn hair to the painted toenails. At the sight of them, they flared with a naked longing that disappeared immediately, and when his eyes returned to hers, they were banked, empty.

“Live for yourself, Jaymee. You’ve been living for others, do it for yourself from now on,” he said, trying to sound gentle, when all he wanted was crush her to him.

He kissed her, hard and possessively, then turned and walked to his red Jeep. Not turning back, he started it up and drove off.

Live? Jaymee covered her mouth with her fist, and she had to bite down hard to control the torrent of pain choking out. Forget and live? Just like hoping he’d turn around and come back to her, that request was an impossible dream.

Big Bad Wolf: Chapter Sixteen

All she wanted was to be left alone. But no one would let her be. Mindy bothered her with phone calls. Her father followed her to work. Everyone rained her with conversation, questions, words. It was all strangely disjointed, as if she stood outside observing herself.

She couldn’t even escape to her other house. Strangers appeared one day to “sweep” the place, and like a robot, she followed Jed’s instructions, giving the password and handing them his note. She didn’t mention Nick at all. She couldn’t think about him.

A young man showed up to interrogate her, and it took a few minutes before she realized he was looking for Jed, and not Nick. His description could have fitted either one of them, except for the silver eyes. She’d answered in a detached manner until she remembered Grace, and what Nick had told her about the young girl. So she paid closer attention to the man and his questions. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties, and very polite but very thorough. When did she meet Jed? How?

Jaymee deflected the questions with the story she and Jed had agreed on, that she’d planned to lease her house to him for a year and he helped with the cleaning and remodeling.

“And you don’t know where he is now?” the young stranger asked, a touch skeptically.

His eyes, a warm, magnetic blue, were cool and quizzical as he studied her from head to toe. Like Nick, there was an air about him that hinted of something underneath that friendly demeanor. The way he stood so still amidst the activity of the other “sweepers” also reminded her a little of Jed. He might be a few years younger than her, but she had the feeling he’d seen a lot more about life than she’d ever known. Another mark against her. No wonder Nick thought she wouldn’t ever be “safe” enough for him. She was so stupid to think she could make it work.

“Nope,” Jaymee answered, looking back at him just as coolly.

His blue eyes narrowed, as if trying to gauge her honesty. “I find it strange you didn’t call the police.”

“I like Jed.” Jaymee cocked her head. “I trust him.” And Nick. And Grace.

“And you don’t trust me,” he stated. When Jaymee didn’t refute it, he added, “Why are you keeping information from me? Jed McNeil and I work for the same people. You obviously know more than you’re telling, what with a clean-up unit here sweeping your house after a bomb scare. I’m not here to harm him, or these guys here would have taken me out already. They know me.”

He nodded towards the people working around her house. Despite what little Jed had told her, Jaymee liked the intelligence gleaming in the younger man’s eyes, knew from instinct he wasn’t sent to harm Jed. However, she’d decided to side with Jed and Grace, and so she stuck with her story.

“All I know’s what I told you,” she told the stranger calmly. “Florida is full of transients. They come and go. Some I like, and some I don’t.”

He did smile then, and Jaymee had to smile back. The look he gave her was cocky and confident.

“Nice. But then I wouldn’t want it so easy. Less of a challenge. I’ll find him sooner or later,” he said. “Thank you for your time, Miss Barrows.”

She wondered whether he was part of this Virus Program Nick and Jed were in. No, she decided, as she watched him walk off to his car. He moved differently from the stealthy, lazy stroll she’d noticed in Nick and Jed. And there was an arrogance in the way he looked and walked that reminded her of a cat on the prowl. She shook her head as he drove off, mocking her own imagination. She hadn’t changed one bit, still putting men into animal categories.

Which suddenly brought her full circle back to Nick. Her big, bad wolf.

With iron determination, she forced the mental picture of Nick away. She didn’t think she could bear having Mindy call her, or having her father following her everywhere, or going through another awkward conversation with anyone who thought she needed consolation.

All she wanted was to be left alone. Was that too much to ask?

Later, she ordered shingles to be stocked at the other house the coming week, and after the call, ran all the way to the now “swept” place to start work on the roof.

For the next two days, she tore at the old roof by herself, digging up the shingles with a shovel. It was good, methodical work, the kind that exhausted her enough to sleep for a few hours at night. When she’d removed the shingles and original underlayment, she unrolled the tar felt paper over the cleaned-off plywood, fastening it down with simplex nails. The task was a two-man job, really, but she didn’t want company. Perspiration poured down her forehead and blinded momentarily, she hit her forefinger with the hammer at full force.

Pain jolted from the finger to every nerve end in her body. Cursing aloud and sucking her injured finger alternatively, she watched the blood blister that had immediately formed. The throbbing shot through her numbness, bringing her whole body alive again. Every feeling she’d tried to block pounced. With a groan, Jaymee sat down onto the roof.

Pain. It ploughed through her like a live current. Physical and mental pain wrapped around her like invisible wires, coiling tighter and tighter until she felt she would burst with the torture. The pain strangled her, made it impossible to move. Hugging her knees, she ground her head against her thighs, moaning and shivering even though it was ninety degrees outside.

Jaymee sat like that for a long time, unheeding of the heat, her eyes unseeing as she stared down at the tangled bushes around the old house. That was what her life was, she realized. An old house in need of repair and new life. So ignored outside, it was being choked by untended growth. She’d spent eight years working to pay for her past and planning to pay for her future. She’d never lived for herself as in the now, and if Nick had taught her anything, it was to live for the present, to enjoy what she could.

She took a deep breath and slowly got up. She felt as if she was a thousand years old. She leaned on the shovel for support, gathering her strength, making decisions. She had to change, to prune away all the tangled growth in her life, or she was going to end up like this old house. By the time her father came home that evening, she’d already booked the tickets.

“I’m taking off,” she announced. “I need to go away.” She waited for the protests.

Bob washed his hands at the sink and joined her at the table. “You deserve to go on a holiday, Jaymee girl.”

Jaymee stared at her father in undisguised astonishment. A month ago, he would have given her an earful about leaving for a vacation. Somehow, he’d changed these last few weeks.

“Where are you going?”

“Europe,” she told him, frowning. “Don’t worry, I’m using my own savings.” The money she’d put away to remodel her old house.

“You’ve always wanted to visit there. How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. A month. Two. Till my money runs out.” She paused. “Is it selfish? Can you take care of the business that long?”

“I think selfish is what you need to be right now, Jaymee girl. I’ve been selfish for too long.” Bob shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “I do remember how to run a roofing business, you know, even if I can’t get back on the roof. We can hang on till you come back.”

“The loans are up to date. The only bills are current ones, and the jobs are lined up...”

Bob interrupted gruffly, “I thought we agreed you’re going to be selfish. Now, tell me about your travel plans instead.”

For the first time in a long, long time, Bob Barrows smiled at his daughter and opened his arms. Jaymee slowly walked towards him and hugged her father.

***

The humidity reminded Killian of Jaymee. Sluicing water over his sweaty body after a hard day of hiking reminded him of Jaymee. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Every damned thing reminded him of her, and there was nothing for him to do but to endure it.

If Jed noticed his foul mood, he didn’t say anything. Her name wasn’t mentioned once since they’d left. Their assignment had been completed a week ago after they had trapped their targets, and Jed had relayed electronically to Command the decoded encryption board. He had the satisfaction of personally dealing with them, especially two, whose description fitted that given by Jaymee, down to the smell of cologne.

There was still much to do. The scums who had used Jaymee against him had been mere mercenaries. They had given the names of their handlers, but in the world of covert games, handlers had handlers, and every personal agenda had to be determined before the next move.

Killian watched as Jed cleaned and cooked fish over an open fire. Grace was taking a nap close by, having been thoroughly worked out by her father that morning in a series of exercises. He could only marvel at the young girl’s tolerance for pain, for it was pain and endurance Jed was training her in.

He mulled over his next step. Jed had told him getting those men wasn’t enough. He had his own agenda to meet.

Killian understood. There was still Grace to think about and time spent training her meant extra time for Jed to assimilate his information and come up with a solution to the crisis waiting for them back at Command. For himself, this particular mission was over. Time to return to Command Center and be debriefed.

“I’m going back tomorrow,” he said. “Is everything taken care of?”

Jed’s glance was calculating. “It depends on what you mean.”

His attention returned to the fish. Killian sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for mind games.

“The hell you don’t.” He couldn’t help the curtness in his reply. Sleep had eluded him for weeks now.

“The satellites are going to be destroyed. The unit is still looking for me, and,” Jed paused a beat, then went on conversationally, “Jaymee had left a message where I told her.”

Killian wanted to punch something, someone. Even her name was painful to hear. “And?”

“The team came and swept the place, and she’s fine, I suppose.”

“What the hell do you mean, you suppose?”

He glared at his cousin’s cool silver stare. Jed shrugged. His tone of voice was deceptively nonchalant, meant to infuriate.

“I can’t vouch for what she’s going through or how she is, since I’m not there physically. She mentioned some young man looking for me, and that was all there was to her message.”

“She didn’t ask about me?” Why did he ask that? He didn’t want to know.

“Of course she did,” Jed replied, still in that mild voice. “What do you want me to tell her? That you don’t care, or that you do?”

“Damn you, Jed.”

“You’re the one looking damned, cousin.” The retort was dry, amused.

“Back off!” Killian all but snarled, then reined in his anger with effort. “What did you want me to do? Take her with me to D.C.? Leave her whenever I take off? I thought, of all people, you would understand the danger.” He regretted his outburst immediately. Jed didn’t deserve that. Sighing, he attempted to apologize. “I’m sorry. I’m not thinking straight.”

Jed was silent as he turned the fish over in the pan. “There are always choices, Nick.”

“Yeah, tell Command that.”

“I haven’t reported to them you’re alive. In fact, you missed a relevant part of Jaymee’s message. They’re looking for me, Kill. No one else.”

The silence that followed was broken by Grace, who sat up in her sleeping bag, yawning.

“What do you mean?” Nick queried carefully, trying to read his cousin’s expression.

“You tell me. What do you want it to mean? Is the Programmer dead, or not? Has he disappeared? Enquiring agencies want to know.” There was true amusement tingeing Jed’s voice now.

To Nick’s amazement, Jed started to laugh as he continued to stare at him. His own mind was running a sixty-yard dash to...to what? Freedom. Jaymee. Sunshine. Jaymee.

“What about you?” he asked, his voice a low gravelly rumble. “You said Jaymee wrote someone was coming after you. They’ll get you sooner or later.”

Jed shrugged again, his usually harsh demeanor softened by amusement. “I’m not dead, just missing. I know how to keep in touch with them and give them relevant information just to show how much I miss them. They’ll find me in a year or so. I’ll give that young tracker that long, and if he fails, I’ll show up at Command Center like I promised.”

“Maybe the tracker will give up.” It was entirely possible. Tracking the Ice Man wasn’t an easy assignment, and a young tracker probably didn’t have the experience or the patience.

“Not likely. I ran a check on him while I was sending in the report. Lance Mercy has an interesting file. Five years in COMCEN and already shot up the ranks like a rocket. He single-handedly, it seems, tracked down and revealed the identity of the Beijing Butcher to Command last year.”

Nick whistled softly. “Impressive. Sounds like you’re going to have fun. The Beijing Butcher and the Ice Man under his belt in five years. I’d like to meet young Mercy some day.”

“He hasn’t found me yet.” Jed looked in Grace’s direction. “And he won’t, till she’s ready.”

Nick followed his gaze. “She’s special.”

“So is Jaymee.” Jed actually smiled at Nick. “Give her my love.”

“The hell I will.” He still held a grudge against Jed for kissing her. “The next time you kiss her, it’d better be a brotherly smack on the cheek.”

Jed’s shapely lips quirked with mockery. “That is, if she’s married to you.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean now?”

Taking his time, Jed turned the fish over.

“Meat’s done,” Grace murmured from where she was as she sniffed the air. “Just like Cousin Kill.”

Jed slanted a look at his daughter’s direction. “Jaymee strikes me as someone who evades anyone who hurt her badly.” He sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “She’s probably never going to forgive you.”

That did it. Killian stood up in a hurry.

“Hey, Nick.”

He turned and scowled down at his cousin. Manipulating bastard. He knew he’d been expertly played.

“Do keep in contact, so I know I don’t stand a chance with the lady.”

And Jed laughed again. Grace grinned at Killian cheekily.

“See ya sometime, cousin Nick,” she said, waving.

***

Jaymee didn’t contact anyone while she was in Europe. She was, finally, alone. And lonely. Europe was enchanting, beautiful--everything she had imagined it to be. She sat down by a fountain in Piazza Navona, entertained only by a mime who told her in actions she looked lonely. She’d smiled back and nodded, giving him a tip for such insight. She leaned against the leaning tower of Pisa and wondered how such weakness could survive all its problems. She climbed up the Alps and wondered whether the glaciers were as cold as her heart. She ate without relish the foreign dishes, dutifully trying the different wines, the warm beer, the exotic chocolates, the array of cheeses. Everything.

Every cathedral and museum was a monument of her own deadness. So she went shopping instead, maxing out her credit card. Clothes in Rome. Perfume in Paris. Lace in Venice.

She looked at the superb statue of David and wished she could buy it to take home because it reminded her of someone warmer, sexier, with the big parts intact. Looking at the Greek deities, she wondered whether a fig leaf would look funny on Nick. That had brought out a bitter laugh. It seemed she couldn’t forget, no matter where she was.

And late at night, she still cried.

Home.

Jaymee pulled up at the driveway to her house exactly six weeks after she left for Europe. The evening sun was a giant orange globe, getting ready for fall weather. Other than that, as she looked listlessly around, nothing had changed.

Her father greeted her with a hug. “It was wonderful to hear your voice over the phone,” he said, looking robust and healthy. “I sure have missed you, Jaymee girl.”

“How’s everything? Work OK?”

She pulled the suitcases out of her trunk. She had left with a small bag and returned with three giant ones.

“Oh, we’ve been busy. Anderson called just a few days ago, in fact, and he says the roofs by Glenn’s men are leaking, and he wants us back.” Bob laughed. “I told him he needed to negotiate the price with you when you return. It felt good saying that, after what he did. Everything’s fine, in fact...you look different, Jaymee girl. Very good.”

She was dressed different, that was all. Her father hadn’t seen her in anything more than a work shirt and pants for most of eight years. Now, she was wearing a designer blouse and short skirt. Beneath her outfit, she wore expensive lingerie and French perfume. Even her hair had been cut and restyled. But no amount of change on the outside healed the emptiness she felt inside.

“Thanks, Dad.”

She looked around the house after her luggage was brought in. Everything was tidy. The kitchen sink was clean. The tile floor had been mopped. Even the living room had been dusted down. Her father, it seemed, had survived better without her.

“The house looks great.”

“I have a...er...housemate now,” Bob admitted, looking uncomfortable. “I hope you don’t mind, Jaymee girl. I wasn’t sure when you were coming back and all, and well, I needed someone to supervise the roofing work. I told him it ain’t a permanent position, so...”

“Dad, it’s your roofing business too,” Jaymee interrupted. Her father was right; he couldn’t possibly work like she did. She smiled, thinking he probably enjoyed the male company. “A clean housemate is always welcomed. Where is he?”

“He...uh...he’s back at your house, the one you bought.”

She froze. “What?”

“Well, he liked to work and I set him to clear the main driveway to the house for easier access. He...”

“No one touches that house,” Jaymee cut in tonelessly. “You shouldn’t have let him. Just because I let you know about the place didn’t mean I wanted you to work on it.”

She saw her words hurt her father’s feelings, but she didn’t care. No one was allowed to go where she and Nick had spent time together.

“I didn’t know,” Bob apologized. “When the delivery men showed up after you left, I just thought...”

Jaymee sighed. She remembered her phone orders for shingles and gravel. She couldn’t blame her father for assuming she wanted work to continue on that house while she was away. After all, she hadn’t left any instructions.

“I...I’ll just go over there and meet him now, I guess.” She had to be polite to this man, for her father’s sake. “You seem to like him, Dad.”

“Oh yes, sure do. He’s been a big help while you were away, and although I wasn’t sure whether I liked him at first, I find him...ah...a good man.”

“All right, we’ll talk more later, but I think I’ll drive over there to see how the house is, seeing you have cleared the driveway.”

“Go ahead. I think you’ll like it.” A small smile touched his lips.

Her little rental car wouldn’t have been able to reach the place over a month ago. Now, although the ride was bumpy, she could drive all the way in. She stared at the house as she emerged from the car, not knowing what to expect.

The sound of an airgun riveted her attention to the roof. When there was a pause between the noise, she yelled up to the unseen man.

“Hello!” Damn. In her hurry to get here, she had forgotten to ask his name. “Umm, can you hear me up there? I’m Bob’s daughter, Jay.”

She heard some answer she couldn’t make out from the back side of the roof and moments later, the familiar sound of someone getting down a ladder. She walked around the cleared up shrubs, taking quick notice of the new coat of paint on the siding before turning the corner to meet...looking up at the descending man, she almost tripped.

Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. Her mouth opened and then closed, as she stared into intense blue-gray eyes.

Nick slowly approached Jaymee, his eyes devouring her. Not seeing her had been torturous, and not even knowing where she was the last six weeks had almost driven him crazy with worry. He should have known to expect the unexpected where Jaymee was concerned. No wallowing in misery for her. No work as usual. The woman had packed up and taken a vacation in Europe! He could only shake his head in disbelief when he’d shown up at her doorstep with flowers in hand, only to be informed by Bob Barrows nobody knew where she was or when she would be back.

As the weeks went by with still no word from her, he’d wondered whether she would come back after all. In fact, he’d been near breaking point when her phone call came, telling her father she was returning home. He knew she would come looking for the stranger meddling with her house as soon as Bob told her. This was her private place, her sanctuary, and she wouldn’t want anyone to make any changes without her say so.

He paused, unable to say anything just yet. She looked so beautiful. His eyes hungrily took in every inch of her, from the shiny auburn mane to the sophisticated ensemble she wore, down to the elegant leather shoes. It dawned on him he’d been so blind, thinking she’d never leave her safe little world. This woman could fit anywhere, would go anywhere, if she wanted to.

“Hello, Jaymee.” Nick broke the silence between them. “You look...sensational.”

She had gained some weight, adding a softness to her face. She was the picture of feminine allure, standing there with the setting sun illuminating her glorious curls and haunting eyes. In short, she was the most desirable thing in his life.

“It...is you.” Her voice was incredulous.

“Yes,” he said, simply.

“Why?”

Jaymee couldn’t believe what her eyes were telling her. This must be a mirage. If she moved, he would disappear back into her dreams. Her heart ached at the sight of his familiar face, with those incredibly-lashed eyes. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to push aside that roguish lock of hair.

She wanted to, but she didn’t dare. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe moving would wake her up.

“Because I love you, Jaymee.”

She began to shake. Her hand came up to cover her trembling mouth.

Nick’s eyes never left her face as he took the last few steps toward her. His voice was pitched low, almost a mutter. “I missed you. These last few months have been hell on earth. Jaymee, I need you.”

She didn’t care whether this was a hallucination. It was killing her. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth, trying to contain the loud gasps coming from inside her, and she blindly backed away from him. Her sobs were heartbreaking, uncontrollable.

“Oh, God. Don’t. Don’t cry, baby, please.”

In one swift moment, Nick lifted, gathering her pliant body high against his heart. Catching her scent, he closed his eyes for a moment, letting it fill his lungs, his whole being. God, he’d missed her. He could feel her trembling as he carried her indoors, and he wanted to kick himself for hurting this woman so much.

He sat down on the old sofa, with her on his lap, and held her against him, letting her cry. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to love her. But her tears had him helpless and unsure. He didn’t know how to deal with such grief.

“Please stop crying,” he finally pleaded, stroking her hair. “I don’t want you to be sad. I never wanted you to be sad. All I ever wanted was for you to live a safe, happy life.”

“I tried, Nick,” Jaymee whispered, looking up at him, her eyes red from crying. “But I’m dead inside. There’s a void in me that gets bigger every day. And it hurts. It hurts so much.”

He’d felt the same. This was the first time in months he felt truly alive, and it was because she was in his arms again.

“I’m not leaving you, Jaymee,” he told her softly. Seeing her wide, questioning eyes, he explained, “The Programmer is dead, killed by an explosion on board his sailboat. If you will have me...?”

He left the question dangling, his eyes searching. As she digested the news, a slow smile lit her face up. Nick caught his breath. He’d never forget the look in her eyes. Sheer joy. Love. The sunlight to his heart. He smiled back.

“What do you intend to be, a kept man?” she asked.

Nick’s smile became wolfish. “The idea does have some appeal. Remind me to inform Jed and my unit when they bother me.” He ran a gentle finger over her frown, as he went on, “I won’t ever be entirely free from my job, Jaymee, but Jed has given me some choices. I owe him, if he ever needs me.”

She understood, and would never ask him to relinquish something he so wanted to do. As long as he was hers, she didn’t care. The happiness bubbling inside could conquer anything.

“OK,” she simply said. “Now, being a kept man, I order you to kiss me.”

His lips were at first gentle, as if he was afraid his passion would crush her, but at her eager response, his kiss became deeper, hungrier. His tongue danced across hers, teasing and loving, telling her without words everything he was feeling. This, she thought in a fiery haze, was what had been missing in Europe, this feeling of belonging, of being alive.

“I want to show you the house, what I’ve done.” He rained kisses on her eyes, her nose, the corners of her lips. “I did it all by myself, you know.”

“Are you looking to hire some help?” Jaymee asked, her hands busy tugging at his tee-shirt to get at the muscled body underneath. “I’m a pretty good roofer.”

Nick pulled back and arched a brow down at her. Casting a leer down the length of her designer-clad body, he drawled, “Don’t look like a construction worker to me at all, miss.” He pulled off one of her heels, examining it with a mocking smile. “Wrong shoes.” He threw it over his shoulder, and grabbed her manicured hand. Kissing the tips of pink-tipped nails, he said, “Clean nails, and,” he ran a finger up her arm, “no tattoos.”

It was so good to laugh again. So good to be alive again. She raked her nails down his chest, and grinned at the sharp intake of breath. “Let me show you how good I am at finding leaks,” she invited.

Nick didn’t need further encouragement.

***

Someone turned on the light. Jaymee groaned and turned over.

“I’ve something to show you, sweetheart. Wake up.”

Nick pulled the covers off her nude body, his hand lingering intimately for a moment before determinedly shaking her awake. She groped for a pillow and covered her head with it.

“Tomorrow,” she mumbled.

Her tormenter was unrelenting. “It is tomorrow. It’s past midnight.”

“Go mow the lawn. Or finish laying the roof.”

Nick laughed. He’d forgotten about her jet lag, but he pulled the pillow away mercilessly anyway. “Come on, sleepyhead. You can’t see this in the daylight.”

Jaymee opened her eyes, meaning to glare at him, but he looked so damned glorious sitting there, so at ease without a stitch on, that she could only smile happily back. She still couldn’t believe he was real, that this was happening.

“You need a fig leaf,” she murmured.

“A fig leaf,” he repeated, puzzled.

“David had a tiny fig leave, but he looked really sexy with it,” she informed him, then giggled at the look on his face.

“Who the hell is David?” Nick demanded, imagining some Romeo posing as...oh, that David. He glared down at the grinning woman. “What else did you learn from your European travels, besides admiring nude statues?”

“That those cathedrals need a leak expert,” Jaymee replied, her eyes filled with laughter. “You’d be amazed at how many of them leak.”

Nick grinned ruefully. How he loved her. Only she would check famous centuries-old buildings for leaks. He held out his hand and after a moment, she fitted hers in his, letting him pull her off the bed. Flipping off the light switch and plunging the room back into darkness, he led her to the back balcony, the one facing the lake. The full moon lit everything brightly.

Jaymee gasped.

The backyard had been cleared while she was gone. A path meandered all the way to the shimmering lake, the dark waters mirrored the star-filled sky above. Moonlight reflected off the white gravel along the way, like twinkling stars in the Milky Way. Never in her farthest imagination had she thought the overgrown bushes of the unkempt yard could hide such beauty. She turned to look at Nick, her heart in her eyes.

In the moonlit night, he no longer seemed secretive or remote. His crooked smile was tender as he lifted her hand to place a kiss on the knuckles. In that wonderful, gravelly voice, he said solemnly, echoing her words from the day when she’d confided in him.

“I hereby give you this path, strewn with flowers and covered with stars that you’ll never get lost. I promise to walk with you by your side, Jaymee, all the way to our paradise. I know I’ve been the cause of much heartache and more trouble than you wanted, and probably more in the future. But I love you. You’re my sunshine, my life. My path to the stars. Will you marry me?”

He was in his element, the cover of shadow and moonlight, but his wolf eyes glittered with love and Jaymee felt the swell of emotion beating in her own breast. He’d taken her painful past and given her hope and love in return. He was her future, the only thing that mattered.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes glowing with happiness. “You, Killian Nicholas Langley, are no trouble at all.”

—The End—

About the Author

Gennita Low

Gennita Low writes sexy military and techno spy-fi romance. She also co-owns a roof construction business and knows 600 ways to kill with roofing tools as well as yell at her workers in five languages. A three-time Golden Heart finalist, her first book, Into Danger, about a SEAL out-of-water, won the Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award for Best Romantic Intrigue. Besides her love for SEALs, she works with an Airborne Ranger who taught her all about mental toughness and physical endurance. Gennita lives in Florida with her mutant poms and one chubby squirrel.

To learn more about Gennita, visit www.Gennita-Low.com, www.rooferauthor.blogspot.com and www.facebook.com/gennita

Subscribe to Gennita’s newsletter: write an email with NEWSLETTER in the subject line to Jenn@Gennita-Low.com

Additional Books by Gennita Low

WARRIOR

TEMPTING TROUBLE

IMPOSTER: The Protectors Series – Book One

by Karen Fenech

Imposter: Chapter One

“Richard! Slow down!”

Heart pounding, Eve took her gaze from the road and cut a glance to the driver, Richard, her business partner.

Richard didn’t respond. The CD player was blaring. Unlikely he could hear her above the scream of the heavy metal band.

Richard had picked up his new Porsche just yesterday. He’d wanted to see what the car could do, he’d said with a smirk when they started on this road, and hit the gas. Now the road began to slope and the car gained additional speed. Eve’s gaze went to the speedometer and her breath hitched. Ninety and climbing. Outside the passenger window, a view of trees and rock-face streaked by in a blur. Her mouth went dry.

Eve took her gaze from the road and cut a glance to Richard. His focus was trained on the rearview mirror.

It wasn’t the first time in the last few minutes she’d spotted him looking into the rearview. She looked around herself but couldn’t see anything but the trail of dust the Porsche was kicking up in its wake. As she faced front again, again, Richard’s focus lifted to the view behind them.

What was going on?

She reached out to lower the volume on the CD to ask him that question when the car swerved sharply, throwing her toward the passenger door. The seatbelt held firm, preventing what could have been a nasty impact.

She returned her attention to Richard. Tension was now coming off him in waves. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. In his eyes, she saw terror.

Eve looked back. A dark sedan was now visible, moving fast and closing the distance between them.

“Richard, what’s going on? Are we being followed?”

Richard didn’t reply, but the Porsche shot forward with a sudden burst of speed. The sedan fell back but was picking up speed. It should have been no match for the Porsche but it continued to gain ground. Just what kind of engine was under the hood of that plain sedan? No ordinary sedan and Eve’s nerves jumped.

Why were they being followed? Who would want to follow them?

The Porsche skidded. Richard steered into the skid. When the tires gained traction, he floored the gas pedal.

This was insane. If Richard and whoever was following them didn’t slow down—

The road curved like a hair pin. Richard made a sound, but without breaking speed, drove into it. The rear fishtailed. Eve’s breath caught. Richard cried out. Both his face and his grip on the steering wheel went white as he struggled to get the car under control. Eve’s heart hammered. Each wild beat thundered in her ears.

“Richard!”

She turned to him. He was now slumped across the dashboard.

The speedometer read one-hundred-ten. The car raced out of control. Gravel pinged against the car’s underside as the right front tire slid off the narrow strip of asphalt. The edge dropped off in a sheer cliff Eve couldn’t see the bottom of.

Another instant and the car would go over.

Eve stared wide-eyed as the car continued to lose purchase. As the tires continued to slide away from the pavement. Was this how her life would end? In a car crash that would not right the wrong committed five years earlier when she had lived while the most precious thing in her world had died?

Tears filled her eyes. She thought back over the last five years to all of the times she’d wished she could go back to that moment and exchange her life for the one that was taken.

But she couldn’t. She could not change the past. Not then and not now . . .

The tires slid. The cliff loomed. The dark abyss drew closer.

Eve grabbed the steering wheel. Her hands were sweating. She latched on and jerked sharply to the right. The car veered away from the edge.

She shoved Richard toward the driver’s door. He was a small, wiry man, but inert, his body was heavy. She grunted, heaved again, and he struck the driver’s door hard. His blond head lolled against the window. He didn’t protest her rough handling of him, not even a moan. Eve would have welcomed a moan. At the least he was unconscious. At the most . . .

She fought off her fears for Richard. If she didn’t stop the car, his condition would cease to matter—to both of them.

She grappled with her seat belt, releasing the catch, then slid onto the console and swung her leg over Richard’s. She kicked his foot off the accelerator and stomped on the brake. The tires screeched as the car skidded, then went into a spin. The landscape of trees and rock face swirled by, then Eve didn’t know if the car was again at the edge about to go over. She couldn’t determine up or down. She’d lost her bearings.

She maintained her grip on the steering wheel and on the brake, the skin stretched taut over her knuckles, her teeth gritted as she fought to ride out the spin and regain control of the car.

The Porsche rocked to a stop. She was flung forward. Her instinctive grab of the dashboard twisted her wrist but saved her face. Laying her head on her arms, she closed her eyes and gave in to the weakness that had come over her now that the initial adrenaline rush was spent. Her ears were ringing. The car engine was now off and in the silence she could hear herself breathing. Shallow, panting gasps for air that hurt to inhale and exhale. Other than those complaints, she felt fine. Alive.

Richard . . .

She turned to him and shook his shoulder. He didn’t respond. She pressed her fingertips to his neck. Her hands were shaking so badly she wasn’t sure she’d detect any other movement, but she felt a thready pulse.

She’d bought a bottle of water at the last gas station they’d stopped at. It was in the cup holder. She uncapped it and upended it onto Richard’s face. Water flowed down his shaved cheeks.

Eve tapped the back of her hand against his skin. “Richard.”

He didn’t respond. She struck him harder. His cheek reddened. She’d hit him hard enough to mark him, but apparently not enough to rouse him.

“Hang on, Richard,” she murmured.

She turned the key, but the engine didn’t start. Her purse . . . where was her purse? She spotted the little envelope bag on the floor board. She fumbled with the snap and yanked out her cell phone. She had to get help.

Where were they? She glanced around the deserted stretch of road. A meadow lay beyond the two lanes of asphalt. Trees and scraggly bushes grew on the grass, amid patches of white and yellow wildflowers. She and Richard had left Manhattan bound for Rowland, a county in Pennsylvania, about an hour ago. They were chemists and they were on their way to a chemist’s conference in Pittsburgh. Richard had kept to back roads like this one to avoid traffic. Other than the sedan that was no longer in sight, she couldn’t remember the last time they came across another car. None were in sight now. The sun was lowering behind a cluster of oaks. Nightfall was imminent. If this road was rarely traveled in daylight, what was the likelihood of another car coming along at night? With Richard in his present condition, they could not pass the night here. She pushed dark hair back from her face and flipped open the phone.

An instant later she found there was no signal. She hoped that was because she was inside the car. As she was about to go outside and try the phone again, the sedan that had been following them skidded to a halt behind the Porsche.

Both the driver and passenger doors were flung open. Two men charged out. One man was dark-haired, the other blond. Both wore suits and ties.

Eve wanted to be away from there. She knew nothing about the occupants of that car other than that Richard had been terrified of them. But where to go? She was in the middle of nowhere. The car disabled. Her phone useless. She had no weapon to defend herself and Richard. She’d turned in her service weapon years ago along with her resignation from the LAPD.

To buy a moment to think, she reached out to engage the automatic door locks. Ineffective if these men were armed, but if not, the locked doors would keep them at bay.

Before she could hit the locks, both her door and Richard’s door were thrown open. The dark haired man peered at Richard. The blond man reached for her.

Eve drew back. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but Richard needs help. He needs a doctor.”

The dark-haired man glanced over his shoulder at Eve. His eyes, dark brown and deep-set, narrowed to slits. He pressed his lips together, tight enough that a line formed on either side of his mouth. There was no mistaking his anger, though she could not account for it.

The blond man’s soft, doughy features were grim. Eve’s heart pounded. She looked from one man to the other. “Why are you just standing around?” She was afraid she knew, but blurted out anyway. “We need to get Richard to a doctor. Now.”

“Richard is dead,” the dark-haired man said bluntly.

As he stepped back from the open doorway, back from Richard, she glimpsed her business partner, slumped against the black leather seat. His eyes were glazed. There was no mistaking the vacant look in them now and the gray cast to his skin that indicated recent death.

Eve continued to stare at him. She shook her head, not wanting to believe what she was seeing.

At any moment she expected him to bounce up and burst into movement. But he did not.

Richard . . .

Tears burned her eyes. She pressed her fingers to them. Her hands trembled. She clenched them briefly in an effort to steady them. The need to know how Richard died weighed on her, along with a terrible sadness. She and Richard had been partners for four years and though that relationship had its ups and downs—was presently down—she felt a loss at his passing. Now was not the time for questions, though, or to mourn. She had to keep it together and see him home.

“Let’s get him into our car,” the dark-haired man said.

The men hooked Richard beneath the arms and legs, and removed him from his vehicle. They hauled him across the asphalt to their own car and stuffed him into the trunk. The act galvanized Eve. Richard was dead. Why had they moved him?

Eve left the Porsche and stumbled out onto the asphalt. She was still holding her phone and dropped it onto the pavement as she ran to the sedan.

She reached it and seized the lid just as the dark-haired man was about to slam it. “You can’t move Richard’s body. Drive back to the nearest city and send the police.” What was the name of the last place they drove through? She shook her head in frustration. She couldn’t recall it. She eyed the two men. “There’s a city about a forty minute drive east of here. Since you were on this road, you would have passed it as well. There’s bound to be a police station there.”

The man slammed the trunk and turned to his companion. “You’d better get going. I’ll be in touch.”

“Will do.”

The men acted as if she hadn’t spoken. Eve reached out and seized the dark-haired man’s forearm. Beneath the conservative gray suit was hard muscle. Instead of digging into skin, her nails bent. She bit down hard on her back teeth “Did you hear what I said?”

He met her gaze. “Every word. I’m afraid, however, that we will be removing the body.”

She could see the promise in his eyes, and her anger spiked another notch. “Listen to me— ”

“Dr. Collins—”

“You know me?” She searched her memory, but could not recall ever meeting him. He obviously knew her though, and though he had yet to harm her, that fact unsettled her, reminded her that this man and his companion had been following Richard.

Who were these men? Eve’s stomach went as tight as a fist. Her body went cold with apprehension but she knew better than to show it. She crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze on the dark-haired man who appeared to be leading the other man. “I asked you a question.”

“We’ve never met. I’m John Burke.” Burke indicated the man beside him. “This is Michael Lanski. We work for a division of the Central Intelligence Agency.” Burke withdrew a small folder from inside his suit jacket and opened it for her inspection. It was his picture ID. He replaced it, then repeated to Lanski, “Get going.”

Lanski got behind the wheel of the sedan, and Eve’s heart thumped. “Where is he going?” she asked Burke. “Why were you following Richard? What does the CIA want with Richard’s body?”

“We’ll talk on the drive to Rowland,” Burke said. “Let’s go, Dr. Collins.”

Eve narrowed her eyes on Burke. “You know where Richard and I were going?”

Burke gave her a level look. “Oh, yeah. We know a lot of things about you and Richard.”

Eve arched her eyebrows at the cryptic statement. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Before Burke could respond—if he’d intended to—Eve’s attention was drawn by the sedan. Lanski spun the car in a U-turn then, tires squealing, sped down the road. Dust swirled in the air where the car had been an instant earlier, and Richard was gone.

Again, Eve felt tears burn. She forced them back and confronted Burke. “I asked you what the CIA wants with Richard’s body.”

“And I told you we would talk on the way to Rowland,” Burke said.

The sun had lowered and dusk had descended. In the interval between day and night, there was a stillness, a quiet time. In the silence, Eve became aware of the hum of the Porsche’s engine. She’d thought the car was disabled by the accident, but Burke or Lanski had started it. Obviously, Burke intended that they leave there in Richard’s vehicle.

Eve crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Mr. Burke.”

He braced his hands low on his hips. “Are you thinking to wait out here, hoping another car will come along?”

“Oh, no. I am leaving. You’re not. I’m taking the car. You should have gone with Lanski.” Eve’s cheeks warmed. “This isn’t over. If you won’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll get my answers from your office. I will get Richard’s body released. I will find out why the CIA even knows my name.”

Eve moved past him toward the car.

“You aren’t going anywhere without me.”

She glanced back at Burke. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes had hardened and she knew he meant what he said. He outweighed her by at least seventy pounds and topped her by a good eight inches. Did he intend to use physical force to detain her? On the job, she’d taken down men of his size before. Still, he would need a reason to insist that she accompany him. He was an officer of the law, after all, not a thug.

She raised an eyebrow. “If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to place me under arrest.”

Burke reached into a back pocket and held up a pair of handcuffs.

Eve’s lips tensed briefly. “You have to be out of your mind, Burke. I’m a chemist not a criminal.”

“You set the terms, Doctor. We are going to talk. If I have to arrest you to do that, I will.”

“This is ridiculous. You can’t arrest me without cause.”

“Oh, I have cause.” He leaned in close to her, and his voice lowered to a near whisper. “You’ve been named in a terrorist plot, Doctor. The charge for committing an offence against your country is treason.”

Imposter: Chapter Two

“Treason? You really are out of your mind, Burke,” Eve said.

In the scant day light that remained, she eyed Burke’s tensed features. It was still just the two of them on this back road. The bushes and trees that dotted the flat landscape were dark smudges against the ever-darkening sky, adding to the feeling of isolation.

She pitched her voice to be heard above the idling engine of Richard’s car and the call of a Loon. “I don’t have time for your wild tale. I need to notify Richard’s family about his death.”

“You won’t be notifying anyone yet,” Burke said.

The day had cooled with the onset of evening. The slight breeze now felt too cold. Goose bumps sprang on her bare arms. She rubbed her skin to warm it.

“What?” she said. “Of course, I’m going to let Richard’s parents know he’s dead.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

Though spoken softly, there was an edge to the statement that sounded like a command and Eve straightened her shoulders. “You have custody of Richard’s body for the moment, but I can and will call the Pattersons about their son.”

Burke shook his head slowly. “At this point, revealing that Richard is dead will compromise our national security.”

Eve let Burke hear how ridiculous she found that statement in her sharp tone. “Richard was no threat to the security of our country.”

Burke replaced the handcuffs he held in a back pocket and met her glare. “We’ve learned that Richard Patterson, and an accomplice we’ve determined is you, created and are marketing a formula for a deadly chemical agent.”

“You think we’re terrorists?” Eve pressed her lips together briefly. “Hear me. Richard and I develop perfumes and cosmetics.”

She and Richard started their business four years earlier. Richard, whom she’d met through mutual friends, had approached her to become his partner. Though she hadn’t acknowledged it then, his offer was a life-line to her. Her career with the LAPD had ended shortly before under a cloud of scandal. Her marriage fell apart and her worst fear was realized: Emily died. Her bright and beautiful little girl was lost to her forever.

Recalling that day tore Eve’s heart. She fought back the pain of Emily’s death and forced herself to focus on Burke.

“Our business has earned a solid reputation in the industry that I take great pride in,” Eve said. “Sorry to disappoint you, Burke, but the most deadly formula we’ve created is a kick-ass anti-wrinkle cream.”

Burke crossed his arms. “We know that you and Richard are planning to meet a buyer for your formula tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow Richard and I were scheduled to attend a series of lectures at a chemist’s conference in Pittsburgh which you know about. We had no appointments.”

Burke went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Your meeting is set for tomorrow evening at the cottage Richard Patterson rented for your three night stay in Rowland.”

The cottage. Eve rolled her eyes. A get-back-to-nature place that was a ninety minute drive from the hotel where the conference was being held had not been her ideal accommodation for a business trip. She would never have expected city-lover Richard to make that choice. He was no outdoors man and his claim of wanting to get away from the city and enjoy some quiet time in a country setting had struck her as out of character. Then again, little about Richard’s behavior in recent months had been what she was used to from him.

The perpetually surly Richard had been in an unusually happy frame of mind that he didn’t elaborate on when she commented on it. She’d mentioned it to him again as she’d buckled her seat belt earlier that day. He’d turned to her and smiled, showing deep dimples and the beautiful results of a small fortune in orthodontics, then turned up Van Halen and began to move in time with the music. Every part of his body that she could see was in some kind of motion. He was as close to dancing as a person could get in a seated position.

She didn’t begrudge him his good mood, but she resented that since it started, his work had plummeted. He was a brilliant chemist but he seemed to have lost all interest in their business. Clients were complaining and the company lost two long-standing contracts with cosmetics manufacturers. They would have lost a third if, at the eleventh hour, she hadn’t completed and submitted a formula for a new perfume he’d abandoned.

Eve’s lips tensed briefly as she recalled that incident and how he shrugged it off as unimportant. After that, she was half-expecting him to tell her he wanted to end their partnership. She would have been very sorry they came to that after all they went through to establish themselves, but would have agreed it was for the best. She was considering making the suggestion herself when he announced he wanted to go with her to the conference. She attended every year but he never went, proclaiming it a dead bore.

When he mentioned going along, she thought he may be looking to regain his enthusiasm for their work. If so, she felt he deserved that chance. She put the thought of ending their partnership on hold.

None of that mattered now, though.

An image of Richard as she’d last seen him—in the trunk of the sedan—flashed in her mind. She blinked to clear it then allowed a moment to pass while she regained her composure before returning her attention to Burke. “Like I said, our business is cosmetics. You have the wrong people, Burke.”

“We have Patterson nailed and as for you, Patterson himself named you as his accomplice.”

“That’s impossible.”

Burke’s eyes narrowed. Fine lines appeared in the skin around them. “Patterson made it known to his buyer that he was working with you.”

“This makes no sense.”

Burke ignored her comment and went on. “I searched Patterson’s body before Lanski and I moved it. I found some papers in his jacket pocket.” He reached into the breast pocket of his own suit. The crisp white shirt beneath was revealed and seemed to glow in the twilight. He withdrew two folded pages and held them out to her. “Interesting reading.”

Eve snatched the papers from him and unfolded them. The messy letters and numbers that slanted sharply to the right were unmistakably Richard’s scribble. She squinted to make out his handwriting in the lengthening shadows. She expected to find a formula for one of the perfumes or face creams Richard had been working on. It was his habit to record his notes on paper rather than onto his laptop and risk losing his work in a computer crash. What she read, however, was no formula for scent. The ingredients listed formed a deadly chemical compound with an organophosphate anticholinesterase base like the lethal nerve agent Sarin. Richard had taken the process to another level, creating an agent that required less of the chemical to kill and would do so faster. Eve’s mouth went dry.

Her hand that held the formula dropped to her side. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She lowered her gaze to Richard’s formula. The papers fluttered in the slight breeze, defying her to deny them.

Which, of course, she could not.

How could Richard do this? The anger at Burke drained out of her, replaced by horror. “If this formula were used, so many people could die,” she mumbled. A coldness crept over her that had nothing to do with the chill in the air and she shivered.

“Am I supposed to be impressed by your performance?”

Eve’s cheeks warmed at Burke’s unwarranted attack on her character. “I don’t give a damn about impressing you. I had no clue what Richard was working on.” She tightened her fingers into a fist, angry with herself over that. Irrational anger. It wasn’t her job to keep tabs on Richard.

“Save it for the courtroom,” Burke said.

Eve took a step toward Burke. “You can’t mean you intend to pursue this?” Her voice rose. “Richard is dead and I’m telling you I don’t know anything other than what you’ve told me.”

“And I told you that Richard claimed you were partners in this plot. We’ve been watching you both for months. We intended to apprehend the two of you and your buyer at tomorrow’s meeting but Patterson’s death necessitated that you and I talk before that meeting takes place.”

“Richard is dead. You sound as if the meeting is still on.”

“Oh, it’s on. I’m going to take Patterson’s place.”

“You?” Eve raised her brows. “You intend to impersonate Richard? Don’t you think whoever was planning to meet Richard will notice you’re not him?”

The physical differences were impossible to disguise. Dye could change Burke’s dark hair to Richard’s blond, but there was no way to mistake Burke’s greater height and solid athletic build for Richard’s slight frame.

“We know that Richard and the buyer have never met,” Burke said. “That works out well for us, under the circumstances, and makes it possible for me to take his place. I want you to accompany me. I want you to introduce me as Richard at the conference to lend credibility to the deception. The buyer, as you know, is expecting to meet with you both.”

Eve shook her head. “There will be someone at the conference who’ll know you’re not Richard—his accomplice. I am not that person.”

Burke ignored her comment. “I can’t force you to attend the conference with me, of course, but if you refuse, I will have you transported to Washington immediately for questioning. The choice is yours.”

“Sending me to Washington would be a waste of time. I. Don’t. Know. Anything.” Eve enunciated each word.

Burke let her see his disbelief and derision in his eyes. “What’ll it be Doctor—the conference or Washington?”

Eve couldn’t believe this was happening. That Richard was dead. That he’d created a deadly chemical weapon for terrorists. That she was believed to be working for terrorists as well. Cold sweat broke out on her spine. Fear sweat. She didn’t want to go to the conference and put on this charade but, she didn’t want to go to Washington either to be questioned when she had no answers to give in her own defense.

She needed a moment to think without Burke’s razor sharp gaze on her and gave him her back as she turned away from his scrutiny.

She stared into the darkness as she considered her options. If she went to Washington—game over. Some option. She closed her eyes and exhaled a shaky, fearful breath at that finality.

The conference then? But if she accompanied Burke to the conference, would she only be delaying the inevitable? The inevitable . . . Eve pushed the frightening thought away and forced herself to move on.

Burke had said that Richard and his accomplice were going to meet their buyer. Since the accomplice wouldn’t know Richard was dead, that person would have no reason to deviate from the plan to attend the meeting. When he did show himself, she would be exonerated.

Eve rubbed her temples. Burke’s plan had merit. He had inadvertently come up with a plan that would prove her innocence. He would certainly apprehend the accomplice without her, but being with him ensured that she was in the loop. She’d been a good cop once—her dishonorable departure from the force didn’t change that truth. And just now, she welcomed the opportunity to take this active role.

Eve took a deep breath of the crisp night air. The breeze shifted and she inhaled the sweet scent of lilacs from a bush that was now cloaked by the night. “Okay, Burke. I’ll go along with your plan.”

“What was your relationship with Patterson?”

“What?”

“If I’m going to impersonate him, I need to know how to act with you. There’ll be people at the conference you’ve seen year after year. You’ve probably spoken of personal matters. I don’t want anything to raise any red flags.”

“Your surveillance didn’t give you any juicy details?”

She resented the impertinent question that invaded her privacy, but he had a point. Though she only saw these chemists once a year, they had exchanged jokes about their love lives—and lack-there-of. She had fielded questions on a number of occasions about the nature of her “business” with her partner.

Reminding herself that she needed Burke to be credible as Richard so the accomplice, if he were observing them, would go through with the meeting, she decided to answer his question. It was easy enough to do that. She and Richard were never romantically involved. He’d attempted to initiate an affair early in their partnership. Casual sex wasn’t her style and with Richard that’s all there would be. He was self-absorbed and she was not attracted to his pretty boy looks. She preferred rugged handsomeness, the kind that Burke possessed. She frowned. She didn’t care for the thought and dismissed it.

“Richard and I had a business relationship,” Eve said. “Nothing more.”

Burke nodded. “Let’s get going.”

“Before we leave here, I need to take an insulin injection. I’m diabetic.”

She didn’t think her condition would come as a surprise to him. Her medical history would have been included in his investigation of her.

Without waiting for his response, she went to the car. Burke followed her.

Her cell phone lay on the pavement. He picked it up. “Yours?”

At her nod, he handed it to her. She returned it to her purse and retrieved the two pen injectors containing her insulin and an alcohol wipe. She was on two different types of insulin, a regular and a rapid-acting. She read the labels, selected the injector with the regular insulin for night time. Leaning against the passenger side, she left the car door open to provide light and after a swipe of alcohol across her upper arm, administered the injection. Burke stood by in silence. After, she added the needle to a plastic container where she’d discarded two others she’d used earlier in the day. She’d dispose of them properly when she reached the cottage.

“You take three injections daily?”

Burke knew the number, confirming her earlier assumption that he knew of her condition.

She swatted a mosquito that was drawn to the light. “Yes. This is the last.”

He nodded. “Do you need a moment before we can leave?”

Eve raised one eyebrow. “Your concern is touching, but I’m good to go.”

“Make no mistake, Doctor, my only concern is that you remain well for questioning.”

Eve straightened her spine. “Of course. Can’t have your suspect die on you before you deliver me to Washington.” Eve turned away from him and got into the car. “Get a move on, Burke. We still have a long drive to the cottage.”

Burke glanced at his watch. “We won’t be going directly to the cottage. We have to make a stop first.”

Imposter: Chapter Three

The stop turned out to be a diner on a country road.

“This is the stop?” Eve made no effort to hide her impatience.

“I could go for something to eat,” Burke said, turning the car into a gravel parking lot. “How about you?”

The dashboard clock in the car read eight-eleven p.m. She’d been late finishing work at the lab, in anticipation of her three day absence, and missed lunch. The idea of food wasn’t unappealing, but the notion of sitting down to a meal with Burke, the normalcy of it, struck her as incongruous given their circumstances. Still, she needed to eat. Had to was more like it, whether she was hungry or not because of her diabetic condition. After three years of living with the disease, she’d learned the routine and respected the necessity of adhering to it. But it left her feeling vulnerable. She didn’t care for the feeling.

Burke parked beside the only other vehicle on the lot, a pick-up in need of a wash, and turned off the car engine. The diner was back lit by the lowering sun, lending a red glow to the peeling whitewashed structure.

Burke took his black wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket. The shoulder holster beneath and the gun it held were revealed for an instant. He opened the wallet, and again Eve glimpsed his picture ID as he extracted a pair of twenties. He slid the wallet beneath the driver’s seat.

It was an odd thing to do and Eve was sure her facial expression reflected that thought, but she said nothing. If he chose to be careless with his Agency ID, then that was his concern.

“Ready?” Burke asked.

Before she could answer, he was standing on the gravel and swinging the car door to a close.

The atmosphere inside the diner was cozy. Small round tables lined two walls. Garth Brooks crooned a soft country tune from a radio atop the long counter that glistened from the wipe-down it was getting from a waitress.

They took seats by the window. She expected Burke to choose a location that backed against a wall. He didn’t. Too many spy novels, she supposed, had fostered that idea. Seated across from him, she acknowledged that though he lacked the polished looks of the actors who’d portrayed the James Bond character in the movies, Burke would have done that character justice on the Hollywood screen just the same. His suit covered what appeared to be a hard, athletic body. The light shadow of beard that now darkened his cheeks and jaw added to his sexy appeal.

Not that how he looked mattered to her.

The waitress left the counter and ambled up to their table. Eve was glad of the distraction.

“We’re about ready to close,” the woman said. Deep grooves dug into the sides of her mouth and brow as she spoke. “Grill’s been cleaned.” She tilted her head and the purple stones in her earrings twinkled in the light. “The best I can offer you at this point is a cup of coffee and a sandwich.”

“That’ll be fine,” Burke said.

The waitress ticked off the choices on her fingers. “Ham and Swiss or Tuna Salad.”

“Tuna,” Eve said.

“The same. And the coffee you mentioned would be great. Black, for me. Eve?”

“Black for me, too—Bu—John.”

Clearly she wasn’t any good at this cloak and dagger stuff, but if the waitress noticed that Eve had almost called her companion by the wrong name, she didn’t react.

“I’ll be right back with your coffees,” the waitress said.

Eve stretched out her arms on the wooden tabletop and linked her fingers in a tight grip. By this time tomorrow night, she should be on her way back home. That Richard had used his skill to harm anyone angered her. She could not comprehend how he would have done this. As much as she was angry at Burke for refusing to listen when she told him she was innocent, she was glad that he’d learned what Richard was planning before he could sell the formula.

She focused on Burke. “How did you find out what Richard was involved in?”

Burke raised a dark eyebrow in a mocking gesture. Eve leaned as far forward as the edge of the tabletop allowed. “Can your sarcasm for a minute and answer my question.”

Burke leveled his gaze on her. “He let it be known that he could be hired to develop chemical weapons. He answered a personal ad on a website we’ve been monitoring for terrorist activity. That ad was a cover for a request for a chemical weapon.”

“That’s how these people contact each other?”

“That’s one way.”

Clearly Burke had no intention of elaborating. She would not have credited Richard with knowing how to initiate such contact. Again, she was struck by the fact that she’d been clueless to what was going on right under her nose.

The waitress arrived with their coffees. Eve sat back as the steaming cup was set in front of her. When they were alone again, she asked, “Do you know why Richard got involved with these people?” A terrible thought occurred to her. “Richard wasn’t married. His parents are his only family.” Eve’s stomach tightened at the thought they might have been threatened. “Could it have been about more than money?”

“A great deal of money, Doctor,” Burke said. “If you’re thinking he was pressured or threatened to cooperate, he wasn’t.”

The waitress returned and placed their dinner orders in front of them. She left the check by the plates in a not-so-subtle hint that their time was limited.

Burke picked up his sandwich and dug in. Eve took a couple of bites but found she wasn’t as hungry as she had been a few moments ago. The gravity of her situation struck her again. She picked up her coffee and held it between both hands as she took a long sip. The air conditioner in the diner kicked on making a loud hum and a middle aged man wearing a white T-shirt molded to his lean body started a floor polisher. The combined sounds made conversation impossible, which Eve was glad of. She had nothing to say to Burke at the moment and nothing she wished to hear from him.

Burke pointed to her plate and raised an eyebrow. “Problem with your sandwich?”

Eve shook her head. “It’s fine.”

Burke didn’t press. The next few moments were passed in silence as he finished eating.

“You done?” he asked.

Eve nodded. Burke placed one of the twenties he’d taken from his wallet on the table to take care of the check. Eve got to her feet and preceded him out of the diner.

A third vehicle was parked in the lot when Eve and Burke reached it. An early model mini van. The windows were covered by curtains patterned with grinning cows.

An elderly couple strolled around the Porsche. The man was tall with a full head of silver hair. He smiled as he reached out and patted the rooftop.

“Good evening to you,” the man said. His accent was unmistakably southern. “My wife and I were admiring your very fine ve-hic-le.”

That’s right.” The woman nodded. She wore a straw hat with a ribbon bow tipped back on her head. “We had an early model way back when, didn’t we Harry?”

“My, yes. It has been some time.” He released a deep breath and without taking his eyes from the car asked, “Mind if we take a look inside?”

“Be my guest,” Burke said.

Eve glanced at her watch. They really had to be on their way.

“This sure does take me back,” Harry said from behind the wheel. He sighed long in appreciation and caressed the leather wrapped steering wheel as if it were a lover. His wife slid into the passenger side and the couple sat together in a companionable silence.

The man reached out and clasped his wife’s hand then brought it to his lips. Her light blue eyes grew warm on her husband’s face.

Despite her impatience to be on her way, Eve couldn’t help but be touched by them, touched and a little wistful. Once, she too, had expected to share a lifetime with her own husband.

“Maybe we ought to just get ourselves one of these again? How about that Mary?” Harry winked at his wife.

She laughed.

With a loud and obviously reluctant sigh, Harry stepped out of the car. He extended his hand to Burke. “Thank you, kindly. Appreciate you letting us reminisce.”

“My pleasure,” Burke said.

Harry turned to Eve and shook her hand as well.

“Drive safe,” Mary added.

Eve watched them enter the diner. “That was a nice thing you just did, Burke.”

“I can be nice.”

“I’ll reserve judgment on that,” she said.

Without replying, Burke got behind the wheel. They buckled up and left the parking lot. Night had fallen and the moon roof showed the sky lit with stars. Moonlight illuminated the inside of the car. Burke popped the Van Halen CD out of the player, and selected a radio station that played fifties and sixties rock. At the moment, Rick Nelson was singing about “Mary Lou”.

Eve rested her head back against the seat. Lulled by the soft purr of the engine and the music, she felt she could fall asleep. She couldn’t believe that, given what was going on in her life now, and, given that she was in the company of a man she’d known for only a few hours.

Burke slid his wallet out from under the driver’s seat. Not his wallet, Eve realized, this one was brown.

She sat upright. “That’s not the wallet you stashed under the seat before we went into the diner.”

Burke met her gaze. “No.” He flipped open the wallet revealing a driver’s license, passport, social security card, and an assortment of credit cards. The name on each piece of identification was Richard Patterson, but the photos verifying the ID were all of Burke.

“Then how did you—” Her eyes narrowed as she figured it out. “The elderly couple.”

Eve tapped the wallet. “This was why you wanted to stop here. Those people delivered new ID for you. They work for you, Burke.”

“Not Burke. Richard. From here on, I’m Richard Patterson.”

* * *

They arrived at the cottage in Rowland in the early hours of the morning. For the most part, the streets they’d driven by were all dark, Eve noticed. Apparently, the residents of Rowland were not people who stayed up into the wee hours of the morning.

As described, the cottage was on an isolated stretch of land. It looked to be built about forty years back when land could be had in abundance for a reasonable price, as opposed to the near postage-sized lots available now and sold at a premium.

Burke parked in front of the small dwelling and they left the car. He unlocked the door to the cottage. Apparently when he and Lanski searched Richard’s body earlier, they came up with more than the notes on the formula, Eve observed. They’d also found the keys Richard had received from the agent he’d rented the cottage from.

Burke switched on the overhead lights and Eve followed him into one large room. Curtains on the windows were open, letting in the moonlight. The place was inviting with a large couch filled with thick-stuffed cushions. A brick fireplace took up a large portion of one wall. A framed photograph of a bird poised for flight was centered above the fireplace. The photo was slightly askew.

From where she stood at the door, Eve could also see the kitchen. The room was painted a cornflower blue with medium oak accents that gave a warm and homey atmosphere. She took a step, intent on checking out the two bedrooms, but Burke placed his hand on her arm.

“Give me a minute,” he said.

Without waiting for her reply, Burke strode into the nearest room. She supposed his training had him looking under table cloths and peeking around corners. When she’d been on the police force, she’d maintained an awareness of her surroundings, but several years out of that life had taken the suspicion off and she’d gotten out of the habit.

Still, in their case, she wasn’t sure it was just carefully honed habit that had Burke checking their surroundings.

“Well?” she asked when he was back in the living room area with her.

“All clear.” He slid the gun he’d drawn back in his shoulder holster.

“Any reason to think it might not have been?”

Burke remained silent for an instant, then met her gaze. “Richard Patterson died abruptly. We won’t know what caused his death until the autopsy results are in.”

“You think Richard may have been murdered?”

“I don’t think it. I’m just being cautious. I can’t see anyone killing him and not taking the formula. Like I said, I’m just being cautious.”

Burke was right. It made no sense for the accomplice or buyer to kill Richard and not take the formula. Besides, Burke said that Richard had never met the people he’d entered into this alliance with.

“I’ll get our bags,” Burke said.

Eve followed him to the car. It was late. She didn’t plan on unpacking now.

All she wanted was the garment bag that held the suit she planned to wear in the morning for the conference and her makeup case and hair dryer.

When Burke would have grabbed her suitcase as well as his own, she shook her head. “I just want what I’ll need for the morning.” She followed up her words by swinging out the garment bag and grabbing the makeup case and hair dryer, then returning to the cabin.

She chose the first room off the short hall and shut the door behind herself.

* * *

Burke watched Eve walk away from him. Against his will, his gaze lingered. He took in her straight back, the sweep of her dark hair across her shoulders, the narrow curve of her waistline. With a scowl, he looked away from her.

He was angry, his body tense with it. This investigation that should have clicked into place had blown apart. Richard Patterson was dead and now, here Burke was, forced to take Patterson’s place. What should have been a cut and dried apprehension had become complicated. And, instead of overseeing the investigation, where he needed to be, he’d had to hand over that responsibility to his second in command Lanski while he was now stuck in the middle of nowhere impersonating Patterson and guarding his accomplice.

Burke pulled out his cell phone and called Lanski.

“Hey, boss,” Lanski said an instant later. “Are you calling from the road?”

Burke’s cell phone was secure so his location could not be determined. “No. We’ve arrived.”

“You and the lady doc all settled in?”

That comment brought on another scowl. Burke ignored the question and asked his own. “Are we set for tomorrow night?”

“All set, sir,” Lanski said, all humor gone. “We’ll have the cottage covered with land, sea and air surveillance. Just like you ordered. The buyer won’t get away from us.”

Burke expected nothing less. “Dr. Collins still has her cell phone in her possession.”

“You let her keep it?”

“Yeah. I want you to monitor her cell phone calls. Incoming and outgoing. I want to know who she calls and who calls her.”

Lanski paused briefly then said, “You want to know if she tips anyone off about Patterson?”

“Yeah.”

“Good thinking. She might not be expecting that we’ll be listening, and have her guard down. I’m on it. Anything else?”

“That’s it for now.”

“See you tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow,” Burke repeated.

This would all be over then. He couldn’t wait.

Imposter: Chapter Four

They were on the road at seven-thirty the next morning. If this had been another day, Eve would have welcomed an additional couple of hours of sleep. She wasn’t a morning person to begin with and topping that with the sleepless night spent worrying over her situation had left her edgy. But, this was the day the true accomplice would reveal himself and exonerate her. She couldn’t get the day started early enough.

They stopped for breakfast at a restaurant in Rowland then resumed the drive to the conference. Burke didn’t ask for directions to the hotel where the conference was being held. It was clear that he knew exactly where he was headed. When they arrived, he pulled into the valet parking. The act was so typically Richard that Eve glanced over at the man behind the wheel. The hotel allowed for patrons to park their own vehicles, but Eve had never known Richard to do that when someone else was available to park his car for him. She wondered if Burke was acting as Burke or if he was mimicking Richard’s behavior. He was falling into impersonating Richard well.

Her door was opened by the hotel attendant who offered his hand to help her out. Eve placed her hand in his and stepped onto the asphalt. The day was overcast, but despite the clouds covering the sun, the air outside was warm and sticky.

Burke—ah Richard—she had to remember to call him Richard—joined her and they made their way through the double glass doors that accessed the hotel lobby.

The conference coordinators reserved the same rooms for the event each year. For the first time since she’d embarked on the trip with Richard, Eve knew where she was heading.

She spotted Matt Deligne making his way toward her. Deligne was a big, bold Texan, topping six feet by several inches. His shaggy hair, beneath a white Stetson, was sun-streaked, attesting to the time he spent outdoors on the cattle ranch he lived on.

“Why hi y’all,” he said, when he reached her. He swept her into a bear hug that squeezed a cough from her.

After Eve extracted herself from Deligne’s hold, she said, “Richard, this is Matt Deligne. Matt, my business partner, Richard Patterson.”

“Matt,” Burke said.

Burke and Deligne shook hands.

“Never did see you out this way, Rick,” Deligne said. “Have to say, I was starting to believe Eve had made you all up as an excuse to deny going out with me.”

“As you can see, Matt, Richard is very real.” Eve had to force the smile that she needed to go along with that statement about Richard.

“Well, I’ve never been one to back away from competition,” Matt said.

She added softly, not wishing to cause Matt hurt. “Richard isn’t the reason you and I will go on being just friends.”

Beside her, Burke tensed. Maybe in anticipation of Matt’s reaction, but Eve had never known Matt to be anything but good-natured.

Matt laughed now, loud enough that patrons at the other end of the long hall way glanced in their direction. “I think the lady just hit me dead-on with a solid right hook. I’m bleeding all over this fancy carpeting, darlin’.”

She’d been less than tactful and her words hadn’t come out as she’d intended. She was sorry for that. The last thing she wanted was to cause her friend hurt. “Sorry, Matt. It isn’t you, it’s me.” God, she was making things worse with the trite line.

Matt laughed. “Easy. You can quit dancing now. My heart’s bruised but still beating.” He winked at her. “And here comes Allie. I know you’ll be glad to see him.”

“Allie” was Alasdair McHampton, a Scotsman who emigrated to the United States from Edinburgh in the nineteen fifties. He’d retired from researching pharmaceuticals years back, but missed being able to discuss his passion for chemistry and sought out the conference and like-minded individuals each year to indulge in conversation he was no longer able to have elsewhere.

Allie’s thinning, sandy blond hair stood up in places. His shirt was slightly creased and his signature polka dot bow tie was askew. As usual, Allie looked rumpled. Eve found Allie’s rumpled state endearing. Of their little group, Allie was the one she was most fond of, and the one person she kept in touch with apart from the conference. She’d invited him out to visit her in New York in the past, but the elderly gentleman had regretfully refused. He was terrified of flying and prone to car sickness. If he didn’t live in the vicinity of this hotel, it was doubtful that he would attend the conference.

When Allie joined them, Eve reached out and embraced him.

“You have brightened this room with your presence my dear,” Allie said.

Eve laughed. “It’s good to see you, Allie.”

She straightened the bow tie for him, as she usually did several times during the course of the conference, then introduced Burke as Richard. She did so reluctantly. She hated perpetuating the deception on Allie.

“So this is your mystery man.” Allie clasped Burke’s hand in a firm shake.

Eve grinned at Allie’s description. Though he had never married himself, he was quite the romantic. Allie was something of a matchmaker and after learning that she was no longer married kept a watchful eye for prospective candidates for her affection.

Allie quickly engaged Burke in conversation. As usual, Allie’s topic of choice was chemistry and Eve’s stomach tightened. Burke hadn’t been expecting to have to step in and impersonate a chemist. Did he even know anything about chemistry? If so, did he know enough to be able to fool a professional?

Part of her wanted the smug Burke to fall on his face and she imagined herself apologizing to Allie for the deception when Burke slipped up. The more practical part of her, though, knew in order for the suspicion against her to go away, for Burke himself to go away, Burke’s impersonation had to work. She was thinking of how to rescue him from the conversation when it soon became apparent that Burke didn’t need a rescue. He was holding up his end with Allie just fine.

“Dr. Abernathy is about to begin his talk very shortly,” Allie said with a broad smile. “I don’t want to miss that. Shall we proceed?”

Eve fell into step beside Allie, leaving Burke, and Matt Deligne to follow. Inside the conference room, Eve set her purse on the floor and took a seat beside Allie. Burke sat on Eve’s other side. Though Eve usually enjoyed the seminars scheduled at this conference, and partook of as many of them as she could fit into the tight three days, she couldn’t have been less interested now. Keynote speaker Dr. Gerald Abernathy was introduced, made his way to the podium, and began to speak. Eve glanced at her watch. She’d never known time to move so slowly. She wanted it to be midnight and to be back at the cottage with the meeting with the buyer underway.

Abernathy droned on. By the avid expressions on the faces of the people around her, his audience was enthralled. Allie, in particular, had slid forward and now sat on the end of his seat. Eve shifted position in the plush chair. She moved several times more on the taupe cushion then Burke’s arm snaked around her shoulders, stilling her.

He leaned toward her and whispered in her ear. “You’re wearing a hole in that chair.”

Of course, he was calm. This was a job to him. Business as usual. To her it was her life. Before she could give Burke that reply, Abernathy announced that he would be taking a brief intermission. Eve broke Burke’s grip on her shoulders and shot to her feet.

“Fascinating. Positively fascinating,” Allie said. He rose slowly to his feet. “I think I’ll help myself to some refreshment.”

A table took up a portion of one wall and wait staff bustled about setting covered dishes and trays on the white covering.

Allie glanced from Eve to Burke and then to Matt who now formed a semi-circle around him. “Anyone care to join me?”

Matt clapped Allie on the shoulder. “I’m with you.”

Allie turned to Eve. “How about you my dear?”

“Sounds good.”

Allie offered his arm.

A cell phone rang. Burke retrieved the ringing phone from his pocket. Richard’s phone, Eve realized. His name was stamped on the cover. The formula. The keys to the cottage. The cell phone. Burke had been thorough when he’d searched Richard’s body.

Burke glanced at the telephone briefly, checking the caller ID. Eve leaned over to do the same and saw that the number had been blocked.

“Excuse me,” Burke said to Allie and the others.

With a pointed look to Eve that she interpreted as a bid to follow him, Burke walked away. In this, she and Burke were on the same page. Following him was exactly what Eve intended to do.

“Sorry, Allie. Raincheck,” Eve said.

She fell into step with Burke as he wove his way through the men and women milling about the conference room and returned to the hotel lobby. Burke flipped open the phone but didn’t put it to his ear. Eve leaned toward him and saw that the caller had sent a text message. The angle of the phone, though, prevented her from reading it. An instant later Burke closed the phone.

“Well?” Eve asked.

“I’m to check in then proceed to my room. Our caller will meet me there in ten minutes.”

Eve felt excitement course through her.

Burke raised his gaze and his dark eyes settled on her. “If this is the buyer making contact, I’m wondering why he upped the time of the meeting and changed the location?”

Eve didn’t care for the suspicion she heard in Burke’s tone. “I have no answers for those questions and I’m not about to stand here with you and analyze his motives. As far as I’m concerned if this is the buyer or the accomplice, getting this over with now rather than later would be a good thing.”

Burke did not respond to her comment. He used his own cell phone and placed a call. After a brief pause, he said, “Lanski. Change in plans.” Burke went on to inform Lanski about the message he’d received then gave the order to mobilize a team of agents. “Tell our people to hold their positions. No one moves in without my order.” Burke ended the call then turned to her. “Okay, Doctor, let’s go.”

Burke proceeded to the front desk with Eve in tow.

“I’d like to check in,” he said to the young male clerk.

“Sure thing, sir.” The clerk nodded, and the red and blue tints in his hair glittered in the light from the chandelier overhead. “Name please.”

“Richard Patterson.”

“Are you with the chemist’s convention, sir?” he asked conversationally.

“Yes.”

The young man tapped the computer keyboard. “A great line up of speakers this year.”

“Quite good,” Burke agreed.

“Here you are, Dr. Patterson.” The clerk handed Burke a key card. “Room 1117 just like you asked for.”

Burke signed the register.

“Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.”

Burke and Eve left the desk and the clerk bent his head over a stack of papers. A woman rushed by them, bearing an armload of towels.

“Did Richard reserve this room in addition to arranging accommodation at the cottage?” Burke asked.

“I don’t know. Can your people look into that?”

“I’ll get Lanski on it but since the room isn’t billed until checkout, there’s no way to trace the reservation through a credit card. I don’t like going into this meeting blind.”

Eve’s stomach tensed. “We have no choice. We have to see this through and do as your caller instructed.”

He studied her. “I have every intention of seeing this through.”

With his hand at her back, Burke steered Eve to the bank of elevators. The lobby was quiet now. The chemist’s conference was the big event at the hotel at this time of year and most of the hotel patrons were gathered in the conference room to hear Dr. Abernathy speak. No doubt Richard’s buyer would have known that and choosing this meeting time when few people would be about had not been a coincidence.

Eve waited outside the room Burke had been assigned while he performed his customary check of the surroundings.

“All clear,” he said a few moments later.

Eve joined him inside. He hung a “do not disturb” placard on the exterior door knob, which she figured he’d also been instructed by the caller to do.

The room was a suite and a large one with plush furnishings and gilt accessories. A bottle of champagne cooled in a silver ice bucket. Strawberry, mango, and kiwi from an abundant fruit basket scented the air. It was precisely the kind of accommodation Richard would have booked for himself. If she’d made the arrangements, she would have reserved a simple room for Richard, like one she’d book for herself.

“Why that look?” Burke asked.

Eve removed her gaze from the long hall that led to the bedroom and looked to Burke. “Just that this room is so typically Richard.” She shrugged. “When he checked into a hotel, he always chose the best room available.” She didn’t add that he would have spared no expense if the business was paying. He had no concern for where the business stood financially. How many times had she gone head to head with him over expenses he charged to their partnership?

She shook off those irrelevant thoughts and directed her attention where it needed to be. “Is it possible the meeting at the cottage is a dupe and that this is the real meeting? That Richard and the buyer made a plan you don’t know about? Could your Intel be off?”

“No.”

Burke’s firm tone left no doubt that he trusted his information. Eve accepted his word on that. She glanced at her watch. “It’s been ten minutes.”

Burke sat on the arm of the chesterfield. “Yeah.”

Eve walked to a floor-to-ceiling window. The day had cleared. There wasn’t a cloud visible now. Sunlight streamed in, bathing the room in its warm glow. The suite overlooked an enclosed garden. Flowers and shrubs were in full bloom. The view was breathtaking, but Eve was not in a frame of mind to appreciate it. She turned away to pace the room. Sixty minutes went by. She was wearing grooves in the rug, she thought.

Another hour later, she stopped in front of Burke. “He should have been here by now.”

Burke nodded. “I think we can say whoever sent the message isn’t coming.”

Burke took out his phone and called Lanski. Eve tuned out Burke’s voice as he told Lanski the meeting was a bust. Disappointment weighed on her.

“. . . a set up,” Burke said, then ended the call.

His last words had caught her attention. “What did you mean a set up—set up for what?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Someone just played with us, Doctor. I’d like to know why.”

She met his pointed stare. “Are you insinuating something?”

“Not insinuating. Asking outright. Did you set up this little diversion?”

“Why would I do that?”

“As a signal to the buyer that your plan has gone south?”

“A signal . . .” Eve shook her head. “How could I have set this up?” She spread her arms wide. “I was with you when you got the cell phone text. I couldn’t have sent that. I want this guy found more than you do. It’s my life on the line if we don’t.”

“It’s your life on the line if we do find him. Once we have the buyer, we’ll have you. You won’t be able to deny your involvement.”

“I have nothing to deny.”

They left the room and rode the elevator to the lobby in a stony silence. When the doors opened, Eve stepped out ahead of Burke.

“Eve!”

Allie stood at the door to the conference room, shoulders raised, gaze intent, frantically waving to her. Abernathy’s lecture was over. Only a handful of people still lingered in the lobby and Eve crossed the room quickly to Allie.

“Eve, my dear,” Allie said. “I’d almost despaired of seeing you again today.”

Allie clutched her hand and Eve’s fears for herself dimmed for the moment in the face of his distress. “What is it Allie? Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes.” He shook his head. A slight smile trembled on his thin lips. “Forgive me, my dear. Forgive my theatrics. You left in such a hurry that you forgot your handbag beneath the chair you’d been occupying.” He held her cream-colored envelope purse aloft. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought it best to retrieve it for you, rather than permit it to be placed in a lost and found.” Allie blinked owl-like and eyed her expectantly, awaiting confirmation, it appeared to Eve, that he’d acted well.

Eve smiled. “Thank you. I did forget about getting my purse when I left the conference room.”

“You dashed out in such a hurry, I feared you had taken ill?”

“No. I’m just fine.”

Eve skirted Allie’s implied question of where she went, and Allie didn’t press her. His concern for her touched Eve. She reached out and hugged him. His arms closed gently around her. The contact filled with such genuine affection brought tears to Eve’s eyes. Her current situation had her tense and on edge and she welcomed the comfort of a friend.

She hadn’t realized how close to the edge she was until a sob shook her. Allie’s hold on her tightened.

“There, there, my dear.” Allie’s voice softened. His tone became soothing. “Are you quite sure you’re all right?”

Her emotions were out of proportion to Allie’s act of retrieving her purse. Feeling embarrassed at almost blubbering on the man over a simple act of kindness, Eve pulled back from him.

“My life is in my purse,” she said, invoking some humor to cover her embarrassment. “You saved me from having to deal with credit card companies and the DMV and a host of other bureaucrats.”

Allie cast a narrow eyed glance at Burke. Eve wondered if Allie’s matchmaking tendencies were kicking in and he was considering that Burke—ah, Richard—was responsible for her upset. She and Burke had left the lecture together, after all.

Burke showed no reaction to the animosity now coming off Allie in waves. Though Eve felt grateful for Allie’s loyalty and his fierce protectiveness of her, she didn’t want to cause her friend any further distress. She hurried to reassure him that she was well.

She gave him a bright smile. “Thank you, Allie. You saved the day.” Allie was considerably shorter than she and Eve bent and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

The deep furrows cutting into Allie’s brows eased. “Glad to have been of service. Now, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to an early dinner.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m positively famished. I will also fill you in on the latter part of Dr. Abernathy’s lecture. Fascinating. Positively fascinating the strides he’s made.”

It would be an early dinner. It was just minutes after three p.m. Eve was in no mood to sit down to a meal, less in the mood to hear about Abernathy’s lecture. Her nerves were frazzled and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up appearances for much longer. All she could think about was getting back to the cottage to lay in wait for the meeting at midnight.

She didn’t know how Burke felt about Allie’s invitation. Didn’t know if Burke wanted to join Allie for a meal, maybe for appearances sake. At the moment, she didn’t care what Burke wanted. She was tired of having him decide her every movement for her. She simply wasn’t up to any more pretense this day.

She turned to Allie and shook her head, “I’m sorry, Allie. Not tonight.”

Without giving Burke a chance to refute her, she walked away.

* * *

He watched Eve Collins leave the conference. Head down she pushed through the double glass doors that led to the parking lot. The late afternoon breeze caught her hair and it swirled around her face.

Through the mass of dark strands, he saw that her features were pale and drawn. She looked “blown away”. The joke provoked a chuckle. Simply put, Eve looked blindsided by the situation she found herself in. Didn’t know what hit her. As well she should. He had worked hard to orchestrate recent events.

Before anyone could speculate if Richard Patterson had been working alone, the man who now watched Eve had thought it prudent to provide a decoy. Who better for that role than Patterson’s actual business partner? Eve had been the perfect choice. He laughed again.

There was no doubt about her guilt. His text message earlier to meet in a room in this hotel was icing on a very tall cake. When the buyer failed to attend the meeting, it appeared she had warned the buyer of the trap.

And now, with his anonymity assured, it was time he returned to the task at hand: obtaining the formula. He had taken steps to do that. It was just a matter of a little more time.

He could afford to be patient. Once the formula was sold, the hefty payoff would assure there wasn’t anything he could not afford.

Eve Collins reached Richard Patterson’s vehicle and got inside. Eyes narrowed now, his attention returned to her. Eve’s role in his plan was almost complete. There was just one more thing for her to do and that was to die.

* * *

Burke was quiet on the drive back to the cottage. Eve welcomed his silence. She was too upset for conversation. With him for his refusal to consider her innocence. With this latest development in her situation.

Was it the buyer who’d contacted Burke? If so why hadn’t he gone ahead to the hotel room? Had he stayed away because he discovered that his plan with Richard had gone wrong? She had no way of knowing. She did know that the failure of whoever had made contact to appear in Richard’s hotel room had reinforced Burke’s notion of her guilt.

Richard’s accomplice had not shown up in the hotel room either. The one person she desperately needed to make an appearance. Was that because Richard hadn’t been alive to let him know about the plan to meet at the hotel? That made sense since Richard was the contact to the buyer.

Eve released a frustrated breath and leaned back against the head rest. Round and round she went with no answers. Bottom line: the accomplice hadn’t revealed himself which meant she was no closer to proving her innocence. Until she did, she would remain under suspicion of treason.

She shuddered. Frustration gave way to the true emotion driving her: fear.

Burke stopped at the restaurant they’d breakfasted at. While she waited in the car, he went inside. He returned with two take-out meals which he placed on the console. The aroma wafting from the containers revealed that he’d bought chicken.

At the cottage, Eve left the car, striding quickly over the mowed grass. She’d almost lost it with Allie. The last thing she wanted was to break down in front of Burke.

When he opened the door to the cottage, she moved to precede him inside. He clutched her arm, halting her.

Eve turned on him. “You think I have the buyer in here ready to spring an ambush on you?”

“I can’t discount the possibility.”

She didn’t know if he was deliberately trying to bait her or truly believed what he said. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You want to know what I’m really thinking?” Burke crossed his arms. “Your buyer has gone to ground. He won’t show for tonight’s meeting either. He knows that this is a bust and he’s better off to cut his losses and move on.”

Burke’s prediction sent a chill through her. “I hope you’re wrong.”

Burke’s gaze hardened. “I hope so too, Doctor.”

* * *

Burke confirmed that he and Eve were alone in the cottage. He needed to phone Lanski and went outside where the signal would be stronger for his cell phone.

The fresh air was welcome. He needed it to clear his head and cool his temper. He’d lost his temper with Dr. Collins. Again. Unheard of for him when dealing with suspects. He made sure to keep his emotions in check when on the job.

He wouldn’t have to worry about her much longer. By this time tomorrow, whether or not they apprehended the buyer, she would be out of his life.

That thought didn’t give him the satisfaction or pleasure that it should have.

Burke made the call to Lanski. Two rings later, his second in command picked up.

“Our people are in place, boss,” Lanski said. “At your signal, we’ll move in. We’ll get the buyer when he shows.”

Burke grunted. “If he shows.”

“You don’t think he will?”

Burke left the question unanswered. “There’s been no activity from Dr. Collins’s cell phone, I take it?”

“No, sir. I would have let you know immediately. I’ve been hoping that the lady doc might have named the buyer by now and we can just round him up.”

“She’s still saying she doesn’t know what Patterson was up to. We know that Patterson never met his buyer, so we have no reason to think Dr. Collins would have. She doesn’t know who is supposed to show up here tonight any more than we do.”

“So she says.”

“Something’s not right,” Burke said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“This afternoon, if it was the buyer who contacted me, he didn’t ask if I had the formula with me. He just went ahead and set up the meeting.”

“An oversight? Or maybe he assumed Patterson would have it with him at all times.”

“The people we’re dealing with don’t leave things to chance. This guy would make sure.”

“Maybe he realized that he hadn’t confirmed you had the formula and that’s why he blew off the meet.”

“No.” Burke shook his head. “This guy has been on the ball since the start of this.”

“Dr. Collins must have tipped him off somehow.”

“That was my first thought.” Burke narrowed his gaze at a squirrel perched high on a tree limb. “Now, I’m not sure. Since he didn’t ask about the formula, makes me think it wasn’t the buyer at all. That we have another player in this game.”

“Doesn’t sound likely.”

“Something else is going on here. I don’t know what.” Burke didn’t add that the not knowing had his stomach churning. “The buyer doesn’t want to play games. He wants to do business. What happened today wasn’t about getting the formula.”

* * *

The midnight hour came and went. Eve stood waiting for a knock on the cottage door that did not come. Burke had been right. The buyer was a no-show.

Still when he said it aloud, the words struck Eve hard. “So what are you going to do about that?” she asked. “All right, the buyer hasn’t shown himself. Fine.” Eve flung her arms out from her sides. “Onto Plan ‘B’.”

He turned from the window to face her. “There is no Plan ‘B’.”

“Then let’s come up with one. Maybe you weren’t convincing as Richard and your cover was blown. Maybe the buyer and accomplice were tipped off. If so, we need to find out who did that.”

Burke gave her a steady look.

“You can’t still be thinking that I alerted anyone because if you are— ”

“It doesn’t matter at this point.” Burke loosened his tie, the movement jerky, laced with anger, belying his words.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter. This guy poses a threat to our security and you’re just going to let him go? Just like that?”

Burke went still and his gaze bore into hers. “Oh, we’re not going to let him go. Make no mistake about that. We will continue to search for the buyer. You, however, will no longer be involved in the search.”

Eve’s stomach plummeted. “So this is it? You’re now going to send me to Washington where I’ll be charged?”

“I’m not going to send you. I’m going to escort you. And, yeah, you’ll now have to answer to the claims against you. Get yourself a good defense lawyer, Doctor, you can play this out in the courts for years.”

Years. She could be in custody or with her life on hold for years.

“That’s unacceptable, Burke. I’m not ready to give up looking for Richard’s accomplice.”

“Well, you can hire investigators to do your digging for you through your lawyer. We’ll be leaving for Washington in the morning.”

Eve shivered. She could see there was no way to convince him otherwise. It was over. Just what the government had to make a charge of treason stick, she didn’t know, but would soon find out.

The cottage suddenly felt stifling. Eve went to the door.

“Where are you going?” Burke asked.

“Outside,” she said and before he could ask anything further, hurried out.

Would he follow her? She was in his custody, after all. But, when he didn’t she figured he must have reasoned, just where would she go? The cottage delivered on its promise of seclusion. She’d never find the road on foot at night and Burke had the keys to Richard’s car. Eve closed her eyes, fighting despair. She wrapped her arms tight around herself and headed for a small stand of trees and shrubs that made up a garden.

A scattering of stars and a quarter moon lit her path. She still wore the suit and strappy sandals she’d put on for the conference and the shorn grass chilled her bare feet.

A wooden swing was placed among the trees. As she approached it, she was grabbed from behind.

Imposter: Chapter Five

A large hand closed over Eve’s mouth. An arm wrapped around her waist, scooping her off her feet.

She fought panic, and stiffening her elbow, reared back, striking her captor in the sternum. He let out a whoosh of air and released her. She turned toward her attacker, prepared to deliver another blow, then stopped.

“Matt?”

“Eve.” He paused for breath. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Another pause. “Did I hurt you?”

Since he was the one on his knees in the grass, clutching his chest, the question seemed ridiculous.

“Matt, what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He held up a hand, the large hand that an instant earlier had covered her mouth and she saw that the metal she’d felt against her lips was a class ring.

“I’ll explain. Just let me get my wind back.” He exhaled a breath that wheezed. “Hot damn, woman, you pack a punch.” One side of his moustache lifted in a smile.

Eve wasn’t in the mood for his charm. “I’d like some answers, Matt.”

He sat back on his haunches and jerked his tie until it hung below his breast bone. It occurred to Eve that for a large man he couldn’t take a hit well.

“It’s like this,” he said slowly. “I got worried about you when you ran out of Abernathy’s lecture today. I did some checking. Found out that you weren’t registered at the hotel. Allie remembered that you mentioned you were staying at a cottage in the county. I got the address from him.”

“And just why did you do that?” Burke asked. His tone was lethal.

Eve hadn’t heard Burke approach. At the sound of his voice, she whirled around. He was now standing behind her.

Deligne got slowly to his feet. His eyes sharpened on Burke and Eve saw that he, too, had registered a threat from Burke. Judging the speed she’d taken Matt down, Burke would wipe the ground with the chemist. Matt stood no chance against him. She couldn’t let Matt be hurt.

She faced Matt, giving Burke her back again, and remaining between the two men. Burke gripped her forearm and moved her behind him.

“I already told Eve,” Matt said. “Maybe you missed it. I got worried about her when she ran out of Abernathy’s lecture today. With you, Rick. And didn’t come back.”

Eve stepped out from behind Burke. “I didn’t tell Allie where I was staying, Matt.”

Matt met her gaze and held it for a heartbeat, then exhaled deeply. He winced and ran his hand back through his hair. “Okay. Truth time.”

His Stetson lay in the dirt. He bent to retrieve it, then struck it against the leg of his jeans. A puff of dirt rose in the air. He placed the hat carefully on the wooden swing behind him.

“I tracked you because I’ve been keeping you under surveillance, Eve,” Deligne said. “I’m not a Texas rancher. I’m with British Intelligence.”

Gone was the Texas drawl, replaced by an aristocratic British accent. Eve sucked in a breath. Burke’s gaze narrowed further.

“We know about the formula,” Deligne went on. “And we know that Richard Patterson is dead.” Deligne looked pointedly at Burke. “So just who the hell are you, mate?”

When Burke didn’t respond, Eve said, “John Burke. He’s with a covert department of the CIA.”

“American Intelligence.” Deligne nodded. “I should have guessed that.”

“A spy, Matt?” Eve asked. “You’ve been spying on me?”

“Couldn’t be helped, love,” he said softly. “My orders were to secure the formula and to bring both you and Richard in. I fought the order about you. I know you’re not a terrorist, Eve.” His jaw tightened. “I planned to confront Patterson about that when he showed up at the hotel. To beat the fact that he lied about your involvement out of him.” Deligne’s gaze shone with conviction.

Eve felt lightheaded at the thought that someone believed in her innocence. Matt couldn’t know what his words meant to her, especially now, on this night. Her throat clogged with tears and for a moment she couldn’t speak. She swallowed then said, “Thank you for believing in me.”

Matt focused on her. He reached out slowly and touched her wrist. “No need to thank me. I could no more doubt your innocence than I could my own. I care mightily for you, Eve. I’ve made no secret of it. I’ve cared for you long before you became an assignment. When we were just two chemists talking shop.” He smiled. “It was talking with you, being with you that drew me to this conference every year. It can’t come as much of a surprise to you that I made the trip every year to see you, Eve.”

“Very touching,” Burke said. “What do you know about a meeting between Patterson, Eve, and the buyer that was scheduled for tonight?”

Red spread across Deligne’s cheeks. His jaw tightened and he remained silent.

“You don’t have a problem answering my questions do you, Deligne?” Burke crossed his arms. “Seeing that you care mightily for Eve?” Burke’s tone was thick with sarcasm.

Deligne met Burke’s gaze. “I know all about the meeting and that whoever was supposed to make an appearance to purchase the formula did not.”

“And what do you know about our guy failing to show up?” Burke said.

Deligne sidestepped Eve and moved to Burke. His gaze hardened. “Have you not heard one word I’ve said? I did not give myself away. I want Eve’s innocence proven, so I would not risk a chance to do that. I am very good at what I do. I was not detected. I am not the reason the buyer knew not to come here tonight. I am as disappointed as you are at the outcome of this event.” Deligne’s lips curled in an expression of disgust. “That said, however, what’s done cannot be undone. Listen to me, mate. My government wants the same things yours wants—the formula secured and the buyer apprehended. I propose that we work together to that end.”

Burke kept his gaze on Deligne, watching the man steadily. “A partnership? You’re proposing a partnership between our two agencies. Between you and I?”

Matt’s face tightened in what looked like annoyance at Burke’s comment. “We both want the same things. An exchange of information, an agreement to keep each other in the loop would benefit us both and prevent us from treading over the same ground.”

Burke’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen then stepped away to take the call. Eve watched him. He walked until he was almost to the cottage. There he stopped and put the phone to his ear. She could not hear his conversation which was obviously as he’d intended.

Regardless, her gaze and her attention remained focused on Burke. Whatever Matt was presently saying didn’t register. Her attention was on Burke. Was his caller Lanski? Since Burke was frowning, did that mean he’d received bad news? Though, as she considered that—she was suspected of treason—the appointment to find Richard’s accomplice, the one man who could prove her innocence, was a bust. Really, how much worse could the situation get?

“Eve, we need to get you out of this mess.”

Eve forced her gaze from Burke and focused on Matt. “I couldn’t agree with you more. The question is how.”

“I have some ideas about that.”

Her pulse picked up. “I’d love to hear them. At the moment, I’m fresh out and Burke is content to take me to Washington in the morning and let me take my chances with the government.”

“Yes, well, it isn’t his life on the line is it?” Matt’s mouth tightened briefly. “Once he delivers the formula, and you to his superiors, his job is done. To him, you are no more than an assignment. Your fate means nothing to him.”

Eve could not deny that.

“I can’t stand that you’re being persecuted,” Matt said. “What you’re facing is killing me, Eve. I can’t do a thing about it. We don’t have any proof and we have no leads to getting any.”

“But you said—”

He looked up at the stars and shook his head sadly. “I know what I said. All a bluff. The truth is all evidence points to you and Patterson. With Patterson now unable to refute his claim and exonerate you, you alone are here to face prosecution.” He made a sound of disgust. “My government feels the same way as yours. You’re guilty in the eyes of my superiors and my orders are to prevent you from selling the formula. Even if that means using deadly force.” He released a deep breath and said softly. “I would more easily use deadly force on myself.” His eyes lowered to hers. Very slowly his hand came up to stroke her chin. “In case you haven’t guessed it by now, I’m in love with you, Eve. There, I’ve said it. It feels good to finally get that out in the open.”

Eve forced herself not to pull back from Matt’s touch. He was an attractive man. A handsome man. But he did nothing for her. Since Emily’s death and the break up of her marriage, no man had attracted her. Her gaze strayed to Burke.

She returned her attention to Matt. “Matt. . .”

“Oh, I know you don’t return my feelings, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I feel what I feel.”

Eve didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Eve, listen to me.” Matt’s tone grew urgent. “Burke won’t lay it all out for you. He wants you cooperative and easy to manage. If we don’t do something, he’ll manage you right into a prison cell. The truth of your situation is that you’ll die in prison, if you aren’t executed first. We have to get away from here. Go somewhere we can’t be found.”

“Matt, what are you talking about? What about your government? Your life. You can’t just disappear. You don’t want to disappear—”

“To hell with my government. Do you think I can hand you over?” His features tightened as his expression grew fierce. “And about my life—I want my life with you. Yes, I can and will disappear. I will disappear with you. To keep you safe. I will disappear with you.”

“Matt, I can’t live like that, and you can’t either. I need to prove my innocence.”

“Darling Eve.” He gripped her shoulders. “My government and yours are building a case against you. They don’t care if you’re innocent. They want someone to take the fall—a scapegoat to present to the media and to the British and American public to assure them that our national security is safe and that the government is doing its job. You fit the bill. No one is seeking to prove your innocence. Surely, not Burke’s people. Not Burke. Your only chance is to come away with me.”

“Matt—”

“You’re being hunted by our two governments. We need to disappear, but before we do, we must destroy the formula. The world doesn’t need another method to kill. We must destroy the formula, if it’s still accessible.” Matt’s tone sharpened and he stared at Eve without blinking. “Has Burke turned it in to his superiors?”

Eve rubbed her brow. “I don’t think so.”

Matt’s grip on her dug into her skin. “Where is he keeping it?”

“I never asked, not that he would have told me.” Eve shook her head. “I don’t know where it is.”

“Okay. We need to find it. The most important thing is that Burke still has it.” Matt eased his grip on her.

“The formula is safe with Burke,” Eve said. “I believe that he will do the right thing with it.”

Deligne sneered. “Burke will turn it in to his government where it will be a threat to us all. We aren’t too late to remove that threat. My final act for my country is going to be to destroy this weapon. Then you and I will go somewhere we can’t be found.”

“Matt—”

He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Think about it. But think quickly. You said Burke is taking you to Washington. Time is running out. Once you’re in Washington, we won’t be able to get away. It will be too late.”

* * *

Lanski’s surveillance of the cottage had observed Deligne and identified the chemist. As Burke spoke with his second in command, he continued to watch Eve and Deligne.

“What do you want me to do about him?” Lanski asked now. “You want Deligne picked up when he leaves you?”

“No. Run a check on him.”

“We checked all of the chemists, Deligne included. He’s clean.”

“This time, go deep. Deligne claims he’s with British Intelligence. I want his identity confirmed and right away.”

“I’ll get right on it. What about now? You want me to keep our people in place?”

“Call them off,” Burke said. “It’s over.”

“You sure about that? Even about Deligne? If he turns out to be a phony, you’re on your own. We don’t know who else he may decide to call. You’ll have no back up, boss.”

“No. Go. I don’t want to spook Deligne if he turns out to be other than who he claims. We need a break in this case. Deligne just may be that break.”

“You don’t believe he’s who he says?”

“That’s what I want to find out,” Burke said carefully.

“We can take him in for questioning?”

“No point to that. We have nothing on him. I want him free to make a move, if he’s going to. Put a tail on him—a loose tail. Let’s see where he goes. Who he talks to.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Lanski said.

Burke ended the call. He’d deliberately stepped away to take Lanski’s call, though, speaking with the agent could have waited until he’d finished speaking with Deligne. The investigation was going nowhere fast, however, and Burke had decided to step away, to leave Deligne and Eve alone, to give them privacy to make a move, or plan one, if they intended to.

So far all Deligne had done was fawn all over Eve. Burke scowled at the thought. He didn’t trust Eve. He certainly didn’t trust Deligne. For all he knew, the man claiming to be an intelligence agent was as involved with the formula as she and Patterson were. And, there was still the matter of just how Richard Patterson died.

Deligne gave Eve a mega-watt smile. His interest in Eve was not Burke’s business unless it pertained to the investigation. But when Deligne’s hand moved to Eve’s cheek, Burke’s scowl deepened.

* * *

“I can’t go with you, Matt,” Eve said.

Matt shook his head slowly. “You’re making a mistake.”

“I have to clear my name. I’m innocent. I can’t live the rest of my life on the run.” She’d be damned if she’d run, if she’d let her life be stolen from her. Not without a fight. She lifted her chin. “I won’t go with you, Matt. Thank you for believing in me.”

Matt lifted a shoulder, let it fall. “That’s it then. You’ll be in Washington by this time tomorrow.”

Eve said nothing.

Matt bent toward her and kissed her cheek. Then he left.

Eve hugged herself against a sudden chill as her bravado deserted her. The one person who’d believed in her innocence was gone and she was now completely alone.

* * *

Burke was awake on the sofa in the cottage, watching Eve through the window, when the call came in from Lanski. Deligne had left some time ago. She’d moved to the garden swing and had been sitting there ever since.

“Hey,” Lanski said. “Got the check you wanted on Deligne.”

“Hold on.”

Lanski’s voice was breaking up. Burke tossed back the blanket, got to his feet, and made his way outside. The air was chill and dressed in jeans, T-shirt and no socks, it raised gooseflesh. A couple of mosquitoes took an interest in him, drawn to the glow coming off the panel of his cell phone. Burke swatted them away.

Keeping his gaze on Eve, Burke said, “Go ahead, Lanski. What did you find out?”

“Our sources confirmed he’s legit. Deligne is with British Intelligence. He’s also a chemist and his specialty is chemical weapons terrorism. He’s the British version of you, Burke.”

Burke grunted at that. “Anything else?”

“On a personal level he’s single. No kids. No ex-wives. He could be a poster boy for Queen and Country, he’s so clean.”

Burke’s lips thinned. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Do you want us to call off our surveillance on him?”

“Yeah.”

Burke ended the call as Eve returned to the cabin. She stopped in front of him.

“I need to tell you one last time that I am innocent,” she said. “You are making a mistake.”

Burke watched her, standing proudly before him, shoulders erect, chin uplifted, as she repeated her claim of innocence. Beneath it all, though, there was fear in her eyes. He didn’t like seeing it. Didn’t like knowing she was afraid.

She was a traitor. She had devised a weapon that would kill innocents for her own profit. She didn’t deserve his compassion. He hardened his heart against her plea.

“If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that from a suspect,” he said. “I wouldn’t be working for Uncle Sam.”

Burke brushed by her and entered the cottage, leaving her standing in the doorway, alone.

Imposter: Chapter Six

Inside her bedroom, Eve sat on the end of the bed. There would be no help from Burke. What was she going to do?

She could understand his need to do his job and apprehend the terrorist, but couldn’t he see that she wasn’t a terrorist? Richard had been on his own in this. She had nothing to do with it. How was she going to prove her innocence if she was in custody in Washington? She would hire a lawyer of course, but she had little faith and less liking for lawyers, a left-over dislike from her days on the LAPD, she supposed.

She needed to remain in the field—hunting the buyer herself—which wasn’t going to happen if she went to Washington in the morning. She went to her purse and removed the pen injector that contained her regular insulin. It was time for her last shot of the day. She needed this shot. She wasn’t feeling at top form. No doubt the stress of the situation she was in and her constant sparring with Burke were depleting her strength. She always took great care to keep her sugar levels balanced. Her health was not something she took for granted.

At the moment, though, her hand was slick with sweat brought on by the disappointment that the accomplice and buyer hadn’t shown up and by her frustration with Burke. If she didn’t focus, she would break the tip of the needle in her arm. Inhale. Deeply. Exhale. Slowly.

She swabbed a spot on her upper arm. She always aimed for a spot that was more fleshy than muscle, but missed this time and a drop of blood beaded at the insertion point. She hissed in her breath. She swabbed alcohol onto the spot again, which startled another gasp out of her then fumbled with a bandage.

She changed out of her tan slacks and coral blouse and slipped on one of the lightweight night shirts she’d packed. The cool crisp cotton, in a powder blue, was sleeveless and grazed her knees. She was tired. It had been a long and disappointing day. She really needed to lie down.

On the bed, sweat broke out on her forehead, and trickled down the side of her face. Her next breath was fast and hard to take. The green lilies patterned on the bedspread swam out of focus. She must be more tired than she realized and rubbed her eyes, then the back of her neck.

Her hand fell away from her neck and dropped to her side. A feeling of lethargy overcame her. Her eyes drifted closed. She forced them open. Something was very wrong. Eve called out to Burke. He was in the next room and would surely hear her, but when she uttered his name, it was a feeble whisper that she barely heard herself.

She told herself to stand but only managed to lift her head and shoulders for an instant before crumpling back onto the mattress. She needed help. Her room wasn’t equipped with a phone, but her cell phone was in her purse which she’d left on the bed. At the moment, the bag looked an ocean away.

The perspiration on her skin cooled and she shivered. Her teeth chattered. She raised her arm. Numbness was spreading through her body and her arm felt like a lead weight as she dragged it across the mattress. She clawed at the flap of her purse. Finally, the snap gave way. She probed inside and in slow, jerky movements yanked out her phone. Her fingers felt as thick as sausages as she pressed the ‘talk” button and then jabbed the buttons 9-1-1.

“Emergency,” a female operator said.

Eve’s lips felt numb and barely moved as she mumbled a garbled, “Help,” in a voice that was a croak.

Her eyelids drooped. She forced them open. Her vision blurred and the light dimmed. What happened to the light? She realized her vision was fading. No . . . No! She screamed the denial yet she made no sound.

She struggled to lift herself off the mattress and gain her feet. Perspiration popped out on her forehead with the strain, yet she didn’t move.

Her eyes closed. Her fingers went slack. She lost her grip on the phone and it struck the plank flooring with a dull thud. Eve didn’t hear it.

* * *

Eve opened her eyes. She squinted at the sudden brightness that hurt and groaned. She raised her arm to fend off the intrusive light. Something was attached to her wrist.

“Easy.”

The low male voice was Burke’s.

“Light hurting your eyes?” he asked softly.

It felt as if she were being nicked by tiny knives. Eve mumbled an acknowledgment and the light dimmed.

The pain receded to a dull headache. She exhaled deeply.

In the soft glow of the overhead light, she saw she was in a bed, but not the bed at the cottage. This one had the chrome rails of a hospital bed. She was in a cubicle, now enclosed by a white curtain. Burke stood at the side of the bed. His deep-set gaze was fixed on her.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You’re in St. Mary’s Hospital in Rowland County. How do you feel?”

She gave a non-committal grunt that had Burke’s brows drawing together.

“What happened?” She raised her arm, this time to swat away hair that had fallen across her eyes, and was again stopped by what she now saw was an IV line.

Burke reached out and gently brushed the hair back from her face with his knuckles. “You collapsed at the cottage. That’s all I’ve been told so far. A nurse took blood and ran some tests. We’re waiting for the results.”

Eve frowned taking in Burke’s words. The last thing she remembered was reaching for her cell phone.

“Sounds like I was lucky that you found me and got me here.”

Burke shook his head. “I didn’t find you. An ambulance showed up at the cottage and the paramedics told me they’d received a distress call from that location. I didn’t have anything to do with getting you here. You saved yourself, Eve.”

She couldn’t remember placing the call. The curtain shifted and a tall pear-shaped man in his middle fifties entered the cubicle. His skin was a warm brown.

“I am Dr. Malhi.” He smiled, exposing a crooked incisor and glanced from Eve to Burke, including him in the introduction. “I am heartened to see you have awakened.”

“Can you tell me what happened, Doctor?” Eve asked.

“We have only just received your test results. The blood work it has indicated that your blood sugar was extremely low. Has your prescription insulin recently been changed?”

“No.”

“How often do you take insulin injections?”

“Three times a day.”

“Have you ever experienced a similar reaction?”

“No.”

“Paramedics retrieved your insulin medication and brought it here to the hospital. I see that you are taking a rapid-acting insulin and a regular-acting insulin.”

“Yes.”

“The rapid acting insulin is only for your daytime use. It appears that you administered the rapid-acting insulin a short while ago, rather than the regular insulin. Doing so will lower blood glucose considerably and is likely to trigger the kind of episode you just experienced. This is not a mistake to be made lightly. Severe hypoglycaemia as you experienced can cause cardiac arrhythmia. Frankly, you are most fortunate that this mistake has not cost you your life.”

“I did not take the wrong insulin, Doctor. I know the risks and I’m very careful about my medication.”

“That is not what your blood has told us Ms. Collins. When we examined your insulin medication, we learned that the insulin bottles in the injectors did not match their prescription labels. It appears that when you replenished your insulin, you placed the rapid acting insulin in the injector labeled with the prescription for the regular insulin and vice versa. We have corrected the error. You are very fortunate, indeed, that all has turned out well.”

Eve frowned. “That’s impossible. I’ve been using those injectors for a while. I have not changed the bottles recently.”

Malhi gave her a look that spoke plainly of his doubt. “I would like you to remain with us this night. If you are feeling well in the morning, you will be free to go home with your husband.”

Malhi glanced at Burke who nodded. Eve supposed there was no point in clearing up Malhi’s mistake. It hardly seemed preferable to inform the doctor that she was Burke’s charge, soon to be his prisoner.

She’d collapsed from an injection of rapid-acting insulin, Malhi said. Her insulin pen injectors were clearly labeled so she knew which was her night time insulin. When she replaced an empty bottle, she always checked the labels on the new bottle and on the injector to be sure they matched. Always. She would not make a mistake like that.

After Malhi left, Eve turned to Burke. “My collapse was not due to negligence. I don’t take risks when it comes to my disease.”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Do you not think it could be possible that you picked up the wrong injector tonight?”

No she did not think that was possible, but what other explanation was there?

* * *

The next morning, when she awoke, Burke was seated at her bedside. He was awake, watching her. If he’d feared her skipping out on him, he’d spent a night in that chair for nothing. There had been no chance of that happening. Last night, she’d felt too weak to sit up, let alone make a run for it.

Burke leaned toward her. “How do you feel?” His tone was gentle.

“Better.”

A nurse entered the room. She eased around Burke, and applied a blood pressure cuff to Eve’s arm.

“Doctor will be in to examine you shortly,” the nurse said.

“I’ll be outside,” Burke said. He rubbed his hands down his face then got to his feet and started for the door.

Eve hadn’t removed her suitcase from the trunk of Richard’s car yet and she needed to change out of the hospital gown. “I could use my suitcase,” Eve said to Burke. “It’s in the trunk of the car. Would you?”

Burke nodded. “Be right back.”

An hour later, Eve was discharged.

“Do you need anything before we return to the cottage?” Burke asked as he drove away from the hospital. “Something for your condition?” He shrugged, a gesture of helplessness that she didn’t think he made often and one that he didn’t appear comfortable with.

Eve appreciated the offer but shook her head. “I’m fine. Back to my usual self.”

They drove the rest of the way back to the cottage in silence. Burke had the radio on low. A talk show host was bemoaning the state of the economy and an irate caller was blaming politicians for the problem. Eve tuned out the pair as they engaged in a lively debate over the issue and turned her attention out of the window. They were driving through a residential neighborhood. Lawns were neatly cut. Flowers were in full bloom. The air conditioning was on in the car, but Eve’s nostrils flared slightly as she imagined she could smell the honeysuckle on a bush as the car streaked by it. If she didn’t find out who Richard’s accomplice was, it would be a very long time before she smelled honeysuckle again. Her shoulders slumped slightly with the thought and she resolutely straightened her posture. She was innocent. And she would prove that.

Burke parked in front of the cottage. They made their way to the front door. He inserted the key then pushed the door open. Eve waited, remaining in place so he could go inside first and conduct his usual check of the place. Burke gripped her elbow. There was a tension in him that hadn’t been present a moment ago. Eve didn’t know what had alerted or alarmed him, but there was no doubt that something had. She felt a rush of adrenaline. A fine sweat broke out on her body and the slight breeze that stirred the air as it blew across her arms, chilled her. When she glanced up at him, he shook his head, and removed his weapon from the shoulder holster he wore.

He entered the cottage.

She waited in a state of tension herself for a few moments that felt like hours when Burke appeared in the door way again.

“All clear,” he said.

Eve followed him into the livingroom. “What made you think it wasn’t going to be?”

“When I turned the key in the lock, there was no resistance. The door wasn’t locked.”

“Maybe you just forgot to lock it last night when you left here.” Eve tossed back at him that maybe he’d been careless and left the door unlocked, as he’d suggested to her last night about her insulin injection.

Burke nodded. “Maybe.”

His easy acceptance and capitulation rang false. What he was hiding? “You don’t believe that, why not?”

Burke holstered his weapon, hesitated, then said, “Things have been moved. Examined.”

“Like?”

“Those books.”

He indicated a short shelf built into the wall by a small fireplace. She didn’t notice anything off about them.

“The pictures on the walls have been touched,” Burke went on quietly, his tone contemplative.

The three photos. Sure. She’d noticed them upon their arrival at the cottage, on the wall behind a bamboo couch covered with bright floral cushions. The pictures were photographs of nature scenes hung in a row. All were perfectly aligned.

Eve was about to question Burke about his belief that the photos had been touched but instead narrowed her eyes. One of the pictures—a photograph of a bird about to take flight—had been askew when they’d arrived here yesterday. It wasn’t now. There was no housekeeping service with the rental of the cottage, so no one had been in to clean and righted the picture.

Burke took his cell phone from his pocket and pressed a button with his thumb. As he raised the phone to his ear, he left the cottage to stand outside. Whether he didn’t want her to overhear his conversation or was just seeking some fresh air, Eve didn’t know. Whatever, she would not be left out. She was in the unfortunate position of having her future tied with his and for the moment, she would allow him no secrets, if she could help it. She followed him outside.

“. . . yeah, Lanski,” Burke said.

He didn’t glance at her as she approached him, just went on speaking. Eve felt a little relief that he hadn’t been attempting to exclude her from this conversation.

“She’s fine.”

Burke’s gaze cut to her briefly and Eve figured he’d brought Lanski up to speed on her night at the hospital. He went on to inform Lanski about the search of the cottage.

“Whoever it was had to be looking for the formula,” Burke said.

Eve’s heart pounded. “Did he get it?”

Burke’s gaze met hers. He shook his head.

Eve closed her eyes briefly, relieved that the deadly weapon was not at large.

“No,” Burke said. “I’m going to bring her in today as planned. See you in Washington.”

Eve’s stomach fluttered. “That’s it? Even after someone searched the cottage your part in finding the accomplice is over?”

Burke closed the lid of the cell phone. “That’s it. The search yielded nothing since I have the formula and, as I already told you, we already have the accomplice.”

“You’re wrong.”

Burke said nothing to her denial. “Get ready to travel, Doctor. We have a plane to catch.”

Eve left Burke outside and went to her room. Sunlight slanted across the unmade bed through a separation in the lavender curtains. Her purse and its contents, lipstick, compact, and wallet were strewn on the bunched bedspread. Her cell phone lay open on the thick area rug beside the bed. She picked up all of the items and replaced them in her purse.

Dr. Malhi had returned the pen injectors from yesterday. She wasn’t due for another shot for a while and stuck both injectors in her purse.

Before she left, she wanted a shower. She suspected that once she arrived in Washington, she’d be whisked away to answer questions and a shower for her wouldn’t be a priority for the government interrogators.

There was no point bringing her suitcase in from the car. The tan slacks and cream silk blouse she now wore would do for the trip. She scooped her dryer from the top of the dresser where she’d left it after having used it yesterday and went into the bathroom.

She undressed, placed the items on the solid gray counter, then reached into the shower stall and twisted the faucets. After a moment, she stepped beneath the hot spray.

She scrubbed, more vigorously than was needed, her movements fueled by frustration and fear at the situation she found herself in.

Finished with the shower, Eve gave the taps a sharp turn, shutting off the water, then emerged from the tub. She wrapped a towel around her hair, turban style, then another around her body, knotting it under her arm. She plugged in the hair dryer then sighed. She’d forgotten a comb.

The towel covered her from underarms to mid thigh. She didn’t think Burke would go into shock if he glimpsed her in nothing more than the towel on the way to her bedroom. Besides, he might still be outside.

She left the bathroom. She was in the hall when something in that room exploded.

Eve screamed as the impact knocked her off her feet. Debris blew out of the room. She covered her head with her arms, but she was far enough that nothing struck her. She glanced back over her shoulder at the room she’d just vacated. Flames climbed the walls and spread along the bathroom vanity.

Eve was shaking. She didn’t think her legs would support her were she to try to stand. Remaining on her hands and knees, she crawled across the floor.

Black smoke billowed into the room making it impossible to see her path to the front door. Her shoulder struck something—the leg of an end table she realized. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her arm, she veered away from the table. She had to slow down—calm down or she wouldn’t make it out of there. When she would have scrambled forward, she forced herself to slow her pace, but her heart was pounding like a jackhammer.

The air, thick with smoke, choked her and set off a fit of coughing. Eve lowered her head as close to the floor as she could where the air was fresher. It was only marginally fresher and the lack of oxygen was getting to her. She felt light headed and spots danced before her eyes. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it but the spots remained. Smoke burned her eyes and they ran with tears.

She felt a blast of heat from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. The fire had spread from the bathroom and flared on the walls in the room she was now in. A support post was now aflame and shrinking to kindling.

Very soon now the cottage would be engulfed. Her throat closed and fear brought fresh tears to her eyes. She fought the urge to continue to watch the flames—to mark the progress as the fire gained on her—and returned her attention to getting out.

The smoke thickened. Eve squinted, but she’d lost her bearings and didn’t know just where she was in the cottage. Cold sweat drenched her. She was no longer sure if she was heading for the door—or to one of the walls. She would end up trapped if she went the wrong way . . . Eve shuddered.

The front door was flung open. Sunlight flooded the room, illuminating Burke as he ran toward her.

“Eve!”

Her throat had closed and she couldn’t answer him.

Burke dropped to his knees beside her. “Are you hurt?”

His gaze and his hands traveled up and down her body, concern and fear in his eyes as he checked her for injury. She was unhurt and as he realized that for himself, he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her to her feet. Her legs wobbled and he swung her up into his arms. Eve wrapped her arms around his neck and holding her tight against his chest, Burke carried her out of the cottage. He lowered her onto the lawn, then ran back inside.

The fire had not yet spread to the front of the small accommodation, still, it was dangerous to go back inside. What was the man thinking?

“Burke,” Eve tried to call out to him, but his name came out as a croak.

He was back quickly. Her purse was gripped in his fist. He’d gone back inside for her purse? Eve shook her head, unable to discern his logic.

His arm went around her again, and again he brought her to her feet. She thought he was looking to put additional distance between them and the cottage. Instead, he began to rub her arms gently.

“You’re shivering.” He removed his suit jacket. “We need to get you warm.”

Her arms didn’t seem to want to cooperate with her. He lifted them himself and slid them through the sleeves. He buttoned the jacket for her. He was a tall man. The sleeves covered her finger tips and the hem fell almost to her knees.

Eve cleared her throat. “Burke, we need to call 911. The fire will spread—”

Her teeth chattered which got her another worried look from Burke. He steered her to the car, opened the passenger side door and eased her down onto the seat. He swung her legs in himself and slammed the door.

“What are you doing?” Eve asked then repeated when he slid behind the steering wheel.

“Getting you out of here.”

“Can’t Washington wait until we’ve called for help?”

He didn’t respond to her question and asked instead. “Do you need an insulin injection?”

“What?”

“Insulin. Do you need a shot now?”

She shook her head. He tossed her purse onto the console and she realized why he’d gone back into the cottage to retrieve it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He gave her a long look then nodded. He started the car. The engine roared to life. He switched from air conditioning to heat and aimed the vents at her. Eve huddled in his jacket and moved as close to the vents as the seat belt allowed.

Smoke rose from the cottage. Flames licked the roof. The fire was spreading fast.

“Burke, make the call. Alert Emergency Services of a gas leak.”

“That explosion wasn’t caused by a gas leak.”

“What then?”

“A bomb.”

“A bomb? What?”

“I found this in the hall.” Burke took out a square of black plastic from his pocket and held it for her to see.

“It looks like it came from my hair dryer. What’s that attached to it?”

“Part of a bomb casing. Someone wants you dead, Doctor.”

Imposter: Chapter Seven

Burke sped away from the cottage. He glanced at Eve, seated next to him. Her face was pale, her eyes huge with disbelief and fear. Her hands, tightly clasped together trembled. If he looked at his own hands, he’d likely find them in the same condition. When the bomb went off with her inside, he ran into the cottage like a mad man. He’d been crazed to get to her, fearing he’d find her dead. A tremor went through him at the memory. When he’d finally reached her, and had her in his arms, he’d wanted to hold her there where he knew she’d be safe.

What the hell was wrong with him? His grip on the steering wheel tightened in self-directed anger. Despite her claims of innocence, everything he knew about her told him she was a traitor to her country. Richard Patterson had named her in the terrorist plot. She was a woman who would murder innocents for her own gain without a qualm.

She was everything Burke loathed and risked his life to take down. She wasn’t deserving of any tender feelings. If given the chance, he had no doubt she would take him out. There was the plain truth. He wouldn’t lose sight of it again.

* * *

“My cell phone is in the inside pocket in my jacket. Hand it to me, would you?” Burke said.

They’d been quiet for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts as Richard’s car took them to Burke’s destination and his voice startled her.

“What?”

“My phone. Inside pocket of my jacket.”

Eve retrieved the phone and held it out. While he called emergency services about the fire, Eve took in what had just happened. Her hair dryer had been rigged with a bomb.

Burke completed the call, then made another. “I need a car.” He leaned across Eve and withdrew a map from the glove box. “I’ll be on Quarry Edge Road in fifteen minutes.” He ended the call then set the phone on the console where he’d tossed her purse.

“Someone just tried to kill me,” Eve said in a whisper.

A muscle in Burke’s jaw pulsed.

The heat blasting from the vents had warmed her, but Eve shivered at the notion that someone wanted her dead.

Burke turned off Main Street onto an unpaved road. They were the only travelers on this road at the moment. He drove a short distance then came to a stop beside another vehicle, a white sedan that looked to be several years old.

Eve turned off the heat. “Why did you stop here?”

“Our new wheels, Doctor.”

Burke left the vehicle, went around to the trunk of the Porsche and retrieved their luggage. Another man, lanky, and balding, exited the sedan. He and Burke exchanged a few words then the man who’d delivered the sedan, popped the trunk and removed a bicycle. As Eve got out of the Porsche, the man hopped on and rode away.

Eve wasn’t wearing shoes and took careful steps over the gravel to the sedan. Burke turned to her. “Your suitcase is on the back seat. Take a minute and put something on.”

He walked away from the car and stood facing the road. Eve climbed onto the back seat. The previous occupant of the car had left the engine idling. The radio was tuned to a rhythm and blues station. At the moment, Aretha belted out “Natural Woman” to the accompaniment of the hum from the sedan’s air conditioning system set to low.

Eve removed Burke’s jacket and the towel beneath. They were in the middle of nowhere. Another car could drive up this dirt road and see her in the nude. She shook her head. Her modesty was certainly misplaced, given everything else she had to be concerned about. Still, she dressed quickly in underthings, a pair of linen walking shorts in a salmon color, and a matching blouse. A pair of sling-back sandals completed her outfit.

“Ready,” she called out to Burke when she left the car, though, at the slam of the door, marking her departure from the back seat, he’d already turned and begun to walk back to the car.

Burke got in the driver’s side and Eve joined him up front.

He bent and looked under the steering column.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“This car is equipped with a tracking device. I’m disabling it.”

“You don’t want anyone to be able to find us,” she said softly.

“No.”

Her thoughts started to spin. “Who don’t you trust?” At his steady gaze, Eve pushed. “My life is on the line. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“I’m just being cautious.”

Eve wasn’t buying that. “The bomb was the second attempt. I repeat, I did not make an error in my insulin injection last night. I know you don’t believe me but someone switched the insulin in my pen injectors.”

“I believe you.” His gaze locked with hers before returning his attention to the drive. “I’d say the bomb was an attempt to correct the botched insulin attempt. I have to hand it to whoever did that. The plan was an excellent one. If you hadn’t gotten help when you did, you would have slipped into a diabetic coma. By the time I went looking for you in the morning, you would have been dead.”

A thin layer of sweat broke out on Eve’s skin.

“We would have concluded as Malhi had,” Burke went on, “that you’d simply made a mistake and taken the wrong insulin last night. Your death would have been ruled accidental. Though if that mattered to your assassin, it no longer does since he used a bomb this time.”

Eve’s throat tightened and she swallowed to clear it. “Apparently not.”

“Your hair dryer must have been rigged while we were at the hospital.” Burke’s mouth tightened into a thin line that bespoke his anger.

“Who would want me dead? And who would have had the opportunity to switch the insulin? We need to find out who had access to my insulin since yesterday? The only people I’ve been in contact with since then have been the chemists at the conference, and you Burke.” Eve arched her brows. “Have you decided to execute me?”

Burke gave her another level look. “We can start by asking your friend Alasdair McHampton.”

“Allie?”

“He was in possession of your purse.”

A fierce protectiveness for her friend surged through her. “Allie would never hurt me!”

“That remains to be seen.”

“You can’t think if Allie were the one who wanted me dead, he would be stupid enough to reveal that he had my purse? That makes no sense.”

“We’ve already concluded that had you gone into a diabetic coma and died, it would have appeared an accident. McHampton had no reason to hide the fact that he had your purse.”

Eve chewed her lower lip then said softly, “You can’t harass him. He has a heart condition and the stress of being questioned might bring on an attack.” Her voice softened further. “It can’t be Allie.”

Burke watched her for a time then surprised her by conceding.

“It maybe just a coincidence that McHampton happened to pick up your purse,” Burke said. We need to look into that. But someone tipped our guy off, or knew that Patterson was dead and that I took his place.” Burke eyed her. “Got any other ideas who that might be, Doctor?”

“You aren’t going back to suggesting that I tipped Richard’s buyer off because—”

Burke looked like that was exactly what he was thinking.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said. “Someone tired to kill me and you’re blaming me.”

“You could have let the buyer know about Richard Patterson so he wouldn’t show up for the meeting. You weren’t expecting him to turn on you. It’s possible your buyer got nervous about you being discovered by law enforcement and wants you out of the way.”

“And what about getting the formula from me?”

“He may think you pose enough of a threat that taking you out is worth forfeiting the formula. I don’t know at this point.”

“So you think Richard’s buyer is the one who switched my insulin?”

“It wouldn’t take long to make the switch. Could have been made at the conference when your purse was unattended. It’s possible that he may be looking to cover his tracks completely and stymie the investigation by eliminating our one lead—you.”

It seemed pointless to tell Burke again that she wasn’t a lead to Richard’s buyer. “By making my death appear accidental, he would not have exposed himself. But a bomb.” Eve shook her head slowly. “As we already said, whoever this is, he isn’t concerned about making my death look like an accident.”

“We already connected you to Richard and this deal. No way to try to hide that link. Looks like the buyer’s only concern now is breaking the link by taking you out.”

Eve frowned as Burke made a change to the route they’d been driving. “I hate to point this out but Washington is in another direction.”

“We’re not going to Washington.”

“Oh?”

“I’m taking you to a safe house.”

“Why?”

Burke raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought you’d be glad.”

“That’s not the point. Why the change in plan?”

He glanced at her. “We need you to disappear for a short while. Since the meeting with the buyer didn’t happen, and you’re under suspicion of treason, our next step is for me to transport you to Washington for questioning. Your assassin would be expecting that and may take the opportunity to make another attempt on your life. I don’t plan to give him that opportunity.”

Eve released a shaky breath. “Good thinking. So, where are we going? The CIA must have places set up for this kind of thing.”

“We’re not going to an Agency house. I want a place that can’t be linked to the agency.”

“Where then?”

“I have just the place.”

* * *

The “place” turned out to be Burke’s own cabin deep in the woods of West Virginia. After driving for hours with only brief rest stops, and a quick dash into a convenience store for supplies, they arrived as the first streaks of dawn tinted the sky pink.

The cabin was well appointed with a generator that provided creature comforts like electricity for appliances and for heating water that was provided by a well.

“There’s just the one bedroom,” Burke said. “Go ahead and take it. I’ll bunk on the couch.”

Eve didn’t protest his offer of the bedroom. She was so tired, she could have slept standing up. Still, inside, she glanced around and then over her shoulder at the closed front door. It was a frightening thing to know that someone wanted you dead. Until two days earlier, her biggest problem was how to satisfy the occasional difficult client.

Burke’s gaze softened on her. “You’re safe here.” He spoke the words gently. “No one knows about this place. You could say it’s my haven.”

He shrugged, as if embarrassed to admit to the weakness of needing a refuge from what had to be a job where he met the worst of humanity and saw all manner of atrocities mankind could perpetuate on each other.

When she’d been on the police force, she’d been detached from the crimes and the victims. She didn’t have a lot of field experience because her application to work in forensics had been accepted shortly after she joined the LAPD. She hadn’t seen human suffering up close, but from the distance of a microscope.

Burke’s admission of vulnerability softened her opinion of him a little, which was the last thing she wanted. He still didn’t believe her claim of innocence. He was only protecting her now because it served his own purpose since she was his only lead to the buyer. His concern for her was professional. The bottom line: She was a job to him and a means to apprehending a criminal. She couldn’t forget that she couldn’t trust him and they were on opposite sides.

She went into the bathroom, opened her purse, and removed her pen injectors and the items needed to take her insulin. She opened each injector and matched the labels on the bottles to those on the injectors. Unlikely she’d ever skip that step again. Satisfied, she proceeded with the injection.

She was exhausted and needed sleep, but she was also now thirsty. She wouldn’t be able to sleep until she’d had something to drink.

Instead of going to Burke’s room, she padded out to the kitchen, careful not to disturb Burke, who might be asleep on the couch in the living area. He wasn’t on the couch, but in the kitchen, making coffee. His jaw was darkened with stubble. He’d changed from a suit into jeans. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and all of her suspicions about what was beneath the conservative suit were confirmed. He had a hard, athletic body.

He glanced at her. “Want a cup?”

Eve nodded. “And a glass of water.”

“Bottled water is in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Eve did. The water wasn’t cold since the generator that powered the fridge hadn’t been on long enough to cool the fridge, but Eve took a long drink anyway.

The coffee maker hissed and sizzled. Burke pushed off the counter, took two mugs from the cupboard above the machine. “Milk?”

“Yes.”

He took a carton of preserved milk from the pantry cupboard and opened it, then tilted the spout over her cup. Eve joined him at the counter and accepted the mug he held out to her.

He left his black.

Watching her he said, “You don’t trust me any more than I trust you. But the stakes have changed for you now that Richard’s buyer has tried to take you out.”

Eve felt resentment rising, but held her tongue, letting him get it all out.

“We’ve now been placed in a position where we have the same objective, rather than before when finding the buyer for you would mean that he would implicate you and give us what we need to create an air tight case against you. Being in prison beats being dead. If you have anything you want to tell me about your relationship with the buyer, now’s the time.” Burke held her gaze.

Eve stared at him in stony silence.

“Okay,” Burke said, after a moment, his voice tight. “Your call.”

He turned away from her. His disbelief fueled her anger. She forced herself to move past it. She had a bigger more important matter to focus on.

“Whoever planted the bomb also tampered with my insulin injectors. That means that someone had to get close enough to me to make that switch.” She pushed off the counter and paced the small kitchen space in quick steps, her urgency mounting. “We need to go over who I’ve had contact with since yesterday. Other than Allie,” she said firmly. “Who else had access to my purse to switch my insulin? I left my purse unattended during Dr. Abernathy’s lecture while you and I followed the instructions in the text message. Someone at that lecture could have gained access to my purse. We need to review the backgrounds on the chemists at the conference.”

She noticed that Burke hadn’t said a word and she stopped pacing to face him.

“Finished?” he asked.

“That’ll do for a start.”

“There is no start. At least not for us. Lanski is handling the investigative part.”

She arched her brows. “Your people think I’m a traitor. Just how hard will they work to find my assassin?”

Burke leaned back against the counter. “They’ll do their jobs, regardless of their personal distaste for the assignment. And if you choose not to believe that, we still want the buyer. Your assassin may lead us to the buyer. Our job, yours and mine, is to lay low and let my people do what they need to do.”

Burke was right. Finding her assassin may lead to finding the buyer. She felt some measure of comfort, but still wanted to be active in the investigation. “Don’t forget I was a cop. You can’t expect me to just sit around here and do nothing while someone is out there planning on how to kill me.”

“That’s exactly what I expect and what you will do. I’d also rather be out hunting this guy myself than being your babysitter.”

“Babysitter!”

“That’s right. Tough break for us both, Doctor. Look upon the next couple of days as a reprieve.”

He downed the last of the coffee in his mug, then set it in the sink. Eve watched him make his way to the burlap couch. She was certain her anger was palpable.

“A reprieve?” She strode to the couch. “I need to find out who tried to kill me. I need to clear my name.”

Burke sat on one of the thick cushions and tilted his head back to look up at her. The angle showed his strong jaw, dark with stubble.

“For the next couple of days, you’re going to stay put. Here. With me. We’re both going to have to accept that. Now, I’m going to get some sleep. You slept like a well-fed baby last night in the hospital. I know because I watched you. Which means I didn’t sleep at all. A sleepless night combined with ten hours of driving to get here has me a little tired. I’m going to shut down for a few hours. I suggest you do the same.”

He lay down and released an audible and Eve believed an involuntary sigh. He’d been running on adrenaline and sheer force of will for thirty six hours. Eve felt a flutter of compassion which she tamped down. It was his fault she was in this mess in the first place. Well, Richard’s actually, but if Burke believed her claim of innocence, then they would be working together to find the accomplice and then through the accomplice the buyer instead of being adversaries.

“Burke—”

“Oh, if you’re thinking of running out and trying to track down the buyer yourself to cut a deal and maybe save your hide, I’d advise you to consider that you’re in dense woods here, miles from a road, and there’s a lake opposite us. I have keys to both the car and the boat docked out front in the pockets of these jeans I’m wearing. I sleep light. Don’t think you can get the keys out without waking me. And, if you decide to stick your hands in my pockets, I just may think you’re there for another reason altogether.”

Eve gave him a fulminating look. “On top of being arrogant, you’ve got quite an ego. Must get heavy, carrying it around.”

Burke closed his eyes. “Turn off the light on your way out, would you?”

Eve had more fight left in her, but Burke had dismissed her. An instant later, his breathing slowed and his chest rose in the deep even rhythm of sleep.

She had more to say to him, but it was going to have to wait. She turned out the light and went to Burke’s room.

The room held only an armoire, nightstand and a bed. The furniture was large, the bed massive. Eve stretched out on the mattress. The bed was made with sheets patterned with blue stripes. They smelled faintly of lemon and were fresh and crisp. Burke must have made up the bed while she’d been in the bathroom, taking her insulin injection.

Either he liked a lot of space when he slept, or he didn’t sleep alone when he was up here. The thought of Burke tangling in the sheets with a woman did strange things to Eve’s insides. She pushed the thought away.

She was angry at him over their argument and didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but fatigue outweighed the anger and she did sleep. She awoke to the smell of bacon frying. The bedroom faced east and caught the first morning rays but with the progression of the sun, the room was now in twilight. She glanced at her watch, squinting to make out the numbers in the dimness. One o’clock. Afternoon. She’d slept half the day away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that.

She’d slept in her clothes. Her shorts and blouse were wrinkled. She hadn’t looked in a mirror, but she knew that her dark hair was wild upon awakening. She had no reason to think today would be the exception to that rule. Since she slept on her stomach, squashing her face into the pillow beneath her head, her eyes tended to be puffy and droopy when she rose from her slumber.

Normally, she would make herself presentable before facing another person. She spotted her suitcase by the front door where Burke must have left it. She’d have to walk past him to get it. So much for making herself presentable before facing him.

She leaned back against the wall and bowed her head. With the state her life was in, her appearance was her least concern.

She padded over the worn wood floor to the kitchen, following the scent of coffee and the promise of caffeine. Burke stood at the stove, cracking eggs into a sizzling skillet. The eggs made a hissing sound as they struck the hot pan.

He wore jeans again but had added a shirt. His dark hair was damp from a recent shower and combed back from his face. He’d shaved exposing the hard jaw line that seemed to always draw her eye when she glanced at him. She looked away from it, from him.

His gaze lifted from the skillet at her approach and honed on her. His jaw tensed. In reaction to her rumpled state? Was he a man who expected women to be perfectly groomed all the time? Thinking that about him, she reluctantly admitted caused a sense of disappointment. For some reason, she’d expected better of him.

He was blocking her view of the coffee maker. “Is there coffee?”

Burke stepped aside, clearing a path and revealing a three-quarters full pot. The mug she’d used the night before was washed and draining on a rubber mat. She moved closer to him to retrieve the mug and fill it. His body tensed and he took another step away from her. Well, damn, she needed some tidying up, but his reaction was getting downright insulting.

Burke’s own mug stood near the pot. He clasped it by the base rather than the ear, his large hand completely covering a decal of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Eve went to the fridge and helped herself to the milk. Burke returned to the skillet.

The aroma wafting from the pan made Eve’s mouth water. She’d had no more than a greasy burger from a twenty-four hour fast food drive thru the night before. Burke had eaten the same and as he went about filling two plates with eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast with portions suitable for a team of lumberjacks, it was obvious that he was famished as well.

She gained further evidence of that when he dug in and cleared his plate before she’d had little more time than to settle onto the wooden kitchen chair.

* * *

Burke forced himself to keep his gaze on his plate—and not on the woman seated across from him at his table. It was turning out to be a monumental task. She was an attractive woman, no doubt about it, and she knew how to make the most of her looks. She had the makeup and fashion thing perfected to an art. Yeah, she was pretty, and he couldn’t deny that beauty jump started his heart and his libido every time he saw her, but seeing her in his kitchen a few moments ago had nearly induced a coronary.

Here she was, straight from bed—his bed—her long, dark hair wild around her face and spilling to her shoulders. Her eyes heavy-lidded from sleep. And her scent—there was a scent coming off her that didn’t come from a cosmetics bottle. It was pure woman and unique to her. The wild hair, pouty lips . . . and that scent. He wanted nothing more than to take her back to his bed and make love with her until they both were too exhausted to move. And then, he wanted to make love with her all over again.

Of course that was out of the question. Of all the women in the world, why did he have to want this one? He’d known attractive women before. Truth be told, women who were more beautiful than Eve. But, they hadn’t made him want the way she did.

He felt a measure of disgust with himself for having any thoughts about her that weren’t professional. She was suspected of treason. She had created a weapon to kill innocent people for her own profit. If she hadn’t been found out, and by people who put their lives on the line every day to save lives—including her own—her plot would have been successful.

That thought grated. Her betrayal of her own people grated. His gaze lifted to hers involuntarily, however and his body reacted again.

“I cooked,” Burke said. “You clean up.”

He pushed his chair back from the table, got to his feet and left the cabin.

Imposter: Chapter Eight

Eve watched him go. Clearly, he was angry. But about what? She felt her own temper spark. She’d had every intention of cleaning up after the meal. But if he thought he could take advantage of their situation and issue an order for kitchen duty, he could think again.

She finished the meal, which was excellent, washed her own plate and mug and set them on the drainer. She needed her insulin, a shower and then she’d feel better.

A few moments later, Eve stepped under the hot spray. Leaning against the shower stall, she stood unmoving, letting the water sluice down her skin and ease the tension from her body. She tried to clear her mind of the last forty eight hours. Was that all it had been? Since Richard’s death. Since she’d learned she was suspected of terrorism. Since two attempts had been made on her own life. So much had happened and in such a short time. She prayed that the next forty eight hours would see this mess resolved and her life restored.

When she entered the living and dining room area, she saw that Burke hadn’t come back inside. She was alone.

She rubbed her temples where a headache was building. Burke wanted her to sit idle and let the CIA find out who was behind the attempts on her life. She could not believe that her assassin was Allie. Who then? It went against her nature to sit back and wait for Burke’s associates to find the one trying to kill her. But just what was she going to do and from here?

Burke’s laptop was on the coffee table. Normally, she’d ask his permission to use his computer, but she ignored what she would normally do—this was hardly a normal situation—and went to the couch.

The blanket, pillow, and sheet he’d used were heaped against one arm of the sofa. Eve sat on the center cushion and booted up the laptop. It was likely that Burke had the system password protected, but she had to try to get in.

She needed a list of the conference attendees. It was a logical place to start to try to find the person who’d switched her insulin. Burke may have all of that on his system. She and Richard had registered for the conference weeks ago and it was likely that Burke would have a record of that. He would have compiled a list of the chemists attending all of the lectures and events she and Richard were scheduled to attend. If she’d been working this case, she would have gathered that information. Someone attending the Abernathy lecture could be the accomplice and the accomplice could be the one who accessed her purse and switched her insulin.

As she’d suspected, Burke’s system was password protected. She was no hacker and had only a rudimentary knowledge of how computers worked. What would Burke use as a password? She knew nothing about the man that would provide a clue. Not even his birthday. She was finished before she’d started. There was no help for it. She was just going to have to ask him.

She was about push off the couch and go in search of him when Burke entered the cabin. Their gazes locked. He didn’t look particularly angry at finding her at his laptop. In fact, he would have walked right by her, out of the common living space, but she spoke.

“I need access to your system. I need a list of the chemists who attended the Abernathy lecture with us. That person may be the one behind the attempts on my life.”

“We’ve been through this. You don’t need to do anything at the moment except lay low.”

“This is my life. My freedom. No one cares as much about it as I do. No one will fight as hard as I will.” When Burke didn’t respond, she added. “Okay, then, I want to go to Washington. If you’re not going to do anything to find the guilty party now, I don’t need to be here. I want to hire a lawyer and a private investigator to work on my case. We’re just wasting time here. The longer we wait, the colder the trail will get.”

“Have you forgotten that your life is in danger?”

A tremor went through her but she fixed him with a steely look. “I’ll take that chance.”

“The choice isn’t yours to make. It’s mine and we’re staying here.”

Eve didn’t respond to Burke’s comment, seeing no point in it. His mind was made up.

Since he made no move to reclaim his laptop, Eve returned to the task of trying to figure out Burke’s password.

* * *

Burke watched Eve bend over his laptop again. Shoulders hunched slightly, she gently tapped the keyboard. Her features were a study in concentration with her brows drawn together and her soft brown eyes fixed on her task.

There was no way she was going to be able to figure out his password. She’d soon grow tired of the task. As for himself, he needed to call Lanski.

Burke left the cabin. A bird chirped from somewhere nearby. It was a warm day. He rubbed the back of his neck that was knotted with tension and damp from perspiration. The lake beckoned. He cast a longing glance at it, then resigned to playing babysitter, pulled out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.

Lanski did not pick up so Burke left a message, including that it wasn’t urgent. He was seeking an update on Alasdair McHampton. Burke closed the phone with a loud snap. He felt tense, edgy, at loose ends. He wasn’t used to being on the fringes of an investigation and sitting idle. Being at the cabin didn’t help. Usually when he was here, he made the most of the slow pace, so unlike what he was accustomed to on the job. He took time to recharge after being drained from an assignment. Part of the problem was that his haven had been breached on this trip. It was not his haven this visit. This trip it was a safe house. He’d brought his work with him. He frowned. And who was he kidding? His problem wasn’t that he’d brought his work to the cabin, but that his work was Dr. Eve Collins.

He shouldn’t have brought her here. Hell, he shouldn’t be the one to guard her. He should have assigned another agent to that task once he realized how fiercely attracted to her he was.

He’d been a poor guard. While on his watch, there’d been two attempts on her life. Was that because in his attempt to put distance between himself and Eve, he’d been careless, overlooked something? He couldn’t deny the possibility. He was never careless on an assignment. Yet he’d never had an assignment like this one where he’d found his suspect distracting.

Burke recalled again how she’d almost died from the insulin switch. Her corpse-pale face as paramedics had rushed her to an ambulance. He rubbed a hand down his face at the memory. His hand came away wet with fresh perspiration.

And then there’d been the bomb. He went still, recalling it.

Both attempts occurred while in his care. While under his protection. There would not be a third attempt. He gritted his teeth. He’d make sure of that. He would keep her safe. He would keep her safe until he could deliver her to Washington, he added.

The telephone he was still holding remained silent. Willing it to ring wouldn’t make it do so. He rolled his taut shoulders. He needed to do something other than wait for the phone to ring. Other than think about the woman sleeping in his cabin, in his bed.

The grass on his land had grown several inches since he’d last been here and there was a leak in one of the windows that he wanted to fix. Might as well do what he could to spend the frustration and use this time on his hands to do some routine maintenance on the cabin. He headed for the shed.

Two hours later, satisfied with his progress, Burke returned to the cabin. He was parched and he needed a shower. His shirt was matted to his back with perspiration. He rubbed the back of his neck. By now Eve would have given up trying to determine his password and moved onto something else. He had to hand it to her though, she was putting on quite a show of innocence. But then, faced with the prison terms she was looking at, she would grasp at any straw to try to get herself out of the charges she faced.

Prison term . . . the thought of Eve in prison for her crime should have brought on the usual satisfaction he felt when apprehending a criminal. It didn’t.

Burke opened the door to the cabin with more force than was necessary. He wanted a gallon of water and headed to the fridge. He stopped short. Eve was in the same position she’d been in when he went outside, hunched over his computer.

She didn’t glance up from the screen at his entrance.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She looked up then, gave him a brief but steady look before returning her gaze to the screen without uttering a word.

She was still trying to break his password. Despite his efforts, Burke felt a grudging admiration for her tenacity.

“There isn’t anything on my hard drive about your case,” he said. “Gaining access to my files won’t do you any good. Remember my laptop was here at the cabin when we arrived. I didn’t bring it with me. I haven’t used it to work your case.”

She gave him that steady look again, her beautiful eyes unflinching.

“Maybe not,” she said. “But you could use it to connect to your agency’s data base. From there we could get the list of chemists who attended Abernathy’s lecture and do background checks on them. One of them is the buyer or an assassin working for the buyer.”

“All of that is being done.”

“By your people, I know,” Eve muttered.

Her gaze lowered, but before it had, he’d seen dejection in her eyes. Seeing her dejected bothered him. He didn’t like that it did. She needed something to sustain her, something to occupy her time so she didn’t feel useless and out of control. It was not his responsibility to entertain her or to boost her morale, but seeing her dejected when she’d shown such courage so far bothered him. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to indulge her in this.

Burke took two bottles of water from the fridge then joined her on the couch. His blanket and pillow were neatly folded on one of the faded arms of the old sofa. She had positioned herself on the middle cushion, leaving him just enough room to fit between her and the arm that held the bedding. When he sat, his legs brushed hers. She wore jeans so her legs were covered, but the contact sparked the memory of the long, lithe legs he’d glimpsed following the bombing, when she’d been wearing nothing but a towel and then after that only his suit jacket.

With a monumental effort, he banished that memory and typed in his access code. He felt her gaze on him, trying to decipher his quick key strokes. He decided to give it to her. He’d just change the code later.

“Magdalena,” he said.

“What?”

“My password is Magdalena.”

Her brow furrowed. “Oh. That’s unusual. An old girlfriend or,” she hesitated, “your wife’s name?”

He narrowed his gaze on the computer screen as he went on entering codes that would link him to the agency’s computers. “Nothing so dramatic. And I’m not married. Magdalena was the name of a stray dog my family took in when I was a kid.”

“Oh.”

The surprise in her voice had him glancing up at her. “What? You figured I don’t like dogs or that I was hatched?”

She met his gaze. Humor glinted in her eyes now as she shrugged. “Maybe both.”

Burke laughed. She laughed too. For an instant he was captivated by her mouth. He looked away from it and returned his attention to his computer.

“We looked at all the chemists.”

Eve slid forward on the cushion. “And?”

“Nada.”

“There has to be someone.” Eve’s expression reflected her disappointment but she straightened her posture. “Who is on the list?”

He was now linked to the agency files on her case. He brought up the list of chemists who’d registered for Abernathy’s lecture.

“One-hundred-nine, including Richard Patterson and you,” Burke said.

“That many.” Eve nodded. “Then I’d better get started.”

* * *

Three hours later, they had researched all of the registrants. Eve hadn’t expected Burke to help her, but he remained with her. Nothing leaped off the screen screaming terrorist. Eve’s shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment. Really, though, what had she expected?

She now knew more about Allie and the other chemists than she wanted to and didn’t know how she would face them again now that she’d invaded their privacy and learned personal things about them she had no business knowing. And all for nothing. She was no closer to finding out who’d switched her insulin than when she’d started.

“Ugh!” She flung herself back against the cushions of the sofa.

Burke eyed her. “You’d be hell on a stake out.”

“I never went on stake outs. My work was confined to the forensics lab, which I’m sure you know. I was hoping that my personal acquaintance with some of the chemists might give me an edge your people don’t have. That something about one of them might strike me as out of place.”

“You gave it a shot. We need a break.”

“No. No. We need to continue. We need—”

“A break.” Burke insisted. “It’s dinner time. I’m starving and you must be too.” He got to his feet, stretched then yawned. “Come on let’s see what we can put together.”

The wary look Eve gave him provoked a laugh out of him. “Don’t look so skeptical. I’m not the greatest cook, but I proved earlier that I can put a meal together. If you aren’t too fussy,” he added.

Eve got to her feet as well. The dishes from their breakfast, the breakfast he prepared, still sat on the kitchen table. She felt petty about not having cleaned up earlier and now began stacking plates then carrying them to the sink. While she washed, Burke went to a pantry cupboard beside the fridge. He withdrew a can of tomato sauce and a wrapped package of spaghetti.

He held up his fare. “It’s plain but you won’t starve.”

Eve finished washing the last plate then placed it in the dish drainer on the counter. “Doesn’t have to be plain.”

“‘Fraid so. I keep only canned and dry goods here. No fresh spices and since we’re laying low, I’d rather not leave here to get any.”

Eve dried her hands on a checkered dish towel. “No need to go anywhere. Not a grocery store anyway. We have more than we’ll need right outside.”

At Burke’s frown, Eve smiled. “Come with me.”

“Said the spider to the fly,” Burke murmured.

Eve laughed. “Where do you keep your bowls?”

“Bottom right cupboard.”

Eve withdrew a large stainless steel mixing bowl then led the way to the door. Outside, Burke fell into step beside her. She breathed deeply of the fresh air. If not for her situation, she would have enjoyed being at the cabin. She liked the earthy and animal smells. She liked being surrounded by the beauty of trees and wildlife that far outshone anything man could make in the city.

Eve followed a path into the trees. Sunlight poked through the branches and dappled the ground on which they walked. She set a slow pace, meandering around various patches of plant growth, bending over glorious outcroppings of lush green leaves and stems. She came to a mushroom patch and stopped.

“Those are great in sauces.” She pointed to the patch.

Burke shook his head slowly. “Not a good idea. Haven’t you heard? Mushrooms can be lethal.”

“Certainly, but not those. I often blend herbs and spices to make the scents I use in cosmetics, so I know which are poisonous and which aren’t. Those,” she pointed again, “aren’t.”

He still looked doubtful and she laughed. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

She stooped before the mushroom patch that covered several feet of ground and examined the crop. She plucked several plump specimens and placed them in the bowl. She shot to her feet. “Next.”

“Next?”

“Let’s see what else we can find.” She walked on, leaving Burke to follow. When he fell into step beside her again she looked up at him. “How long have you been coming here?”

“I bought the place about ten years ago.”

“Are you from West Virginia?”

“Chicago.”

“So tell me, since you weren’t hatched and like dogs, do you have family?”

He smiled. “Parents. Younger sister. Older brother. My brother has a big, noisy family.”

Big, noisy family. She felt a pang. Once she’d hoped to have a big, noisy family of her own.

“You okay?” Burke asked.

She’d come to a stop. Eve put the wistful thought from her mind. “I’m fine.”

She dropped the subject of family and focused on her reason for being in these woods. She spotted a circle of wild chives and bent over them. Perfect. She added several to the bowl. A few steps away, dandelions sprouted. She picked a handful of them as well.

At Burke’s arched eyebrow, Eve grinned. “Boil dandelion stems and they taste like spinach.”

“Hard to believe.”

“You’ll be eating those words. Literally. We have enough. We can head back.”

Back at Burke’s cabin, Eve filled a pot with water then set it on the stove to boil. She took the skillet she’d washed from the drainer, poured a dollop of oil into the pan, then set it on the stove as well. She dumped the contents of the bowl she’d filled from the forest into the sink and treated her pickings to a thorough cleansing. That done, she chopped the vegetables and plopped them into the skillet.

The aroma of sautéing vegetables and rich tomato sauce filled the air. Eve transferred the contents of the skillet, now gently browned, to the bubbling sauce and lowered the heat. The water reached boiling point and she unwrapped the pasta and placed it in the pot.

Fifteen minutes later, Eve turned to Burke. With a flourish, she said, “Dinner is served.”

She drained the dandelions she’d boiled, added salt and pepper and offered the bowl to Burke. From her place across the table from him, Eve watched him taste a stem.

His brows arched and his wary expression became one of surprise. “I’ll never look at dandelions in the same way again.”

Eve smiled. “Told ‘ya.”

Burke forked up a portion of sauce and vegetable coated pasta. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

The smile left Eve’s face. She lowered her gaze to her plate. “My daughter Emily had several food allergies. I consulted an herbalist on how to make her meals more palatable using spices and herbs that she didn’t react to. We didn’t live near a wooded area and some things were unavailable in grocery or health food stores, so Em and I started a garden in our yard and grew only the things that she could eat. She loved to discover new things we could plant there.”

Eve felt Burke’s gaze on her, but couldn’t meet his eyes yet. She rose to her feet, seized her plate and the now empty bowl of dandelion greens from the table and dashed to the sink.

Burke’s chair scraped across the wood floor. He came up behind her and placed his hand on hers, now immersed in soapy water.

“I know that your daughter was killed in a car accident five years ago. I’m sorry,” he said softly, linking their fingers beneath the suds.

Five years had not dulled the pain of Emily’s death. Tears burned her eyes. She wanted to be alone when they fell.

“It’s been a long day.” The words tumbled out of Eve’s mouth in her urgency to flee. “I’ll do the dishes in the morning. Good night.”

* * *

He felt a surge of anger and took another turn around the hotel room he’d been staying in since the start of the chemist’s conference. His cover had served him well, providing him with the opportunity he needed to remain close to his prey.

Until recently. His prey had eluded him.

He clenched his fists. Where were they? All of his efforts so far had failed to turn up where Eve Collins and Burke had gone to ground.

Eve Collins was proving to have as many lives as a cat. She’d cheated death—twice. His attempts to kill her had failed. The last attempt that should have gotten the job done had, instead, put Eve and Burke on alert. Sent them into hiding. He swung around and slammed his fist into the nearest wall.

His efforts had also failed to turn up the formula.

Time was running out. The people he worked for were getting anxious for their product. He swallowed and broke out in a sweat. It wouldn’t do to keep these people waiting.

He took a calming breath. It was time to finish this—to get the formula and to get rid of the loose end that was Eve Collins—and he knew just how to do it.

Imposter: Chapter Nine

Burke knocked on his bedroom door. An image of Eve, sprawled across his bed, her glorious hair wild as it had been yesterday when she’d awakened, flashed in his mind and he broke into a sweat. He shook his head to clear it, then knocked again, louder.

“Eve, wake up.”

His tone came out sharper than he’d intended. Hurried footsteps thudded across the wood floor then the door was flung open.

“What’s happened?”

Her taut expression reflected her alarm. He shook his head and smiled to reassure her.

“Nothing. Yet. Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“Burke, it’s five o’clock in the morning. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Where do you suggest we go?”

She had one hand on her head, clutching the wild mane of hair. The impact to his senses was diffused but only slightly. Burke could feel himself reacting to her again and forced his thoughts back to why he was at her door.

“Fishing.”

“What?”

“It’ll be light in an hour. I warn you, it’s cold on the lake at this time of the morning. Dress warm.”

Eve blew a breath at a hunk of hair that lay across her eyes then turned away from Burke. “The only place I’m going is back to bed.” Feet dragging, she followed up her words with action.

Burke trailed Eve back into his bedroom, and yanked a pair of sweat pants, a sweat shirt with a logo for the Chicago Bears and a pair of thick socks out of the armoire. “Put these on. I doubt you have anything warm enough in your bag.”

He left without a backward glance to check, closing the door behind him. She hadn’t balked at the invitation. It occurred to him that she might. Maybe she hadn’t because she needed a distraction from the worry and fear of her situation.

He had to be out of his mind to suggest this. The last thing he needed was to spend more time in her company when the sight of her had his insides tightening.

To further torment him, an image of her standing as she had just been, fresh from his bed came to him. But on the heels of it came another image: Eve’s face, ravaged, as she spoke of her daughter’s death. Five years later, her hurt was still raw. Her pain had stayed with him long after she’d fled the kitchen to find what solace she could on her own.

He blew out a breath. Inviting her company was a mistake—a mistake he hadn’t been able to stop himself from making.

He filled a thermos with coffee and she still hadn’t emerged from his bedroom. Had he been wrong and she wasn’t coming? He returned to the bedroom.

Two swift taps against the door then Burke called out, “The fish are waiting. You ready?”

Eve opened the door. She was holding a three-inch high shoe. “You’ll have to go without me. I didn’t pack shoes suitable for this occasion.”

Burke’s gaze lingered on her, taking her in. She was wearing the clothes he’d tossed at her, after rolling the shirt sleeves and the pant legs back several times. She looked adorable in his oversized clothing and sexy as hell. As she neared, he caught the scent of the lemon laundry detergent and an underlying fragrance that he was coming to identify as uniquely Eve.

He looked away from her and went back to the armoire. “I have another pair of athletic shoes. We’ll put a sock inside to shorten them and since you’ll be sitting in the boat, and not walking, they should serve well enough.”

Sure enough, they did. Burke added one of his jackets to her ensemble and twenty minutes later, Eve sat across from him in his small fishing boat while he motored across a lake as smooth as glass. A rim of pink tinged the sky in the east.

Burke dropped anchor then cut the engine. Without the roar, he became aware of the buzz of an insect nearby, the cry of gulls, and the gentle lapping of the water against the hull. He reached into a tackle box that held tiny trays with lures and pulled out a black one. He spun the silver tail and caught the light. He pulled out a second lure that was lime green and held up both for Eve’s inspection.

“Which would you like? Now I warn you, each has its merits and will attract different kinds of fish. For example, this lake is noted for its Bass, Walleye and Catfish. Some Bass fishermen will tell you that Bass like bright colors, like this orange.” He raised the lure as he spoke. “The Walleye, on the other hand, sees most colors as either red or green so won’t be influenced at all by color but goes for sparkle. Under the water, this silver tail glitters like a mirror. Another factor to consider when making your selection is daylight and water depth. Both will alter the activity of the fish and the appearance of the lure. Walleye are more active in dim light.”

Eve’s lips twitched. “I can see you’ve made a thorough study.”

“Absolutely, I’m a thorough man.”

He gave her a bland look and was rewarded when Eve’s smile broadened.

“I have no doubt.” She was fighting laughter. “But, I’d rather choose my own lure.”

Her smile prompted one from Burke.

“Go for it.” His smile widened to a grin.

She leaned over the box, examining the contents. “I’ll take that gold one.” She pointed to her choice.

Burke attached the lure to one of the two rods leaning against the side of the boat then got to his feet. When Eve did the same he moved to stand behind her and positioned her hands on the rod. He kept his hold loose, kept a foot of distance between their bodies to curb his reaction to her nearness. Fat chance. He raised her arms slowly, tossed back the fishing rod over her shoulder and sent out a cast that glided across the air, before softly plopping into the water.

Burke gave a satisfied sigh. He released Eve and prepared his own rod.

“How did you come across this place?” she asked.

“When I was a kid, my family used to come here for a week every summer, camping and fishing. The place stuck in my mind and one day I just said what the hell and bought a place for myself.”

“You said you have an older brother and a younger sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Makes it nice at holiday time.”

He didn’t miss the wistful note in her voice. “I don’t always make it to holidays, but yeah, it’s nice when I do.”

“They back in Chicago? Home of the Bears.”

Burke’s gaze sharpened. “You a fan?”

Eve grinned. “No, but I also have brothers and they are.”

“Actually, my brother and his family are there. My sister, Mallory, is a federal agent. She’s assigned to the New York Bureau office.”

“You and she must talk a lot of shop when you get together.”

He could have shrugged off the statement and left it at that, didn’t know why he added. “Some shop talk. I haven’t heard from her in a while. With my work and her work, we don’t keep in touch as much as we’d like.” He’d give her a call as soon as this assignment was over and he was back at Langley.

“Any chance of getting a cup of that coffee?” Eve asked.

Burke leaned his rod against the ledge of the boat and uncapped a thermos. Steam rose into the air along with the aroma of coffee. He poured into two mugs and held one out to her which she accepted with an enthusiastic thanks.

Burke couldn’t resist teasing her. He gave her a sideways glance. “Got any eye of newt we can add to the coffee?”

Eve laughed.

They sipped then fished in a companionable silence. She wasn’t chatty on the lake. Burke appreciated that. He enjoyed the quiet and stillness of the water. The sun rose higher. The lake looked a clear blue. Eve finished her coffee, shook her head at a refill then took a seat, leaning against the padded back. The boat rocked gently with the current. She took a deep audible breath. Her eyes drifted closed. Burke watched her. He was watching her so closely, at first he didn’t see the tip of her rod take a dip.

“Eve?” His tone was soft.

“Mmm.”

“You have a bite.”

Her eyes flew open. “Oh!”

* * *

Burke stood against the door of the cabin, gazing out at the moonlit night. Eve moved to stand beside him. Moonlight filtered through the leaves of the trees that rose above the cabin, dappling the earth with light. Crickets chirped nearby.

“Do you get out here much,” Eve asked.

“Not as much as I’d like.”

Eve took a deep breath of the crisp night air. “I can certainly understand your fondness for this place.”

Burke turned to her, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You look surprised.”

He gestured to her silk blouse and heels. “I didn’t take you for being much for the great outdoors.”

Acknowledging his point, Eve returned his smile. “Remember I mentioned that I have brothers? I have four of them. Vacations in the great outdoors were a regular thing in my house.”

She hadn’t planned on saying more on the subject, but Burke appeared intrigued.

She shrugged. “One year, I think I was about nine, my dad planned a camping trip with the boys. It was supposed to be some adventure—a man thing—my oldest brother told me. There was just enough of a challenge in his voice that there was no way I was going to be excluded from the trip. I went to my dad,” her voice softened with the memory, “and asked him to take me along. He’d not meant to exclude me, he said, which I knew was the truth. He’d just presumed that I wouldn’t be interested. Frankly, he was thrilled that I wanted to go along. My brothers put up a fuss, of course, but Dad would not have left me behind if I wanted to go along.

“That trip was four days in a bush with no amenities. Dad planned fishing and a nature hike and so our scent would blend with our natural surroundings, we didn’t bathe in that time.” Eve rolled her eyes. “We were pretty ripe by the end of it.”

Burke smiled and leaned toward her. He sniffed audibly. “You smell wonderful.”

Eve’s smile spread. “This scent is one of my blends. I have to admit it’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s great.”

“We also develop men’s aftershave.”

Burke laughed. A rich sound she’d not heard from him. “I’ll have to check that out.”

“Burke . . . it was nice . . . today. Thank you.”

“Day’s not over. It’s a beautiful night for a swim. How about it?”

“Why not?”

* * *

She’d packed a modest one piece swimsuit, intending to spend some time at the hotel’s pool in between the events she’d registered for at the conference. She slipped into it and returned to the living room. When Burke emerged from the bathroom, clad only in black swim trunks, Eve was treated to the view of his magnificent body. Broad shoulders. Clearly defined abdominal muscles. Long, hard muscled legs. It had been a long time since Eve had taken inventory of a man’s body. Somewhere in the last five years, since Emily’s death, and the end of her marriage, Eve had lost interest in men. Interest in sex.

She averted her gaze from Burke. In one hand he carried his cell phone. With the other hand, he held the door open for her to precede him and they walked out into the night. Moon light silvered the water that lapped softly against a floating dock anchored to a post and the aluminum hull of Burke’s fishing boat.

Burke stepped onto the dock. It pitched and swayed with his weight. He reached back and held out his hand for her. Eve placed her hand in his for an instant as she stepped onto the dock then, gaining her balance, hastily withdrew it. If Burke noticed her abrupt end to the contact with him, he said nothing.

She walked to the edge of the dock and lowered her foot into the water. She hastily withdrew it. In comparison to the warm, balmy air, the water felt ice cold.

“That’s not the way to do it.” Burke placed his cell phone on the dock then smiled like a shark. “This is the way.”

He scooped her into his arms. Eve knew what was coming. She shrieked and grabbed his neck. Burke laughed and stepped off the dock with her in his arms.

She came up sputtering, arms flailing. But Burke hadn’t left her once they’d gone under water. One arm had remained around her waist, was still around her waist, as he emerged, bringing her to the surface with him.

“I’m okay,” she said.

He released her and she treaded water. “It’s nice once you’re in.”

Burke’s grin gleamed in the moonlight. “Told ‘ya.”

Eve laughed as he repeated the phrase she’d spoken to him about the dandelions.

Burke dove below the surface. As Eve watched the water ripple gently in his wake, she thought, he was right: It was a beautiful night for a swim and just what she needed to ease some of the tension twisting her into knots.

Somewhere on land crickets chirped. She found the sound rhythmic and oddly soothing.

Burke broke the surface, coming up beside her. She felt in the mood to stretch her legs. In the distance, a trio of buoys, tied to a rope, bobbed in the water.

“Race you to the buoys and back,” she said. She could feel the wide smile on her face. “Be warned, though, I competed in college.” She wiggled her brows. “And I always won.”

“A challenge. Say when.”

Eve’s grin widened. “When!”

She executed a perfect leap then dive that gained her several lengths as years of training reasserted themselves. Even allowing for the slight current that was present in the lake and not in a pool, Eve ate up the distance, stretching her legs and widening her stroke, easily finding her stride. Burke wasn’t by her side. She slowed, taking a moment to glance up at the stars. She never saw the stars from her townhouse in L.A. City lights dulled the night. Here, the view was breathtaking.

She was caught up in the view when Burke streaked by her. He’d moved like an eel, barely disturbing the water. Eve felt a smile spread across her face again and dove after him.

She put her all into the swim. She reached him and then with a smug glance he couldn’t miss, passed him. At the buoys, she turned around. Burke was a mere half-length behind her now. She was laughing and she had to admit, panting, when she reached the dock an instant before he did. She looped one arm around a low rail on the dock, allowing the structure to keep her afloat. Burke pushed sopping hair back from his face then positioned himself in front of her and did the same.

He grinned. “You’re good.”

Eve nodded. “You should have seen me when I was competing.”

Burke’s gaze fixed on her. “You must have been quite a sight,” he said softly.

Eve’s heart, just now slowing to its normal rhythm, thumped. She focused on Burke. His eyes had darkened and his gaze was now intent on her. He raised his arm slowly from his side and brought it to her cheek. His gaze still on hers, he caressed her skin with his thumb.

Eve’s breath caught. This was Burke. The man who believed her a traitor. She should pull back. Instead, when his lips parted slightly and he moved toward her, Eve moved to him.

His breath mingled with her own as their lips touched in a light, soft, caress, then Burke murmured something unintelligible, his hand lowered from her cheek to her waist and he brought her flush against him. She connected with his hard muscled body. A thrill coursed through her and she dug her fingers into his shoulder. Burke deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth across hers, opening his mouth. When his tongue slid between her parted lips, Eve met it with her own.

Her heart was racing now well beyond what it had been during the swim. Each breath came shallow and audible. She was quivering. Pressed against Burke, she felt every gasping breath he took and she felt the proof of his rampant desire pulse against her.

Something rang. Then again. Eve blinked then realized the ringing was from Burke’s cell phone. He’d set it down on the dock, she recalled.

Burke’s mouth left hers. He looked up through the wooden slats to the dock above them then drew back, releasing her. He was breathing hard. The tendons in his arms were taut. He shook his head as if to clear it, then rubbed a hand down his face. He reached up, grabbed the edge of one wooden plank and vaulted onto the dock.

Eve swam away from the rail she’d been holding. For some reason, the water now felt ice cold. Goose bumps pebbled her flesh.

She swam slowly, taking time to shake off what had almost happened with Burke. She’d literally been saved by the bell. Catastrophe averted. But where was the relief that should accompany that thought? She closed her eyes. It wasn’t relief she was feeling.

By the time she reached Burke, he was closing his cell phone. Eve seized the dock as he had and hoisted herself up. Burke crouched, grasped her at the waist, and lifted her up beside him. Then he stepped away from her. The night air was chill. She picked up the towel she’d hung over the railing and draped it around her shoulders like a shawl.

“That was Lanski,” Burke said. “Did Richard Patterson ever mention meeting Alasdair McHampton?”

Burke was all business again. “No, though Richard wouldn’t have,” Eve said. “He didn’t know of my friendship with Allie. We didn’t speak of personal things. But of course they weren’t acquainted, Allie would have mentioned it.”

“Would he?”

“Of course. And he certainly would have greeted you differently at the conference when I introduced you as Richard.”

“My people learned that both Richard Patterson and Alasdair McHampton attended a small suburban chemist’s conference several years ago. When Lanski asked him about Patterson, McHampton said he never knew a Richard Patterson until Dr. Collins introduced him to her business partner.”

“If that’s what Allie said, then that’s it.”

“The fact that Patterson and McHampton were both at that conference bothers me.

But, at this point, we have nothing more to link the two, so, yeah, as it stands now, that’s it.”

Eve nodded.

“Lanski is asking McHampton if he saw anyone handle your purse.”

Eve didn’t hold out any hope that Allie had. If he had seen anyone with her purse, he would have mentioned it to her.

“I’m heading back,” Eve said. “See you in the morning.”

* * *

Burke watched her go, watched the gentle sway of her shapely derriere in the swimsuit. A few moments earlier, he’d had his hands on that beautiful part of her anatomy. His hands tingled with the desire to touch her again.

He shook his head. Eve was a suspected traitor. She was in his charge. Again, he asked himself: What was the matter with him?

She was attractive, yes, but he’d been attracted to other women many times, and hadn’t been eaten up by the attraction.

That’s what was happening to him. He was consumed by his attraction to Eve. He wanted to take her to bed so badly he couldn’t think of anything else. He’d never had it this bad for any other woman.

Consumed by his attraction. But it was more than that. His attraction was more than sexual. He admired her courage that she’d displayed in this situation. He didn’t know many others who would have taken death threats, and an accusation of treason with the fighting attitude she’d shown. She was a fighter, all right. From what he’d read in her file, she’d needed to be, given what she’d been through in the last years. Dismissal from the LAPD. The end of her six-year marriage. He’d read the profile on her. His fact sheets, though, summarized those events. They hadn’t revealed the devastating impact they must have had on her life.

Those events took place on the heels of the death of her daughter. Eve was so hurt. The thought of her in pain unsettled him. He didn’t like the fact that it did.

She’d gotten under his skin.

He had to get her out.

He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension there. A few more days and this would all be over. She would be out of his life. He would get back to his. The thought should have satisfied him. It didn’t.

* * *

A cool breeze blew in through Eve’s bedroom window, fluttering the gauze curtains. She was in bed but couldn’t sleep. Small wonder. She was so churned up about Burke. He’d commented on her scent but his own—soap mixed with his own male smell—had intoxicated her.

He hadn’t shaved that day and the dark stubble on his cheeks and chin made him look sexy. When he’d taken her in his arms she’d been up close to his tough, hard body, and felt each discreet muscle.

And she’d seen blatant desire in his eyes.

She wanted him, too. The admission stunned her. She hadn’t been with a man since her marriage ended. Casual sex was available, should she have wanted it. She thought of Matt Deligne. She hadn’t wanted it, though. She’d told herself that casual sex wasn’t for her, and with Matt or any other man of her acquaintance that’s all there would be. She told herself she was a relationship person. The desire to get to know a man well enough to want to go to bed with him had just never been there. But here and now, alone, in the dark and the quiet, she admitted the truth: She had simply stopped wanting sex. Her desire for sex had been gone for five years.

It was there now. In spades. With Burke.

It would have been handy to tell herself that after a five-year abstinence her body’s natural sexual urge had reasserted itself. But she knew that wasn’t the case. What she was feeling didn’t stem from him as a man, but as the man.

He’d awakened feelings in her she’d thought dead. She should be applauding. Had the situation not been what it was, she would have acted on the desire she was feeling.

But their circumstances were what they were. As attractive as she found him, he was intent on proving her a traitor. If that didn’t tamp down her desire, nothing would.

She rolled over. The short nightie she’d changed into after the swim bunched around her waist and she adjusted it. Her pillow was warm. She turned it over then flopped onto her back. She was making so much noise in here could Burke hear her in the outer room? She couldn’t hear him. He was probably sleeping.

A branch snapped outside the cabin, jolting Eve from her thoughts of Burke. She sprang out of the bed. She crept to the window and flattened herself against the wall. The scent of pine wafted in on the breeze. She peeked out through the break in the curtains. The trees and underbrush outside her window were distinct in the moonlight, and all there was to see at the moment. Of course, if someone was out there, he’d hardly be standing in the open for her to view. Particularly since he’d stepped on a twig and put himself at risk.

Burke said no one knew about this place. To his knowledge, anyway. Eve wouldn’t dismiss the possibility that someone had followed her and Burke here. Maybe wanting another try at killing her. It was frightening to think that, but also exhilarating. So far, she and Burke hadn’t been having any success in identifying the one who wanted her dead. They needed a lead. Another attempt on her life would give them that and she would be glad of it. Even if it meant facing a killer.

Eve ducked beneath the window and returned to the bed where she’d left the shoes she’d worn earlier. She slipped them on then, keeping close to the walls, tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the short hallway beyond. The thick blue curtains in the outer room were drawn, effectively blocking any outside light. A small lamp on the long counter that separated the kitchen section from the living room glowed, and provided enough light for Eve to see the shadows of the furniture and to make out the front door.

A large shadow was making its way to that door at the moment. The arm was extended above the tall silhouette’s head. At the end of it, was the outline of a gun. Eve knew that silhouette: Burke. He must have felt her gaze—or maybe he just sensed another presence in the room with him—because he turned to her.

“Burke!” She hissed his name loud enough for him to identify her and not shoot.

But he’d recognized her as well, she realized. Had known she was behind him before he’d turned. His gun hand had not wavered.

Eve met him by the door. “I guess you heard it, too.”

“Yeah. Stay here while I check it out.”

“No. I’m going with you.”

“Stay here.”

Eve shook her head. “If someone’s followed us, we need to make sure he doesn’t get away. We need to flank him, cutting off his escape routes.”

“He might not be seeking escape. The noise might have been deliberate. A means to flush us out so he could take a shot. Stay here.”

“More likely flush you out,” Eve said. “Take you out first, then come inside and finish me. It’s unlikely he’ll be expecting both of us. I was a cop, remember? I know what I’m doing.”

Burke’s jaw tightened. A muscle there flexed briefly. “Hold on a minute.”

Eve stared after Burke as he disappeared into his room, currently being occupied by her. What was he doing? They didn’t have time to waste, but he was back quickly. He held out a gun.

“Take it.”

Eve lowered her eyes to the gun and then raised her gaze to him. The gesture of trust surprised her and touched her.

“Ready,” Burke asked.

She nodded and closed her fingers around the gun butt.

Burke opened the door. Eve recalled her training and without either of them uttering a word, they slipped into standard police practice. Burke went high, Eve low, as they checked out the immediate area. The soft moonlight gave off a faint glow that wasn’t overly bright, but still, Eve felt exposed. Again, she took in the tall trees and wide bushes, but that was all. No one stood outside the door, or pressed against a thick tree trunk.

Her work with fragrance kept her keenly aware of the scents around her. The sharp tang of pine and earth, still damp from the rain of the night, hung in the air. She couldn’t detect any other fragrance. No spicy deodorant or cologne that would indicate someone other than herself and Burke was in the vicinity.

The sound had come from beyond the bedroom window at the back of the cabin. Eve motioned with the gun that she would go right. Burke nodded and headed in the opposite direction.

Now that she was outside, her short nightshirt was a poor covering. Light reflected off the soft yellow cotton and off of her exposed thighs, making her all too visible. Her shoes sank in the soft ground. She treaded carefully, keeping her weight off the heels.

No help for her clothing now. She put the thought out of her mind and kept her back against the cabin to assure no one could come up behind her.

There was no sign of anyone other than herself. Burke was doing the same from the opposite direction. Since he hadn’t called out, she knew he hadn’t spotted anyone either. The woods would provide great cover for someone looking to hide in them. If whoever snapped that branch had decided to escape into the trees, they wouldn’t find him. Particularly at night.

Burke’s suggestion that someone may have lured them out in the open replayed in her mind. Eve felt an itch above her heart at the thought of someone shooting her from within the trees.

She reached the end of the cabin’s exterior wall and, gun arm extended, whirled around the corner. Burke was already there.

He glanced at her. “I think we found our intruder.”

He pointed to a trail of garbage. Eve fell into step beside him as he followed the trail of chicken bones and scraps that had been their dinner that evening. A short distance away, in the trees, they came upon a raccoon foraging in the bag Burke had discarded their garbage in. The animal had dragged the bag to that point.

The creature raised its eyes, shiny as marbles to them, then ran.

“A raccoon.” Burke shook his head and laughed. “I forgot not to leave garbage outside. It has been too long since I’ve been up here.”

Eve laughed too. She hadn’t told Burke that the last time she’d spent a night outside of a city had been that camping trip with her father and brothers. She hadn’t considered their intruder could be a woodland animal.

They made their way back inside the cabin for another bag. Eve returned Burke’s spare gun to him then they headed back outside to clean up the mess and secure the trash in the trunk of the car.

Eve’s shoes no longer clung. She looked at her feet. Her sassy sling backs were now stretched from water seepage and caked with mud. The shoes were ruined. At least if they’d caught her would-be assassin, the loss would have been worth it.

“Intriguing attire for an apprehension,” Burke said.

She certainly must look a sight in the short nightie and high heels. Burke was smiling again, a small sexy smile that had her heart picking up its pace. Eve shook off that unwelcome thought. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think I should take time to get another pair from my suitcase.”

She gave the shoes a slow remorseful shake of her head then stepped out of them and preceded him into the cabin. She turned to say good night. He stood backlit by the moon, his lean, hard body outlined. She couldn’t see his face now, but she felt the weight of his gaze.

He raised his arm. She watched it in silhouette slowly reach out to her. She could have stepped back, out of his reach. This was Burke. Burke. He was all wrong. This was all wrong. But she remained in place, breath held, anticipating his touch.

Gently, he sifted his fingers through her hair, and when he cupped the back of her head, Eve rose on tiptoe and met his kiss. He brushed his lips across hers softly. Eve’s eyelids lowered at his caress.

“Burke,” she whispered.

“John. Say it, Eve. Say my name.”

“John,” she said. “John.”

His hold on her tightened and he covered her mouth with his. His kiss was hot and hungry. Eve wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and holding him to her.

He sucked in his breath then his arms banded around her. He lifted her off her feet and held her tight against himself. His heart was pounding now, a hard thump thump or maybe that was her own.

He broke the kiss and their gasping breaths became the dominant sound in the room. He walked with her in his arms to the burlap couch and set her down gently on the soft cushions. He stretched out beside her, then his mouth was on hers again, kissing, tasting. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her which was exactly how she was feeling.

He tugged the hem of her nightie. She raised her arms. He took his mouth from hers only long enough to lift the garment over her head and toss it somewhere into the darkness. His tongue slid over hers, then went deep. Her need for him surged. She scrambled to undo the buttons on his shirt, wanting so badly to touch him.

As soon as his shirt was open, he hastily removed it. His chest and arms were all muscle. Rock-hard, she discovered as she eagerly ran her hands over him.

His hands did not remain idle. They slid down her sides, her hips and her legs, taking her panties down with them. They, too, ended up somewhere in the darkness then he resumed his exploration, igniting fires where he touched. She’d removed her bra for sleep and he brushed her bare breasts with his thumbs. Pleasure streaked through her. His mouth left hers and went to her breasts, licking and sucking, alternating between them and taking her to a new level of need.

His breath was coming shorter and more shallow. As his hands and mouth moved over her, with ever increasing urgency, there were instants when Eve couldn’t breathe at all.

He shifted position so they were no longer touching. An instant later, when his lower body brushed hers again she felt only skin. His jeans and shorts were now gone.

His eyes on her were hot enough to burn. He lowered his head. Their mouths were so close she felt his lips move as he murmured her name. His body rose above hers. She’d never been more aware of the vast difference in their sizes, of how much larger he was, and it thrilled her. His erection pressed against her. Despite his obvious urgency, he prodded her gently, testing her readiness. She shivered in anticipation and arched against him to show him just how ready she was.

Her slight movement seemed to push him to the edge of his control. He swallowed audibly and his every muscle tensed.

Slowly, so slowly, he filled her. Her body stretched to accommodate him and she sucked in her breath at the wealth of sensation. He pulled back then went deep. She dug her nails into his shoulders and when he picked up the pace, moving hard and fast, her vision grayed.

She moved with him, matching him stroke for stroke. She felt his body still, then her own tightened. Her body shuddered as Burke’s did, and they found their release.

* * *

They’d made love on the scratchy burlap couch. Something was currently digging into Eve’s hip. She didn’t have the strength to move. Since John was still a dead weight on her, she figured he was in the same condition. She smiled. If she hadn’t needed to breathe, she would have gladly kept him there for a day or two or forever.

Forever.

The blissful haze that was the aftermath of their lovemaking receded. The reality of their situation returned to her. Eve closed her eyes tight. What had she done?

She opened her eyes and gave his shoulder a nudge that was more forceful than necessary, and certainly wouldn’t undo the last moments. “Burke?”

A few moments earlier he’d been “John” to her. It struck her as ridiculous to return to the impersonal address now, but she was suddenly desperate to reestablish distance between them.

That she had reverted to his last name wasn’t lost on Burke either, Eve noted. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, then he obligingly shifted, taking his weight off her. All the way off. He got to his feet.

Without the warmth of his body, she became aware of the chill in the air. Her teeth chattered. Burke must have heard it because he glanced around briefly then bent and retrieved his shirt from the rug. He held it out to her.

Her own nightshirt was not in sight. Eve looked about for it, then gave it up when she shivered. She took the garment from Burke with a less than graciously mumbled “thanks”.

Though Burke seemed unconcerned about his own nakedness, as soon as she had his shirt in her grasp, he turned away from her, averting his gaze so she could put it on in some modicum of privacy.

Clearly, he no longer felt the intimacy of a lover.

Distance successfully reestablished.

He’d received her message, or been struck by the error they’d made, as she had, and come to his senses. Or, maybe he’d been in the mood for sex and had found a willing partner in her and that was the end of it for him.

Whatever. Good. Good.

But it didn’t feel good.

Hands shaking, Eve donned the shirt. It was no longer warm from his body, but his scent clung faintly to the cotton. Each time she took a breath, she’d be reminded of making love with him. She didn’t want to be reminded of him. As soon as she was back in her room, she would certainly change into something of her own to sleep in.

“We’d better get some sleep,” Burke said.

His tone was firm. There was no mistaking “John” the tender lover with Central Intelligence Agent Burke.

That was for the best. As it had to be . . .

Imposter: Chapter Ten

What the hell had he done?

Burke stared at the closed bedroom door, the intensity of his gaze drilling holes in the scarred wood. Eve had disappeared behind that door a moment ago.

He’d had sex with his prisoner.

He was an officer of the law. Officers of the law did not have sex with the women in their custody. But that’s what he’d done. Compromised the investigation, as a result, and given Eve a weapon to use in court to have the charges against her dismissed.

He made a scoffing sound of self disgust. How could he have been so irresponsible?

How could he have allowed his personal feelings for her—he shook his head, not his feelings, his lust for her—to override his duty?

Against his will, he recalled being with Eve. Sex with her had not disappointed. Rather, it went right off the charts. Mind-blowing. The best he’d ever had.

He turned away from the door and went to the window. The wooden sill jutted out from the wall. Burke braced his hands on it.

Clouds blocked the moonlight. The darkness was thick and his own face reflected back at him in the black glass.

How he could have allowed himself to sleep with Eve no longer mattered. The question now was, what was he going to do about it?

He should remove himself from her presence and transport her to Washington immediately. Then he could get back to his original assignment, his true assignment—hunting the buyer. He was itching to rejoin Lanski and his team in the search.

Eve’s assassin was still out there, however. Burke’s jaw tightened. They’d made no progress identifying that bastard. Until they did ID Eve’s assassin, taking her from the cabin wasn’t an option.

He could call Lanski. Get another agent out here to stay with her. That would accomplish the same thing—taking himself away from her.

He dismissed the idea. His cabin was safe because it was unknown. Wasn’t that why he’d brought her here in the first place? Once he disclosed her location, it would be compromised. Her safety would not be assured. No, calling in another agent was not an option. Burke gripped the windowsill with a strength that stretched the skin tight across his knuckles. He would not risk her safety.

So what would he do?

Nothing.

He would remain at the cabin. And Eve would remain at the cabin. And for whatever time they had left here together, they would stay out of each other’s way.

He heard movement in the bedroom. A drawer opened then closed.

She was still awake.

He listened to her footfalls, thudding softly against the plank flooring. Her footsteps stopped. Next came a creak. The bed frame. She was now on the mattress. If her pattern held true to what he’d observed the night they’d spent at the hospital, she’d soon be asleep. And snoring softly.

He stopped a smile.

And cut off that tender thought.

* * *

He cooked breakfast before the sun was up after a restless night on the couch. Unwanted images of making love with Eve there replayed in his mind and kept sleep at bay.

He ate his meal, left the bacon and scrambled eggs he’d cooked for her on the stove for her to warm when she awoke. Next he showered and left the cabin. He needed to call Lanski and after, would find some activities outdoors to fill his time.

The sun crested the horizon. He looked up at it. Too early to call his second in command on a matter that wasn’t urgent.

Burke looked around for things that needed doing about the place. He’d bought shelving for the storage shed that he’d never put up. Well, it seemed the perfect time to attend to that was at hand.

After the shelving, he worked slowly through a list of repairs he’d wanted to get done for years. At mid-morning, he called Lanski.

“Any development in finding the man after Dr. Collins?” Burke asked.

“Negative. Nothing on finding the buyer either.”

“Okay. Anyone putting out the word about the formula?”

“Negative again. Our Intel has been quiet as a tomb.”

Burke exhaled a frustrated breath. “Keep me apprised,” he said unnecessarily then disconnected.

The day was turning out to be a scorcher. He rubbed the back of his neck where the sun baked him. He needed water.

Inside the cabin, Eve was awake and again, hunched over his laptop, though, she’d moved to the kitchen table to work. She didn’t look up at his entrance.

On the way to the fridge for the water, he glimpsed the page open on the screen, and recognized it as one of the profiles on the chemist’s at the conference. Yesterday, they’d downloaded the information from the agency’s database onto his laptop for easy access.

His investigators had been over all of the information and dismissed its usefulness. He and Eve had gone over it all as well with the same result. Nothing would be gained by going over it again.

He thought of telling her that. False hope wouldn’t help her. But then, what was the alternative—no hope? No, he would not strip her of hope. He kept his thoughts about the profiles to himself.

What he wouldn’t keep silent about were the heaping plates of food that remained untouched where he’d left them.

“Why haven’t you eaten?” he asked, his tone sharp.

Eve tapped a few keystrokes. Without looking up from the keyboard, she said. “Not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

She looked up then. “Are you presuming to tell me how to treat my condition?”

Burke’s anger flared. “Apparently, you need someone to do that. If you’re on insulin, you need to eat regularly. Taking an injection and then going for a long period without food can cause a dangerous reduction in blood sugar levels.”

“Oh, really. What makes you an authority on the subject?”

“I read about it.”

“You read about it? When?”

What did it matter? Burke ran a hand down his face. “The night you were in the hospital. I asked the nurse for information on diabetes.”

Eve blinked.

“You need to eat.” His jaw tensed. “The last thing I want is for you to collapse again.”

Eve straightened her spine. “Don’t worry about it, Burke.” She left the table, got a bottle of water for herself which she gripped in a tight fist. “Should I take ill again, this time, I’ll make sure you aren’t inconvenienced.”

“Inconvenienced? You think I don’t want to be inconvenienced?” Burke closed the distance between them. He clutched her shoulders. “You think I’m telling you to eat so you won’t collapse and inconvenience me?” He reached up, framed her face gently between his palms. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. The thought of anything happening to you . . .” He lowered his mouth to hers.

* * *

She should end this . . . stop him . . . all the reasons why she should not let this go on reasserted themselves. Instead, when Burke’s mouth came down on hers, Eve slid her arms around his waist. Clutching his shirt in her fists, she kissed him back.

Her head was spinning as he lifted her off the floor and into his arms. Without breaking the kiss, he carried her to the bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed then braced on an elbow above her and undid the buttons on her blouse. He moved one knee between her legs and gently stroked her. The contact made her gasp, then moan.

“Over dressed,” he said.

She mumbled her agreement.

He shed his jeans, his movements jerky with impatience, then lifted her hips to remove hers. In the blink of an eye they were skin to skin below the waist and the feel of his aroused body against her ratcheted her desire.

She yanked at his T-shirt and when he’d obligingly shed that too, she splayed her hands over the broad span of his chest, then across the ridges of muscle on his abdomen.

Those taut muscles quivered beneath her touch. He groaned, pressed her against the mattress, and covered her with his big body. His mouth fused with hers and he kissed her hard as if he wanted to devour her. She clung to him, entwining her arms and legs around him.

His erection was straining against her, wanting entrance. She wanted that as well, but he drew back, ending the kiss. Before she could protest, his open mouth trailed hot and wet down her body, stimulating every nerve ending as he made his descent.

When he reached her thighs, he parted them gently then slid his hands beneath her, clutching her bottom and brought her to his mouth. The touch of his tongue on her went through her like a jolt of electricity. She threw her head back, arched off the bed, and gasped his name.

She was writhing when he finally moved over her and pushed inside her. Waves of sensation began immediately and she gripped his biceps, her nails digging into the thick muscle there.

He was as close to the edge as she was. His need as fierce. Sweat dampened his skin. His face pulled taut. As she cried out her release, he uttered a deep groan and found his own.

He was lying on top of her now. His chest was heaving as he took in big mouthfuls of air. Face down with his head touching hers, his every breath brushed her cheek. She was sucking in air as well. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of them breathing in tandem, all that she was capable of at the moment.

Her stomach growled.

He laughed and brushed his lips across her temple. “Let’s get you fed.”

* * *

Burke lay awake. Snuggled against him, Eve breathed deeply in sleep. After they’d eaten, they’d made love again. That became the pattern for the rest of the day and into the night. Make love. Eat. Make love. After their last bout of love making, after he’d made sure that her need for food had been again met, they’d returned to bed. He’d brought her tight against his side and with his arms around her, just watched her gently fall into sleep.

She’d been asleep for some time. As for himself, sleep eluded him. He’d made a thorough study of Eve Collins. Recalling how thorough had his body hardening again. But it wasn’t her sexy body that ruled his thoughts now. He’d studied Eve herself. Knew everything there was to know about her. And now he was questioning all he’d learned because he couldn’t reconcile the woman he’d apprehended, the woman in his bed, with the one who would create a weapon for terrorists.

Eve mumbled in her sleep. Burke turned to her. A sliver of moonlight cut diagonally across the bed. It was just enough light to illuminate her face, contorted in an expression of pain.

Burke’s gut clenched. “Eve.” He kept his tone soft.

Her lips moved. Her head thrashed on the pillow.

“Eve.” Burke wrapped his arms around her. “Wake up, baby.”

She cried out and her eyes sprang open.

“Easy. It’s okay. You were dreaming. Just a dream,” he said.

Must have been one hell of a dream. Her breathing was rapid. She was trembling in his arms. Burke brought her closer, pressing her face against his bare chest. His skin grew damp and he realized she was crying.

Keeping one arm around her, Burke switched on the bedside lamp. In the stark light, he saw she was chalk white. Tears still slid down her cheeks. He felt helpless in the face of her tears. Couldn’t stand that something had reduced her to tears.

“Eve, what is it?”

She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched her shoulders as if trying to huddle in on herself. “I was dreaming about the accident.” Her voice was strained. “About Emily.”

He stroked her cheek. “Tell me about it.”

She released a tremulous breath. “We were driving home from buying groceries. Emily was in the back seat. I was crossing the intersection when a truck broadsided us.” Eve’s breath hitched. The brunt of the impact was to the back seat. Emily was killed instantly.”

Fresh tears streamed down Eve’s cheeks. Sobs shook her. Burke wrapped his arms around her, drawing her as tight to him as he could, sharing her pain in the only way he could.

He held her until she stopped trembling, until her tears were spent. Gently, he raised her chin. Her eyes were red-rimmed from the torrent of tears. Her grief wrenched his heart.

“Do you dream of the accident often?”

“All the time for the first few years. Not as often anymore.”

He wondered if their recent conversation about Emily had sparked the dream.

“I’ve been over it a million times,” Eve said. “If I’d just done something differently, Emily would still be alive.”

“You weren’t to blame for the accident. I read the report. The truck ran a red light.”

Eve nodded, but Burke believed some part of her would always blame herself.

Though the last thing he wanted to do was to bring another man into their bed, Burke wanted to know about her husband, about the man Eve had once loved. Maybe still loved. His gut clenched and his next breath came a little shaky.

He knew her husband had been the one to initiate the divorce. From his investigation, Burke had learned that she and her husband officially separated within a few months of the death of their daughter.

She was worn out, though, and he had no intention of satisfying his curiosity at her expense. His questions could wait.

He pulled back, looked into her eyes, his gaze warm and tender. He caressed her cheek, as a smile spread slowly across her lips. He returned that smile. He kissed her softly.

“Do you think you can sleep now?”

She nodded.

He switched off the lamp then rolled onto his back, bringing her with him.

Within a few moments she was asleep again. Not so for him. It would be some time before sleep came to him.

Imposter: Chapter Eleven

When Eve woke, Burke was not in bed. Recalling how she’d cried all over him last night, her cheeks heated with embarrassment. He’d gotten more than the pleasure of a night of love making. No doubt he hadn’t planned on her coming apart on him.

Her own ability to reveal her grief to him surprised her. She always kept her grief over Emily to herself, clutched tight to her. With Burke she’d opened up and shared her hurt. He’d been a rock for her. No matter what happened from this point on between them, she would always remember that last night he’d made the pain over Emily’s death a little more bearable.

Eve left the bedroom. She spotted Burke in the kitchen. He was speaking on his cell phone. When she would have left him to finish his call while she went to shower and dress, he caught her hand.

“. . . send it all to me, Lanski,” Burke said. His closed the phone. His gaze fixed on her. “How are you?”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Okay.” She smiled to illustrate her point.

He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her palm. “I’m glad.” He released her.

“I’ll cook breakfast this morning,” she said. “Think about what you’d like while I shower and dress.”

He didn’t respond.

“John. John?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you hear what I said? About breakfast?”

“Breakfast, right.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

Eve nodded slowly. “I’ll get myself together and be right back.”

He smoothed back her hair, ran his thumb across her lips. “I was hoping you’d stay as you are. You drove me crazy the other day when you showed up for breakfast straight from bed.”

His eyes had darkened in a look she now recognized as passion. “I thought I’d put you off.”

He made a strangled sound. “Far from it.”

The thought and the appreciation in his eyes felt wonderful. She leaned in and kissed him. “I won’t be long.”

He nodded but she could see he’d lapsed into his own thoughts again.

* * *

He was like that for the rest of the day. Distracted was the only way she could describe it. Whatever he had on his mind was all consuming. Was he rethinking their intimacy? Regretting?

It hadn’t appeared so earlier, but the thought became a lead weight as the day progressed and he remained distant.

She turned her attention to the charge against her. She re-read the chemist profiles. Again, she found nothing in them to identify the person who’d switched her insulin.

By nine p.m., she was wrung out, emotionally and physically. Another day had ended and she was no closer to proving her innocence. Burke’s cell phone had remained silent all day. Lanski hadn’t called in with breaking news that would exonerate her either.

She could not despair. Not lose hope. Frustration and fear were taking a toll on her. She needed rest. Once she’d recharged, she would come up with a way to prove her innocence.

Seated across the table from her, Burke was making notes on a legal pad. He’d been at the task for some time. He looked as tired as she felt.

“Coming to bed?” she asked him.

He looked at her then. The first time in hours. “Later. You go ahead.”

* * *

She drifted into a dreamless sleep, after hours passed and Burke didn’t come in to bed. In the morning, when she awoke, she was still alone. She showered and dressed then found him where she’d left him last night—at the table in the kitchen.

His laptop was open, his index finger tapping the keypad. His brows were drawn together. The skin on his forehead was puckered with his frown as he read something on the screen.

A mug of coffee sat on the table. She took a sip and winced. Stone cold.

“John?”

He glanced up at her, his eyes heavy-lidded from the night without sleep.

“What are you still doing out here?” she asked.

“Tell me about Richard Patterson.”

“What?”

“Tell me about Patterson.”

“Why?” Her heart accelerated with a sudden thought. “Have you been going over the chemist profiles? Have you found something?” She set the mug down and glanced over his shoulder at his computer. Not the chemist profiles. The document he had open on the screen had her name on it. “What is that?”

“The Intel we gathered on Richard Patterson and you. I had Lanski send it to me.”

She linked her hands in a tight grip. “Have you found something?”

“No.”

Disappointment wrapped around her like a cloak.

“Tell me about Patterson,” Burke repeated.

“You already asked me about Richard. On the day he died. Remember? You have a dossier on him, I’m sure. I don’t know what you think I could tell you that your expert investigators haven’t told you.”

“You knew him. You had a line to him that we couldn’t have. Did he make any new friends recently? Reconnect with an old one? Start seeing a new woman? Change clothing stores, barbers, dentists?”

He’d asked the questions in rapid-fire. Eve felt the shift from lover to agent. She’d thought they were past that. Apparently not, and the realization hurt.

She placed her arms around herself in a tight hug. “I don’t know about any of that. He didn’t talk about those things with me. We didn’t socialize.” She shook her head slowly. “Didn’t spend anytime together out of the lab. We didn’t have a relationship apart from the work.”

“Tell me about Patterson’s work?”

She lifted one shoulder. “He was brilliant. One of the best in the cosmetology business.”

“According to his tax records, Patterson was doing well, but he wasn’t making what one of the best in business should be making.”

Burke was right about that. “Richard probably could have marketed his skill better, but he didn’t have the temperament to do that.” Eve rubbed her brow. “He was difficult to work with. Difficult with clients. I think the reason he took me on as a partner was so I could be the ‘people’ person of our firm. I spent a lot of time smoothing feathers he’d ruffled and putting out his fires.”

“So Patterson had problems playing nice with others.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but I guess you could say that.”

“He had an expensive lifestyle. He spent more than he earned. Did you know about that?”

“I know he liked nice things. I don’t know the specifics.”

“Did you know he was siphoning money from the business? Charging meals, plane tickets, Italian suits to the business account?”

“I knew of some.”

“Only some? He’d made significant withdrawals from your bank funds recently. He was stealing from you. How could you not know that?”

Eve flung her arm out. “I didn’t know it was that bad. Richard and I had gone head to head over his spending in the past. We always worked it out. In the last few months though, I noticed a change in his attitude about his work. He’d never given any project he took on less than his best. It was a point of pride with him. But he’d stopped caring. I thought he was losing interest in the business and was gathering funds to offer to buy him out.”

“Why did you think he was losing interest?”

“He’d stopped coming to work. Wasn’t completing projects. I don’t know what to tell you except what I’ve been telling you all along—I don’t know anything.” She shook her head. “Why did you have my case files sent, John? Why now?”

Burke got to his feet. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were taut with tension. A muscle throbbed in his cheek.

He rubbed his hands down his face. “I’m going to grab a shower then shut down for a few hours.”

“I—”

He was already gone.

* * *

Burke braced his hands against the shower stall and stuck his head beneath the spray. As the hot, pounding water struck him, he asked himself: Had he overlooked something in this investigation? Drawn conclusions about Eve in haste?

If so, it would be a first.

He was good at what he did. Very good. Yet, as he reviewed the information against her now, it no longer fit the way it had. Eve’s guilt no longer seemed apparent.

Richard Patterson had named Eve as his accomplice. That fact was indisputable. Yet there was no reason for him to have involved her. Patterson hadn’t been asked about a partner. Why had he named her at all? He’d implicated her. Why?

Did it matter except as something that Burke could latch onto to build a case in his mind that Patterson had set Eve up for some yet undetermined reason? That Eve was innocent?

Burke pressed his brow to the tile and closed his eyes. Did he want so badly to believe she was innocent that he was grasping at straws? Seeing a set up that wasn’t there . . .

Eve was on the porch when he emerged from the shower. She stood against a post that he suddenly noticed needed a fresh coat of paint. He’d never noticed the post looked dull until Eve was beside it.

She didn’t turn when he joined her outside, but her shoulders tensed and he knew she was aware of him.

“Something is wrong with this case,” he said. “That something is you. You’re wrong.”

She looked at him then. Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears.

“You asked why I had Lanski send the files. Why now?” Burke’s voice thickened. “Because I know you now. I know you couldn’t have had anything to do with Patterson’s formula. Someone is using you as a scapegoat. We’re going to find out who that is.”

Her lips quivered. Tears spilled onto her cheeks.

He closed the distance between them and brought her to him in a crushing embrace.

* * *

In the aftermath of making glorious love, Eve lay with Burke’s arms around her, her head on his shoulder. A light rain had started. The bedroom window was open to the screen and Eve took a deep breath of the rain smell and the scents of earth and bark and wildflowers mingled with it.

“Until that deep breath, I thought you’d fallen asleep.” Burke’s voice came out of the darkness.

“I’m enjoying the rain.”

“Glad to hear it, but I’m getting sprayed,” Burke said with a laugh. He moved his arm from around her. “I’ll close the window.”

“I’ll do it. I want one last breath of rain-scented air.”

She left the warmth of the sheet and Burke’s body. The air had grown chill in the room, but Eve didn’t mind. At the window she inhaled once deeply, then regretfully closed the window.

She returned to the bed. When she pressed up against him, Burke sucked in a breath.

“You’re cold,” he said.

But he brought her close against him. He kissed her softly, tenderly. His hand moved over her at the same unhurried pace as his lips and her body began to respond. She laughed.

“Not the reaction I was going for.” Burke grinned.

“Sorry, it’s not you. Five years with no sex and now I can’t get enough. Amazing.” She laughed again.

Burke drew back. “Five years?”

Eve’s cheeks heated. She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out.” She blew out a deep breath and scrambled for a change of subject. “How about those Red Sox?”

Burke frowned. “You haven’t been divorced for five years.”

Eve felt mortified. “No. Three, actually.”

She averted her eyes from Burke but felt the weight of his stare and his implied question.

It had been so long since she’d spoken of her marriage. So much time had passed. Eve shrugged, though she was far from indifferent about the topic.

“Some couples pull together in a tragedy,” she said. “When Emily died, Neil and I fell apart. We were both dealing with our grief over losing our daughter. Doing it separately. That was more my doing than his. When Emily died, a part of me died too. I lost interest in my life. That included my marriage and my husband. Neil moved out six months after Emily’s death. By then, we’d been living as strangers. I hardly noticed his absence.” Eve focused on the window, on the fat drops trickling down the glass. “Interest in Neil and our marriage weren’t the only things I no longer cared about. Nothing in my life mattered any more. And I was angry at everyone and everything.

“After Emily died, I took several months off work. When I went back, I started making mistakes. One of them compromised an investigation. Word got around that I couldn’t be trusted to do the job anymore. My boss suggested to me that I quietly resign. I was mad at the world at that point and lashing out. I refused to go away quietly. I made an allegation that I was being forced out—harassed—and went to the review board. I was hurting and I wanted to hurt someone else. My boss was a good man and didn’t deserve what I brought down on him, and when it was over, of course, I had nothing to base my allegations on. I caused a scandal and was terminated. I had crashed and burned.”

Burke’s lips brushed her hair. “You pulled yourself out of it.”

“Richard was looking for a partner to develop cosmetics. I had never considered going into that line of work but I realized that I’d had enough of death and working with the dead. I wanted to use my skill to create something for the living. Emily, like most little girls, I guess, had always wanted to wear fragrance like adult women, but the products available for children brought on her breathing problems. The first fragrance I completed was a blend of scents that she would have been able to tolerate. It was a sweet scent, designed for young girls and I named the cologne ‘Emily’. We made it available to the public as a not-for-profit product so that it’s inexpensive and affordable at modest income levels.”

Burke drew back and tipped back her chin so their eyes met. “I think Emily would be very proud of her mom.”

Eve blinked back tears and smiled. Nothing he could have said would have been better than that.

“Tell me about John Burke.”

Burke fingered a strand of her hair. “I’d rather talk about you.”

Eve rested her hands on his chest and gazed up at him. “How long have you worked for the CIA?”

Burke held her gaze for a moment. “Actually,” he said carefully, “I work for a covert division of the CIA called the Shadow Agency.”

“Shadow Agency?”

“Made up of a small team of agents I hand picked.”

“What do you do?”

Burke hesitated then said quietly. “We specialize in chemical weapons terrorism.”

Eve shook her head. “I had no idea chemical weapons had become such a threat.”

“Most people don’t. If we do our job right, they never will.”

“John—”

He caressed her cheek then nuzzled her neck. “Now, enough talk.”

Eve recognized that he would say no more about his work and accepted that. The very name of his agency bespoke of secrecy. When he took her in his arms, she leaned into him. Burke kissed her as his cell phone rang. He drew out the kiss, then removed one arm from around her and retrieved the phone from the nightstand.

He glanced at the screen then announced, “Lanski. Richard Patterson’s autopsy was today. I’ll put Lanski on speaker.” He pressed the button. “Go ahead, Lanski.”

“I have the results on Richard Patterson’s autopsy. Cause of death was the result of heart failure. Doc said Patterson’s heart just gave out. No foul play. It would have happened anywhere.”

“Okay. That’s it then.” Burke closed his phone and faced Eve. “We can now rule out that one of Richard’s associates decided to get rid of him.” His grip on the phone tightened. “Damn. I was hoping his death might give us a lead.”

“We’re no closer to resolving this than we were three days ago,” Eve said.

They lapsed into silence. In the quiet, Eve became aware of the bedside clock, ticking.

Imposter: Chapter Twelve

Eve shifted in Burke’s arms. He kissed her temple and tightened his hold. It was still raining lightly. Night had fallen.

“Use me,” Eve said softly in the darkness.

“What?”

“Use me,” she repeated. “Set me up to lure Richard’s buyer.”

Moonlight coming in through the curtains provided enough light to see by. Burke rose onto an elbow, looming over her. “No.”

“Listen to me, John. There is no other way. We’ve run out of options. You said you believe I’m innocent.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I know you’re innocent.” He no longer had any doubt about that.

“Then use me to prove it. Disclose my location.” Her words came out in a rush. “You believe the buyer wants me out of the picture, set me up. Let him know where he can find me.”

Burke shook his head. “I won’t use you as bait.”

“We have no choice.”

“Yes, we do. I will continue to hunt for the buyer.”

“Time is running out. We can’t stay here forever.”

“You’re right we can’t. My office will issue a statement that Richard Patterson is dead and a bogus statement that you were cleared of all charges. Next we’ll go through the same venues Patterson did and offer the formula for sale. The buyer wants the formula and Patterson’s accomplice wants his portion from the sale. They will both make contact.”

“That could take weeks or months.”

“You’ll be in protective custody—”

“With my life on hold. My plan—”

“Your plan demands that you execute it alone. Without me. The thought of you in danger tears me apart. I won’t put you in danger myself.” He held her face between his palms. “I won’t risk you.”

She reached up and grasped his hand at her cheek. “I’m already at risk. From our own government, I face imprisonment, at best, if Richard’s accomplice is not found. The man has covered himself so well we may never find him.”

Her voice cracked. She closed her eyes. Burke could see her bringing herself back from the edge and his heart lurched.

“I will find him.” Burke’s voice was harsh. “Finding the accomplice is not just a job to me, Eve.” And he was going to have to deal with that.

She opened her eyes. Tears shone in them. She pressed her face against his throat and her arm wound around his waist in a death grip. Burke held her as tightly.

“I won’t risk you,” he repeated.

“I’m already at risk, John. Someone wants me dead. Do you really think a statement from your office clearing me will reassure the accomplice and buyer that I’m no longer a threat? I won’t be safe until they are found.”

She was right. Burke closed his eyes briefly and came to a decision.

Keeping one arm around Eve, he reached on the nightstand for his phone.

“Lanski,” a sleepy voice said after the fourth ring.

“It’s Burke. I need you to set the wheels in motion to smoke out the buyer. Put the word out that Dr. Collins has been cleared of all charges. Send a message through the channels Patterson was using. Mimic his means of making contact. Reveal that Richard Patterson is dead but the formula is available.” Burke’s voice tightened. “And I want you to leak where Dr. Collin’s can be found.” Burke gave Lanski the location of his cabin. “Do this right away, Lanski. We’re running out of time.”

“Got it,” Lanski said. “What about back up? How do you want to play this?”

“No back up. I’ll run this one solo. We can’t risk spooking this guy. We can’t blow this.”

“I’ll get the word out immediately.”

Burke ended the call and placed the phone slowly on the nightstand.

“Now we wait?” Eve asked.

Burke nodded. “Now we wait.”

* * *

They were having breakfast, both moving the food around on their plates, eating little of it, when Eve heard the buzz of a boat motor drawing near. Burke heard it as well. He dropped his fork onto the plate. His chair skidded back and he crossed the room to the window in the living room.

Eve followed him. “What is it?”

“Company.”

Burke swept his arm out, placing her behind him, but she’d taken in the scene outside and glimpsed the new arrival. An aluminum fishing boat was docking beside Burke’s own small vessel. A man was tying a rope to a pole on the dock. Fifties. Salt and pepper hair cropped military short. The man cut the engine and climbed onto the dock.

Burke’s eyes remained narrowed on the newcomer. “Stay here while I greet our guest.”

* * *

Outside, Burke approached the dock and the man who stood hands on hips, eyeing the cabin in the bright sunlight. Burke’s service weapon was at his back, tucked into the waist of his jeans, covered by the loose T-shirt he wore.

“Hello,” Burke called out.

“Hello, there. Sorry to intrude. I didn’t realize I was short on gas when I set out this morning. I don’t have enough to get back. I was hoping you might have some to spare. I’d pay you of course.”

Burke nodded. “I have a spare tank in the shed.”

The man stepped off the dock and extended his hand. “Ted Sanderson.”

Burke clasped his hand. “John Burke.”

The two men fell into step. The ground was damp from the rainfall and a slight breeze carried the scents of dirt and worms. Mud sucked Burke’s shoes.

“Pretty place,” Sanderson said.

“I like it. Are you staying near here?”

“No. Not much out this way. Just your place and one or two others great distances apart. Nothing for rent. I’m all the way on the other side of the lake at Salt Pines Cottages.”

“You have come a distance,” Burke said.

“I didn’t realize just how far. Set out early this morning. Thought I’d take in some fishing. I’m not much of a fisherman. Been a military man all my life and now find myself retired.” Sanderson shrugged. “The wife thought it would be a good idea if I got a hobby. Said I was driving her crazy being under foot all day. I thought I’d give fishing a try.”

“How are you liking it?”

Sanderson scowled. “Not so much. I didn’t have one bite and I ran out of gas.”

Burke smiled at that. He reached the old wooden shed and swung the door open. Sunlight lit the interior and Burke didn’t bother with the bare bulb dangling from the low roof. He bent to retrieve the can of gas he kept under a small work bench, his muscles tense. If Sanderson were going to make a move to take him out, now would be the time. But Sanderson remained outside of the shed, with his back to Burke, seemingly taking in his surroundings. He faced Burke only when Burke left the shed.

Back at Sanderson’s boat, Burke filled the tank. “That should get you back.”

“Appreciate it.”

Sanderson took out his wallet and extracted a twenty. Burke glimpsed a drivers’ license with a name that matched the one Sanderson had given him and a picture of a couple of teenagers flanking a woman about Sanderson’s own age.

Sanderson took in a deep breath. “Nice and quiet here.”

Burke kept his gaze on the other man. “No one around for miles.”

Sanderson handed Burke the twenty then the older man got back into the boat. He untied the rope, yanked the engine cord and the motor roared to life. With a wave, Sanderson backed away from the dock.

Burke watched Sanderson until his boat was a speck on the horizon, then he turned and went back to Eve.

“Well?” She grasped his forearms.

“Appears to be nothing more than a fisherman who ran out of gas.”

But as he relayed that information, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

“Yeah. Lanski,” Burke said an instant later. “I need you to ID an Edward Sanderson.” Burke recited the address on the drivers’ license. “I have a print.” At Eve’s frown, Burke held up Sanderson’s twenty. “I’ll be sending you a scan of it in the next couple minutes.

* * *

“Do you think Sanderson could be the man we’re looking for?” Eve asked.

Only a few minutes had passed since Burke had sent the scan of Sanderson’s print to Lanski. Eve was wound tight, waiting for Lanski to call back with his findings.

“No, I don’t. If he were the one, he came here to get the formula, and to take you out, he would not have left without getting his job done. I was hoping Sanderson would make a move on me in the shed. Try to neutralize me so he could get to you.” Burke blew out a breath rife with frustration. “But he didn’t. I think he’s just what he said.”

Burke’s cell phone rang. “It’s Lanski,” he said. He listened briefly then disconnected. “Sanderson is who he claims. Lanski ran him through our data bases. No red flags.” Burke rubbed the back of his neck. “I need some air. Feel like a walk?”

Eve shook her head. “I’m going to make tea. Want a cup?”

“Too hot for tea.”

Eve went to the kitchen, filled the kettle then set it on the burner. As she lit the flame, her cell phone rang. Her phone was on the counter. She hadn’t had a call since this nightmare began and the ringing startled her.

Eve flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

“Eve!”

It took an instant for the harried voice to register. “Matt?”

“Eve, I know who the accomplice is. Tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you.”

“Matt—”

“Eve, where are you?”

“I’m with Burke. Who is the accomplice, Matt?”

“With Burke? Eve, is he near? Can he hear you?”

“No. Matt—”

“Listen to me, you have to get out of there. I will come and get you. Eve—you have to get away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The accomplice is Burke. Eve, it’s Burke. I know about the bomb at the cottage. I know about the insulin switch. He’s the one who’s trying to kill you.”

Eve had felt euphoria that Matt might have identified the man they were after. “Matt it isn’t Burke.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, love. I wish I were wrong. But he is not the man you think he is. He’s sold out to the highest bidder. He’s made two attempts on your life already. He’s had opportunity and he certainly has motive. Since he hasn’t killed you, he must think there are too many eyes on him at the moment. His people know that you’re under his protection and your death can’t look like his doing. He’s waiting for another chance to take you out when he won’t be implicated and when he thinks the time is right, he will strike. Burke will kill you, Eve. Make no mistake about that.”

Eve shivered at the chill in Matt’s voice and his words.

“You have to get out of there,” Matt went on. “Tell me where you are?”

Matt’s urgency in learning where she was sent alarm bells ringing in her head. Could he be the accomplice? No. Of course not. He was with British Intelligence. One of the good guys, sworn to defend and protect. But how many agents sold out to the other side . . .

Eve willed her voice to be calm, to stick with the plan she’d devised. Except, she didn’t know exactly where she was. She certainly couldn’t ask Matt to hold while she went to ask Burke. She had to improvise.

“I don’t know exactly.” Eve licked her lips “At a cabin in West Virginia. The nearest town is Crowley.”

Matt exhaled a short breath. “I’ll meet you in Crowley.” She heard the click click of computer keys being struck. “There’s an abandoned warehouse on the south side of town. On Little Street. Number Ten. I’ll wait for you there. Come when you can. When it’s safe. Wait until you’re alone before leaving. Don’t let Burke know that you’ve found him out. Don’t let him suspect that you’re leaving him. Bring the formula. We can’t let Burke sell it. Eve, can you hear me?”

Of course he wanted the formula. Any hope she’d had of his innocence vanished. She nodded, then realizing Matt couldn’t hear her, said, “I hear you.”

“I’ll be waiting at the warehouse. Burke is dangerous. Eve, I implore you, don’t delay too long.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Eve ended the call and set the phone down on the counter.

He’s made two attempts on your life already.

When he thinks the time is right . . . Burke will kill you, Eve.

Matt’s words replayed in her mind. John was outside. Through the window in the living room, she could see him chopping wood. He’d removed his shirt. His impressive shoulders and back, well defined with muscle, glistened. The muscles on his arms rippled as he brought the ax he held up for another swipe of the log he’d set on the ground. Could the man who’d held her in passion and in sympathy when she’d cried her eyes out over her daughter mean her harm?

He must have felt her gaze on him because he glanced up from the log and to her. He smiled and winked at her. She could imagine the picture she made. Dressed in only his shirt which fell to her mid-thigh, her hair tousled from their latest lovemaking. Her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes filled with the love she was feeling for him. Oh, God, did she sound like every blind, naive woman, defending the criminal she was so in love with? She exhaled a deep breath. There it was. She’d fallen in love with Burke. Like a sneak attack, her feelings had crept in. The question though remained. Was she being naive? Was she wrong?

How many agents sold out to the other side?

She’d thought that about Matt. But why not John? He was an agent, too . . .

And Matt had told her at the cottage that he wanted the formula to destroy it. Had he asked her to bring it to him for that reason? Or was his request more sinister than that . . .

She linked her hands together in a tight grip. Could she be so wrong about John?

The kettle whistled, startling her.

Eve blinked back tears. No. No. She wasn’t wrong about John. She turned off the burner and went out to him.

“Hi,” he said when she reached him. His gaze became scrutinizing. “You okay?”

“I just got a phone call.”

He stopped in mid-swing.

“It was from Matt Deligne. He told me that he knows who the accomplice is. He says it’s you.”

Burke set the ax down on the ground slowly. He reached for his T-shirt on a tree stump and swiped it across his brow. “Since you’re here calmly telling me about it, I don’t have to ask if you believed him.”

Their gazes locked. “No, you don’t have to ask.”

Burke nodded. “Was that all Deligne had to say?”

Eve shook her head. “He wants me to meet him. He wants to take me someplace safe away from you.”

“I’ll bet he does. He expects to lure you to him.” A muscle throbbed in Burke’s jaw. “So he’s the one. Finally this will be over.” He reached out and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I’m sorry it’s Deligne. I know you considered him a friend.”

Eve nodded, saddened at the realization that Matt was not a friend at all.

“Where does he want you to meet him?” Burke asked.

She told him. She glanced at her watch. “I’ll get dressed and then I’d better be on my way. It’s going to take me a while to find the warehouse.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m meeting him.”

“What about me?”

“You’ll wait here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “I won’t sit on the sidelines like some helpless female.”

Burke tipped up her chin. “You’re not helpless. I respect you as a strong, capable woman. This isn’t about you, Eve. It’s about me. I can’t finish this if I’m worried about you. I need to know you’re safe. Stay here. Wait for me here. Do this for me. Please.”

Eve held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

He reached out and took her in his arms, holding her close.

Fifteen minutes later, Burke emerged from the shower. Eve sat on his bed while he dressed. He strapped on his shoulder holster, shrugged into his jacket and it was done. She followed him to the door. He turned and kissed her.

“Be careful,” she said.

He nodded.

When he was about to turn away, she latched onto the sleeve of his jacket. She was reluctant to let him go. She recalled the day at the cottage Richard had rented when she’d thought Deligne didn’t take a hit well. All a ruse, she realized. Deligne was also an agent, was as well trained as John. She didn’t diminish John’s capabilities, but Deligne would not be an easy take-down and she was afraid for him.

She pulled him close once again.

Burke kissed her hard, then left.

* * *

Burke made good time to the warehouse. He’d considered then dismissed the notion of calling in back up. Deligne would spot an ambush.

Deligne. There would be payback for what he’d put Eve through. Badge be damned. He had to remind himself to keep from killing Deligne.

He wanted to arrive before Deligne and get into position before the other operative realized that he’d been duped and it wasn’t Eve who was meeting him. Eve had not asked where Deligne was calling from. It would have been helpful to know just how far away Deligne actually was and how much time Burke had before Deligne’s arrival. Lanski was monitoring Eve’s cell phone. He would know about Deligne’s call, but it was likely that Deligne’s phone was secure as well and had masked his location. Lanski would not be able to track Deligne’s location either.

Burke pulled into the warehouse parking lot. The old building had suffered a fire years back. The brick was scorched. Jagged glass remained in window frames, blown apart from an explosion that had rocked the building. There were no vehicles on the lot. It appeared that Deligne had not yet arrived.

Burke parked the car then crossed the lot to the building. The warehouse backed onto a wooded area. He took up a position among the trees to wait.

About thirty minutes later, he spotted a compact sedan pulling into the lot. The driver parked then emerged from the vehicle. Deligne.

The operative went to Burke’s vehicle, peered in the windows then turned away from it and looked about the lot.

“Eve!” Deligne called out.

Burke took his weapon in hand and stepped out from the trees. He walked at a leisurely pace to Deligne. The agent’s eyes widened on Burke, then narrowed and Deligne lunged at Burke.

“What have you done to her?” Deligne shouted.

Burke raised his weapon. “Easy.”

Deligne stopped, but just barely, Burke thought. The agent rocked back on his heels. His body was visibly straining to leap. Blood lust raged in Deligne’s eyes. The urge to kill was there.

Deligne’s reaction gave Burke pause and started his heart pounding. Clearly his interest wasn’t in the formula, but in Eve. Something wasn’t right . . .

“What have you done to Eve?” Deligne repeated.

“Eve is fine.”

Deligne scoffed. “I don’t believe you. My one regret is that I’ll be going to my grave without having killed you for what you’ve done to her.”

“Believe what you will, but it’s the truth. Now I have a question for you. Who is your buyer for Patterson’s formula?”

Deligne laughed. “Oh that’s rich, mate. Turning the tables on me? Why don’t you just shoot me and get it over with. Stop playing games. It’s what you came here for.”

Burke frowned. “Something isn’t right here.”

“That’s the first thing we agree on. Give me your gun, Burke, and I’ll make it right. I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

“Don’t you want the formula first?”

Deligne gritted his teeth. “I don’t give a damn about the formula. My country wants it. I’m of a mind to leave it with you. Let whoever finds your body take it. Let you all kill yourselves with it.”

Burke’s gaze narrowed further. “Why did you tell Eve that I’m Patterson’s accomplice?”

Deligne crossed his arms. “Don’t play me for a fool. Since she’s been with you, there have been two attempts on her life. You are the only one she’s been in contact with. It has to be you.”

Burke rubbed his jaw as another thought came to him. “Why did you ask Eve to meet you here? Why didn’t you go to her?”

Deligne gave Burke a look of pure hatred. “I would have gone to her if she could have told me where she was. But she couldn’t do that since you’ve gone to great lengths to keep that information from her. She thinks, no doubt, you have her in protective custody, but you’ve isolated her. She doesn’t know that she’s been abducted. Tell me Burke, how are you going to explain her death to your superiors? You going to say that you killed her when she overpowered you while attempting to escape? A big bloke like you? Do you really think that will wash, mate?”

But Burke had tuned out the latter part of Deligne’s monologue, focused on one thing: Deligne hadn’t known where to find Eve.

“Eve’s location has been disclosed. Haven’t you been monitoring your Intel?”

“Of course I have. There’s been no such information. If there had been, rest assured, mate, I would have come to you, and you’d be dead.”

The sincerity in Deligne’s voice was impossible to mistake.

There was only one reason Deligne didn’t know Eve’s location. Because it hadn’t been disclosed . . .

“Spare me your denials, Burke. The one behind all this could only be you.”

Deligne was wrong about that. Burke now knew who they were looking for and the knowledge hit him like a punch to the gut even as his lips thinned at the betrayal.

Lanski.

Burke had to warn Eve yet he couldn’t reveal that Lanski was their traitor. Lanski was monitoring Eve’s cell phone calls.

He considered telling Eve that Deligne was the man they were after. That it was over. He’d tell her the truth later. Would hearing that lull Lanski into a false sense of security until Burke could take him down, or ease Eve, causing her to let down her guard?

Burke couldn’t take that chance.

His heart drummed as he took out his cell phone and called her. She picked up before the first ring had completed. He exhaled a deep breath, willing himself to be calm, to keep the strain from his voice.

“Eve.”

Deligne’s gaze darted to the cell phone.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Disbelief rang in Deligne’s voice. Burke ignored it and focused on Eve.

“John, are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Eve, it isn’t Deligne.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath. Her disappointment cut him, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted now.

“The man we’re after is still at large. Stay inside. Trust no one. I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Eve are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m on my way. This will all be over soon, Eve, I promise you.” His voice throbbed with conviction.

Burke closed his phone.

Deligne shook his head. “I misjudged you, mate.”

“There’s a lot of that going around today.”

Burke replaced his semi-automatic in his shoulder holster. He had to get to Eve. He turned away from Deligne and ran to the car.

Fifty minutes later he was back at his cabin. For the first time, he cursed the remote location and the distance from it to the nearest town.

The cabin door had a pathetic lock that he never used. Still, it was better than nothing. He’d asked Eve to lock up after him. Apparently she hadn’t, though, because his key turned in the lock without resistance. He would install dead bolts at once.

Inside, he called her name. At a glance he saw that she wasn’t in the living room or kitchen areas. He knocked on the bathroom door.

“Eve?”

No answer. He opened the door. She wasn’t there.

The bedroom door was closed. She hadn’t slept well last night. He knew because she’d been in his arms all night and he’d felt the tension in her. The stress had to be getting to her. If she’d gone to rest for a bit, it was no wonder. He hoped she was in a deep sleep.

He eased the bedroom door open. He’d never gotten around to fixing a hinge that squeaked. He tried to open the door with as little noise as possible. The sound never bothered him before, but at the moment, the squeak sounded as loud as a scream. Damn. The last thing he wanted was to wake Eve.

The room caught first light, but now, in late afternoon, was dim. Even in the low light, though, he could see that Eve was not in the room. The bed was made and Eve wasn’t on it.

“Eve!”

He strode into the room calling her name, a useless endeavor, since he could see she wasn’t in the room.

She was not in the cabin.

He searched outside.

She was not outside either.

Eve was gone.

Imposter: Chapter Thirteen

Eve, it isn’t Deligne. The man we’re after is still at large. This will all be over soon . . . I promise you.

Eve stood clutching her phone long after Burke had ended the call. One thought echoed in her mind: The accomplice was not Matt. They were no closer to ending this, despite Burke’s assurance.

She could not let this go on. She wanted her life back. And she wanted a chance to find out if that life could include Burke. He’d awakened feelings in her she’d thought dead. He’d awakened her. She was so in love with him. She wanted a chance to tell him that.

But she wouldn’t. Would not do that to him. Not while a charge of treason hung over her head and her future was uncertain. When she declared her love, she would be free, free to explore the possibility of a life together, if that was what he wanted too. Until she was free, she would not burden him with her feelings.

The idea of spending the rest of her life in a prison, or sentenced to death was unthinkable. She could not let that happen.

She could no longer stay safe and hidden at the cabin. She needed to rejoin the world, make herself a target.

And do so without Burke’s help. He would certainly not approve. He wanted her tucked away here where he could stand between her and any harm that would come to her.

Aside from his disapproval, she would not make him a party to her flight from justice. To the CIA, she would become a fugitive. She’d been a cop and a good one. It was time she took back her life. Burke had shown her where he kept his spare gun. She would—

Her cell phone rang. The number was unknown. She hoped it was the man they were after, that the plan they’d set into motion had worked. Her stomach fluttered as she answered the call.

“Listen very carefully, Dr. Collins. To do otherwise will cost Agent Burke his life.”

The voice was garbled, spoken in a cold, crisp tone that raised the hair on the back of Eve’s neck.

“Who are you?” Eve’s grip on the phone tightened. “Is he all right?”

“I think you know I’m the one you’ve been wanting to meet.”

Sweat trickled between Eve’s shoulder blades.

“When I’ve finished speaking, you will leave the cabin and go into the woods. Once there, walk briskly. Keep walking. Do not stop. I will meet you. You are to do this as soon as I finish speaking. At this moment, one of my people has a rifle trained on Agent Burke’s head. If you disobey my order, he will be killed. If you try to contact him, if he reaches for his cell phone, his head will explode like a melon. Do you comprehend me?”

“Ye-s.” Eve’s teeth chattered as she responded. “You didn’t answer my question. Is Burke all right? How do I know you aren’t bluffing? That you even know where he is?”

“He’s at a warehouse at Ten Little Road.”

Eve’s insides seemed to quiver as her caller recited the address for Burke’s meeting with Matt Deligne.

“You have ten minutes, Dr. Collins. Keep me waiting and Burke will be killed.”

An instant later, Eve’s phone was silent.

Tears welled in her eyes. They were useless and she forced them back. She wanted to retrieve Burke’s spare gun from the armoire but the man who’d called her was no fool. She would not be able to keep a gun hidden from him. She would have to leave the weapon behind.

She left the cabin. She strode over the rocks and plant life that made up the forest floor. She had to make contact with her caller on time, show him that she’d followed his instructions and make sure that he didn’t harm Burke.

A bird swooped up from a branch. Eve gasped. Her heart was racing and it pounded harder. Her caller had been using a device that garbled his voice. No way for her to identify him. It didn’t matter now. She’d soon be face-to- face with him.

John. John. She picked up her pace. Fear that her caller would make good on his threat hastened her footsteps.

In her urgency, she didn’t see a rock that jutted up from the ground. Her foot caught and she fell forward, onto her hands and knees. She gasped as one palm scraped something that drew blood.

Without a glance at her injury, she pushed back the hair that had fallen across her face like a curtain. When she glanced up, it was into a familiar face.

“Mr. Lanski?”

Eve felt a surge of joy at seeing Lanski’s familiar face that for an instant she didn’t question his presence in the woods behind Burke’s cabin. Then she noticed the semi-automatic weapon he’d trained on her. She shook her head, not wanting to believe what she was seeing about the man standing in front of her.

Lanski laughed. “No doubt you’re confused. I’m quite the actor aren’t I?” He laughed again, clearly proud of himself.

“All along it’s been you?” Eve’s voice came out weak.

“Why do you say it like that?” Lanski’s mirth vanished, replaced by anger. “Don’t you think I’m capable of this? Of outsmarting the mighty Burke?”

Lanski’s sudden mood change sent another burst of fear through Eve.

“No one at the conference tampered with your insulin,” Lanski went on. “I made the switch the day before when Richard died, while Burke was occupied speaking with you. I was Richard’s accomplice. I contacted him about developing the formula. The plan was mine all along.” Lanski puffed out his chest with self-importance. “All was going well until Burke found out about the chemical weapon and that Richard wasn’t working alone. I covered my tracks. I don’t know how Burke found out Richard had an accomplice.” Lanski clenched his fists. “After that, I had to pretend to investigate. I had to protect myself and provide Burke with an accomplice. You were perfect for the role, Dr. Collins. Richard never named you. I set that up. Spoon fed it to Burke.” Lanski sneered. “Once the deal was made, I intended to dispose of Richard, and you. You and Richard were meant to be my scapegoats.”

“You killed Richard?”

“No.” Lanski’s mouth tightened. “It was heart failure, as I said. I wouldn’t have killed him then. I still had use for him. I needed him to deliver the formula and to attend the meeting with the buyer. To answer any questions about the formula. Chemistry isn’t my specialty.” Lanski flushed at the admission. “Richard’s death was inconvenient.”

“And left you without the formula,” Eve said.

“I set up the alternate meeting at the hotel and sent Burke the text message so I could search your cottage.” Lanski smirked. “I also wanted to mess with his head. Show him that he isn’t infallible. That he could be duped. And he fell for it, like a fish on the line. But the formula wasn’t there.” Lanski’s smile slipped. “Burke thought he was so clever. We’ll see if he still thinks so when this is day is done.”

Eve’s breathing quickened. “Is he all right?”

Lanski laughed. “All a bluff. I never had anyone ready to kill Burke. He’s alive. For now. I’d love to go on telling you what fools you and Burke have been, but the thing of it is, we need to leave here now. We have more to do.”

A cold sweat broke out on Eve’s skin. “So many people will die if that formula is used. How can you do this?”

Lanski seized her arm. “Money. A whole lot of money. I promised this formula to people I work for. They’re not the type to accept a shrug and an apology if I don’t deliver. I’ll be strung up by my—shall we say, intimate parts—if I don’t give them what they’re paying for. I don’t plan on allowing that to happen. Come on.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh, but I will. I already have. I’ve been monitoring your phone calls. Another mistake the great Burke made. I overheard him tell you that Agent Deligne is the one you’ve been chasing.” Lanski raised his head, basking in the bright sunlight. “By the time Burke learns of his mistake, it will be too late. All evidence points to you and Patterson. With Patterson now unable to refute his claim and exonerate you, you will take the wrap. You’re guilty in the eyes of my superiors and my orders are to bring you in.” He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “Too bad we won’t be doing that. But, if it matters to you, you will be seeing Burke one more time when he brings me the formula. For the last time.”

Again, fear for Burke asserted itself and Eve shivered. “Burke will have back up. He won’t meet with you alone.”

“He cannot involve the Agency. His superiors would never allow him to use the formula as a bargaining tool. He’s been in the Intelligence game long enough to know that. Oh, no, he’s on his own if he wants to save your life. And he knows what kind of adversary I am, so he won’t doubt when I say I will kill you if he doesn’t deliver. That’s exactly what he will do, Dr. Collins. He will deliver the formula to me.” Lanski’s gaze narrowed. His features pulled taut in anger. He seized her by one shoulder and gave her a shake that knocked her teeth together. “Burke will do exactly that.” Lanski’s voice dripped venom. “Exactly what I tell him to do. He will betray his agency and his country and hand the formula to me. And then he’ll die because of it.”

Imposter: Chapter Fourteen

Eve was gone.

Burke looked about him, moving his head from side to side like a wild man. Had she been taken? That was the only explanation that made sense and his mouth went dry at the prospect of her being in the hands of the man who wanted her dead.

Lanski.

How could he have misjudged his second in command? Trusted him. He was trained to spot a traitor. He knew the signs. He’d missed them and now his lapse could cost Eve her life. His mouth went dry at that thought and left him as weak as a newborn colt.

Burke’s cell phone rang. Caller ID read Eve. His heart thumped. But of course it wasn’t Eve calling but Lanski.

“Hello, Burke.”

“I want to speak with Eve.”

“I’m sure you do. But you’re no longer calling the shots. From now on, you’ll do as I tell you. Whatever I tell you.”

“Okay.” Lanski was riding high on his power. Burke played to his second in command, deliberately making his tone desperate, defeated. “You’re in charge.”

“You’d do well not to forget if you want to keep Eve alive.”

Sweat broke out on Burke’s forehead. “Let me talk with her. Please.”

Lanski laughed. “Oh, I like it when you beg. Ask me again, just like that and I may grant your request.”

“Please,” Burke repeated.

Lanski laughed loud. An instant later, Eve was on the line.

“John—don’t do—” Eve cried out.

“Eve!”

“She’s still breathing. For the moment. You shouldn’t have tried to undermine me, Dr. Collins. I’m going to have to teach you not to do that again.”

Burke’s blood chilled. He needed to change tactics, return Lanski’s focus to him and away from Eve. “Lanski. Still the coward. Still hiding. Come out and face me. If you have the guts.”

“Oh, I’ll face you! Very soon. Make no mistake about that! You have something I want and I intend to get it.”

“The formula.”

“Bingo. You’ll get the lady doc back alive when I get the formula.”

“How do I know you won’t kill her as soon as we end this call?”

“You don’t. But you’ll take that chance. If you don’t, I’ll kill her for sure.”

Burke knew Lanski had him. He tried to calm his racing heart. “Where and when?”

“The warehouse where you met Deligne suits me.”

“If Eve isn’t at the trade or isn’t in good health, I will destroy the formula before your eyes. Your associates won’t take kindly to that. Hear me, Lanski. If you hurt her, I will leave you to your associates and let them mete out their justice on you. Be clear on that.”

“You’re in no position to issue threats, Burke.”

But Burke heard a tremor in Lanski’s voice and knew he’d struck a nerve.

“Two hours,” Lanski said.

Burke’s hand trembled as he closed his phone. If he played this wrong, Eve would die. He shut his eyes tight, battling back fear that threatened to cripple him.

One hour later, he was outside the cabin, getting ready to leave for the meet with Lanski when a boat came into view. As it neared, Burke made out a logo for a marina across the lake that rented boats and, he saw Eve, her beautiful hair blowing in the breeze.

She was alive and standing on her own two feet beside Lanski. Whatever he’d done with her, he hadn’t hurt her badly enough that she couldn’t stand. Burke released a deep breath of relief and wiped the sweat that had been trickling down his neck since Lanski’s phone call.

Eve was wearing a trench coat. Overly large. A man’s coat. As Lanski docked the boat, Burke could see that Eve stood flush against her captor. He felt a rush of fear that shook him, thinking maybe her standing upright beside Lanski was nothing more than a pose—maybe she needed Lanski to prop her up and couldn’t stand unaided. As those thoughts raced through his mind, overpowering all other thoughts and emotions, Lanski stepped out of the boat onto the dock. Eve remained standing, though as Burke could now see, she was slightly bent over at the waist, as if unable to stand erect.

“Eve!”

Her gaze met his through the windshield. She didn’t respond.

“Where is the formula, Burke?”

“Eve!” Burke called out.

“I asked you a question,” Lanski said.

Burke focused on Lanski. “So you did.” He turned to Eve again. “Eve, are you all right?”

“John.”

Her voice quavered.

“Why aren’t you standing upright?”

Lanski said, “She won’t be standing at all if you don’t—”

Burke turned his head slowly and gave Lanski the full force of his gaze. In a lethal whisper he said, “And you won’t be getting what you came here for if you’ve hurt her.”

Lanski’s mouth pinched now. An angry flush stained his cheeks red.

“She can’t stand because I have tied her to the steering wheel. The rope is too short for her to stand fully. She is unhurt, though.”

“I’ll hear it from her,” Burke said. “Eve.”

She nodded.

Reluctantly, he took his gaze from her and returned his attention to Lanski. “So you decided to change the meeting place.”

Lanski nodded.

“You played it down to the wire. Another minute or two and you would have arrived here after I’d already left.”

“Not down to the wire, I timed it perfectly.” Lanski sneered. “Just as this transaction is going to go perfectly. I’ve been patient, allowing you to satisfy yourself as to Dr. Collins’s condition. She’s unharmed as you can see. Oh, you’re probably thinking that since she’s okay, you can come up with a way to have both her and the formula. You underestimated me, again, Burke. She’s fine at the moment. But that could change in an instant.” Lanski reached out and snagged the coat from Eve’s shoulders.

Burke’s breath held. Strapped to her waist was a bomb.

Lanski laughed. “That’s right. You aren’t mistaken. That is a bomb on Dr. Collins.” He held up his hand, displaying a detonator. “Boom!”

Eve cried out and Lanski laughed again.

“Oops,” Lanski said. “Wouldn’t want to set off the bomb by mistake.”

Burke’s fist clenched. He longed to grab Lanski by the throat even as his own throat constricted.

“It’s rigged on a three minute timer, Burke. Surely, you can deactivate a bomb in three minutes.” Lanski snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right you can’t.” Lanski smirked. “I’m the bomb expert.”

“Here’s the formula.” Burke removed Richard Patterson’s pages from his shirt pocket and held them aloft. “Now, give me the detonator.”

Lanski tapped his index finger to his lips and scrunched up his face as if considering Burke’s words. Then, he yelled, “Buzz! No! I won’t be doing that just yet.”

Lanski was beaming, clearly enjoying his power.

“Oh. Oh. My hand is starting to sweat, Burke. If you want to get that bomb deactivated before my finger slips to the switch, move this transfer along.”

“Set the detonator on the ground now and step back from it and we’ll make the trade.”

“To think, after working together for three years, you don’t trust me.” Lanski grinned and shook his head.

“Put the detonator down, Lanski, or the deal is off.”

Lanski took his gun out from beneath his jacket. “Or, I could just kill her now.” Lanski pivoted on his heel and turned to Eve. He aimed the barrel of his gun at her forehead. I’m a crack shot, as you know. If you’d like a demonstration, I can send the first bullet through her ear lobe. Would you like to choose which lobe?”

Burke’s heart pounded. A silence ensued as both men locked stares.

Finally, Lanski said, “I thought not. Now, you will do as I say: Bring me the formula.” Lanski’s eyes went cold. His voice lowered, became menacing. “I warn you, Burke, make a move against me and I’ll blow her into the next life.”

Burke forced himself not to look at Eve, to keep his attention on Lanski as he closed the distance between them. Lanski would not let them leave there alive. Lanski needed them dead to prevent them from blowing the whistle on him. He would not give up the detonator once he had the formula.

Three feet from the other man, he held out the formula. As Lanski reached out to snatch the papers from Burke’s loose grasp, Burke clamped his hand around the hand that held both the gun and the detonator.

Burke raised Lanski’s arm skyward as both men grappled for possession of the weapon.

“I’ll kill you, Burke!” Spittle sprayed from Lanski’s mouth. “I’ll kill you!”

Slowly, Lanski worked the gun back down. Grunting and groaning, he aimed it at Burke’s head. Eve screamed.

As Lanski was about to press the trigger, Burke exerted more pressure, his hand shaking with the effort as he turned the gun away from himself and to Lanski. It was pressed to Lanski’s shoulder when it went off.

Lanski fell in a heap to the ground. Blood oozed from the wound. He was down, but conscious. The detonator was still clutched in his fist. Burke lunged for it. Lanski flicked the switch.

He sneered. “Boom!” He lost consciousness.

Burke was still holding Richard’s formula in his fist. He shoved the pages in his pocket as he vaulted onto the boat. “Eve!”

“The bomb is going to blow! Go! Leave!” Tears filled her eyes. She reached out and frantically pushed him away. “Get off the boat, John! Go now!”

Burke did not respond. He focused on the bomb. The wires connecting the bomb were red, white, and blue. The irony was not lost on him.

The colored wires meant nothing to him. Lanski was right. Burke did not know how to deactivate it.

“John please, ple-ase. Just go!” Her voice broke. “Go . . . ”

He couldn’t deactivate the bomb so he would have to remove it from Eve. He scanned the boat, looking for something he could use to cut the straps securing the bomb to her. A small tool box was stored in a side panel. Burke rummaged through the contents. Fuses. Wrench. Black tape. Wire. A knife. He seized the hilt in a white-knuckle grip. “Hold still, baby.”

He blinked sweat from his eyes and cut the two straps. He dropped the knife, yanked the harness from Eve. Raising his arm high, he flung the bomb into the lake. As he pushed Eve down into the boat’s hull, the bomb struck the water and exploded.

Water spurted like a geyser from the lake, spraying them. Burke picked up the knife, where it lay at his feet, and cut the rope that held her to the steering wheel. Eve fell forward into his arms.

He ran his hands over her, checking her for injury. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” He said the words as much to assure himself as to assure her.

She was trembling, crying. Her teeth were chattering. But she was unhurt. Alive. He pressed Eve against him and wrapped his arms around her. She clutched his neck in a choke hold.

Burke crushed her against him. “I thought I was going to watch you die.” His tone was fierce.

“I thought you were going to die because of me. Why didn’t you get off the boat? Why didn’t you leave?”

He drew back. “Not without you.” He stared into her eyes. “Never without you.”

She held his gaze, her eyes swimming in tears. Her lips quivered. “Never without you,” she repeated.

He framed her face between his palms. “I love you, Eve.”

Her mouth trembled. “I love you.”

He brought his mouth to hers and kissed her hard, molding his mouth to hers. Eve clung to him and kissed him back.

Imposter: Chapter Fifteen

In Eve’s lab in Los Angeles. Mozart played softly on a CD set on a table while beside the CD player a white light winked on and off in a plastic jack-o-lantern.

One month had passed since the day Lanski had strapped a bomb to her, put her in a boat and motored off to meet Burke. She’d thought she was going to die. But she hadn’t. Burke hadn’t let her die. He’d saved her life, risking his own in the process. A shiver coursed through her at the thought of how close they’d both come to losing their lives that day.

After, she’d accompanied two CIA officials to headquarters in Langley, Virginia to give her accounting of events. All charges against her were dropped and she was free to go. She’d left Langley without seeing Burke. She’d asked about him and was told that he was in debriefing.

In the last weeks she’d done a great deal of thinking. No doubt a near death experience would do that to a person and she’d come to some decisions about her life.

Eve took an empty box from the floor and as she set it down, knocked a beaker off the counter. The glass struck the floor and shattered.

Damn.

The lab door opened. That would be her assistant. The boy was a college student majoring in chemistry. He’d proven to have a good nose for blending scents. He was currently working on a blend of jasmine and hyacinth that had him very exited about the outcome. Eve wondered if he were coming to tell her he’d made the fragrance work.

She bent to attend to the mess she’d made with the beaker. Over her shoulder she called out, “Tam, would you mind grabbing the broom on your way in?”

She heard the closet door slide open. Then a man stood over her holding the broom.

Not Tam. It was Burke.

“There were three of them in the closet.” He lifted the broom. “I took a chance.”

Eve’s heart picked up its pace. She stared up at him, not blinking, taking him in after the month-long separation.

He reached down to her, offering his hand. She placed her hand in his and rose slowly to her feet.

Her heart was pounding and emotion clogged her throat. It took a moment for her to be confident that her voice would work. She smiled. “That one will do.” She took the broom from him and set it against the counter.

The instant she did, he drew her into his arms and kissed her as if he’d never let her go. She held on to him, kissing him back with equal urgency.

He drew back slightly. He looked leaner than when she’d last seen him. A little tired. Her heart stirred in sympathy.

She brushed her fingertips across his cheek. “How are you?”

“Missing you.”

He kissed her again.

He stepped back, but not far, keeping his arms around her. “I thought you’d like to know that the plot has been stopped. Lanski, looking to save himself, revealed the name of the buyer for the formula. The buyer is in custody, as are the members of the terrorist cell he was affiliated with.”

Eve closed her eyes briefly in relief. “That is the best news.”

Burke nodded in obvious satisfaction. His cell phone rang and he snatched it out of his pocket quickly. Eve figured he was expecting the call, but when he glanced at the screen, he let the phone continue to ring.

“Dammit, Mallory, where are you?” he said softly.

Mallory. Eve recalled Burke telling her about his sister. She stroked his arm. His muscles were tensed. “John?”

“I’ve left a few messages for Mallory in the last week, but she hasn’t called back. The last time we spoke, she told me she was going undercover. That she was working on something big.” His gaze lowered to the phone he was still holding and held there, then, slowly, he returned the phone to his pocket. He pointed to the two open boxes that were side-by-side on the floor. “What’s all this?”

“I’ve made a decision.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m selling the business.”

“Oh?”

Eve nodded. “I want to do something more with my life.” She swallowed, nervous now. “I’m hoping you’ll support the direction I want to take.”

He pressed her palm to his lips and kissed it. “I love you. Whatever you decide, I’m behind you.”

“I want to join your team.”

Burke went still then said, “My team?”

“Yes.”

“If you want to get back into law enforcement—”

“No.” Eve shook her head. “I want to do what I can—all I can—to stop chemical weapons from getting into the hands of terrorists.”

“Eve.” Burke tightened his grip on her hand. “Baby, what happened with Richard wasn’t your fault. I didn’t see Lanski for what he was.”

“I know I’m not to blame for what Richard did. This isn’t about that. Well,” she shook her head, “not entirely. I can’t say I would have come to this realization if not for Richard’s involvement in this plot. But it’s what I want, John. It feels right.”

She held Burke’s gaze for a long moment, then he nodded.

* * *

The next morning Eve followed Burke into a conference room used by the Shadow Agency, the covert team of operatives specializing in chemical weapons terrorism led by Burke. The Shadow Agency headquarters was in a secure location known to only the handful of people now assembled in this room.

The other men and women glanced up and fell silent as she took a place at the front of the room beside Burke.

“I’d like to introduce Dr. Eve Collins,” Burke said. “Eve has joined our team. Eve, meet Agents Lisa Portland, Dylan Armstrong, and Luke Falco.”

Eve nodded to each agent in turn then took a seat in the remaining unoccupied chair.

Burke reached up and lowered a white board from the ceiling. “Team,” he said. “We have another assignment.”

—The End—

About the Author

Karen Fenech

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR KAREN FENECH writes romantic suspense, short works of suspense and erotic romance. She is the author of the bestselling romantic suspense series, The Protectors. As of this writing, the first four books and one novella in the series are available: Book 1: IMPOSTER; Book 2: SNOWBOUND; Book 3: PURSUED; Book 4: HIDE; Novella: CAUGHT. Karen's novels and short suspense fiction have received critical acclaim. Her novels have been translated into several languages and have been released in audio by her publisher. When Karen's not writing or spending time with her family, she loves to shop, watch movies, and just kick back in a comfortable chair and read. If you enjoyed IMPOSTER and would like to know when Karen Fenech's next novel is released, sign up for her notification-only news here or here: www.karenfenech.com/books. Keep in touch with Karen at:

Website: www.karenfenech.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/KarenFenechsFriends

Twitter: @karenfenech

Also Available at Amazon in The Protectors Series From Karen Fenech:

SNOWBOUND: The Protectors Series – Book Two

PURSUED: The Protectors Series – Book Three

THERE’S A NEW WITCH IN TOWN

by Tawny Weber

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter One

In the grand scheme of life, was slipping Viagra into your husband’s dinner really that bad of a thing?

Mikaela Davenport stared at the promise of sexual satisfaction in her hand and debated for all of thirty seconds. Then, groaning, she heaved a sigh and shoved the little blue pill into the pocket of her jeans. Damn her upbringing and all those rules about non-manipulation and karma.

No matter how much easier it’d be, sneak attacks wouldn’t fix things. Nope, her marriage problems would require actual conversation. Dialogue. Confrontation. She shuddered. She hated confrontation. Almost as much as her husband, Perry, hated conversation.

Miki looked around the kitchen, proof positive of her recent failure to hold her own in discussions with Perry. Streamlined and sleek, it was—according to the most exclusive decorator in Santa Monica—a chef’s dream. Too bad it wasn’t Miki’s dream. The day before she’d had to forcibly restrain herself from splashing marinara across the stark black, white, and chrome décor just to add a little pizzazz.

Ignoring her brewing headache, she focused on the glaze gently bubbling on the stove, its sweet scent melding with the rich aroma of a perfectly baked ham and cheesy potatoes au gratin.

Ha! She tossed the spoon in the stainless-steel sink, the satisfying clang echoing loudly in the cold sterility of the kitchen. At least this was something she was good at. Nobody could ever accuse her of needing Viagra for her cooking.

“What is that revolting smell? Are you offering some helpless animal up for a sacrificial dinner?”

Miki gasped and spun around, her hand pressed against her frantically beating heart.

“God, Ryan. Don’t you ever knock?” She glared at the raven-haired, muscle-bound, wanna-be stud standing in her kitchen doorway. Tall and lean, he epitomized Southern California. But, unlike the rest of the hot studs in Santa Monica, Ryan wasn’t just sexy, sleek, and self-absorbed. He was also a witch.

“At my sister’s house? Why should I?” Ryan sneered, an Elvis-like tweak of the lip Miki knew he’d practiced hours to master.

“Maybe because Perry abhors people just popping into his house whenever they feel the urge.” She winced to hear her husband’s stuffy words coming out of her mouth. It drove Perry crazy that his fancy security gate didn’t work against Miki’s family. Of course, since he was oblivious to the magical blood running through her ‘wacky relatives,’ the man couldn’t know that a top level, voice recognition security gate was pretty ineffective.

Ryan rolled his eyes at her reprimand. The same bottomless black as her own, his were lined with the lushest lashes she’d seen outside a mascara commercial. Appropriate, since he was a total girly boy, despite his horndog appetites. She watched him grab a persimmon from the bowl on the marble countertop. With a suspicious look he rubbed it against the stark-white fabric of his muscle tank, then bit into it with a loud crunch.

“I still can’t believe you hooked up with that stuffed shirt. It’s bad enough he’s a mortal, but he’s a boring one at that. You could have had your pick, Miki. Why him?”

Used to Ryan’s disdain for mortals, Miki ignored the question. Unlike most magical families, the Lansings prided themselves on their pure blood. Miki was the first in her family to marry a mundane. In keeping with magical law, she’d had to choose between abdicating her powers for her marriage, or having her husband-to-be swear acceptance of her magic to her parents. To her family’s disgust, Miki hadn’t even told Perry she was a witch, instead choosing to willingly abdicate.

“So what’s the deal?” Ryan asked around his mouthful of fruit. “What are you doing?”

“As you so pleasantly pointed out,” Miki sniffed, pulling the large roasting pan out of the eye-level oven, “I’m making dinner.”

She pressed her index finger against the meat. Perfect. She drizzled the glaze over the ham and put it back in the oven, then turned to glare up at her little brother. He didn’t have to say a word, she could feel those nasty little judgmental thoughts all the way across the kitchen.

“Give it a rest. Ham is Perry’s favorite meal. Why shouldn’t I make it for him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you don’t like it. Or maybe because it’s stupid for you to be cooking today. You should be doing something special for yourself.”

“This is special. I love to cook, which is why I make my living at it. And I’m making something my husband enjoys. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s your birthday,” Ryan growled. “You shouldn’t be the one cooking the damned food. And if you insist on it, why can’t you at least make your favorites instead of his? Just like this kitchen. You cook in it, but he chooses the décor. Jeez, Mik, this sucks. It’s bad enough that you chose the mortal life. But a mortal, boring, unappreciated life? How was that worth giving up your powers?”

It was worth it because she’d been a mediocre witch at best. And in a family of extraordinaires, it was honestly easier to be different than average. Not that she’d ever confess that fact.

“Perry didn’t choose the décor, the decorator did. This design is in keeping with the architecture and will add to the resale value a lot more than the wild ideas I had.”

Her brother snorted and rolled his eyes again. Miki sighed. After seven years, she should be used to the rift between her husband and her relatives. She felt like she spent most of her time placating or soothing one side or the other, while each used the excuse that they were only thinking of her. Dammit, she was sick of straddling the line. Another thing to add to the conversation agenda this evening—healing the rift.

Right after the stagnant wasteland that was her marriage bed. It had been so long, she couldn’t even shop for produce without getting ideas. She believed in making marriage work, unlike her parents, who thought marriage was as disposable as socks; if one got a hole, they tossed it out and found a new one. Miki wasn’t giving hers up without a fight.

“Did you come by to bitch about what I’m making for dinner, or did you have other complaints to lodge too?” She arched a brow clearly suggesting where she thought he should lodge them.

She was tired of trying to justify her choices, including her marriage. Tired of everyone figuring they knew what was best for Mikaela. For once, she was doing what she wanted. Including cooking a romantic, candlelit dinner for two at home instead of primping for the night out on the town Perry had planned.

“I came to say happy birthday,” Ryan said slowly, his brown eyes drooping like a kicked puppy. Guilt slashed through her, as she knew it was supposed to. Then he held out his hand, and in a sparkle of glittering blue flames, a very flat, foil wrapped gift appeared, just a little worse for wear. With a wiggle of his brows, he held the box, silvery smoke still wafting around the edges, in front of her face and grinned. “And to bring you this.”

Irritation forgotten, Miki eyed the shimmery teal package and bit her lip to hold back her giggle.

“Oh, pressies. What is it?”

“Apologize first.”

“Nope. You were a jerk.”

“A jerk?” Ryan splayed his empty hand to his chest and gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence.

Miki snorted. “You know you were, now give over.”

“Hmm, maybe not. Mom said to make sure you were in a good mood first.”

“Then why’d she send you as the delivery boy?”

“Because I’m her only son. Her pride and joy. Who else would drop everything to be here with you? And she knows I’m the life of any party.”

“So she couldn’t reach Lena?” Miki asked, referring to their older sister.

“Yup.”

With a laugh and a quick hug, he gave up the gift. She made short work of the glittery paper to get to the slightly crushed box.

“Promises?” Miki asked, peering at colorful strips of cardstock in the box.

“Look and see.”

She lifted the two tightly wrapped scrolls. In true Lansing fashion, they were homemade gift certificates, promising a gift of time from one sibling to the other. Miki read the magenta one first. Good for one Birthday Forecast, complete with Tarot Reading, Astrological Report, and Karmic Prediction.

“Awesome. I’ve been begging Lena for a reading for the last couple months but she kept putting me off.”

Anticipation buzzing through her, Miki grinned and snagged the next scroll, this one a rich purple. A complete day of pampering, including skin, hair, and nails.

“Aw, Ryan. Thank you.” She knew how special this was, since Ryan rarely offered pampering type gifts now that he’d made his mark in show biz. His gift was insight, the ability to see to the heart of a person. With that and a little glamour magic, he could bring out beauty in a troll. Nobody made a woman look better than Ryan Lansing. According to his bragging, that was because nobody appreciated women the way he did. Miki figured it had more to do with his fascination with beauty products, since he owned tons of them.

“Now we can fix that mop of yours. A little style, a little oomph. Maybe some deep-tissue massage to bring color back to your winter complexion. I’ll even toss in a makeover, although I hadn’t intended to.”

“Mop?” Miki fingered the silky strands of her jet black hair with a scowl. “I pay good money for this style.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. But does the stylist ever look at you? All that heavy hair hanging down your back is too much for your features. You need something more... kicky, more fun.”

Miki wasn’t about to admit she’d grown it out to please Perry, who thought women looked more elegant and appealing with long hair. She used to be kicky and fun. Wasn’t she anymore?

Had she really become bland?

What a rotten birthday discovery. She swallowed the heaviness in her throat and gave her brother a half-smile.

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on it later this week, huh? Maybe just a trim though, I don’t want to go short.”

Before he could make a snarky comment, she turned back to the box and pulled out the last gift. Not a scroll, but a beautifully bound book. Chart your own path. One hundred ways to be assertive. Miki ground her teeth.

“Mom?”

“Of course. Who else would not only tell you how to be more assertive, but write you your very own book about it?”

“My God. You all act like I’m a doormat or something. I’m not taken advantage of, Ryan. I run my own life and my own business.” Well, she did all the cooking, which was almost like running the business. Pammy was the actual controlling force in their catering company, handling clients, bookings, pricing, and such. But the appeal of Bon Vivant was Miki’s cooking, which said it all. “Look, I don’t have time to sing this verse again. I need to get ready for dinner. Thanks for the great gifts. I’ll call Mom and Lena tomorrow and thank them too.”

Miki didn’t much care if she sounded ungrateful. That’s what he got for acting like such a know-it-all. Even knowing he wouldn’t use it, she pointed to the back door.

“You know, you might want to find other ways to pretend you’re assertive rather than pushing around your loving brother.” With that, Ryan heaved a put-upon sigh, gave her a saucy wink then snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flurry of birthday confetti. Miki rolled her eyes. She didn’t have to pretend, she wanted to yell. Then, with a sigh, she went to fetch the broom.

On the way back to the kitchen, she caught sight of herself in the powder room mirror. She was still tall and lean, her favorite cooking attire of a worn sweatshirt and faded jeans bagged a little at the hips, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Thin was in. She flipped the light on and took a closer look.

Had she lost her fun, sassy side? Was that a part of growing older—her thirtieth birthday epiphany? Was that a part of losing her powers? Maybe the lack of magic was leeching the sparkle from her life? Or had age and responsibility and—yes, all of the compromising—all taken the fun out of her? She peered at her face, smooth and unlined. Her mother had always said her pert nose and pointy chin were perky.

She rubbed a finger over the tiny pinprick scar on her nose where her piercing used to be. How long had it been since she’d taken it out? When she’d first married Perry, he’d been turned on by her audacious style, calling her an avant-garde original. But somehow, in the ensuing years, her hair had grown out in a solid color, her piercing closed and her skirt length had crawled below her knees. All a part of growing up, right?

Miki pursed her full lips and winked at her reflection. She wasn’t boring. A little pale—which made her eyes look like huge, bottomless black spheres—but not boring.

Unlike Ryan or Lena, she couldn’t weave a glamour to make herself look better. But maybe a little primping wouldn’t hurt. After all, if all went according to plan, she was about to assert herself into the best night of her life.

* * *

“You’re being unreasonable,” Perry said mildly two hours later as he stood in the marble entryway and flipped through the mail. His tone wasn’t irritated or short. Just bland. As usual. That had attracted her once. His mellow assuredness. Raised in a mercurial family of drama queens, Miki had fallen fast and hard for the haven Perry’s smooth confidence provided.

Miki eyed him, taking in the expensive, but conservative, gray Hugo Boss suit. The pricey, but conservative, cut of his just-this-side-of-brown hair. And, she sighed, if he actually looked at her, his eyes—the pale blue of the cool noon sky—would be calm.

Which came in handy for an investment banker, but in a husband, calm got old. Miki was ready for a little wild, a little crazy. But, heck, she’d settle for impulsive and quirky.

“It’s my birthday, Perry. I’d like to enjoy a romantic evening at home, just the two of us, instead of a crowded night of see-and-be-seen schmoozing.” Although she had dressed to be seen by her husband. Purple velvet draped over curves that were a credit to the science of lingerie, the rich fabric accentuating her breasts and giving the illusion of hips. And under her dress? A come-do-me invitation of lace and ribbon.

“Fine. Okay, you want to blow off prime reservations, that’s fine. It’s probably better this way anyhow.”

Miki had no clue why the hair on the back of her neck prickled. After all, precognition was Lena’s forte, not hers. She ignored the shivery warning, or told herself she was, and sipped her wine. The bittersweet flavor coated her tongue and kept her from making a sassy retort. Perry always said her smart-ass mouth put him out of the mood. Which might account for her dismal sex life. But she had a plan, a focus for the evening. Dammit, she was getting laid tonight. So she folded her lips together and plastered a pleasant look on her face.

“It is better. We hardly spend time alone anymore. I can’t think of anything I’d like more for my birthday than to just talk. To reconnect and...” What? Discuss the myriad of problems in their marriage? No, not problems—issues. Issues. “Talk. Just spend the evening talking.”

He turned to her then with those pale blue eyes she’d fallen in love with and smiled. A raised brow was his only comment on her appearance. Miki figured she’d get two brows raised when he saw her lingerie. Maybe they should start with dessert.

“Yes, you’re right. We do need to talk,” Perry agreed. He waved his hand for her to precede him down the hall. “Have you had time to look for that Hermes scarf for Mrs. Etherington?”

“Not yet.” Miki walked ahead, putting a little extra swing in her hips.

“I’d think you’d be a little more supportive of my career, Mikaela.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, barely biting back the suggestion that he quit whining. “You know I support your career. I’ll find the perfect scarf, don’t worry.”

“It has to be vintage, that exact design she was talking about at the party last month,” he reminded her. Perry had a habit of glomming onto the smallest comment from his bosses or their wives. He’d taken up golf, sky diving, and bonsai design all in an effort to brown nose his way up the corporate ladder.

Miki rolled her eyes, safe enough since her back was to him. He was being ridiculous. She’d taken out a loan a few months before against her share of Bon Vivant to support his career. Even if she didn’t agree with his plan to buy his way into partnership, she’d kept her mouth shut and signed the loan papers.

If that wasn’t support, she didn’t know what was.

Miki entered the dining room, pleased with the ambiance she’d created. Like the rest of the house, the dining room was tastefully—and expensively—decorated in a neutral palette of tan, brown, and ecru. She’d wanted shades of blue in here, but the decorator and Perry had pointed out the practicality of the neutral tones. The long table, made for entertaining, was a pale blonde wood and the chairs upholstered in cream silk. Dozens of flaming candles—red to inspire passion—filled the space.

“I can’t believe you haven’t had time to find that yet,” Perry muttered as he seated himself at the head of the table. Miki set the bottle of chilled wine next to his glass, and waited for him to say something about the tablescape, but he just shook out his napkin and spread it over his lap. “Her birthday is next week. You shouldn’t have let it slide this long, Mikaela.”

“It’s my birthday right now. I hope you put as much thought into my gift as you did your boss’s wife’s,” she teased.

Perry glowered without comment. Once upon a time, he’d have laughed. In the right mood, he’d have made a naughty joke and kissed her. Back in the good ol’ days, before he’d heeded the lure of the ladder of success.

She hid her grimace, trying not to give in and plummet into misery like her ego wanted.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him in an attempt to smooth things over. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’ll find it next week.”

“Don’t bother,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

Miki’s breath caught and her stomach clenched. Himself? Perry didn’t do anything himself, especially not shopping. The hair on the back of her neck rose again. Refusing to heed it, assuring herself it was just a manipulative move on his part, Miki smoothed her hand over her neck and shrugged.

“You’re a valued employee,” she pointed out, figuring a little buttering up before dinner couldn’t hurt. “They appreciate you already. You don’t have to prove anything, Perry.”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s not just about doing the job these days. I need the right attention from the bosses. By staying on the good side of the Etheringtons and the Wallaces, I’m doing more for my career than sixty-hour weeks and chasing accounts. Everyone knows Betsy Etherington is the force behind that company. If I get on her good side, I’ll be there. Inner circle.”

He was right. She’d heard the ‘inner circle’ plan a thousand times. So Miki kept silent and returned his satisfied smile with a bland one of her own. He nodded when she, having given up on his offering to pour the wine himself, held up the bottle.

Seduction time, just like when they’d first married. Miki took a sip of her own wine and gracefully slid into her chair as anticipation simmered. This would be a night to remember.

A half-hour into the meal and she had to fight back a yawn. No matter what subject she’d introduced, Perry had brought the conversation around to business.

“Look,” she interrupted, “I’m sure the Johnson account is going to be quite a coup, but can we talk about something else for a while?”

He gave a shrug and sipped his wine.

“I suppose there is something important we need to discuss.”

Miki’s nerves shifted, her stomach dropping a little. From the somber look in his eyes, he was actually ready for a serious conversation.

“Like our marriage?” she ventured hesitantly.

“Exactly.”

Relief intense enough to bring tears to her eyes poured through her. He was hurting, just like she was. He wanted to fix things, too. Her smile was big enough to make her earrings jiggle.

“Perry, I know we’re having some problems. But, I’d like to fix our marriage,” she said softly, hope filling her words, shining in her eyes.

This was all they needed, a little quiet time, some honest discussion. It proved how wrong her mother was in her talk of doom and gloom. Just because she’d never actually seen a successful marriage didn’t mean Miki couldn’t have one.

“Fix it? I think the best thing to do is end it,” Perry said bluntly before he scooped up another forkful of potatoes.

She blinked. He’d said the words in the same way he’d suggest a restaurant.

“I’m sorry?” She must have misheard him.

“Mikaela, I feel it’s best that we get a divorce.”

“What?” Everything sounded fuzzy. Miki blinked a couple times, trying to clear the haze from her vision.

“I thought I was perfectly clear. I’m divorcing you.”

Just like that, the haze cleared. All it took was a blast of anger to wash it away.

“What the hell do you mean you’re divorcing me?” she shrieked.

She flexed her hand around her dinner knife, wondering how many times she’d have to stab it into his heart before he showed an actual response. Did he even have a heart anymore? Or had it shriveled away? The friggin’ stuffed shirt just sat there, all white-bread bland, staring at her.

“For God’s sake, calm down,” he said in an aggrieved tone. “I’m actually glad we didn’t go to a restaurant. I’d thought you’d be less inclined to overreact if we were in public, but I forgot how dramatic you can be. Blood tells, of course.”

The man had no clue, no freaking clue, just what her blood could do. Miki saw red, and wished it were blood. His blood. Rage, mixed with something else, something elemental she hadn’t felt since she’d taken her marriage vows, simmered and churned in her gut.

“You bastard! How dare you sit there all smug and supercilious. First you inform me—not ask, not discuss—but tell me we’re divorcing. Then you follow that up by slamming my family and claim I’m overreacting.”

Perry dabbed his white linen napkin to the corners of his mouth, draped it over his clean plate—damn the man, he’d even had seconds of her ham—and heaved a pitying sigh.

Miki damned her decision to skip the Viagra garnish. She’d give anything to have him sitting there with a painful woody so she could taunt, torture, then ignore him. Hell, she’d have even called up some pay-per-view porn just to add to his torment.

“Are you really surprised?” Perry asked in that same damned calm tone. “This simply isn’t working between us. I’ve seen it coming for some time now. I’d have thought you had too.”

“If you saw problems, why didn’t you say something?” Miki ignored the fact that she hadn’t said anything either. She’d planned to tonight. “You don’t walk away from a marriage just because of a few minor problems. You discuss things, you work on them. You don’t sit down to a dinner your spouse spent hours preparing and announce the marriage is over.”

Miki eyed the man she’d married, the man she’d planned to spend her life with—despite his many and varied faults and failings—and realized her marriage was finished. From the stiff set of his jaw to his distant gaze, he’d made up his mind. No matter what they resolved tonight, in his eyes, their emotional commitment was over.

A chime rang, the sound of metal chains breaking apart and dropping in a loud cacophony, signaling freedom. From the oblivious look on his face, Perry hadn’t heard a damned thing. But Miki had, and she knew perfectly well what it meant. Now that the vow had been broken—even if only by intent—the powers she’d abdicated for her marriage were hers again. Why did that make her want to cry as much as Perry’s cold news?

“We are simply unsuited,” he informed her. “I do regret it took seven years to come to the realization, but why waste any more of our time by attempting to fix something that just doesn’t, well...fit.”

Miki bit her bottom lip as hard as she could to keep the tears at bay. No crying, she refused to give in to drama. Instead, she ignored the nausea clogging her throat and lifted her chin to give it one last effort.

“We owe it to those seven years to try and fix things. We fit once, and we can again if we want to.”

“Mikaela, please. As a man rapidly climbing the corporate and social ladder, I need someone who can handle the spotlight. Tonight is a perfect example of a lost opportunity. We could be at one of the classiest restaurants in Santa Monica, making contacts and forwarding our careers. Instead, you insist on quaintly staying home for dinner. Granted, you are more suited for the background than the spotlight, but you never even tried to put in a true effort.”

The powers, the magic, gone for so long, boiled like an angry volcano, bubbling and churning inside her. She fought to keep control of the unfamiliar energy while her mind latched on to his statement.

“You need someone? You say that as if you have a specific someone in mind.” Like water slipping through her fingers, Miki lost control of the magic surging through her. The room shook, a feeling anyone living in California was familiar with. Perry grabbed the table with both hands.

“Earthquake? But...” He stared, confusion clear in his gaze, as the overhead light stayed steady. For a solid thirty seconds, tremors danced through the table, shaking the crystal and china, bouncing silver off the pristine tablecloth and onto the carpeted floor.

Calling up her rusty skills, Miki struggled to harness the energy moving through her like a wildfire. Unused to such an unleashed level of power, her head started to spin and she swore she was going to lose her dinner. If she did, she’d make sure to aim for Perry’s lap. After a few seconds, when she was sure she had control of her stomach, if not the surging magic, she asked, “Are you seeing someone, Perry? Do you have something going on the side?”

“Mikaela,” Perry said, brows furrowed as he eyed the now still table, “let’s not do this. Don’t try and shift the responsibility or blame for our problems onto an outside source.”

How could he sound so cold? So distant? This was their marriage. Till death do they part. And he was shrugging it off like a bad investment.

Miki tried to catch her breath and wondered when the hurt would come. Anger, shock, she had those in spades. She pulled them around her like armor, wrapping herself in a cloak of cynical bitterness. At least she had plenty of divorce experience, seeing as her mother had knocked back a half-dozen marriages. Which was why Miki had vowed her marriage would last forever. It didn’t look like she was getting a choice. Fortunately, she knew how and where to hit for the biggest impact. Like a metaphorical kick to the groin, she aimed low and dirty.

“Tell you what, Perry. You want a divorce, you’ve got it,” Miki spat. She pressed her lips together for a brief moment to gather her control, even as hot, bitter tears welled in her eyes. Then she offered her fiercest, screw you glare through the sheen. “But when my lawyer—and believe me, he’ll be the hungriest shark in Southern California—when he nails your ass for every penny you’ve got, just keep in mind, you asked for it. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to afford designer socks, let alone dinner out to see and be seen unless you’re nibbling take-out and staring through the plate glass window.”

Perry gave her his bland, pitying look that had become the trademark of their marriage. That, combined with his smug can’t-touch-me sneer, sent Miki over the edge.

She ground her teeth together, and focused on the still churning magical energy. Drawing it in to calm her, she spoke through her teeth, “If it’s an ending you want, then ended we’ll be. Appearances are all you ever did see. You wouldn’t listen or give us a chance. Now I curse you to waste that useless joke in your pants. Only in public will it ever again work, that’s what you deserve for being a jerk.”

It was a lousy rhyme, but it did the trick. Miki put her dramatic genes to good use and shoved away from the table so hard the silver jangled against the china and her half-empty glass of wine spilled, like blood, over the white linen. Two narrow tapers toppled together, froze for a brief moment like a bright red X, then hit the table. Melted wax splattered, rapidly followed by a lick of flames dancing directly toward where Perry sat watching in horror.

She smirked through her tears as he jumped to right the candles, then slapped his napkin at the fire to put it out. Smoke and the acrid scent of burnt fabric filled the air.

Miki took one last look at the mess that so perfectly summed up her marriage, then spun on her heel and stalked to the door. This had turned out to be the worst night of her life.

Turning thirty sucked.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Two

“Broke? That’s not possible.” Miki shook her head at her lawyer, sure there was a mistake. “We can’t... I mean, I can’t be broke. Perry and I had plenty of money. Checking, savings, investments. His business investments alone are worth plenty.”

“Mrs. Davenport—”

“Lansing,” Miki interrupted. For better or worse, she was a Lansing again. “I’m returning to my maiden name. Lansing.”

“Ms. Lansing,” her lawyer corrected from behind his ocean-sized desk, offering a conciliatory, calm-the-crazy-lady smile. “I’m sorry, but according to your husband’s attorney, a series of bad business deals have wiped out his capital. All that’s left is the house the two of you shared, and a piece of rental property out of state.”

Miki sat in the plush, fancy law office and stared blankly at the biggest shark in Southern California. They couldn’t be broke. It didn’t make sense. Oh, sure, she’d always let Perry handle the finances, but she signed the tax forms, and she did look at the bank statements occasionally. They had money.

A lot of money.

“There’s a mistake, Mr. Doyle. There has to be. I’m not walking away from this marriage with nothing.”

Miki wanted to congratulate herself for sounding so determined, so assured. She was actually grateful for some emotion, any reaction other than the painful, blank numbness she’d felt for the last month. She’d even welcome back the infuriated anger that had fueled her that first week after Perry’s divorce proclamation.

But that anger was a sweet memory after the blow she’d taken when she’d met with her business partner the day after Perry’s bombshell. Expecting sympathy and support, she’d discovered instead that Pammy had a secret lover. Miki’s husband, to be exact. Shift blame, her ass. Apparently, Perry and Pammy—sounded like a dancing poodle act—were in love.

And since Miki had borrowed against her half of the business, Pammy felt, of course, it’d be best if Miki quietly stepped out of the picture. After all, chefs specializing in French cuisine weren’t that hard to find in Southern California.

That betrayal had been the last straw. Overwhelmed by the pain, sadness, and all of the rest of the negative emotion brigade marching through her, Miki hadn’t been able to deal with the resurgence of her magic, too. At first, she’d welcomed the power with open arms. She’d lain awake her birthday night, hugging the magic close, surprised at how complete it made her feel. But she’d gotten up the next morning, thinking to take comfort in using her powers again, only to find they’d gone rabid on her.

She’d attempted to turn on the shower with magic, but instead the stereo had blared. Her attempt at conjuring up breakfast had required a mop and a second shower. At first, she’d blamed it on lack of use, figuring she’d get better after a little practice. But every time she got upset, angry, or Perry’s name was mentioned, she lost all control and crazy things happened.

So she’d tried to shut it down. She’d lived without magic for seven years, it should have been easy to cut it out again. But, apparently, she didn’t even have enough control to do that. So she’d hidden away, lived on caffeine and See’s chocolates. According to Lena, she’d become a certified hermit. Miki didn’t care. She couldn’t deal with the betrayals of her marriage, her friendship, and her magic all at the same time.

“Look, Mrs.-” at Miki’s squint-eyed look, he corrected, “Ms. Lansing, I agree with you. There is no way the money is gone, that you’re broke. This is classic duplicitous machinations. I’ve seen it before and, believe me, I’m not planning to let him get away with it. He’s been slowly siphoning the money, probably since he started the affair with your partner. I’ll find it, I promise you.”

Miki’s gut clenched at his mention of the affair. She wanted to throw up. Her fingers clenched in her lap and she wished desperately for a double mochachino latte.

With a shimmer of silver sparks, a canvas bag of what looked like coffee beans appeared behind Doyle’s chair. Miki winced and bit her lip. Not again. She focused, tensing as she pulled in energy, and tried to will the coffee beans away.

They refused to budge.

“In the meantime,” Doyle continued, oblivious, “I recommend moving forward with the divorce. I’ll freeze all assets and start taking steps to track down the money. We can schedule a meeting to discuss the proposed settlement. I’ll seize the house, and given the circumstances behind the dissolution of your company, I’ll move to seize those assets too. As for this rental property in...”

While Doyle shuffled papers, Miki gave up on zapping away the coffee and stared at the shiny surface of his bald head. She wished it were a crystal ball. Wished that, once he finished settling the end of life-as-she-knew-it, he’d tell her what she was supposed to do next. Who she was supposed to be.

Then, realizing her thought, panic raced through Miki like a zap of electricity. She cringed, quickly recanting her crystal ball wish. She stared, breath caught in her throat, at the top of his head. Three seconds later, when the surface hadn’t turned to crystal, she released her breath and sank back in her chair. Tension poured from her body like water.

Holy cow, she was a mess. Wishes were off limits for the next little while. As, clearly, was hope, dreams, and joy.

“Ah, here it is. Rental property in Rossdale, Idaho. House. Five acre lot. Your husband had been renting it out, but it’s currently vacant. Paperwork shows it’s been on the market for a while, but no offers. While we can ask for this, I’m going to recommend we use it as a bartering tool for the house here in Santa Monica. Toss this into the negotiations as bait while we work to keep the California property.”

Rossdale, Idaho. Miki struggled to place the state on her mental map. Idaho. North, maybe? She shrugged. It didn’t really matter. She gave the canvas bag one last look and flicked her fingers. This time, to her relief, the bag disappeared.

“Do whatever you need to, Mr. Doyle,” she instructed with a sigh. Rising from the teakwood chair, she brushed her hands over the smooth suede of her knee-length skirt and winced at the bite of the waistband against her flesh. It was a little snugger than the last time she’d worn it, thanks to See’s.

“Let’s just get this joke of a divorce over with. And, please, make sure I’m the one laughing in the end.”

* * *

“Men are pigs, Mik, it’s about time you learned that.”

“Oh, c’mon, Teri. Not all men are pigs. Just a chosen few.” Lena, Miki’s older sister, pointed her chocolate laden spoon at Miki. “Perry, though, is the ultimate swine.”

“No, I think all men are pigs. Some just hide it better than others, but the inclination is inbred,” argued Teri. She was Lena’s neighbor and one of the sisters’ oldest friends. The lush real estate agent was wrapped in a form-fitting designer suit, having come straight from showing a property. “But yeah, Perry, he’s pork through and through.”

Miki didn’t reply, just scooped up another spoonful of tiramisu and let the coffee-flavored dessert melt on her tongue. Karma Café was her favorite place. A combination bakery and lunch café, the Karmanski women offered delicious food and a little magic on the side. Tarot readings, astrology, and for those in the know, an edible spell or two.

She tried to ignore the women across from her. It wasn’t that she didn’t agree with them. Perry was a pig. But just thinking about him tended to send appliances flying across the room.

Miki eyed her dessert companions. Lena, the ultimate gypsy in her filmy teal dress with a matching headscarf woven through her waist-length ebony curls, sat eating chocolate soy pudding. Teri, with her short spiky red hair, savored a turtle brownie sundae. One of the few mortals to know the family’s secret, she was Lena’s complete opposite in almost every way. Except their love of chocolate and their equally mouthy opinions.

Both of which they happily shared with Miki the first Wednesday of each month. Lucky her.

“So what’s the word, Miki?” Teri asked. “Is your hot shot lawyer making pork chop-suey?”

“I don’t know,” Miki said with a sigh. “The divorce is final in a few months, but Doyle is dragging out the settlement while he tries to figure out where Perry squirreled away all the money.”

“Why don’t you just, you know,” Teri gave a wiggle of her fingers, “zap him? Do a spell or slip him a potion? Something to get the dirt on where he stashed the dough.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Miki and Lena said in unison.

“Well, it should,” Teri said with a sniff.

“I’ve told you before, magic isn’t like those shows on TV or the movies,” Lena said with a frown. She glanced at her almost-empty bowl and with a wink, it was filled again with rich and creamy soy pudding. She scooped up another spoonful. But she also pulled a five out of her purse and waved it in the air, to indicate she’d be paying for her treat.

“It always looks like it when you do it.”

“True. But I’m gifted.” Miki would have rolled her eyes at her sister’s words, except it wasn’t ego talking—it was simple fact. Lena continued, “It’s actually a lot of work to harness the energy, to make things happen. And once you do, there are so many rules on the magic, it’s often easier to just do whatever you want the mundane way.”

“You always say that, but I still don’t get it. Who’s gonna care if you slip a cheating pig a dose of truth potion? It’s not like you guys have magic cops policing your activities or anything.”

“Karma,” Lena answered. “Magic is a positive source of energy, pure and powerful. The Universe won’t allow it to be used for negativity. Oh, sure, if you’re strong enough you can get around that. But it takes a talented witch to ignore the rules and work negative manipulation.”

“Karma? Like what, do good magic and good stuff happens to you. Do bad and you get bad stuff? Is it really that simple?” When the sisters nodded, Teri wrinkled her nose. “But he’s the bad guy here, all you’re trying to do is find out where your money is.”

“But if Miki tried to find out with magic, she’d be manipulating his free will. That’s a negative,” Lena explained.

Teri raised her brows at Miki, who offered a grimace and a nod. “Like Lena says, it’s not worth the backslap of energy for me to try to manipulate Perry. Even if I was strong enough, he’s actually somewhat protected by our marriage vows.”

“So what’s that mean for you?”

“It means I have to leave it up to my lawyer to figure out what game Perry’s playing and beat him at it.” Miki looked around the quirky café, wishing for once that magic—even the magic of chocolate—was hers to command. But magic, like chocolate’s effect on her hips, was not doing so great. So she shrugged. “It also means this will probably be my last Wednesday lunch until Doyle gets a lead on what Perry did with all our money.”

“Perry is a pig,” Lena said around her spoon.

“Perry is a swine,” Teri agreed.

“Perry screwed me over,” Miki admitted. She’d accepted the betrayal, had moved past hurt, and now just felt stupid. And pissed. She scooped up another creamy bite of tiramisu. “Bottom line, the most I can get is the house, maybe the furnishings. That’s it. And since I’ve lost my business, I can’t afford the upkeep of that ugly monstrosity.”

“To say nothing of the double-mortgage,” Lena reminded her.

“Please, say nothing about that. I can’t even find a decent job since Pammy’s been bad mouthing me left and right.”

“Why don’t you sell it then?” Lena asked.

“She’d lose her ass,” Teri pointed out. “That place isn’t worth the money Perry the Pig borrowed to redecorate. I wish you’d listened to me when I told you that, Miki.”

“I listened,” Miki mumbled around a bite of cake. She just hadn’t been able to make Perry listen to her.

Miki stabbed her fork through a ladyfinger. How ironic. Back when this had exploded on her birthday, all she’d wanted was to get laid. Well, she’d gotten screwed all right. Royally. And unlike sex with Perry, this was the screwing that just kept on giving.

A distinctive, high-pitched giggle rose above the restaurant noise and sent the tiny hairs on the back of Miki’s neck into spasms while her stomach cringed. A tremor shook the restaurant and Teri grabbed the flower vase on their table just before it could launch itself across the room.

Anja, one of the café owners, gave a wide-eyed look around, as if trying to pinpoint the source of energy. Her eyes met Miki’s and she raised a warning brow.

Quick as a flash, Lena grabbed Miki’s hand in hers. Like a heavy blanket, her energy covered Miki’s with calm serenity. Miki closed her eyes and drew it in, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay.

Not again. Miki looked toward the door and met the gloating gaze of the swine himself as he helped his ladylove, the ever giggly and quite gregarious Pammy, remove her raincoat.

Bland as ever in his unassumingly expensive black suit, Perry watched Miki closely as he ran his hand down Pammy’s back. The petite blonde fluttered at him like she was a butterfly and he was hoarding the only pollen in the garden, but unlike Perry, she didn’t seem aware that Miki was there.

If she had been, she’d blush, stick out her bottom lip, and come over to stutter out one of her trademarked passive-aggressive apologies.

Miki should know. On the few occasions she’d gone out, she’d seen the couple here, there, everywhere. It was the same each time. Santa Monica couldn’t stand too many more of these coincidences. She watched her soon-to-be ex-husband escort her already-ex-business partner to a corner table.

“Damn it, I don’t even get custody of my favorite restaurant. The snake is everywhere,” Miki growled.

“Pig,” Teri corrected. “And those are the breaks, kid. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s a big town. When you’re trying to avoid someone, I promise you’ll see them three times a week. Especially when you move in the same circles.”

“Maybe it’s time to take a break,” Lena suggested.

“Break?” She’d already had the breakup of her marriage and business partnership. With her magic going wild, she was breaking china and crystal left and right. Hadn’t she had enough breaks already?

“You know, to get away from all this crap. A vacation. A chance to relax and regroup in a porcine-free zone.”

“Right. I can’t afford to pay the upcoming property tax bill, and you think I should take a vacation?”

Miki rolled her eyes when Lena’s bottom lip quivered and her eyes got that same guilt-inducing pitiful look Ryan always tried for, but never quite pulled off.

“Knock it off, Lena. You know I’m not really in the position to go relax.” Why did Lena always turn the slightest imagined offense into a freaking miserable pout-fest? Miserable, that was, for whomever she was manipulating.

“I was just making a suggestion, Mikaela. I think a week in Mexico, or even San Diego, would do you good.” Oh, ouch. Full name and pitiful flutter of the lashes.

“I appreciate the thought, but it just isn’t practical.”

“So my thinking is impractical?” Lena’s voice dropped to a growl.

Miki raised a brow and cast her gaze over her sister. It was a dismal, rainy March day and Lena was wearing a sundress and strappy sandals. Miki would bet her copper-bottomed sauté pan the woman didn’t have a coat or an umbrella.

“Yeah. I’d say your thinking—among other things—could be termed impractical. I can barely afford this dessert, Lena. Catch a clue, huh?”

Before Lena could blast her, Teri leaned between them and clanked her spoon on her wine glass. “Ladies, please. No point in putting on a show here.” She cast a meaningful glance at Miki, then over at the corner where Perry sat, nibbling Pammy’s ear between sips of coffee. “Especially for such a gloating audience.”

Miki pressed her lips together and clamped her eyes shut against the rush of tears. God, she couldn’t even have a slap-fight with her sister without that damned pig ruining everything.

“Now,” Teri continued in her best uptight tone, the one that always made Miki smirk since it was such a contrast to her sexy persona, “I think Lena has a point.”

Miki opened her eyes to stare at the usually sane woman. Lena licked chocolate off her spoon, her eyes triumphant.

“Teri—”

“Wait, Miki. I don’t mean about taking a vacation. That’s just irresponsible.”

Lena dropped her spoon in her dish with a clanking clatter and glared at Teri. Miki smirked again.

“I mean you’d do well to get away. Tell me something, how often have you seen Perry this last week? This last month?”

Miki quit simpering at her sister long enough to think about that. She twisted her lips. “A dozen or so times this last month. Not including the lawyer’s office. Every freaking restaurant I go to, every event, there he is.”

“He’s messing with you,” Lena snarled. Snit forgotten, she dug her nails into the table and leaned forward to hiss, “He knows your habits, your favorite places. He’s deliberately showing up wherever you are.”

“Oh please. The man doesn’t care enough to stay married to me. Why would he bother stalking me?”

“He might not care enough to make you happy, but that self-important swine obviously gives a good damn about making you unhappy.”

Even as she shook her head at her sister, Miki peeked over at the corner where Perry and Pammy were canoodling in a disgusting PDA. The last two years, she’d wondered if the man even had a sex-drive and now he was feeling Pammy up over coffee. Pig.

“Lena’s right, Mik. He’s playing you. He’s trying to shake you up, keep you miserable. He’s truly bacon-worthy.”

“Revenge. This cannot go unavenged, Miki. You have to show that boar he can’t screw over a Lansing and get away with it.” Lena was practically frothing at the mouth now.

“I don’t know...”

“You said you couldn’t do any kind of negative magic,” Teri reminded Lena.

“I’m not talking about magic. She can get revenge some other way. It’s just a matter of finding the right plan.”

“I don’t think...”

“Don’t you want to pay him back? Screw him over the way he did you?”

“Lena, I had more control of my powers at five than I do now. I try to create a spark of light and I start an electrical fire. I’m in debt up to my ever-widening ass and out of work. Everything is falling apart and I have no clue how to stop this downward spiral, let alone fix it. The last thing on my mind right now is revenge.”

Even if she wanted revenge, how the hell could she get it when Perry held all the cards? Or in this case, Pammy’s breast. Out of the corner of her eye, Miki glared at the happy couple ruining her last favorite restaurant. Didn’t the guy have a bed in his new place? Not only was he stalking her, he was acting like a pervert, always screwing around in...

Miki’s eyes went wide and her heart stuttered.

“Oh, shit.”

“What?” Lena asked, looking at the hot and heavy couple. “What’s wrong, other than the sucky floor show?”

“I think that floor show is my fault.” Miki sunk her head into her hands and groaned. The smell of chocolate filled her senses, but for once, did nothing to calm her. “Oh, shit.”

“Quit saying that and explain,” Lena berated, swatting her on the arm. “What did you do?”

Miki just groaned again, trying to remember.

“Mik, you can’t blame yourself for Perry’s obnoxious behavior. The guy’s an ass, granted usually a lot more boring than this,” Teri mused, “but even before he took his sex life public, he was a total jerk.”

“Usually a lot more boring...” Lena mumbled.

Miki winced.

“You didn’t.”

With a sigh, Miki raised her head and met her sister’s horrified stare.

“I think I did.”

“Think?”

“I don’t remember clearly. I was upset, the power came on so suddenly. I just can’t remember.” Panic whipped through Miki, blowing away the lethargy of the previous months. She had to remember, but the harder she tried to focus on the night of her birthday, the blurrier it all became. Tension knotted her shoulders and a throbbing pain lodged itself behind her left eye. “I don’t know, Lena. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m pretty sure I cursed him.”

“What?” Teri gasped. “I thought that was a ‘no no.’”

“Obviously,” Lena growled with a roll of her eyes. “We have to figure this out. You have to remember what curse you used, Miki. Then you have to remove it.”

“I know what I have to do, Lena,” she ground out. “What I don’t know is how.”

The waiter stopped at the table to clear their plates and the women shooed him away.

“Can’t you just... you know, turn back time or do some kind of general fix-it spell or something?” Teri asked in a fierce whisper.

“I can’t control time.”

“If you had control of your magic, you could go back in time. You could recall the spell and recant it,” Lena told her.

“If I had control. Lena, I don’t. You’ve seen the mess I make of things. And that’s when I’m not trying to use my powers. When I try, it’s even worse. If I tried to go back in time right now, I’d probably end up having cake with Marie Antoinette.”

Tears burned her eyes, but Miki refused to let them fall. She was so tired of feeling helpless, useless.

“Okay,” Lena said. She lay a hand over her sister’s and Miki felt a surge of loving calm pour through her. Like a hug, it was filled with encouragement, hope, and assurance. She gave Lena a grateful smile and let the calm clear her head.

“I guess you’re right,” she said.

“I usually am,” Lena joked. Then she tilted her head to one side, her curls catching the light. “What’re you referring to?”

“I need to get away.”

“Vacation? No, you were right before, that’s a bad idea. You need to deal with this first.”

“I can’t deal with it here. Not with the money worries, stresses, and constant Perry sightings.”

“Where will you go? To stay with Mom?”

Miki shuddered. “Please, the last thing I need is Mom having any idea how bad I’m doing. She’d do some crazy intervention or something.”

“Then what?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It wasn’t running, she promised herself. It was regrouping. Miki leaned back in her chair, not even tempted to peek at Perry and Pammy climbing all over each other in the corner. No. The next time she saw Perry, she’d have her powers under control, her life all mapped out. She’d remove his curse, make reparations, and be in such a great place, he’d realize what he’d thrown away.

But to do that, she had to get the hell out of Santa Monica and away from the emotional triggers. She needed a place to hide out, relearn to do magic, and harness her power. Somewhere she could relax, regain her confidence, and plan out what she wanted to do with her life.

Miki sucked in a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, then exhaled. “I’m going to take a sabbatical. I’m going to Idaho.”

And while she was there, as much as it would screw her over karmically, she hoped Perry was arrested for public indecency. It would serve the oinker right.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Three

Gideon Ross inhaled the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee with a deep sigh of appreciation. Nothing like a small vat of java to start the day right. Only one way better. Gideon eyed the only other people in the diner, three old codgers arguing baseball and Marcia, the waitress. She was fifty-going-on-eighteen, did scary things to spandex, and was one of the few single women in Rossdale, Idaho, population two thousand twelve. Gideon took another sip of his coffee. He’d stick with the java.

He leaned back in the comfortable seat of his customary booth and squinted through the large plate-glass window at the picturesque main street of his hometown. Other than the lack of choice feminine companionship, Rossdale wasn’t that bad a place to live. Rural, but close enough to the ski areas to have plenty of tourist potential. Low crime rate, winning high school football season. Yeah, it should be a good town. It had been once. But the last seven years had taken their toll. Gideon stared out the window, barely noticing the cracked sidewalk or its barrelful of flowers wilting in the morning sun’s weak rays.

“Gideon, glad to find you here.”

“Hey, Fred.” Gideon gestured to the seat across from him. “Take a load off. Coffee?”

“Sure ’nuff.” Fred Ambrose heaved himself into the booth with a grunt and waved Marcia and her blessed coffee pot over. Graying and husky, Fred ran the General Store with his wife, Reba, as well as the auction house with his brother, Lenny.

Knowing Fred’s penchant for complaining, Gideon nodded at Marcia’s offer to refill his cup and ordered a piece of pie. Might as well get comfortable.

Two bites into his runny lemon meringue and Gideon began to space out as Fred ranted about the land next to his. Some fancy-ass Californian had bought the property a few years back, and it’d gone downhill fast. Since it was Fred’s favorite bitch, Gideon didn’t have to listen too closely. He’d heard it a million times before.

Gideon winked his thanks to Marcia as she refilled his cup. He carefully cut the last piece of lemon and meringue away from the blackened edge of the crust and wished old Joe would find a decent cook. Even a diehard pie man like himself was having trouble choking down the offerings lately.

“Now I’m fine letting things be,” Fred stated. “You know that, Gideon.”

Gideon figured it was an ode to his momma’s upbringing that he didn’t snort aloud at the claim.

“But Reba, she’s all up in arms and having fits. Something has to be done, I tell ya.”

“What’s Reba having trouble with?” This time went unspoken. It wasn’t like Fred needed reminding that his wife always had issue with something.

“That rental, the old Henderson place, it’s a mess. Been vacant for eight months now and it’s in even worse shape than before. Damned shame, since it’s sitting on prime land. Reba looks right out our bathroom window at that mess and just howls with the shame of it all.”

Having tiled their bathroom the summer before, Gideon knew Reba would’ve had to be standing on the toilet to peer out that window and do her howling. But he let it pass with a sympathetic grunt.

“Now Reba’s thinking there’s no reason she can’t just borrow a bit of that overgrown mess of land to plant a few flowers. Prime soil, you know. She had it tested and everything.”

“C’mon, Fred. You know better than that. Someone owns that property. You can’t just help yourself to the land so your wife can have her way with the flowerbeds. It isn’t right.”

“Gideon, I tell ya. Reba, she’s depressed as hell over the loss of our flower shop. You know how hard it was for her to close the doors. It was harder still losing her daddy’s land to the bank. All that prime soil, sitting fallow. It just about drives her crazy.”

Gideon grimaced. The bad economy had hit everyone. Between that, the crazies who lived out by the lake, and all the trouble they stirred up, it was getting to be hard for any business to survive in Rossdale. Reba Ambrose had prided herself in that flower shop. She’d grown her own posies, handling all the church functions, weddings, and funerals from here to McCade.

“Look, Fred, you have my sympathies.” They shared a knowing look, both aware of the sad state of things. Especially when it came to an unhappy woman. “But I can’t do anything. Talk to Reggie,” he said, referring to the mayor. “See if he’ll put you in touch with the homeowner or something. Maybe Reba can rent a patch of dirt.”

“Gideon, you know damned well Reggie is about as useless as tits on a boar.”

Gideon pushed his plate away, satisfied he’d distracted Fred from his land-lust for the moment.

“Damn shame that man’s sitting in your daddy’s seat,” Fred continued. “That’s just wrong. Lucas Ross was the best mayor Rossdale ever had, and you’re his spittin’ image. People look to you for answers. I don’t see why you don’t just step up to the plate and take on the job like you’re supposed to.”

Gideon had obviously picked the wrong topic for distraction. He took another sip of his coffee and pursed his lips. It’d lost some of its flavor, although that could be due to the current conversation.

“Fred, tell ya what. I’ll bring my mower by, clean up the property so it’s not such an eyesore for Reba. Maybe if she’s not staring at it and fuming about the mess, she’ll quit jonesin’ to plant something pretty on it and go putter in her own dirt instead.”

Fred worked his jaw, jowls swaying to and fro as he mulled it over. Finally he nodded. But Gideon could see from the look in the old guy’s eyes he wouldn’t be giving up his nagging. Elections were coming and Fred—and most of the cronies of Gideon’s late father—were dead set on putting a Ross back in the mayor’s seat.

Too bad for them. ’Cause if there was one thing guaranteed to destroy whatever hopes the town still had for survival, it was Gideon’s butt in that seat.

“Morning, gentlemen.”

“Gene,” they greeted the newcomer who elbowed Fred over and settled into the booth. As lanky as Fred was wide but just as gray, Gene Crandall had retired the year before as editor of the The Rossdale Sentinel.

After sharing pleasantries and pouring a steady stream of sugar into the cup of coffee Marcia set in front of him, Gene turned his watery blue eyes on Gideon. Without preamble, he jumped right into his version of the town’s favorite anthem, who’s to blame for our woes.

“Now I realize Reggie feels we need the property taxes from those yahoos out by the lake, but I’ve just about had enough of their shenanigans,” Gene said with a ponderous frown. “The wild parties they throw are enough to drive an old man crazy. That drumming gets so loud, you can hear it a mile away. Last week, someone took spray paint to my tractor.”

“I heard about that,” Gideon admitted. “But the lake people are mostly adults, not a bunch of crazy kids. You know that. I can’t imagine them running around spraying graffiti on farm equipment. Why do you think it was them?”

“I caught the license plate of the van they were in as they hightailed it off my property. California plates, which points right to them crazies.”

Gideon smothered a sigh. The only thing the old-timers in this town hated more than the people living out at the lake were outsiders. Especially Californians.

“Gene, just because the plates might have said California, that doesn’t tie them in with the... lake people.”

“You can’t even say it.”

“I think it’s—”

“See, Fred, he can’t even say it.”

“Well, he’s got a point, Gene. It’s not something I like saying aloud either.”

“I’m not afraid to say anything,” Gideon snapped. Serving six years in the freaking U.S. Army should have proved that. He’d fought for his country and he’d show them what afraid was, dammit. He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself before he ended up calling a couple of old men out behind the diner to kick their asses, then continued smoothly, “I simply don’t see any point in perpetuating a stupid rumor.”

“See, that’s denial, Gideon. You’re in denial.”

“It’s not denial to disagree.”

“You mean to say you really don’t think them yahoos out by the lake are a cult? You’re kidding, right?”

“He’s right, Gideon.” Fred gave a sage nod. “Before he left town, my grandson claims he saw them doing some kind of ritual out there. They’ve laid claim to that old fairy tale, that one about free love. I hear they do quite a bit of free loving out there under the full moon.”

Gideon grimaced. Damn, he hated when conversations veered into the woo-woo area. He hated all talk of magic. But he knew the fairy tale Fred referred to. Rossdale legend had it that Gideon’s own great-great grandpa, Hiram Ross, saved a beautiful woman from a mountain slide and earned her everlasting gratitude. The woman, per the legend, was a witch who blessed the town with peace and prosperity as long as they welcomed faith, magic, and love. There was even a statue in the town square commemorating the story.

Not that anyone believed it anymore. But that didn’t stop people from using the tale as fuel for their crazy cult claims. The homestead out by the lake had been formed about forty years back by some disgruntled townspeople who objected to the legend being brushed off as a silly tale and ignored. Instead of letting the legend die, a few hardy souls had moved to the far edges of the town limits and formed their own... community, for want of a better term. Up until about five years back, they’d gotten along fine with the rest of the town.

“Gene, you go around calling them a cult, you’re gonna stir up anger and scare people. All that will do is create more problems.” And the last thing Rossdale needed was more problems. It was fast turning into a dried up town on the verge of extinction as it was. “If you have to call them anything, try... I don’t know, commune? It’s less inflammatory.”

Instead of the expected scowl, Gene beamed at him. Gideon narrowed his eyes.

“See, it’s clear headed thinking like that we need running this town, Gideon. You’ve your daddy’s brain, that’s for sure.”

Before Gideon could reply—hell before he could even modify his initial response into polite terms, Fred grunted and shook his head.

“Well, well. Here comes another one.”

They all peered out the window at the U-Haul van cruising down Main Street.

“Bets?” Fred asked. Gideon shook his head. He wasn’t much into the entertainment of betting on where the newest resident was from and how long they’d last. They got about a dozen new residents in Rossdale a year. Most didn’t last more than three months.

“Long as it isn’t California,” Gene said with a long-suffering sigh. “Them people must be bred to cause a ruckus. Movie types, rich and snooty folk and silicone boo—um, filled women. All with no respect for the way things are done.”

The van drove past and the men all gave an appreciative sigh over the Beemer it was towing. Then Fred and Gene groaned in concert when they saw the California license plates on the prime piece of machinery.

Gideon couldn’t work up the energy to care. It really didn’t matter where the people were from. They weren’t the answer. The town was sinking fast, and definitely needed new blood, but he’d learned long ago not to expect people to stick around. No, the town needed help but it wouldn’t be coming from an outside source.

Out of defense for his sanity, Gideon blocked out his companions’ continued bitching and watched the van stop at the corner gas station. The passenger door opened, and Gideon caught his breath at the sight that followed. Long, shapely, and oddly mouthwatering, given the distance and fact that he couldn’t make out anything but her height and general shape. A curtain of dark hair hid her face, but her movements and the slow, easy grace of her mile-long stride, made Gideon’s heart beat just a little faster. How long were those legs?

Well, well. Things just might be looking up around here after all. Not that he figured she’d stick around. But it was definitely worth checking to see if she was single. Maybe he’d have something other than coffee to smile about some morning soon.

“Gideon, dear? Isn’t it awfully late in the day for you to be lollygagging around?”

Nothing burst a hot sexual fantasy faster than the sound of a mother’s voice. Gideon grimaced, tucked his lustful musings away, and faced his mother.

“Morning, Mom.”

Gideon could see why most of the town figuratively bowed down to Deloris Ross. A force to be reckoned with, a strong, robust woman in her late fifties, she looked ten years older and had the energy of a lady half her age. Graying and reed thin, she wore her late husband’s wedding band on a chain around her neck for all to see. In his uncharitable moments, Gideon wondered if that was to keep the fact front and center in the townspeople’s minds that she’d been the mayor’s wife.

“Don’t you have clients or something?” she asked, her tone oddly defensive. “Is that what you learned in the Army? How to sit around on your butt all day.”

No. He’d learned to take orders, he’d learned to build things and he’d learned to kick ass. But he didn’t figure his mother cared about that. Deloris had never gotten over Gideon’s defection to the military, even if it had only been for six years. Her attitude might have something to do with his bringing home a bride, even if the bride had long since fled Rossdale and Gideon. Then again, in his brutally honest moments, Gideon had to admit he hadn’t quite forgiven himself for that part, either.

He made a show of leaning his arm along the back of the bench seat and taking a slow sip of his lukewarm coffee. “Not many people in Rossdale needing a contractor this morning.”

His official title in his one-man company was General Contractor. Sadly, it didn’t bring in diddly for income. So Gideon sidelined as a general handyman. In all truth, it was more accurate that he sidelined as a contractor, but Deloris Ross had delusions of grandeur.

“Well, don’t you have a wall to hammer or a roof to repair?” she shot back in an irate tone.

Gideon’s brows rose.

“Trying to get rid of me, Mom?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gideon. I’m always pleased to see you. I just didn’t... expect to see you here. Now.”

Gideon narrowed his eyes when she exchanged an odd, almost guilty look with Fred and Gene. One hand clenched around the bamboo handle of her straw purse, the other clutched something behind her back.

“Whatch’ya got there?”

“Please, Gideon. Mind your own business.”

Since Deloris made a point to interfere in every aspect of the town’s—most especially her only child’s—business, Gideon figured turnabout was fair play. Whatever she was sporting was his business. Unless it was an ad she’d brought Gene to run in the personals. He snickered at the idea and crooked his finger. This should be good.

With a humph of disgust, she handed him the file. Gideon paused, his fingers on the cover. Fred and Gene scurried out of the booth with quick goodbyes, leaving the seat opposite him for his mother. Her face set in rigid lines, she slid into the booth, placed her boxy little purse on the worn red vinyl beside her, and folded her hands on the table.

Uh oh. He recognized that look.

Amusement gone, Gideon pretended his pie hadn’t just turned into a ball of concrete in his stomach and flipped open the folder. He glared at the contents as the rock hard pie caught fire.

“What’s the idea, dammit? What the hell are these pictures for?”

Gideon fanned through the eight-by-ten black and white glossies she’d somehow snapped of him and... What? Morphed the photo on some computer program? He hadn’t worn a tie since Lance Pringle’s wedding. But she’d fixed that, pasting his current face on his five-year’s past suit-wearing body. Of course, the fact that his body faced left, his head faced right, and the odd, Frankenstein-esque line that attached the two parts made it rather obvious the picture had been manufactured.

Then there was his raised hand. Maybe the peace sign he was giving would have looked more genuine if it hadn’t been a woman’s hand pasted on his wrist.

“I think the nail polish clashes with my suit, don’t you?” he asked, eyeing the very same nail-polished fingers clenched together on the table in front of him.

“I had no clue you were an expert on coordinating nail color,” she snapped.

“I had no clue you were so adept with Photoshop,” he sneered, holding the pictures up to the light. “You looking to snag a job with the Enquirer?”

“Don’t be silly. I was just looking for a nice shot of you dressed up. I never see you in a suit, you know.” She pursed her lips and poked at the picture. “If you’d just dress up more often, I wouldn’t have to doctor up a picture, now would I?”

“Right. You needed a picture of me in a suit and you couldn’t just ask for one? And what’s with the peace sign? I’ve never seen anything so ridiculous. I look like a cross-dressing politician with my head screwed on backwards.”

Gideon’s gaze locked with his mother’s, her golden brown eyes so like his own. And he was sure he wore the same stubborn don’t-fuck-with-me-or-you’ll-regret-it look as she did. What a legacy. Beat the hell out of painted fingernails, though.

“Oh, Gideon, don’t be paranoid,” she finally said in a huff. “It’s not like I can declare you a candidate for mayor without your knowledge.”

“So you admit that’s your angle?”

“I admit no such thing.”

Gideon waved the pictures at her.

Deloris glared.

“I can’t believe you’re so uncaring about the state of this town, Gideon. Your father, God rest his soul, and I raised you better than that.”

Truer words were never spoken. They’d raised him—hell, groomed him—to someday step into his father’s shoes. Shoes Gideon couldn’t consider. Ever. Not if he gave a damn about the town’s survival.

“I care about the town, Mother. And I do all I can to help it. Political office isn’t my way. Why can’t you accept that?”

“Rossdale needs a strong leader, someone to help us through the difficulties.”

“It ain’t gonna happen,” Gideon vowed. Anger mixed with impotent frustration and he tossed the file of photos to the table and pushed himself out of the booth. Holding his mother’s glare, he pulled out a few bucks to cover the coffee and pie and threw them on top of the folder. “Let it go, Mom. Let him go.”

“I’m not the one pushing this, Gideon. The town’s leaders want you and they won’t give up. Just consider it.”

Briefly, Gideon contemplated confessing the reason why he’d be a lousy choice to lead the town, but knew it was pointless. She wouldn’t believe him. After all, most people didn’t believe in witches.

Instead, he just shook his head and made for the door.

Damn town. It was a total pain in his ass.

* * *

Tilda Frost rose from her lover’s bed, tingles of power shooting through her along with the aftershocks of an exceptional orgasm. The kind that mixed together magic and physical satisfaction in equal doses, like a grand sorcerer mixed an exotic potion.

“Come back to bed,” Antonio purred. He pushed himself up on one elbow, the pristine white sheets a delicious contrast against all that sleek, tanned flesh.

Pulling on her ice-blue silk robe, Tilda eyed the smooth muscles, certain he was flexing them on purpose. She was tempted, briefly. After all, the man was a god in bed. Then she glanced at the clock and shook her head.

“I can’t,” she poured regret over her words, much as a gardener might pour manure over a garden. As unpalatable as it might be in the moment, fertilizing paid off in the long run. And Tilda was all about the long run.

With a disgruntled look, Antonio threw off the sheet and slid from the bed. Tall, lean, and well-muscled, the man was gorgeous. Of course, all Tilda’s men were. None more so than her ex-husband.

Tilda gave a low growl in her throat and forced her focus to shift before she could trip down that mental garden path. The damned man always seemed to creep into her thoughts after an intense, sweaty bout of sex. Maybe because he’d been the only lover good enough to not only keep up with her, but force her to feel more than brief, superficial pleasure.

“I won’t have time for you later,” Antonio said, all macho and arrogant. “I’ve a ritual to oversee soon and a new batch of gold to conjure for the flock.”

Tilda crossed the cold tile floor and looked out the tower window at the placid lake below. Once she was sure her expression was clear, she turned back to face him. The man was so easy to manipulate. It might have taken her two years of subtle hypnosis and spellwork, but now he actually believed he was able to turn rock to gold, to conjure magic. He really believed, just as his followers did, that he was a gifted alchemist. That with the right alignment of the planets and the correct ingredients, he would make them all rich.

Before her arrival, he’d been a simple con, using sleight of hand and overt charm to convince the gullible hippie-ish residents of this little, offshoot community of his greatness. By the time she’d arrived, even though he’d managed to wean most of the people from their ties with the nearest town, there were still quite a few who’d doubted him. With her magic, the doubts had disappeared, and Antonio’s hold on his followers became absolute. Things were too precarious now, though, to remind him of that.

“You really should enjoy me while you can,” he added with a sly look under his thick lashes, “since I’ll be busy soon. The moon is climbing to full, and many of the ladies are hoping for my blessings.”

Translation, he had a sexual romp planned for that evening with a few of his followers. Tilda resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead pasting a look of regret on her face.

“I realize you need to share your... gifts with your people, Antonio. I’m not selfish enough to expect to be your only sexual partner.”

He paused in the act of tying the drawstring of his baggy cotton pants to squint at her. With a raise of his chin, he asked, “You’re not jealous? Why not? What exactly do you do when you’re away from here, Tilda?”

She knew he was asking if she had other lovers, which was a ridiculous question. Of course she did. Despite the occasional temptation born of boredom, she’d never seduced any of his flock of sheep-like followers. Even that wasn’t out of respect for Antonio, but because she knew the image of his prowess was too important to the success of her plan.

“Jealousy is an ugly thing. Why would I deny your charms to those who so obviously worship you?”

Usually that would be enough to pacify him. But his frown didn’t fade. Instead he came forward to take her chin in a hard grip.

“You used to be here all the time. Now I barely see you.”

“I do have a life of my own, Antonio. Matters have needed my attention lately. It’s enough that I’ve secured a buyer for the thorium,” she said, referring to the mineral Antonio’s witless followers had discovered. “That was much more difficult than selling off the garnets you’d been harvesting before.”

The Lights of Atlantis, as Antonio had dubbed his group, believed they were mining rocks for their leader, the exalted Alchemist of Atlantis, to turn to gold. In reality, they’d been mining enough garnets to provide both Antonio and Tilda with a tidy nest egg. Now, with the discovery of the thorium, it was time for Tilda to execute her ultimate plan. Her ultimate revenge.

“You said this buyer is willing to meet our price?” As always, the cold hard reality of profit spoke to Antonio, coaxing him from his own fit of jealous possessiveness.

“He’ll meet it. We just have to agree to his demands.”

From outside, a gong sounded, signaling the approach of the noon hour. And time for worship. Never an early riser, Antonio had dismissed the idea of dawn rituals a long time back.

As the gong’s peal faded, Antonio released Tilda and moved across the large chamber to his closet. He chose a colorful embroidered cotton vest and pulled it over his naked chest. With a lift of a brow, he indicated Tilda should ready herself for worship as well.

She eyed the skimpy black evening dress she’d arrived in the night before. Hardly suitable. With a snap of her fingers, her robe was replaced with a silk gown, draped Grecian-style to show her body’s perfection. White, as befitted the consort of the Atlantean Alchemist.

With a faint frown, Antonio peered at the corner where his sandals lay. Knowing he was trying to magic them closer, Tilda gave a subtle wiggle of her fingers. In a flash, the brown leather was on his feet. His shoulders stretching to fit his mountain-sized ego, he nodded.

“Most of the demands are easy enough,” he said as he crossed the room to take her hand. “I’m sure my children will go along with them without question.”

His children? Tilda pressed her lips together and kept her eyes wide to keep the derisive laugh from exploding. He’d been holed up here beneath this Idaho mountain for way too long.

“I’m concerned, though,” he continued, “that the transportation plans seem excessive. There’s no way to bring that kind of traffic, such huge trucks, out here without raising suspicion.”

And they couldn’t afford suspicion. Unquestionably, the thorium, as well as the garnets beforehand, and the silver before that, had all been on land owned by the nearby town, Rossdale. If the townspeople realized what the cult was doing, they’d exercise their rights to the land, the thorium, and the profits.

“Leave it to me,” Tilda said as the second gong rang out.

“You’ll bribe the mayor again?”

“No.” She shook her head. “That won’t work this time. His position isn’t strong enough.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll destroy the town. Step up the slow erosion and end Rossdale once and for all.”

Brown eyes wide with shock, Antonio pulled his hand away from hers. “Destroy it? How?”

Tilda placed his hand over hers again. With pursed lips, she winked and gave a little shrug.

“Leave it to me. I’ve had plenty of time to plan their downfall.” And her revenge on both the town, and the only man to deny her. Gideon Ross, damn him.

The gong rang out for the third time. Tilda raised a brow at Antonio. He nodded and wiped the frown from his face. With a snap of her fingers, they disappeared in a shower of blue sparks.

* * *

Gideon pulled his Chevy into the dirt driveway of the old Henderson place. Parking behind the U-Haul, he let the truck idle in the weak afternoon sun. He inspected the furnishings and boxes spilling out the open rear doors of the moving van.

He’d promised Fred he’d mow the weeds, but that was before. Now that he saw this was where the moving van had landed, he should leave. He was hardly the welcome wagon type. Especially when he wasn’t in the mood to extol the virtues of a town filled with nosy, controlling busybodies, his mother in the lead.

Lucky for Gideon, he’d escaped that nosy gene. Sure, he’d admit to his fair share of curiosity, but unlike some people, he kept it well contained. And while he’d be willing to own up to a certain amount of stubbornness when he knew he was right—which admittedly was most of the time—he could never be termed controlling. At least, not in comparison to the rest of Rossdale.

Then again, it could be said it was his duty, as a concerned citizen, to at least say hello to the newcomers. Especially taking into account the state of the house. The oil-slick California landlord had obviously suckered some poor souls into renting the place sight unseen. Wouldn’t be the first time. Gideon would be surprised if the guy hadn’t ever been slapped with a non-disclosure suit.

He eyed the rotting porch on the second story, the dangling trim, and the broken window by the front door. How long would these tenants last? Not too many newcomers stuck it out in Rossdale. That was probably due to a combination of a depressed economy, culture shock, and like Gene had said, the nasty pranks and problems with the people out at the lake. Rossdale had earned a rather unwelcoming reputation the last few years.

His concern had nothing to do with wanting to know if the long, luscious, and leggy babe was single. And how she felt about early morning... coffee. With a grin and a flick of his wrist, he cut the ignition. Now that was a question worth finding the answer to.

He skirted around boxes labeled with words like Emerald, Magenta, and Seafoam and frowned. Colors? Who packed by color? Gideon stopped to look closer, but nothing else was written on the boxes. No room assignation, no hint about what the colored items were. Just the color. Weird.

No telling if it was furniture for one or two people, although he was pretty sure it didn’t look like a family’s worth of stuff, so he doubted there were kids. Gideon leaned closer to peer into an open box. Fabric. A rainbow of yarns, threads, and metal needles like for knitting, and some funky looking things he couldn’t quite figure out.

“See something you like?”

Busted. Gideon turned with an unrepentant grin and a shrug, ready to offer some offhand excuse. Then he came face to face with long, leggy, and luscious. And lost his wits as well as his voice.

Hot damn. She was fabulous. Pitch-black hair fell in a silken curtain to her shoulders, framing a face Gideon knew he’d be seeing in his dreams. Slashing cheekbones accented the biggest eyes he’d ever seen, and while no expert, he’d be willing to swear she wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup. Gideon took in the rest of the package. Long and curvy was right. In snug jeans and an eye-watering purple and pink striped tee shirt, her curves filled out the denim like a dream. Her sexuality was more a hint than a shout.

Despite being more a shout kind of guy, he definitely liked what he saw.

“Yeah,” he finally said after clearing his throat.

“Huh?” She blinked a couple times, her brows creased as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“I mean, yes,” he said, seeing her expression starting to shift from confused to impatient. “Yes, I definitely see something I like.”

Gideon would have stood there all day, smiling and staring like a half-wit if it hadn’t been for the guy that came up beside her.

Damn. He was almost prettier than she was, not that Gideon was the kind to notice that sort of thing. But who wouldn’t be a little awed by a Greek god look-a-like? When the woman slipped her hand in pretty boy’s, Gideon grimaced. There went his visions of serving long, lean, and luscious her morning coffee after an all-night naked-fest.

His mouth quirked with disappointment, Gideon stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

“Welcome to Rossdale, I’m Gideon Ross.”

“Good to meet you, I’m Ryan Lansing,” said pretty boy, reaching to take his hand in a solid-grip handshake. No wedding ring though. Gideon mentally rolled his eyes, sure this was the first time he’d ever checked for that on a man.

“Thanks for the welcome.” The Greek god inclined his head to the woman. Gideon unconsciously straightened his shoulders and sucked in his gut when he saw the warm, hinting-at-interest, speculation in her eyes.

“Mikaela Da-um, Lansing,” she said. Her voice brought to mind a smoky blues club, wailing saxophones, and silk sheets. Then it hit him. Lansing. Neither of them wore rings, but they both had the same last name. Gideon looked closer, taking in the similar builds, coloring, and brush-fringed black eyes.

“You two related?” he asked. Yes, it was rude, but a man needed to know if the lust stirring through his belly had a shot.

Mikaela’s brow rose in a single, elegant arch. Amusement danced in her midnight eyes and she bit her bottom lip like she was holding back laughter.

“Brother and sister,” Ryan finally said at Mikaela’s continued silence.

“Yeah?” Gideon grinned. Maybe he would stick around awhile. “You need help hauling stuff in?”

Mikaela opened her mouth, refusal clear on her face. But Ryan was faster. “Sure, why not. Mik seems to think the more she shoves in a box, the better. Doesn’t matter if it’s pillows or cast iron, the woman packs it tight.”

With a grin at the woman, whose incredulous glare Ryan was apparently oblivious and impervious to, Gideon followed the Greek god back to the U-Haul. Nothing like hauling around cast iron to show off some muscles and make an impression on a pretty lady.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Four

She’d almost killed the sexiest man she’d ever met. Why was she surprised, considering everything else going wrong in her life?

“I’m sorry about the damage,” Gideon said for the third time. “I should have watched where I was going. I’ll repair it for you, though.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I can’t believe you fell through my floor. I feel horrible.”

Never let it be said a Lansing didn’t make a lasting first impression.

Miki had spent the first half hour after Gideon arrived watching him from a safe distance. He looked just like her favorite carpenter hunk on one of those do-it-yourself shows. The same hunk she’d been having naughty dreams about. The ‘please don’t let me wake up yet, I want another orgasm’ type dreams.

Who knew suddenly single would take on a whole new meaning to her nervous system when confronted by a real live sexy hunk? She’d finally got comfortable enough to try her hand at a little witty repartee, a few flirty remarks. He’d been so impressed, he’d hit the ground, face first.

Of course, her magical whack upside his head might have had something to do with that. She’d seen the porch board start to crack under the weight of both him and the box of cookware. She’d sent a flurry of energy to the board, hoping to strengthen it. And watched Gideon promptly fall through as the board disappeared.

With a sigh, she led the way back through the tiny hall of the house toward the kitchen, Gideon right behind her. Miki shoved and pushed at the stack of boxes in the minuscule excuse of a kitchen until she found the one labeled Sunset. Ripping open the packing tape, Miki found the kitchen linens she’d packed away eight years before and grabbed a towel. She soaked a cloth with cold water and turned to where Gideon stood, disheveled and dusty.

He was gorgeous. All male in a way that made her very grateful she was female. Especially when he looked at her. Brown hair, streaked with golden highlights women paid a fortune for back in sunny California, brushed the collar of his denim work shirt. She eyed the hair visible above the top button of his shirt and bit back a sigh. After years of nearly-hairless Perry, this guy oozed testosterone.

If she was honest, Miki figured Gideon Ross was yummier than chocolate-coconut-pecan cookies, and probably twice as bad for her. Because, like the cookies, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to stop at just a nibble or two. Nope, he was definitely a decadent overindulgence waiting for a midnight craving. And like any recovering chocoholic knew, the best way to resist temptation was to avoid it. The man was mortal. She was fresh out of a divorce. The combination made him poison. She’d do well to remember that.

But she couldn’t send him off bleeding. Not when it was her fault he’d gotten hurt in the first place.

“Here, let me wash that gash on your arm.” She gestured to the only piece of furniture in the room, a barstool painted peacock blue and decorated in a rainbow of checks, swirls, and swishes.

Gideon gave the stool a doubtful look before settling on it. Miki figured he had to be over six feet, since she had to look up to him. With Gideon perched on the stool, they were eye to eye. She swallowed. Maybe she should open a window or something? The tiny kitchen was getting much too warm.

“Bright,” he said, indicating the stool. Miki watched, oddly fascinated, as he pushed the rolled cuff of his sleeve from his forearm up to above his elbow. The hair on his arm was barely visible, it was so pale against the rich tan of his skin.

“I like color.” Especially gold. Miki peeked through her lashes and noted the rich color of his eyes. Again. Not a hint of brown or green, they were pure golden whiskey. Quit acting like a love-struck groupie and get a grip. At least now she knew her hormones were alive and well. Miki’s lips quirked and she took his arm to wash the raw, three-inch scrape he’d gotten falling through her floor.

“I can see you like color,” Gideon said with a little laugh. “The only neutral shade I’ve seen unloading that van is the brown of the boxes.”

“That’s the only neutral you’ll ever see in my house,” Miki declared. She’d done her duty with boring. It was time for color, excitement, life. “And as soon as those are unpacked, they’ll be shoved out of sight.”

Her final act before she’d left the Santa Monica house was to pack up all the furnishings, belongings—anything of value. She’d loaded it in the back of the moving van, driven to the storage unit she’d been paying on since before she’d married Perry, and swapped the blah-filled packing boxes for the rich tones she’d been deprived of for so long.

“Shoved out of sight, not gotten rid of?” Gideon fished. Miki looked up from her ministrations to see curiosity clear in his golden gaze, her nerves suddenly stuttering as sexual awareness spiked though her system.

Whoa, baby. Seven years of marriage had not left her equipped to deal with this level of attraction. Then again, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt this attracted.

“No, this isn’t a permanent move,” she told him, trying to stay focused on the conversation. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”

“Are you vacationing?”

“More like searching,” she said with a laugh.

“Just what is it you’re searching for?”

How did he make such a simple question sound so suggestive? Visions filled her head, all sexual, all hot, all tempting. She bit her lip, not ready to go in that direction. She eyed the teasing little smile playing over his lips. Ready or not, her body was definitely interested. She wished there was a spell that would protect her from the effects of his charm. Of course, at the rate she was going, if there was and she tried it, she’d likely end up tossing him on the floor and screwing the poor guy’s brains out. Her magic was just that contrary.

“I’m not sure what I’m searching for,” she finally said. “But I think I’m narrowing down the possibilities.”

“There,” she said as she finished washing his scrape. She hoped he didn’t notice her slight breathlessness. “You should probably clean it with peroxide or something, just to make sure infection doesn’t set in. I’m sorry again. I feel awful that you fell while helping me out.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he assured her with a smile that flashed a hint of a dimple in his cheek. Miki’s insides did a little meltdown. He tugged his sleeve back in place while she rinsed the cloth. “This place is a disaster. I know for a fact no repairs have been done on it since it changed ownership a few years back. But the landlord just keeps renting it out, ignoring the repair requests. That guy should be sued. Hell, I’m surprised he hasn’t been.”

Miki snickered.

“Actually, I already filed suit against him,” she assured Gideon.

“Huh? I thought you hadn’t seen the house until this morning.”

“I hadn’t. The suit I filed was for divorce.”

She was oddly pleased at how fast he got it. One golden brow quirked and he gave her an appraising look.

“You own the place?”

“I do now. Well,” she corrected, “I guess I have all along, but I had no idea until we were going through the settlement process that we owned this property.”

She looked around at the tiny kitchen. Her old dining room table was bigger than this room. What a dump.

Gideon looked around too, taking in the peeling wallpaper, ancient appliances, and cracked linoleum.

“So, what? Your lawyer sucked?”

Miki snorted a laugh and shook her head. “Nah, he’s the best. I wanted this property. I needed to get away for a while, and it’s perfect.”

Well, she would have preferred a safe, decent house, obviously. But this one would have to do. At least here she’d have space and time to get her magic under control. And the freedom to figure out what she wanted—what she was going to do next. Apparently, remodeling would be on top of that list.

“Perfect, huh? Sounds like California’s gone downhill since I was there.”

“Let’s just say that I suddenly found California a little more crowded than I could stand.” Miki followed Gideon’s gaze around the room again and she gave a rueful laugh. “And now this place definitely needs a lot more help than I’d anticipated. No wonder it’s lost money, I can’t imagine anyone would want to rent a dump like this.”

“Nobody has since the last tenant fell through the upstairs balcony last winter.”

Miki’s jaw dropped.

“It was a bunch of college kids who’d rented the place for skiing. Who knows how much other damage they did? Last I heard, Royce Martin, who owns Rossdale Real Estate, wasn’t even listing it anymore because he couldn’t get permission to do repairs.”

“I don’t doubt it. Perry never was one to fix anything. He’s more an ignore-it-until-it’s-broken-then-toss-it-away kind of guy.” She looked around the ramshackle kitchen. The rest of the rooms were just as bad, or worse. Miki sucked in a deep breath. It looked like she now had a focus. To heck with wallowing in self-pity and caffeine. She’d pour her energy into the house and let the work distract her until she found the answers to all her problems. “I obviously have my work cut out for me. I don’t even know where to start, though.”

“You were inside when I told your brother, but I’m a contractor. New homes, additions, you name it. I also run a handyman service. I’d be glad to help out, work up a list of what needs done and put in a bid.”

“You’re a handyman?” Since she’d never repaired as much as a nail hole, a handyman might be... handy.

“Yeah, and the first thing I’ll do is fix that porch board I busted.”

“Good call,” she said with an uncomfortable laugh. “I’d hate to have anyone else fall through it. I’ll pay you for it, of course.”

“No, you won’t,” Gideon said, distracting her from her financial freak-out. “I broke it, I’ll pay to repair it.”

“It broke because...” she winced and corrected, “it’s old and rotten. That’s not your fault. This is my house, and I’ll be paying you to fix it,” Miki insisted. No matter what the state of her bank account, she was starting her new life as she meant to go on. In charge and in control. That meant paying her own way.

“I’m not taking your money for something I broke.”

Miki pressed her lips together, wondering if anyone ever said no to the guy. And if he ever listened.

“Look, Gideon, I appreciate the offer. And I’d definitely like a bid on the work. But I’m telling you right now, I’ll be paying for any repairs to my house.”

He stared silently for a few seconds and Miki held her breath. She could hear her heart beating in her ears, and had no clue why it was suddenly so important that a guy she’d only known an hour accepted her statement of authority.

“Tell you what, you pay for the wood, the supplies, and I won’t charge for the labor. Deal?”

Before Miki could say anything, he stepped closer. His scent filled her nostrils. An earthy, masculine smell that owed nothing to a cosmetic company and everything to the sexy man staring down at her. Her breath lodged somewhere in her chest. That had to account for her lightheaded feeling.

“And maybe when I’m done with the porch, you’ll let me buy you dinner. We can call it a welcome-to-Rossdale gesture.”

“Is that what it is? A gesture welcoming me to town?”

“No. But, we can call it that if it’ll get you to agree.”

The look in his eyes, interest—purely sexual, combined with masculine assurance—made Miki’s throat dry. Answering interest simmered. Deep in her belly desire bloomed like a heady flower. She was tempted. Poison or not, his gaze promised pure pleasure. It had been so long since she’d felt anything close to what his eyes offered. Sure, he was mortal. But what could a little dinner hurt?

Anticipation surged through her. She opened her mouth to accept and gasped as energy sparked from her hands. The rough texture of the towel changed between her fingers. Miki swallowed, afraid to look down and see what she held. Please, let it be inanimate. Two days before, she’d turned her coffee cup into a baby duck. She ran the small, foil-wrapped disk between her fingers and risked a quick glance.

Her face flamed. She’d rather have the duck. Miki shot Gideon a nervous smile and wished hard, focusing all her energy on making the condom—ribbed for her pleasure—disappear. She muttered a quick spell under her breath,

“Get rid of it fast or I’m going to blubber, the last thing I need right now is a rubber.”

“Sorry?” Gideon asked, brows creased.

Miki bit her lip as, instead of disappearing, the single condom turned into a box of twelve. Before Gideon could see, she whipped her hands behind her back. With the box of condoms in one hand, she groped around the counter with the other. Feeling fabric, she grabbed another towel.

“Thanks for the offer,” she said. “But I’ll have to pass.”

He gave her a long, contemplative look. Eyes wide, Miki offered her most innocent smile and shrugged.

“Too soon, huh?”

Too soon for sex? Well, yeah. Despite the evidence to the contrary in her hands, they had just met. Then Miki realized he probably meant it was too soon to date after her divorce.

She nodded.

“You’re sure?”

Great Goddess, no. But she didn’t have a choice.

“I’m sure.”

He smiled and backed up a couple feet. With a puzzled glance at the bulky towel she now held against her belly, he gave a shrug of his own and nodded.

“I’ll go get a board to fix the porch. That way you won’t have to keep stepping over the damaged area and risk getting hurt.”

Since she couldn’t tell him her brother could replace it with a twitch of his finger, she just nodded and said thanks.

The next thing she knew, Miki was watching Gideon get in his truck and wave. He hadn’t let her pay him. He’d found the right size piece of wood in his truck, claimed it was scrap, and fixed the porch. She wasn’t sure when she’d lost the upper hand or if she’d ever really had it. But she did know she’d need to get a grip on her reaction to the man if she was going to hold her own in the future.

Miki leaned gingerly on the rotting railing and watched him drive away. Life as she knew it might be over. She might be jobless, with her new house falling down around her ears. But, because of the box of condoms on the rail next to her, she suddenly felt mighty optimistic about this new phase of things.

“Hey, Miki? Phone,” Ryan called from the doorway. She turned in time to catch both the cell phone and Ryan’s sneer. “It’s Perry.”

With an echo of Ryan’s sneer, Miki answered, “Hello?”

“You took my furnishings. I want them back.” Perry’s uptight condescension lost a little oomph over the cell phone.

“Sorry, what are you talking about?”

“Mikaela, half of that furniture belongs to me. You know you don’t need it moving into a fully furnished rental. You just took it to be spiteful. I want it back. It’s custom made for this house, it belongs here.”

“I have my furniture, Perry. The furniture I paid for with the loan I took out against my business to redecorate the house. I may not be able to take the paint and fixtures you and the decorator picked out. But I can take the furniture.”

Silence. Then a deep, you are so clueless sigh. The kind that always made Miki feel like a moron in the past. But not anymore, she realized with a grin of freedom. Now she just wished he’d do it a few more times and hyperventilate.

“Mikaela, I want my living room set and wide-screen television. I have clients and my bosses to entertain and I don’t have time to refurnish an entire house.” Frustration coated his tone with a whiny edge that made Miki smirk. “I demand you return my half of the furniture.”

“Right. And wherever you stashed all our money, half of that is mine. Wanna trade?”

While Perry sputtered and spewed, Miki gleefully pushed the off button and tucked the phone into her hip pocket. She snagged the box of condoms and sauntered over the newly replaced porch board and into the house.

She had to unpack, get the house in some semblance of order, start a list of repairs, and look over her finances to see if she could manage any of them. With Ryan and Lena’s help, she’d outlined a series of exercises that should help her build her magical muscle again. And while the kitchen was small and tacky, it had enough room for her coffeemaker. For the first time in months, Miki felt like she had some control over her life. And she liked it.

* * *

With a bobble and a whirl, one of the kitchen chairs flew through the air into the living room.

“Damn it, Mik. Concentrate,” Ryan demanded as he ducked as it whizzed past his head.

“I’m trying,” she said through gritted teeth. Miki stood in the center of the living room, focused on holding a carafe of coffee in the air without spilling any. Easy enough for any witch with a modicum of control. Heck, even for Miki that part was a breeze.

The tricky part was conjuring a coffee cup to pour the aromatic liquid heaven into. She’d managed to call up most of the contents from the kitchen. Pots, pans, and plates had all bobbled their way out of the cupboards, making a shaky passage down the hall and into a pile in the dingily lit living room. Now she was hauling in furniture.

But not one freaking cup.

“Miki, you’re supposed to be conjuring a new cup. Not snagging one from the kitchen. Basic conjuring, c’mon. Any ten-year-old could do it. I could do it at seven.”

“You were a freak of nature,” she informed her brother with a sniff. Like a couch potato on her first ten-mile run, she was woefully out of shape. Psychic muscles, long unused, screamed in protest. Sweat inched its way down her temples and soaked the small of her back.

The last thing she needed was to hear details of her brother’s greatness. He and Lena both had been gifted, able to control their magic early on. By ten, they could do magicks and spells most adult witches struggled with. Then along came Miki. When she was young, she’d figured either she’d been switched at birth or her elder siblings had hogged up all the magic from the genetic pool, leaving her the dregs. She’d managed to forget that inferior feeling during her magic-less years of marriage.

She now missed that sweet oblivion.

Miki sucked in a deep breath. Her lungs filled with the musty air still permeating the house. Then, one hand pointed at the coffee pot to hold it in place, she closed her eyes and focused on finding an inner pool of serenity. Except she didn’t have any serenity inside. What she did have was turmoil, irritation, and the resurgence of a stellar inferiority complex.

Struggling to focus on something else, Miki took another deep breath. She sent her thoughts outward, trying to sense the calm of nature. She pictured the view from her front porch, the green field of grass ruffling in the soft breeze. She opened herself to the energy of the earth, called on the tranquility of the large range of mountains visible beyond her driveway.

An intense power, like nothing she’d ever felt before, filled her. Unlike her magic of late, it wasn’t a rush of energy zapping through like an electrical current. No, this was a smooth, serene energy. Assured, strong. Like the mountains she was visualizing, it was unmovable, confident. It settled around her like a suit of armor. Miki felt, for the first time in her life, like she could do anything. Work any feat of magic, either routine or extraordinary. Like coming home after a long trip, the energy welcomed her. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt whole.

She opened her eyes and focused on the spinning cleaning supplies, ignoring her brother’s scowl. Still pointing to the carafe, she lifted her other hand, palm facing the ceiling.

The whirlwind of kitchen appliances stopped, the toaster and frying pan frozen, midair. She smirked when a sponge bounced off Ryan’s head on its way to join the rest of the contents of her kitchen. Ignoring the cluttered evidence of her previous failure, she held tight to the glory of her success.

With a lift of her chin and tilt of her head, the air shimmered with light and an oversized purple coffee cup appeared next to the carafe. Miki twitched a finger, and the silence in the room broke with the sound of coffee pouring from the carafe. She held out her hand so the cup slid onto her palm.

She lifted it to take a sip of the steaming brew, smiled, then snapped her fingers. In a flash, the room cleared of all the kitchen paraphernalia.

Brows raised, Ryan nodded his approval. Energy still poured through her, but this time a controlled, usable energy. Miki winked. Another cup appeared, this one covered in pink polka-dots. She gestured and the carafe tilted. Only now, instead of fragrant coffee, it poured the stinky herbal tea Ryan favored. Then, in a puff of green smoke, the carafe disappeared and the cup descended to Ryan’s hand.

“Well?” she demanded, sinking into her favorite chair, an overstuffed recliner of sapphire suede. Tucking her feet under her, she snuggled into the soft cushions and took another sip. She couldn’t quit grinning. Magic, when it worked, was better than any sex she’d ever had. Goddess, how she’d missed it. Not just the power, but the sense of accomplishment that came with it. Maybe she wasn’t on par with the rest of her family, but hey, for an average witch, she was pretty damned good.

“I’m impressed,” Ryan admitted. Miki preened, shoulders straightening. “If you can pull off the focus to not only conjure, but transform, why are you having so much trouble with simple magic?”

Her shoulders drooped. She didn’t want to confess that she wasn’t even sure how much had come from her magic, and how much had been energy she’d pulled from her surroundings. Did that count? She vividly remembered her thrill, when as a six-year-old, she’d been able to call up the wind. The Northern breeze had come when she’d beckoned, responding to her summons with a welcome surge of energy. The thrill had turned to shame when her tutor had berated her for using outside energy.

Probably better to keep the source of her success to herself, then. She’d just have to work harder to control her magic from within.

With an approving sip of his twig juice, Ryan settled into his own chair, a plush red throne-like monstrosity he’d zapped in for himself. Miki eyed it and sighed. This teacher thing had gone to his head.

“Let’s try again.” With a snap, he conjured a steaming platter of lasagna. “How about you serve up lunch?”

“How about I don’t?” Miki snapped her fingers and the platter disappeared. “I’m tired. Let’s take a break.”

“And do what? We’ve unloaded your few possessions. You’ve unpacked the mortal way, with your hands,” he shuddered. “What’s left to do? Start repairs on this dilapidated nightmare? I thought you were going to let Romeo do those.”

“Gideon,” she stressed, “is just going to give me a bid. I doubt I can afford to have him do all the work. But maybe he could do some of the bigger jobs. You know, the major repairs like the balcony and the leaking windows. Maybe the hole in the roof and that sputtering thing the lights do whenever you turn them on. You and I can tackle the minor stuff.”

Ryan snorted a laugh. “Minor stuff? Us? Like what? Mik, we can’t even magically repair this place. We wouldn’t have a clue where to start.”

Her lips quirked. He was right. To do the magic, they’d need to understand what they were actually doing.

“I’m sure we can handle painting a wall or two, right?” His doubtful look made Miki grin. She unwound herself from her chair and rose. Taking his empty cup along with hers, she headed for the kitchen to set them in the sink. Returning, she dangled his jacket off her finger. “C’mon, we’ll hit the library. Pick up a few home repair books, catch a clue.”

“Okay, but I’m not promising to stick around,” he said as he got up and took his jacket from her hands. “I’m here to help you regain control of your powers. Not to be your handyman. Besides,” he said with a sly twinkle in his eyes, “I think Romeo has dibs on that job.”

With a roll of her own eyes, Miki headed for the front door. She was glad her back was to her all-too-observant brother so he couldn’t see the heat staining her cheeks. Dibs or not, she wasn’t in the market for anything other than someone to make this house livable.

Now to convince her body of that.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Five

Gideon parked his truck in front of the General Store and watched as Miki made her way toward Bea’s Diner.

He sighed. Damn, that woman looked good in denim. Even big city, designer denim. He leaned back, arm stretched along the seat, to enjoy the view. Just the sight of her walking down the sidewalk sent his body into high gear.

Hadn’t he learned his lesson once about the damage those California women could wreak? And most people thought the state’s natural disaster was the earthquakes.

She passed his truck, so his view shifted from her front to her back as she entered the diner. A very nice back it was, too. He eyed the sway of her hips and pursed his lips. California girl or not, she was the finest sight he’d ever seen. Was he going to sit here like a schoolboy, lurking and gawking? Just because the woman had turned down his request for a date?

Nah. It’d take a few more refusals before he settled for gawking.

With a grin, Gideon pocketed his keys and exited the truck. A few long strides across the street and he paused at the diner window to take in the scene. While the scent of fried meat wafted out the open window, he couldn’t make out the conversation. His brows furrowed when it looked like Marcia was refusing to seat Miki. Through the plate glass, he watched Miki make a sweeping gesture toward all the empty booths. Marcia, arms crossed over her impressive chest, shook her head.

God, he’d forgotten how rude some of the townspeople could be to newcomers. Amazing thing to forget, considering the continued decline of Rossdale’s population. He watched Marcia give another negative shake of her head. Miki, her back to him, seemed to be arguing, but the older woman didn’t budge.

Just as he was about to sweep open the doors to rush to her rescue, Miki turned in her heels and stomped out. Gideon had to jump back to avoid being beaned in the face with the swinging glass door.

“Hi,” he said as he caught the door.

Her midnight eyes stormy, a faint flush tinting her cheeks, Miki glared. Then, as she seemed to actually focus on him, her frown faded. The color on her cheeks didn’t though. If anything, it deepened.

“Hi,” she muttered. He glanced at her hand, rhythmically squeezing a bright purple floral stress ball. His brows drew together. Had she been carrying that all along? “If you’re looking for lunch, apparently the grill is being cleaned.”

Gideon’s brows shot up. He doubted old Joe had cleaned that grill more than twice in the twenty years he’d been slinging burgers at Bea’s. He knew the town had a tendency to be cold to newcomers, but outright driving away business? His gaze shifted over Miki’s shoulder to meet Marcia’s obstinate look.

He tilted a brow, and with a shamed little shrug, she turned her back on them in obvious dismissal.

“I wasn’t interested in lunch,” Gideon answered Miki’s question. He figured she might burst that stress ball if he told her he’d come over because he was interested in her.

A quick fantasy flashed through his mind of Miki spread out on his dining room table. Now that was a lunch he’d give anything to taste. His mouth watered at the thought and he breathed in the tempting scent of her spicy perfume.

Heat, a rare visitor before Miki’d come to town, simmered in his gut. His body gave a full salute of appreciation to the image etched in his brain. Damned if he had ever felt anything this strong, this powerful, this spontaneous, for a woman before. And never one who made it clear she wasn’t available.

“I wasn’t that hungry myself,” she grumbled, glaring over her shoulder. “I really just wanted to get some coffee and relax. Maybe get a feel for the town.”

Her tone made it clear she’d gotten quite a feel for Rossdale already, and it wasn’t a good one. Not sure why, since he knew she wouldn’t stick around one way or the other, but Gideon didn’t want her to hate his town. It could have been the hardening package in his jeans, but he liked to think he was a bigger man than that. Then again, as he looked down at Miki’s exotic face, he had to admit, he was getting bigger by the second.

“Do you like coffee?” he ventured.

Like fireworks in a pitch-black sky, her eyes sparkled.

“Only as much as I like air.”

He laughed and, cupping his hand under her elbow, turned her toward the General Store.

“I’ll treat you to a cup of the best coffee you’ve ever had,” he promised.

“Hmmm,” Miki said, trepidation clear on her pretty face. “I’m used to some pretty good coffee. And, having formerly worked in the food industry, I’d have to say I’m a rather picky connoisseur.”

“Trust me,” he promised.

She pressed her lips together. He hoped she was hiding a grin rather than a frown. Seeing her hesitation, he pasted his best ‘I don’t want to date you’ look on his face. It must have worked, since she gave a slow nod and shifted the books in her arms. He pointed toward the far end of town, and they started walking together down the sidewalk.

“Can I carry those for you?” he offered. Realizing what he’d said, he gave a mental groan.

Great going, Ross. He hadn’t tried the ole ‘can I carry your books’ line to get his hands on a girl since LucyAnn Randall back in ninth grade. Then again, it’d worked just fine with LucyAnn. Not that he expected some hot necking behind the Dairy Queen with Miki. He eyed her full lips, curved in a shy smile, and had to admit, the necking did have appeal.

“I’ve got them,” she said, not letting go of her books.

Did that mean she’d turn him down if he offered a tour of the abandoned Dairy Queen?

“I visited your library. I was surprised at how well stocked your metaphysical section was. I’ve never seen one that extensive, even in L.A.”

He grunted. Damned town and its fascination with magic. Ignoring her silent question, he reached over to move her hand to see the titles. A flash of heat sparked when he touched the smooth warmth of her soft skin. Like watching lightning in a clear blue sky, it was both powerful and surprising. He hadn’t felt anything so... electric in years. He frowned. It was just static, that’s all. Telling himself to ignore the wiggy sense of deja vu, he quirked a brow at her instead.

“You’re thinking of putting me out of business?” he asked, with a nod to the home improvement books.

Confused, Miki glanced down, then laughed. “Believe me, I’m hardly a threat. So far the extent of my home improvement skills is changing light bulbs.”

With a quick glance for cars, Gideon cupped her elbow to guide her across the street. At the lack of electrical charge when he touched her, his shoulders relaxed. Wigginess gone, he gave himself over to the feel of her body close to his. He liked that she was tall. Tall enough that he’d be able to pull her flush against his body. That when he pressed her to him, he’d feel her curves.

When he kissed her, he wouldn’t have to bend, but would be able to mimic lovemaking on their feet, with his sex pressed against the juncture of her thighs.

After a brief pause, Gideon reluctantly released her arm. He didn’t want to, but walking into the store with a raging hard-on probably wasn’t wise. After all, he grimaced as they reached their destination, the town gossips were going to have a field day as it was.

“You’re not really offended, are you?” Miki asked.

He looked at her and frowned. Offended? Since gossip was a way of life in Rossdale, he didn’t see what good it would do to be offended. Then he realized she meant the books.

“Nah, I’m not offended. I hate to be the one to tell you, though, that there’s a lot more repair needed on that house than you’ll find in those books.”

He pulled open the wooden door to the store, and gestured her in ahead of him.

She, however, didn’t move. Instead, she stared, jaw sagging, at the window display.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh my. What... What are those?”

Gideon followed her gaze to the Ode to Rossdale. The display featured everybody in town who’d wanted to be included. At least a hundred figures were on display.

“Spud Dolls,” he told her, a hint of pride in his voice. And why not? They were, after all, the town’s main source of fame and income these days.

“Spud? As in potato?” She squinted and pressed her lips together like she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“Hey, they are big business. Each one can be custom designed, complete with hair color, outfits, everything.”

“This is actually a business?” Her shock was clear in both her tone and the widening of her eyes. “They look like Mr. Potato Head mated with one of those ugly troll dolls with all the hair.”

“The Spud Doll Factory keeps Rossdale alive,” Gideon claimed, not willing to admit she wasn’t far from the truth. He was pretty sure the dolls had been inspired by a bottle of Jack Daniels, a troll doll, and a steak and potato dinner. “They grow on you.”

“Um, okay.” Her tone said she’d rather grow fungus, but she didn’t argue. Just entered the store with a bemused smile on her face.

“Oh, my,” she breathed when she stepped over the threshold. Wide-eyed, she looked around the store like she’d fallen onto a different planet and wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.

“Welcome to the heart of Rossdale,” Gideon said uncertainly. He remembered introducing another woman to Rossdale. Just the memory of her disdain was enough to rock him back on his heels. Was Miki the same? Were the women he was the most attracted to doomed to hate his town?

“This is...”

He winced and held his breath.

“Simply adorable.” She shot him a look and shrugged. “I told my brother when we drove through that I thought it looked like a movie set from the outside. Inside it’s even better. Look at the colors, the warmth here.”

Like a kid in a candy store, or a guy at the Corvette dealership, she darted from display to display. At a curved hat stand, she fingered one woven monstrosity and grinned at Gideon. Then she moved on to a banged up antique dresser. Gideon didn’t understand the fascination with the old musty looking clothes tumbling from the drawers, but Miki oohed and aahed. She traced one finger over the delicate rim of the china cup displayed on the dresser.

“It’s all so perfect. Just what you’d expect to find in a small town. It just screams history.”

“Since I think my great-grandma wore that dress hanging there, I suppose you’re right about the history,” Gideon agreed.

Miki stepped close to him and gave a deep sigh.

“That has to feel so good. Being able to trace your roots in such a tangible way.”

“Good? Some days, I suppose.” He tilted his head toward her and then gestured with his chin for her to head through the store. They passed the canned goods, the fruit display and the fishing gear on the way to the back wall. “Doesn’t your family have a strong history?”

“Oh, yeah, they’ve got a doozy of a history.” The snicker in her voice had him curious to hear the details, but before he could ask, she continued. “But as strong as my family’s tied to their past, they’ve never been big on staying in one place. Or hanging on to mementos. Things like your grandma’s dress, that make the past a living thing. You know? Something tangible.”

“Those tangible reminders aren’t always a good thing.”

“Of course not. That’s what makes it even more special,” Miki said with a smile. Gideon could tell a lot from that look, the curve of her lush lips and the sparkle in her midnight eyes. She was a woman who appreciated both the good and the bad. Who would accept, unconditionally, if she loved.

That might have scared him if he wasn’t so sure he was cured of believing in love.

Just to prove she wasn’t that fascinating, Gideon let her tour the rest of the store on her own. He stood in the pseudo-sports aisle, fingering a worn aluminum baseball bat and eyed the two dusty fishing rods. Mage Lake had some of the best fishing in the state. Not that it mattered. Rossdale was doing so poorly, the store couldn’t give away the equipment.

Gideon was mulling over the chances of people overcoming their phobia of the lake when he heard a commotion at the back of the store.

With a frown, he headed toward the raised voices.

“What’s going on?” he asked when he saw Fred staring Miki down like she was a shoplifter. She had a bag on the counter, and it looked like she was refusing to take the credit card Fred kept poking at her.

“Whatch’ya need, Gideon?”

Ignoring the questions in the old man’s eyes, Gideon made his way to the counter. He stopped, just behind Miki and in a glance, surmised the problem.

“You have a credit card machine, Fred. Why don’t you just use it?”

“Darned thing costs money. You know that. Store policy, no credit cards except from locals.”

“But I explained, I’m local,” Miki ground out, her frustration obvious in tone and in the stiff set of her shoulders. “I’m living out on—”

“I know, I know. The old Henderson place. Don’t matter. You ain’t local yet, missy.”

“Fine, I’ll write you a check.”

“Don’t take out of town checks.”

“I’ve only been here three days, I haven’t had a chance to open a local account yet.”

Fred just jutted out his lower lip and set his jaw.

“Look, Fred, I’ll vouch for her. Go ahead and take Miki’s card, or her check, whatever. I’ll make sure it’s good.”

Miki turned to glare at him.

“My credit is stellar. I don’t need anyone to vouch for me.”

He liked the way independence sparked in her eyes. Her lower lip stuck out in a way that just begged him to lean down and nibble on it. But Fred was getting enough of a free show as it was, so Gideon refrained.

“You want to buy that bag?” he asked, gesturing to the rainbow colored mesh tote thing she had on the counter.

“Yes.”

“Fred here ain’t gonna budge unless I vouch for you.”

“You can’t vouch for me, since you have no more idea than Fred here if I’m good for the money or not. So it’s not vouching. It’s charity. And I don’t need charity.”

The only reason Gideon didn’t roll his eyes was fear she’d punch him in front of Fred. She had that look about her, like she would be wild when she was riled up. Damned if he didn’t want to rile her and see.

When they were alone.

“Got cash?” he asked instead.

“Not with...” she trailed off. She squinted and pursed her lips, mumbled something, then reached into her back pocket. “Yeah. I forgot. I’ve got a twenty.” Not meeting his eyes, she turned and handed the money to Fred.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Fred’s gaze danced between the two of them, curiosity clear on his wizened face. Questions Gideon knew the gossip chain would have a heyday with.

To forestall the inevitable, Gideon said, “We’re here for a couple cups of coffee.”

“Gonna have to be to go,” Fred said shortly. “I’m getting ready to clean the cups.”

Gideon followed Miki’s glance at the small tower of white ceramic mugs, all spic-and-span tidy. He heaved a sigh. Damned if it was going to be easy to romance a lady with the rest of the town trying to run her off before she could even get her mail delivered.

“To go is perfect,” was all he said.

Five minutes later, Miki sauntered down Main Street again, this time alongside the hunky, off-limits handyman. Fragrant steam rose from the lids of their disposable coffee cups and her books were in her rainbow-hued mesh bag. Good thing she’d remembered the cash back on her dresser. Even better that her translocation spell had actually worked. Because even the best witch couldn’t conjure cold, hard cash.

And her reward? She was going to relax and enjoy her sexy tour guide. Miki eyed the golden boy next to her and took a contented sip of her coffee.

“Where are we heading?” Miki asked him as they passed the diner again. The diner diva stood at the counter filling saltshakers and glaring at them. Miki resisted the urge to charm the salt so it’d spray back in her face.

“I thought I’d show you a little of the town.”

“I’ve seen this part,” she reminded him as they passed her car. “There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of town to tour. I’m surprised, though, even as small as it is that you don’t have more tourists coming through.”

“We used to. Rossdale was a pretty big tourist mecca, being right off the highway and all. Up until about eight years ago, the County Fair was held right outside town. We had a lot of summer people who’d come stay for the fishing. Winter people for the skiing.”

“What happened?”

“People stopped coming.”

Maybe it had something to do with the crappy welcome they got, Miki mused.

They turned onto the side road and a few steps later, reached an archway of twisted wrought iron, proclaiming it to be the Town Square. Passing through the rusted arch, Miki saw a waist-high cobblestone wall that ran the perimeter of the square. Walkways of the same stone wove in and out of beds of dead grass and weeds, all leading to the center. It was like something out of Sleeping Beauty’s castle after the witch had thrown her tantrum. Dead brambles, weeds, and broken tree branches gave the square a depressing feel.

“Wow. Gardener’s year off?” Miki asked as she gaped at the derelict space.

“It doesn’t seem to matter what we do. Nothing will grow here. Believe me,” Gideon insisted with a strained laugh, “there are some avid gardeners who’ve done their damnedest. But no matter what they plant, it dies. They cut away the weeds, and almost overnight, they grow back.”

He seemed to be waiting for her to laugh, or at least express some level of doubt at his words. She supposed to most people, they would sound ridiculous.

Instead, she looked around again, a contemplative gleam in her eye. She ran a hand over the decaying wooden back of a bench and breathed deeply. Why was the square keeping people away? What was it protecting?

Gideon’s brow furrowed. She glanced at him and gave a little laugh, as he seemed to expect.

“So you’ve abandoned it? Nobody comes here anymore? It feels... well, alone.”

His frown deepened. “Alone?”

“That sounds silly, doesn’t it,” she said quickly. She felt the color wash her cheeks and shrugged, waving a hand to indicate the gazebo. “It just seems like this must have been a fun place at one time. It has so much potential.”

“People eventually gave up on prettying it up. We mostly ignore it now. They even moved the Town Meeting to the library, instead of the hall there,” he said with a nod toward the small, Tudor-style building at the far end of the square.

“Isn’t that a little extreme? To just ignore part of your town?” And such a shame. There was such potential for beauty here. Miki gazed around, her mind’s eye seeing flowering vines, rose bushes in full bloom and an abundance of lush, green grass. With a little work and determination, the square would be beautiful.

She breathed in the rich scent of the earth, and closed her eyes as sensations rushed through her. It was so powerful, so... possible. Like a whisper, the energy wrapped around her. Soft, just a hint of power. Miki’s skin tingled and her breath hitched. There was so much here. Could be so much more here. Like a flower bulb, long neglected, it needed nurturing to re-bloom. Miki’s stomach clenched in excitement. The sound of another big truck, loud and lumbering, pulled her attention back to Gideon.

“That’s not extreme by Rossdale standards,” he said, reminding her of her question about the town ignoring the square. “You might have guessed, the town has a few quirks.”

“Like a predilection to sudden fits of cleaning?” she taunted.

Gideon’s grin made Miki’s stomach do a whirling little dance. Whoa, baby. Poison, remember. The man was off limits. After enjoying his company for the last half-hour, she was having trouble remembering why, though.

“That’s nothing,” Gideon assured her. “The fact that it’s a feline-free town is a lot quirkier, if you ask me.”

“Feline-free? You all hate cats?” Miki’s eyes widened in shock. Who hated cats? What kind of town was this?

“Nah. Actually most people around here like pets. But somewhere about a dozen or so years back, cats started running off. Even bribes of fish and milk won’t keep them here. People go out of town, bring in a cat and it’s gone within a month.”

“I wonder why?” Miki mused.

“Nobody seems to know.”

In accord, they moved toward the once white gazebo in the center of the square. In all its graying glory, missing boards, and sagging lattice, it still commanded attention. He took Miki’s hand to help her over the broken step.

In the center of the gazebo was a stone and brick wishing well, encrusted with dirt and choked by weeds.

“Odd place for a well,” she commented. She traced her fingers over it, rubbing at the moss-covered plaque. The copper square felt warm, odd since the Town Square was so gloomy and chilled. It was too oxidized to read, but if Gideon’s glare was anything to go by, it wasn’t a legacy he was proud of.

“Is it special,” she asked.

Gideon gave the plaque another dirty look, and then shrugged.

“It was a monument of sorts,” he answered, his tone reluctant. “Rossdale’s founding fathers built the well. They built this whole square, actually, but the well is center.”

With an odd look in his eyes, he watched her as she turned and leaned her butt against the edge.

“Legend has it that the well is the center of the town,” Gideon explained. “According to the old-timers, it doesn’t seem to matter what people build, or where. Every time anyone’s checked, the well is dead center.”

“How is that possible?” she wondered.

How intriguing though that there was so much more to Rossdale than met the eye. She’d have to talk to Ryan when he came back around, see if he sensed anything. It was either a very whimsical town, or one with a hint of magic.

“Who knows,” Gideon shrugged. He set his empty coffee cup on the weathered wood railing and shifted closer to her. Miki’s breath stuck in her throat and she bit her lip to keep a nervous giggle at bay.

“You know,” he pondered, obviously ready to change the subject. “I don’t think it’d be too much of a stretch to call this our first date. So now that we’ve got that out of the way, why don’t you reconsider going to dinner with me.”

“This wasn’t a date,” Miki protested. Oh, no. This was just a reward for standing up for herself. She wasn’t dating Gideon. She couldn’t.

At least, not until she’d uncursed her ex-husband. Given the laws of karma, she fully expected any date she attempted to end in disaster. Besides, dating Gideon could go nowhere. She’d be crazy to even consider it.

Let’s get crazy, her body shouted.

“I’ll have to find a bandage for my ego later.” Gideon gave an exaggerated grimace. Miki winced, realizing how her words must have sounded. But the twinkle in his whiskey-gold eyes assured her he wasn’t offended.

“I think you’ll be fine,” Miki told him with a grin. Who knew a sense of humor could be even more attractive than a hot body? But, wild as it was to believe, she was even more drawn to Gideon’s personality than his gorgeous smile or very sweet butt. Used to the polished looks of everyone from movie stars to grocery clerks in Southern California, maybe she’d gotten jaded.

Or maybe this hunky handyman was too good to resist.

“I did get you coffee,” he reminded her as he took her empty cup and set it next to his on the gazebo railing.

Heat stirred in her belly as Miki pursed her lips and glanced at the cups. “And delicious coffee it was, too.”

“Wouldn’t you say that deserves a thank you?”

Tempting. He was so tempting.

“I take it words aren’t the kind of thanks you’re looking for?”

“That depends. What kind of words were you planning to use?”

“What kind of words are you into?” she asked with her most innocent look. Her brain screamed, ‘what the hell are you doing?’ Her hormones ignored the warning. “Because I just don’t see you as the type of guy willing to say ‘yes, mistress’.”

His eyes rounded, then Gideon broke into laughter.

“I’m not likely to wear a collar,” he admitted. He reached out to brush a dead leaf off her shoulder, his hand lingering. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Miki welcomed the warmth. “But I think you’ll find I am quite skilled at taking directions.”

“Tempting. A man who takes directions and knows good coffee?” she mused softly.

His hand left her shoulder to slide under her hair. Long, strong fingers curved over the back of her neck, sending tingles shimmering through her body. She should pull away. She was freshly divorced from a lousy marriage. She was a witch with karmic retribution swinging its axe over her head. She’d sworn off mortals forever.

She watched Gideon lean toward her, intent clear in his whiskey gold eyes.

“You’re bad for me,” she told him. “You’re probably the worst thing on earth I could indulge in right now.”

“C’mon,” he goaded. Bare inches away, he wasn’t touching her, but the warmth of his body enfolded her all the same. “What’s life if you don’t live a little dangerously once in a while.”

“There is dangerous, then there is poison.” Something she’d do well to remember. Miki shoved her hands in the front pockets of her jeans to keep from grabbing Gideon and pulling him against her just to see if he was as deliciously hard as she’d been dreaming.

“Doesn’t coffee merit a thanks?” He slid his fingers along her jaw line. Miki clenched her teeth together to keep from purring.

Instead, she hummed, then shrugged.

“It’s got to be worth something,” he prompted.

His fingers caressed the sensitive flesh just below her ear and it was all Miki could do not to press herself into his hand like a cat would. She had to taste him. Just once, then she’d be able to stop.

“This is just a thank you,” she informed him as she wrapped her hands behind his neck. One tiny step was all it took to feel the hard warmth of his body pressed to hers. Desire spun a fine thread, but Miki promised she’d keep it under control.“Just a thank you,” she murmured against his lips. And, if she were honest, a teensy bit of curiosity. “Nothing more.”

She felt Gideon’s smile fade as softly, ever so gently, his mouth brushed against hers. Mmm, sweet. Tension poured out of Miki’s shoulders and she relaxed. She’d been crazy to get so worked up over this attraction, so worried that he’d be a threat to her emotional balance. Worries fading, she relaxed into the kiss with a soft sigh.

As if he’d been waiting for that exact signal, Gideon shifted gears. In one delicious slide of his tongue, he sent the kiss from warm to incendiary. Miki gasped at the wild sensations whipping through her system. He plunged his tongue between her teeth in a swift move that made her body blaze with desire.

Uh oh. Her heart raced as she tried to control her reaction. But she’d never felt anything like this. Like an electrical current, every move of Gideon’s tongue sent another zap of desire straight through her. In response, Miki met his tongue, thrust for thrust, the feelings rushing through her so hot and intense she had to have more.

With a moan, she pressed the beaded tips of her aching breasts against Gideon’s chest. His hand slid down her back to cup her rear and Miki shuddered. Delicious. She wanted to eat him up in slow, slurping bites.

Even as one part of her brain asked where the hell her inhibitions had gone, the rest of her brain applauded. Miki went with the applause.

One hand still curved over the back of his neck like she was afraid he might stop, she trailed the other over his shoulder and down his arm. Damn, he had some solid muscles. Desire, already swirling like mad, shot straight between her legs. Her panties damp, Miki pressed her thighs together to intensify the sensation.

A kiss. Just a simple kiss and she was already hot and wet. What the hell would happen if she ever got naked with the guy?

As that thought registered, Miki’s tension returned, tenfold. Naked? He was mortal and she was ten pounds overweight. Ohmigod, they couldn’t get naked.

Sensing her withdrawal, Gideon ended the kiss with another gentle brush of his lips over hers. Forcing herself not to jump out of his arms, she slowly pulled away to stare up at him with blurry eyes. The look on his face, like a chocoholic in the See’s kitchen, made Miki want to strip bare right there in the Town Square. Ten pounds be damned.

As if he could read her mind, Gideon gave her that slow, sexy smile. The same one she’d been seeing in her dreams the last three nights.

“Now I’ll say you’re welcome,” he told her.

As Gideon winked and leaned forward to claim another kiss, Miki shied away.

“I’ve got to go,” she muttered, hurrying down the rotting steps as fast as she could. So fast, she didn’t see the shimmer of life, not felt in a dozen years, unfurl its magic. Like the first hint of spring, energy renewed, giving the faintest promise of hope. And deep in the brambles covering the ancient well, a tiny white bloom unfurled its delicate petals.

With the return of magic and the hope of love, the promise of the prophecy was reborn.

* * *

Tilda clenched her fist, glaring at the rocks piled on the table in front of her.

“What’s going on?” Antonio whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Why isn’t it working?”

A sea of faces stared up at the altar where they stood. Their looks of expectation were shifting to frowns and she could see a few starting to whisper. The sun beat down, its brilliant rays reflecting off the white marble of the altar, intensifying the stabbing pain in Tilda’s head.

She swallowed the panic trying to claw its way up her throat. Pushing back the black haze blurring the edges of her vision, she pulled once again on the surrounding energy.

And felt nothing.

Nothing?

How was this possible?

Tilda ground her teeth together and tried to calm her racing heart. The beat was so wild, so strong, she knew those peasants below had to hear it. Her hands began to shake as she tried again to enchant the rocks to appear as gold.

Nothing.

“Tilda,” Antonio hissed, urgency clear in the stiff set of his half-naked body. “Do something.”

“Do it yourself,” she snapped back. But, even in her turmoil, she kept her voice quiet. They couldn’t let the sheep see the loss of control. The loss of power. With one last glare, Antonio stepped away from her. He positioned himself right behind the altar and raised his hands in the air. The murmurs died down and like the sheep Tilda mockingly dubbed them, the Lights of Atlantis went silent.

“My people, I give you results,” he bellowed in his chanting, sing-song voice. “Perhaps not the results you’ve come to expect, no. But there is a lesson in that. Let’s explore it, shall we? In that exploration, you’ll see the path to your next level of attainment.”

Tilda glared. She’d given him that gift, that hypnotic power over words. Why was he unaffected by the shift of energy? Why was he still enchanted?

To hide her shaking hands, she stepped into the shadows, away from the stares, letting the sound of Antonio’s sermon fade into the background.

What had happened? She ground her teeth in anger. She’d called the energy of this mountain, this lake, her own for years now. Where had it gone? So used to relying on the abundant energy embedded in this area, in these people, she hadn’t realized how much she’d let her own powers atrophy, grow stale. They were there, now, trembling and shaky. She’d fix that.

As soon as she did, she’d divine the reason for the loss of energy. She’d find out who or what was to blame for blocking her access or rerouting the prophecy’s powers.

And then someone would pay dearly for this moment of humiliation.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Six

How stupid could she be?

It wasn’t like she didn’t have enough trouble with a vindictive ex-husband calling daily to harass her. A karmic backlash hanging over her head until she uncursed Perry the Pig. The only bright spot in life-as-she-currently-knew-it, she’d finally—finally—got her magic under control.

And then? Go Miki, she’d just had to kiss the hunky mortal. A bone-melting, heat-inducing, lust-obsessing kiss. She wanted to smack herself upside the head.

What had she been thinking? She’d known he was bad news. She’d even reminded herself to stay away from mortal entanglements. But, nooooo. Miki just had to tempt Fate. And what happened? Fate kicked her butt.

She glared at the sagging, moldy wallpaper covering the bathroom wall. The floral paper hung like an accordion, its wrinkled pleats reverberating to some unknown beat. Overhead, a mister hung midair, spraying warm steam at the avocado-green insult to decor. Years of dirt and mold buildup streaked the paper to drip into a filthy puddle on the stained tiles beneath.

“I just need enough steam to clean up this mess, how it got this bad is anyone’s guess. But I’ve had enough, make it stop, before I drown in this disgusting slop.”

Nothing.

A frustrated scream ripped from her throat.

See what happened when she kissed mortals?

Her magic, going so well for that one single day, was right back to screwed up and worthless.

Miki refused to accept her magic sucked. Not again. Trying one more time, she pulled the energy up through her body, imagining a spiraling band of light as it climbed from her root chakra up through her belly. Letting the energy build, she focused, then sent it flying out through the index finger she pointed at the steam-spouting tin can.

The overhead light sparked and flashed, then steadied. The toilet flushed and the scraping tool she’d used on the wallpaper flew across the room.

But the mister?

Nothing.

Miki shoved aside the grabby little fingers of despair as they tried to take hold. She puffed out her cheeks and pressed her lips together. Damn. Blowing out a long breath, she shook her arms to loosen up, tilted her head from side to side, and rolled her shoulders.

She could do this.

She just had to focus. She breathed through her teeth, since the smell of old moldy paper had filled the tiny bathroom with gross fumes. What had she done before? How had she clicked into the right frequency to control her powers?

It had been the land.

She opened her eyes to stare out the narrow-paned bathroom window. She’d connected with the energy of the land, the living Earth. But it had been her magic working, not earth magic. Maybe the land’s energy had steadied hers, but she’d still been the witch in charge.

Hadn’t she? Tears filled her eyes. Miki blinked them away. She refused to believe she was doomed to this useless, wonky magic.

No. She was fine. She had plenty of magical power. But her powers were like a shorted electrical current, flying willy-nilly all over the place, unable to complete the circuit. The earth connection had grounded them.

That was her story, and she was sticking to it. Because if there was one thing magic needed, it was confidence.

The steam’s moisture now ran down the wall in rivulets. The wall behind the paper was starting to swell. Miki might not know diddly about home improvements, but that couldn’t be good for it. She had to get it to stop.

With a deep breath, she reached her hands out to sense the energy. The image of the huge green mountain firmly in her mind, she closed her eyes and opened herself to its power.

Nothing. It was as if she were in a bubble and couldn’t touch it. She knew it was there, she could sense it. But it was somehow out of reach.

Miki clenched her teeth and barely refrained from beating on the disintegrating wall. Instead, she kicked the chipped base of the pedestal sink.

Her foot exploded in pain through the thin canvas of her tennis shoe. The mister blew up, water shooting at the wall like a geyser. The wallpaper, sad to begin with, drooped in pitiful wet ugliness. Miki swiped at the water ricocheting at her face and stifled another frustrated scream.

“Shouldn’t you be taking a shower inside the tub?”

Miki yelped at her brother’s voice. She spun around, not realizing how wet the tiles under her feet were. It was only Ryan’s quick thinking and large hand that stopped her from landing flat on her ass in a pile of wet, moldy goo.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she growled, clinging tight to his hand until she got her balance again. Miki shot a disgusted look at the mister, still hanging in midair, giving little hissing sputters.

“What the hell are you trying to do?” he countered.

“Strip this butt-ugly wallpaper.”

“Interesting way to do it. I didn’t realize you had to take the whole wall with it.”

“Shut up, Ryan. Help me with this.” Swallowing her pride, along with a healthy dose of humiliation, she gestured to the flood of murky water soaking into her shoes.

Ryan opened his mouth, then shut it without comment. He cast a swift glance around the room. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he chanted, “Mist and steam, your work is done. Repair yourself and be gone.”

Just like that, the steamer pieces and damp air disappeared. Sadly, the mess was still there.

“You couldn’t have taken off that wallpaper?” she whined. Not that she wasn’t grateful. She was. But after an hour of struggling with a possessed mister, wonky magic, and now soaked shoes, it grated to see the ease with which Ryan worked magic.

“What do I know about removing wallpaper? You’re gonna have to pull it down yourself. As wet as it is, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

Miki sighed. Then, toes squishing in her shoes, she tiptoed to the wall and gave the gooey green paper a tug. It slid off the wall like butter. She didn’t think the blistered wall beneath the paper was a good thing, but she’d ignore that for now.

Five minutes, ten tugs and a disgusting pile later and her walls were bare. Bubbly, but bare.

Ryan gave her a pitying look, and with a snap of his fingers, the pile of paper disappeared.

“Garbage?” she asked. Her shoulders weighted down with defeat, she tried to keep her chin high.

“Yeah.” Ryan looked around and sneered. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. You can show me what else you’ve done.”

“You want to see the rest of my repair attempts?”

“Sure. Especially in the kitchen.”

“You mean you’re hungry.”

“Hey, I cleaned up your mess. You can make me lunch. After all, you are a great cook.”

Miki took the pity gesture for what it was and followed her brother out of the still stinky bathroom.

On the way down the stairs, Miki silently pointed out the loose step.

“You realize this place is a health hazard,” Ryan said.

Lips pressed together, she didn’t tell him the step hadn’t been loose until she’d tried to fix the rickety banister.

They continued down the stairs, evidence of her repair attempts all over the place.

“At least you’re being smart here,” Ryan commented, pointing to the stack of unpacked boxes lining one tiny wall. “No point in wasting time with those, right? You’ll be heading home soon?”

“I didn’t unpack them because there isn’t enough room in this tiny room to put anything. Besides, it’s so gross and dirty, it’s more sanitary to keep things in boxes until the kitchen is remodeled.”

“Remodeled? Miki, catch a clue,” he said, holding up the broken cabinet door as evidence. “You can’t do this stuff. Even with magic, you can only do what you already know how. And you obviously don’t know about fixing up a house.”

“I’ve been reading up on it,” she defended.

“You shouldn’t rely on horror novels and comic books.”

“Ha. I have repair books. I didn’t attempt any of these jobs without reading the instructions carefully. I know what I’m doing.”

Ryan gave the broken door a pitying look before leaning it against the cabinet. Then he gave her the same sad look and shook his head.

“So you meant to rip the doors from their hinges?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. “I mean, I meant to take them all down to be cleaned and sanded. The book said that’s the best way to make old cabinets look new again without refacing.”

She eyed the sadly splintered door and sighed.

“That one was stuck though, so I tried to give the screwdriver a little extra budge with magic.”

“It’s a good thing you haven’t tried to fix the leaking roof,” he commented. “You’d pull the ceiling down on top of you.”

Miki didn’t bother defending herself. After all, he was probably right.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” was all she said.

“I popped down to Santa Monica to visit Lena for a bit.”

“How is she?” Overwhelmed with sudden homesickness, Miki sighed. She hadn’t discovered any trolls or axe murders in this picturesque town yet, but it was definitely starting to feel like a horror novel.

“She’s as bossy as ever,” he said with a shrug. “We hit Karma Café for dessert. The entire meal was spent with Lena nagging at me to get back and take care of you since she’s stuck with clients all week and can’t visit.”

Miki sniffed, but refused to feel guilty. They were the ones who’d decided she needed a babysitter. She would be fine on her own. She glanced at the ceiling, the scent of moldy paper still clinging to her. Maybe. She rinsed the mushrooms and peppers, then with a grimace at the disgusting stained countertop, she set them in a bowl while she dug through an open box for her cutting board.

“And who should walk in but Perry the Pig.”

A spasm kinked her neck and Miki turned, knife in hand, to stare. Satisfied he had her attention, Ryan leaned back on the stool with a smug look. She had to force herself not to kick the seat out from under him. It wasn’t like he’d tell her any faster squirming on the floor.

Instead, she shrugged and, acting like her stomach wasn’t knotted and ready to rebel, turned back to the vegetables.

“I’m not surprised. Perry always did like dessert.”

“I’ll say.” Ryan snickered. “But unless he’s getting it delivered, he won’t be having chocolate trifle any time soon.”

“Is there a point to this, Ryan?” Miki seeded the peppers in an easy, practiced move. “If so, can you get to it?”

Ryan snitched a slice of pepper and Miki glanced up at him.

“It seems Perry the Pig has gotten himself tossed out of quite a few restaurants lately. He can’t seem to keep his pants zipped at the table, if you know what I mean.”

Miki’s knife froze and she bit back a groan. Damn. The curse wasn’t waning. It was getting worse.

“I’m not surprised you ripped the screws out of that cabinet door, Mik. After all, you’ve already put the royal screw to your ex.”

“That’s why you’re back so soon?”

“Yep. Lena is keeping Mom distracted.”

Terror washed over Miki like a blast of Novocain. Frozen and numb, she stared at her brother.

“No,” she breathed.

“Yep. Seems Mom’s heard a few rumors and rumblings through the gossip chain.”

“She’s not coming here, is she?” Miki croaked. Not that she didn’t love her mother, but the woman made Attila the Hun look open minded.

“Nope, she doesn’t know where you are. All she’s got from Lena is that you’ve gone off to refamiliarize yourself with your returned powers.”

“And the curse on Perry?”

Ryan screwed his face up in a frown and shrugged.

“Can’t say. I mean, if she sees the guy, it’s obvious. But Lena’s been trying to keep her out of restaurants. Those seem to attract the worst of Perry’s passions,” he mused. He raised a brow and angled his chin. “How’d you pull that off, by the way? That’s one hell of a curse to be so specific. It’s like it keeps building on itself. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were compounding it.”

“I’m not,” she insisted.

“I believe you. But you have to remove it, Mik. The more trouble Perry gets into because of the curse, the more karmic rebound you’ll get.”

Not sure what to say, Miki just nodded and slid the chopped vegetables into a pan of hot oil. She shook the pan with one hand, keeping them moving as she tossed in spices and a splash of red wine. She returned it to the heat and, seeing the pot of water was boiling, added the pasta.

“Miki?”

“I know I have to remove it, Ryan. I’ve tried remembering the curse. I’ve tried universal remedies. I’ve tried blessing spells to counteract it. And I know I’m going to pay the price for anything bad that happens to Perry because of it.” She shrugged, even though the muscles in her neck were so tight it hurt to move her shoulders. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“What happened to your powers? They were solid when I left two days ago. Today it looked like they’d gone to hell.”

She wasn’t about to admit her hunky mistake so she shrugged again. “They’ve been bad since you left.”

Miki made a show of being busy. She stirred the pasta, shook the veggies, and grabbed tomatoes. Ryan watched her wash and chop with a squinty-eyed look of suspicion. Then he shrugged.

“We’re going to have to work a lot harder then. Lena threatened to pull my eyelashes out if I left again before you’d removed the curse.”

Miki gave a reluctant laugh. Ryan’s eyelashes had always been a point of contention for his less-endowed sisters. She added the tomatoes to the pan of vegetables.

“Why don’t you hire that handyman to handle the work around here? Make this place livable and free you up for the important work.”

Miki’s hand froze, along with the breath in her throat.

“Gideon? I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Sure it is. We can’t work in this deathtrap, and you obviously can’t fix it yourself. Hire the handyman. Smile pretty for him and wear a skirt and he’ll probably give you a discount.”

“I can’t afford him, even with a discount.” In more ways than one.

“C’mon, Mik. How many guys do you think this town has who could do the job? Be practical. Look, if it’s the money, Lena and I can help.”

She drained the pasta and added it to the pan of vegetables, flipping once or twice to coat the noodles in the aromatic sauce. She dished the meal onto two plates and handed her brother one, along with a fork and napkin.

“You guys don’t have any more money than I do.”

“No, but we have an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“It involves eBay, your old furniture, and another shot at screwing over Perry.”

Miki looked around the kitchen, which was even worse off since she’d arrived. Her magic was a mess, the curse was escalating, and her house was falling down around her ears.

But unless she could make this house livable to sell it, she was trapped here.

Did she have a choice?

* * *

Gideon slouched in the hard-backed chair and wished he’d had another cup of coffee with dinner. Maybe that would have helped fend off the waves of boredom-induced fatigue.

Instead, he tried to focus on the droning voice of the mayor. That just made it worse.

“Sit up straight,” his mother hissed as she slid into the seat next to him. Without turning his head, Gideon glanced over, then rolled his eyes.

“What the hell are you wearing? Where did you get that?”

That was his father’s picture, ironed on the front of a crisp white tee shirt.

“Keep your voice down, Gideon.” She looked around the room, smiling and nodding as people glanced their way. Then, still seated on the edge of her seat, she opened a notebook and, pen poised, looked like she was ready to take dictation.

“Why do you bother? Nothing new is ever said at these things.”

“I’m keeping track of all the promises our current mayor makes and breaks. It’s useful for his anti-reelection campaign.”

“And the tee shirt?”

“A reminder of what a real mayor should look like.”

From the vicious glare on Reggie Compton’s face, he didn’t much like the reminder. Tall, bald, and skinny, Reggie reminded Gideon of a pool cue. And like a cue left out in the damp weather, the mayor was too crooked to be of much good.

“Perhaps we should pause the meeting for the Rosses to finish their little family chat?” Reggie spat.

Deloris tutted, but before she could teach their glorious leader her version of Town Meeting etiquette, Gideon waved his hand.

“Nah, you’re not interrupting us. Go ahead, continue with what you were saying.”

Gideon was pretty sure the people sitting in the back of the library could hear the squeaky grind of Reggie’s teeth, but he kept his face straight. He might not be free to run for mayor himself, but he’d be damned if he’d sit idly by and watch this loser run the town any further into the ground than it already was.

“As I was saying,” Reggie snapped, “Warner Plumbing is no longer in business here in Rossdale.”

“That’s because they moved on over to McCall,” Marcia, the waitress, explained. “Rob Warner said he couldn’t scrape together enough business here to take care of his family. Not with the flower shop closing and his wife not being able to find nothing else that pays.”

Reggie went on as if she hadn’t spoken.

“I’ve made note to have Warner Plumbing removed from the town’s website. In the meantime, I’d like to compile a list of any townspeople with plumbing experience. In case of emergency or for repairs to one of the city’s holdings, we need a source.”

Nobody spoke. Gideon slid down in his chair until he rested on his spine, his fingers steepled in front of him. Reggie would rather rip his own mustache off one hair at a time than ask Gideon for help. So Gideon made a special point to never volunteer for anything.

“We have to have someone. Anyone? What happened to that Landers boy? He did some plumbing out at the Spud Doll Factory for me once.”

“Don’t you keep track o’nothing?” Joe Denton snapped. The owner of Bea’s Diner wore the same cranky look on his face he’d had the last year and a half since his wife had taken to her bed in mourning of her daughter leaving town. Since Bea had been one hell of a good cook, especially with pies, most of the town mourned right along with her.

“Landers kid took off,” Joe continued. “He joined up with those crazies out by the lake. Why don’t you quit worrying about your toilet overflowing and do something about them?”

“Yeah, Compton. Them cult freaks scribbled graffiti all over my tractor and you still haven’t handled it.”

“Now, Gene, you don’t know it was anyone from The Lights of Atlantis,” Reggie soothed. “They’re taxpaying citizens, just like everyone in this room. They can’t be blamed for someone taking their plumbing business elsewhere.”

“It’s because of them that we’ve lost the winter traffic,” Gene claimed. “You know good and well those cult people bought up the land all around Glacier Road just so they could close it up. Nobody can reach the good ski areas anymore, so they stay on the highway until they reach Klamath instead.”

“We’re losing businesses left and right,” Deloris claimed. “Another family is leaving town. It’s like a hemorrhaging wound. The life just keeps flowing out of Rossdale. We’ve lost how many citizens in the past year, Reggie? The past five years? As mayor, what exactly are you doing about it?”

Reggie spouted bullshit for a few minutes, until Gideon simply couldn’t handle it any longer. By personality and training, he was man hardwired to act. Taking command was in his nature, but circumstances prevented that. But maybe it was time for covert action. The worst that could happen was the town blew to pieces instead of fading into nothingness.

“Look, we have to do something,” Gideon interrupted, standing tall. “Unless we find an answer, and all pull together to make it happen, we might as well haul in the tumbleweeds and declare this place a ghost town.”

“Fine idea,” Reggie said with a sneer. “I, after all, am the only business owner providing viable work for the majority of the town.”

The only thing that kept Gideon from rolling his eyes was the fact that Reggie was, unfortunately, right. As the owner of the Spud Doll Factory, he kept most of Rossdale employed. And himself in office.

“But I notice there’s a whole lot of ‘we need to do something’ going out there in the audience,” Reggie continued in that same condescending tone. “But where are the suggestions?”

He waved a hand at his band of merry crooks he referred to as the town council.

“The council is aware of what your mother and her cronies are up to, Gideon. Go ahead and stir up trouble and complaints. But I’m not the only one who notices for all your complaining, you don’t have any suggestions.”

It wasn’t his mother’s hand on his forearm that kept Gideon from punching the supercilious look off Reggie’s pinched up face. It was the fact that despite being a huge blowhard, one good punch would probably snap the guy in two.

“Just because a Ross founded this town doesn’t make the family necessary to its survival. After all, thanks to your family, Rossdale spent years harboring any mystical lunatic claiming to believe in magic. I’m sure that’s as much to blame for our current problems as anything else.”

Deloris gave a low growl.

“Why don’t we consider hosting fishing tournaments,” Gideon threw out before his mother could launch the vitriolic rebuttal he knew was brewing.

He’d planned to mull on it a little longer, but from the looks of things, the town would either fade away or implode in argument before he’d nailed down the details.

It took a whole minute for the bitching to stop and his words to sink in. Finally, everyone in the room, including Old Maggee who’d been snoring in the back corner, stared at him. Expressions ranged from irritation to indulgence to outright horror.

It was those expressions that decided it for him. Gideon had plenty of doubts about the idea himself, sure. But now, especially in the face of Reggie’s condescending eye roll, his mother’s put-upon sigh and the terror on half the other faces in the room... well, it was obviously time for Gideon to take a stand.

“Oh, please. What a ridiculous—” Reggie started.

“Gideon, the last thing the town needs is a bunch of strangers tramping through like—” his mother said at the same time.

“Mage Lake’s haunted.”

“Bad stuff happens out there.”

“Too close to those Atlantis-worshiping crazies. I hear they threatened to kill anyone who came to the lake.”

“Okay,” Gideon roared over the bitching. “That’s enough. Reggie, you said you’d consider any suggestions. I just made one. Consider it.”

“Look around, Gideon. Nobody is interested in your suggestion.”

Gideon didn’t bother looking, nor did he pay any attention to the ‘shut up and go away’ message in Reggie’s tone. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow.

“A suggestion has been put on the table. Let’s discuss it.” His tone made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any opposition.

“Gideon,” his mother hissed.

“Let’s discuss it,” he repeated, not looking at her. Reggie’s inefficiency was a hell of a lot easier to overrule than Deloris’s prejudices.

“It’s your suggestion, why don’t you fill us in.” Smirk in place, Reggie returned to his seat on the dais. The floor was Gideon’s. Obviously, Reggie expected him to land on it face first.

Ignoring that, Gideon moved in front of the dais. He didn’t climb it to take the rickety folding chair Reggie insisted presenters sit in. Instead he stood with his back to Reggie and faced the small crowd.

“These fishing tournaments are big business. There are any number of groups holding them, both at the national level like BASS and the state level. Mage Lake is some of the best fishing around.”

“Oh, please,” Reggie said. “Next thing you’ll be suggesting is we invite some of them Hollywood types here to make a film or TV show. Just cause something is big business doesn’t mean it’d work in Rossdale.”

Gideon didn’t bother looking over his shoulder.

“These tournaments bring people in for three-day weekends to fish. That might not sound like much, but those that are serious about it will want to practice fish. They’d come in on their own to get to know the waters.”

“Why would one of them tournaments want to come here?” Joe asked.

“Good fishing, for one.” Unfortunately, it was the only reason Gideon had. After all, Rossdale wasn’t known for its hospitality. The long, leggy Miki had learned that the hard way.

Gideon spared a brief thought to the woman who’d inspired lust-induced dreams. After that hot kiss a few days back, he’d been more interested than he should be in convincing the town to be a little more hospitable.

“That kind of thing would cost the town a fortune to put together.”

This time, Gideon did glance at Reggie. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t. The man, like any good politician or snake oil salesman, knew how to gauge his audience. By playing the cost card, he’d automatically closed the minds of at least half the room.

“There isn’t any major expenditure involved,” Gideon claimed, hoping he was right. “Obviously, before we moved on this, we’d get a thorough report of the risks and costs. As well as the potential profits and advantages.”

“Why on earth should we consider this crazy plan?” Reba, Fred’s flowsy wife, asked.

“There isn’t much point in hashing through the details of Rossdale’s decline.” Why bother? That’s all Reggie and his toadies usually did at these meetings. “I’m not going to waste all your time recycling the same old lament.”

From the snickers and sly looks, they got his point.

“Instead, I want you to consider what this could bring to Rossdale. Traffic through town would mean tourists. They’d be buying food, gas, trinkets, and doodads. Equipment and supplies. They’d need lodging, maybe even fishing guides. We pull this off, we could book six, maybe even eight weekends a season in tournaments. And don’t forget the practice fishing or people who like the area and might want to visit again.”

He let that sink in. He could see the wheels turning as people considered what it could mean to each of them specifically. Gideon sucked in a breath and tried to shake the tension off his shoulders. He felt like he was walking a tight line here, the lure of leadership calling to him in one ear. The hissing warning of doom wailing in the other.

But, he justified, as long as he didn’t run for mayor, didn’t take a leading role other than instigation, technically, he wasn’t inciting his ex-wife’s ire. Or her nasty bitch-witch curse.

“We don’t have lodging for any kind of crowd now that the Lodge closed,” Fred pointed out. But the way he was tugging at his lower lip was a sure sign he was at least considering the idea.

“If this proves a success, we reopen Mage Lodge. It’s right there on the lake. In the meantime, there are plenty of people with spare rooms. Call ’em that fancy name, what’s it?”

“Bed and Breakfast,” his mother murmured.

“Right,” he said. One glance told him she hadn’t offered out of any show of agreement. Nope, Deloris Ross just didn’t want her son looking stupid in public. “Bed and Breakfast. See, everyone gets a shot at making a little personal income here.”

“Fishermen would need lunches,” Joe said. “Bea’s could do a few of them box-type things. Simple stuff. Sandwiches, fruit. Maybe a barbeque to kick off the event.”

“You’re crazy, Joe,” Marcia accused. “Why feed into this pie in the sky malarkey? No offense, Gideon, but this just ain’t gonna happen.”

“It can happen if we want it to. It’s just a matter of asking ourselves two questions. Are we willing to do what it takes to save Rossdale? Or are we going to kiss this town goodbye?

Gideon scanned the faces in the room. He’d known them all his life and read them clear as words on a page. Half obviously agreed with Marcia. The other half, though, looked hopeful. Not sure. Not confident in any way, but maybe a little intrigued.

That was enough for Gideon. He’d work them one at a time, pull in more information and hit each one of them where they’d care. Money, fame, saving Rossdale.

He knew all their buttons. Now he just had to push the right ones.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Seven

“Don’t hang up. Please. I need your advice.”

Miki pulled the cell phone away from her ear to squint at it, then listened again.

“Perry?” she asked, perplexed. It sounded like him, it was his number on the screen. But please? And advice? “Is that you?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Mikaela. You must have seen my number. What? You’re on potato overload?”

“Ahh, Perry. Now I recognize your sarcastic voice.” Miki scooted through the kitchen to peer out the window. Nobody in the driveway. She puffed out a breath and paced the narrow floor. “Is that potato thing supposed to be an Idaho joke?”

“I thought it was funny,” he defended. Miki frowned at his petulant tone. Since when did he care what she thought? And where were the insults that usually accompanied these daily calls?

“You used to have a better sense of humor. Of course, you used to have quite a few other good qualities. It’s too bad you let yourself go the way you did. Maybe you’ll be lucky and one of those lonely, Grizzly Adams types will be willing to ignore your issues. You really should start dating again, after all.”

Was that the best he thought she could do?“You called to give me dating advice?” Miki was proud of the way her sneer carried clear through the phone line.

“I was just trying to do you a favor, Mikaela.”

“I don’t need your favors.”

“Fine. Okay, don’t listen to my advice. But don’t hang up. I need your...” his voice dropped so low, she couldn’t make out what he’d said.

Miki propped the phone between her ear and shoulder and tried to push the window open. It wouldn’t budge. Miki shoved again, and yelped when her hand slipped and smacked the wall.

“Hang on, Perry,” she said before she dropped the phone and his still muttering voice to the counter. Using both hands and all her strength, Miki squatted down and shoved up. Just before her shoulders felt like they’d give out, the window shot open. With a bang, it hit the top of the frame.

Miki smiled. There, fresh air. Not that she needed the window open to listen for vehicles or anything.

The tinny sound of her ex-husband’s voice reminded her she was being rude. How funny those words were so clear through the rest of his long-distance mutterings.

“I’m back,” she said into the phone.

“I need your advice,” he said again, this time snapping the words.

“You’re kidding, right? Why on earth would you want my advice on anything? Unless it’s maybe something like ‘how to lose at marriage and get screwed over by your lying, cheating spouse.’ But you’ve got a better handle on that than I do.”

“Miki, please. This isn’t about you.” Miki snorted and rolled her eyes as she leaned out the screen-less window to peer down the road. Nothing. “I... well, I’m afraid you’re the only person I can confide in.”

Miki laughed aloud. “Me? That’s sad, Perry. It’s possible, if you searched high and low, you could possibly find someone who hated you more than I do. But it’d take a lot of work.”

“Once again, Mikaela, this isn’t about you. I need your help. What happened to compassion and concern?”

“The same thing that happened to love, honor, and obey. You tossed it away.” A flash of black outside the window caught Miki’s attention. She frowned and looked again, just in time to watch a cat jump into her window.

“What the hell?” she yelped as she scurried backward. Trying to catch her balance, Miki tripped into the pile of cabinet doors stacked along the wall. She’d have landed flat on her ass if it weren’t for her quick grab of the refrigerator door handle.
“What happened?”

“A cat,” she gasped. Out of breath, she made a shooing motion with one hand. The cat sat on the open windowsill and stared. Medium-sized with long, silky looking hair, it didn’t look like a stray or wild cat. Her heartbeat returning to normal, she straightened and took a couple steps closer, squinting at its neck. Collar? She couldn’t see anything through all that fur.

“A cat? Filthy disease-carriers. Where are you? Just go inside and don’t feed it, it’ll leave you alone.”

“Don’t be such an ass,” she muttered.

Miki narrowed her eyes. Did the cat just nod in agreement?

At the rumbling sound of an engine outside, Miki lost her curiosity about the cat or the reason for Perry’s call.

“I’ve got to go,” she said quickly.

“No, wait. I need to talk to you.”

“Perry, I’ve got thirty seconds. What do you need?”

“Um...”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“The furniture? I want the furniture back.”

A truck pulled up outside her house. Miki sidled over to the window to look out, careful to keep to the side so as not to be seen.

“Furniture?” Miki repeated absently, “I’m using it, sorry.”

Her gaze locked on the delicious view in her driveway, Miki hit the off key and tossed the phone on the counter.

A quick fluff of her hair and a finger over her teeth to make sure she was lipstick smudge free, and Miki headed for the front of the house.

At the door, she stopped and pressed a hand to her stomach to quiet the butterflies. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Calm and contained. Nothing to be nervous about. This wasn’t a big deal.

She heard the truck door shut with a dull thud and straightened her shoulders. Time to put her big girl panties on and act like a grown up instead of a giggly teen with a crush.

When the knock came, the thin wood of the door reverberated under her hand. Miki was ready. With a friendly, but not lusty smile on her face, she pulled the door open.

“Hi, Gideon. I’m glad you could come.”

Just looking at the man made her want to come. The morning sun glinted behind him, making his golden hair seem like it was drenched in light. Having felt the rich thickness of that hair, Miki’s fingers itched to touch it again.

Whiskey eyes traveled over her in a long, slow look that had her insides heading from simmer straight to a full boil. She sucked in her stomach, feeling the comfortable band of her hip-hugging jeans loosen a bit. All the easier to slide off, a wicked little voice whispered in her ear. Miki shrugged off the voice and forced herself not to fiddle with the spaghetti strap of her baby-doll style chiffon blouse.

As long as she ignored the fact that the man looked good enough to eat in long, delicious bites, she’d be fine. Like a fine piece of art in a museum, she could look all she wanted, but touching—and biting—were completely off limits.

After all, he was still poison. Mortals were trouble; nobody knew that better than she did.

“Hey,” he said in that husky slow accent of his. Miki met his warm smile with one of her own. “I’m glad you called. I was hoping you would. I’ve got lots of ideas for you. After we cover the basics, of course.”

Miki’s mouth watered at what those ideas might be. She’d bet he was a master at the basics, and a magician with those ideas of his. Did any of them involve food? She’d spent a lot of years contemplating the sensual possibilities of edible pleasures.

“Basics?” she asked, her voice husky and low. Had she ever gotten beyond the basics in her marriage? How sad, she didn’t even know what the added features might be.

“You know, foundation work. Making sure the electrical and plumbing are up to code, the walls are all standing. That kind of basic stuff. Then we can get into what you’d like to do to make this place really sing.”

Basics. As in construction. Only Gideon’s sharp gaze kept her from smacking herself in the forehead. The man was in the look but don’t touch category, dammit. He might as well be in a museum, behind a red rope and surrounded by armed guards.

No sooner had the thought fully formed than Miki felt a surge of energy and a tingle spark the palm of her hand. Biting back a groan of horrified recognition, she tried to be subtle as she looked around.

Her breath whooshed out. Whew. She didn’t see anything.

“What’s wrong?” Gideon asked.

“Nothing,” she hurried to assure him. One more quick glance around the innocent-looking entryway and she offered a bright smile and stepped back. “Come on in. We’ll get started.”

Before he could answer, he almost fell to his face. Miki grabbed his arm as he stumbled. Her senses reeled at the musky scent enveloping her, reminding her of how it’d felt to be wrapped in his arms. The corded muscles beneath her fingers made her swallow and she had to force herself to let go of him before she embarrassed herself.

“Are you okay?” she asked. A quick look behind him assured her the porch hadn’t fallen in this time. “What happened?”

Gideon straightened, his face ruddy. With a frown, he reached down to untangle something from his feet. Miki followed his gaze and gasped.

Shit.

A red velvet rope, complete with little metal doohickeys on the ends to hook to posts. She bit her lip. She’d known she’d felt something.

“What’s this for?” he asked as he ran the rich fabric through his fingers. “I’m not sure even I’m good enough to turn this mess into a showplace, if that’s what you have in mind.”

Miki forced a laugh and took the rope from him. “Sorry about that. Ryan must have dropped it or something.”

“Your brother?” At her nod, he quirked a brow. “What’s he use it for?”

“Bondage,” she blurted out.

“I beg your pardon?” Gideon’s grin belied any discomfort though. Miki wasn’t sure if he was more amused at her words, or the heat turning her face tomato-red.

“Um, Ryan likes to tie things up.”

Goddess help her if her brother showed up.

“Okay,” Gideon said with a considering look at the velvet. “Is this something that runs in the family?”

“Ewww.” Miki blinked, thinking at first he meant was it something she and her brother did together. But then she caught the sexual spark in his gaze. She bit her lip, her breath shuddering as the images flew at light speed through her imagination. What would it be like to be tied up with velvet, left to Gideon’s mercy? Could she do it? Was that something he liked to do?

“Guess not,” he laughed. Unperturbed by neither her ewww, nor the message his bulging jeans sent, he winked and gestured with his clipboard. “How about we go through the house? You can tell me what you want to do with it, your vision of the finished product. I’ll make notes and track the mandatory repairs.”

He was all business. Now she just had to stay the same.“Where do you want to start?” she asked.

He’d like to start with her toes and nibble his way up those long, slender legs. Gideon forced the mouth-watering image out of his overactive brain and gave Miki the closest thing he had to a professional, lust-free smile.

“Why don’t we start upstairs and work our way down,” he suggested. Maybe it’d distract him from his bottom-to-top fantasy.

Of course, he realized as he watched the sway of her hips as she led the way upstairs, top to bottom had a lot going for it too.

Forty minutes and a few bizarre accidents later, Gideon was still following Miki. This time from the living room—and its lingering, unexplained scent of rich coffee—down the dark, narrow hall toward the last room of their tour. The kitchen.

“So does your shower turn itself on like that often?” he asked to distract himself from the memory of her bedroom and the riot of colors. It had been like walking into a rainbow, her bed the symbolic pot of gold. But the chill he’d been feeling since his arrival told him he was still a far cry from bouncing with Miki on that symbol. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

“The shower?” she repeated, that same odd tone to her voice as she’d had when it’d happened. “No. There was one other water incident up there, but it wasn’t the same.”

“Not another cold shower then, huh?”

Gideon caught her faint blush and wondered if he was the only one who’d been thinking a cold shower might be a good idea when the shower had erupted.

Focus, Ross. They reached the kitchen and he glanced at his clipboard, making a note. He’d have to see if he could get Warner to check the plumbing before he moved off to McCall.

“Holy sh...,” he bit off, finally taking a good look around the kitchen. “Let me guess. You read the book and figured you’d refinish the cabinet doors yourself?”

Between neglect, destructive tenants, and Miki’s own home improvement attempts, it was a wonder the house was still standing. Gideon didn’t say that, though. The vulnerable look in her midnight eyes made it clear she expected to be criticized. But the set of her jaw warned him if he tried, she’d likely kick him in the jewels.

Damn, he wanted her.

“Except for that one, I got them all off with no problem.”

Gideon looked at the one that had been a problem and winced.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to replace all the doors, just refurbish them?” At her nod, he reached for the damaged one. “This house is almost seventy years old. I’m gonna hazard a guess these were original. I doubt we can find any similar, so we’ll have to find a way to repair this one.”

What the hell had she used to get it off the hinges? A sledgehammer? He fingered the splintered oak and winced. No way could he match it. He’d have to see if he could exchange it with one of the others in a less prominent place.

He took a look around, making notes as he went. After he’d covered the necessities, he turned back to Miki, who sat on a colorful stool, swinging those long legs of hers.

“You want to make this a fancy space?” he asked, more to distract himself from wondering how those legs would feel wrapped over his shoulders.

“Not fancy. Just useable.”

“You sure? I could make it pretty special,” he offered with a wink. It, the kitchen. It, anything else she wanted.

“But I’m sure what you have in mind is more than I can handle.”

With a slow grin, Gideon moved closer to Miki, near enough to breath in the woodsy scent of her perfume. He watched the soft light from the nearby window play over her jet-black hair, casting a rich golden glow over the thick waves.

“I don’t know. After that kiss the other day, I’m pretty sure you’d definitely be able to handle it,” Gideon murmured.

Her eyes widened, her breath a little puff of air over his mouth, reminding him of just how tasty she’d been.

“I guess I don’t need to ask what you had on your mind,” she said with a breathless laugh. “Does touring old wrecks always have this effect on you?”

He liked the way her voice got all soft and husky. Like a sexy purr, with just a hint of upscale accent. He liked the direct honesty in her gaze even more. But, just one look told him even though she might be interested, she was too cautious to pursue it. Given the few things he’d wheedled out of her about her marriage, she had reason for that caution.

Gideon considered pulling back, chilling out on the flirting. After all, it wasn’t fair to push when she was still vulnerable. She obviously wasn’t the ‘use sex as a recovery tool’ type of gal.

And other than recovery fun, he didn’t have anything to offer her. Well, other than one hell of a renovation deal.

“Sorry,” he murmured. He reluctantly let go of the strand of hair he’d been smoothing between his fingers. He took two quick steps back and retrieved his clipboard. Tapping his pencil against it, he offered her a stiff smile. “I’m out of line. I don’t usually flirt with potential clients like this. Especially ones who are, well, fresh out of a relationship and probably not ready to start dating again.”

“No? I guess I’m special then, huh?”

Gideon frowned at her grimace and self-mocking tone. What gear had she shifted into?

“Come again?”

“Why the hot, then cold?”

Gideon pulled his shoulders back to crack the tension from his neck and shot her a questioning look.

“Is this because I’m divorced? Is it like pity flirting? My sister warned me guys would do that. She claimed they’d fall into one of two categories. Nice guys who felt sorry for me, or losers who’d try and get into my poor lonely pants.”

Gideon knew he had to look like an idiot standing there, hands at his side and his mouth gaping open, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

She winced at his tone, the anger draining from her face. In its place was a sad sort of resignation.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“You had plenty of reason to snap at me,” Gideon corrected. “I was pushing you. Flirting when I shouldn’t have. I was out of line on a lot of levels.”

Miki gave him an abashed look and a shouldered shrug. “I wouldn’t say you were out of line. I just don’t know where you were coming from. Why the flirting? You were all business up until five minutes ago.”

“Only by grace of my handy clipboard.”

She scrunched her face in question. Gideon held the clipboard up at shoulder level so she saw it, then swung it down in front of his zipper.

Miki stared for two seconds, then her mouth made an O. Her gaze met his again and, to his delight, she giggled.

“Big clipboard you’ve got there.”

“Oh, yeah. The biggest they had in the store,” he assured her.

“I had no idea.”

“You’re kidding, right? How could a woman as hot as you not catch the obvious clues? Big clipboard aside, the fact that I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you had to give you some idea of my interest.”

Gideon tossed the clipboard on the counter, the loud clap of the wood hitting tile making Miki jump. She licked her lips and glanced back at him. The temptation of that sweet pink tongue was almost more than he could stand. Gideon’s reasons for leaving Miki alone hadn’t changed. She was still on the rebound from a lousy marriage. She wasn’t the quick and easy type. She was vulnerable as hell, twice as sweet as a summer peach, and the worst thing he needed in his life.

If he were smart, he’d apologize again, grab his oversized clipboard, and hightail it out of there.

Instead, he took two steps forward, right back in her space and watched her midnight eyes grow even larger. Gideon felt like he was looking into a pitch-black night. Dark, fathomless, and filled with endless possibilities.

“I’m bad for you,” he told her.

“Worse than you could even imagine,” she agreed.

“It’d be stupid to get involved. Even if you weren’t planning to leave as soon as you get your life figured out and this house fixed, I’m not the relationship type.”

“You don’t do relationships at all?” she asked. Curiosity lit her eyes.

“Not since my divorce six years ago.”

“That’s a long time.”

He grinned, and unable to help himself, curled his fingers into her hair. “I haven’t been saving myself, if that’s what you mean.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I guess there isn’t a large dating pool in a town this size?”

“Not that you’d care to dip your... toes into, no.” He shrugged. Gideon combed his fingers free of her hair and tortured himself by trailing his hand over her shoulder. She felt like silk, so smooth and soft. His ego, among other parts, swelled at the soft shudder she gave when he rubbed a finger over her collarbone.

“I’m going to be honest, Miki. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day you moved in. I haven’t stopped tasting you since that kiss in the Town Square.”

“Don’t say things because you think it’s what I want to hear, Gideon. The last thing I need is a pat on the head and a line of bullshit.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. Not much for pussyfooting around, was she? She was blunt honesty wrapped around sweet vulnerability. Such an intriguing combination.

“Believe me, I’m not bullshitting when I say there’s nothing I’d love more than to lay you out on that table over there and nibble my way up your body.”

She sucked in a swift breath. Gideon watched her breasts rise beneath that filmy top and all he could think of was how they’d look naked. He trailed his index finger over her shoulder again and down the inside of her arm until he reached the crook of her elbow. Then, just to drive himself crazy, he trailed his finger back up, bare millimeters away from her breast.

“But as hard as it might be to believe from my behavior so far, my momma did raise me to be a gentleman. And taking advantage of a beautiful lady when she’s hurting is not something I’m gonna do.”

Miki pressed her lips together, those huge eyes of hers swimming in emotion. Somewhere in the back of his head, Gideon heard warning sirens. But he was so lost in the sweet look on her face, it was easy to ignore them.

“Maybe I should be looking for another contractor to do the work here,” she mused aloud. From the frown curving her brow, she didn’t like the idea any better than Gideon did, though.

“Nah. I’m a big boy. I can behave myself. I just...” he sucked in a breath and shook his head. “I just have to have one last taste. Then I’ll settle back into the client/contractor relationship. Maybe even friends.”

Watching her face for any sign of hesitation, he slowly lowered his head. A breath away from her mouth, he whispered, “Just one taste, and we’ll consider each other off limits.”

“Just one more,” she murmured against his lips.

Gideon sank into the delicious depths of her mouth. Keeping the kiss soft, almost gentle, he used his lips and tongue to hint at the passion he felt.

With a soft moan of delight, Miki took that final step, clearing that one-inch between them and putting Gideon’s sanity into severe jeopardy. Keeping a tight grip on his control, he promised himself just one minute to absorb the feel of her. The delicious pressure of her breasts against his chest, her stomach pressed lightly to his straining flesh.

Then she moved, a soft foray of her tongue into his mouth, and he was lost.

Gideon lifted both hands to plunge them into her hair. Just before he did, fire sliced into his calf.

“What the hell,” he yelped, letting loose of Miki and jumping back.

“What?” she gasped through swollen lips. Two quick blinks cleared the languorous glaze from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Pain ripping through his leg, he twisted to see. Attached to his calf by razor-sharp claws was a green-eyed monster with fur. Gideon swore he saw hate in the depths of those slitted eyes.

“Oh no,” Miki yelped.

He shook his leg and the cat bared its teeth. Damned thing wouldn’t shake loose. He didn’t dare reach down to throw it off. No way he wanted his face within swiping distance of those lethal claws.

“This yours?” he asked Miki through gritted teeth. It was probably a good idea to find out before he kicked the furball across the room.

“Not mine,” she said, scurrying out of his arms to try and distract the cat with his clipboard. It didn’t work. “It just showed up before you did. I’d never seen it before.”

Gideon shook his leg again and winced when the cat bared its teeth.

“Cats don’t live in Rossdale, remember?”

“Maybe it’s just wandering through,” she said with a shrug. Before he could stop her, she leaned down and rubbed her thumb and fingers together, making a tutting sound.

After one last flex of its claws, the cat gave a hiss, then released Gideon’s calf. Nice as you please, it stuck its tail in the air and sauntered over to Miki. A quick rub of its head against her outstretched hand and the cat started to purr.

“How sweet,” she exclaimed.

“Sweet? That damned thing just about shish-kabobbed me.” Gideon refrained from tugging up his pant leg to see if he was bleeding. After all, the sticky wetness dripping in his sock was a good enough indicator.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean to,” Miki assured him as she rose, the cat in her arms.

He took a step back as the cat swung its fluffy black head toward him to glare. Only an idiot would believe a cat could radiate malevolence. Even so, he swore that’s what he saw shooting out of those green eyes. Gideon bared his teeth back at it. The cat flipped its tail in a universal symbol, then turned its face into Miki’s chin to snuggle her.

“I think it likes me,” she exclaimed.

Gideon just grunted.

“Where do you think it came from?”

“No clue,” he said. “I wasn’t kidding when I said there are no cats in Rossdale. Don’t get too attached to it. It’ll be gone in a day, two at the most. They always are.”

Her sound of protest made him feel like a jerk. His apparent theme of the day. Before he could say anything more rude, or worse, toss the cat out the window and Miki on that table like he’d wanted, Gideon reached for his clipboard.

He caught Miki’s snicker and grinned, unabashed.

“What can I say? You are one sweet temptation.”

At the cat’s hiss, he glared.

“I’m gonna head out. I’ll work up these figures and have the bid to you within a few days.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. The look in her eyes told him she was grateful for a lot more than his kisses and work-potential. Damning his gentlemanly upbringing, Gideon just shrugged.

“Don’t get attached to that thing,” he repeated on his way to the door. Gideon stopped on the front porch and looked back at Miki. It was like looking at the tempting princess guarded by her fierce dragon. Damned if he didn’t want to find a sword and skewer the thing.

“Some things are as sure as the rising sun in Rossdale. Felines hate it for some reason. You’re better off not letting yourself get emotionally attached.”

With a small nod, he turned and walked away. Don’t get emotionally attached. Good advice. After all, it wasn’t just cats that didn’t belong in Rossdale. The same warning could be applied to sexy women with vulnerable midnight eyes.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Eight

Tilda stood at the edge of Main Street, her arms raised to the dark, moonless sky, and shuddered in ecstasy as a surge of elemental power moved through her.

She hadn’t set foot in Rossdale proper in years. She’d forgotten the feel of its energy. Stupid Rosalee Wenton, bequeathing her power to a town. What a waste.

As before, Tilda would gain because of Rossdale’s cluelessness. And she prided herself in her ability to take any gain, however small, and wring it for all it was worth.

She closed her eyes, breathed deep the cool, night air and focused on the power coiled in her belly. A flick of her upraised wrists was all it took to send that dark power outward. A dusky bubble enveloped her. Slowly lowering her arms, hands pressed outward, she expanded the bubble to include the man at her side, then the small group of people behind her.

“Invisibility is ours,” she proclaimed when her fingers rested at her hips. “Go ahead, show these people what happens when they threaten us.”

To rile the select cultists to do her bidding, Tilda had told them the townspeople were out to get them, to take away their lake and with it, their powers and ability to create gold.

As always, her lies had worked well.

At the wave of her hand, the air rushed as the people surged around her until only Antonio remained at her side. Together, they watched the Lights of Atlantis, shrouded in a magical mist, scurry down the wooden walkways like termites. Paint sprayed, glass broke, and all manner of nasty dead creatures were hung over each door.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” Antonio asked with a wince as two men hefted a wooden, flower-filled wine cask and tossed it into the middle of the street. The contents flew every which way at the impact. “I’m unclear how vandalism will help our plan.”

Tilda kicked away the clump of dirt that landed at her feet, then knelt to retrieve a muddied rose from the debris.

“This town is already dead,” she informed her lover. Holding out the flower, she sneered. “Look, plastic. They can’t even grow anything now. It’s time these losers realized the game is over. They need to pack up and leave. Or,” she closed her hand over the yellow plastic flower, then opened it again to show the pile of ash now covering her palm, “they need to be destroyed.”

She flicked the ash from her fingers and shrugged.

“Look at it this way, my love. We’re giving them a chance to start over instead. I consider that most generous.”

And a damned waste of time. But he’d been such a pansy boy, whining in fear over her plans, that she’d had to modify them. After all, his little sheep still thought he was the power behind Atlantis, and she needed them to do the actual work.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered with a bad-tempered shrug. “This is going to get messy, Tilda. You’re going to ruin everything with your need for revenge.”

She gave a little start, quickly hidden. Forcing a tinkling laugh, she tilted her head in question. “What on earth do you mean? I’m securing our future, Antonio. You know we need to bring the trucks through, to empty this town if we’re to sell the thorium.”

“If you can hide a dozen grown men while they vandalize the homes and businesses of the townspeople right under their noses, surely you can hide a big rig truck as it passes on the highway.”

Tilda clenched her jaw to hold the serene expression on her face. Anger churned in her gut and her fingers twitched to zap him with a slap of energy. How dare he question her?

“It’d take a different kind of magic,” she lied. “A few men in a small space aren’t much work, but a transport truck that size? That would take coven magic, not the work of a single witch. Of course, maybe you’re strong enough to hide it?”

Tilda ignored his sputtered excuses and surveyed the destruction down the street. Although this would irritate the good citizens of Rossdale, it wouldn’t likely push the diehards who’d lasted this long into leaving. But it would be much harder to implement the next step of her plan for the town’s destruction if Antonio was being difficult. Perhaps it was time to cut her losses. She turned back to eye the man next to her.

“You’re with me or against me, Antonio,” she said in a low voice. “The time has come for changes. You will accept them, or you won’t. But no matter what, I will have my way.”

He towered over her, flexing his muscles. The frown on his face might have intimidated his sheep, but all it did for Tilda was tighten her nipples.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Darling, I don’t make threats. You should know that by now.” Tilda smoothed her palm over the warm skin on his chest, left bare by his unbuttoned linen shirt. “I do make promises though. And I promise you, Rossdale will be mine. Either we’ll both relish the delicious pleasure of not only the riches to come, but of each other as we explore the ultimate power awaiting us.”

Tilda leaned close, her fingers digging into his bare chest, and traced her tongue along his collarbone, lapping up the salty flavor of his flesh.

“Or,” she said as she stepped back and dropped her hand, “you’ll be left in the dust, much like the dirt we’re currently standing on.”

Antonio set his jaw. “I’m not afraid of you, Tilda. You might have a certain degree of power, but I have a great deal more.”

She gave a sneering sort of laugh and ran her fingers through her silken hair, loving the feel of it falling back to her shoulders.

“My power is no little thing, unlike whatever you might think you have,” she told him, dismissing his attempt at bravado.

An intent look on his face, Antonio leaned down until they were nose to nose.

“What I have is information. Quite a bit, as a matter of fact. You turn me to dust, Tilda, and you’ll be exposed to the one man you’re hiding from. I have the power to stop you in your tracks.”

Tilda swallowed to wet her throat. Then she swallowed again. He had to be bluffing. But, her glance darted down Main Street, what if he wasn’t?

“Don’t take me for a fool,” he warned. Large hands gripped her arms, lifting her as he rose to his full height. “Your little obsession suited me as long as there was something to be gained. But you’re working toward ruining what I’ve worked long and hard for. I won’t be left with nothing.”

A shudder of sexual awareness rippled through her. Needing to buy time to consider his threat, and how she’d deal with it, she used the awareness to her advantage. Putting on a show of shrugging his hands off her arms, she curled her own around his neck. Pressing her hardened nipples against his chest, she rubbed herself in slow, undulating circles. His eyes darkened and she hid her triumphant smile by pressing her lips to his.

“We both want the same thing,” she claimed when she released his mouth. “Together we will have it. Power, riches, and more.”

“As long as you realize this is an equal footing, Tilda. Don’t think you can make threats without repercussions. My people won’t follow you, no matter what you might think. And if something happens to me, well... let’s just say you won’t enjoy the results.”

Triumph turned to simmering anger, but Tilda was careful to keep her face smooth and her breasts pushed against him.

“You have nothing to worry about,” she lied. Then she made a show of glancing down the street and gave a nod of her chin. “You should direct your people, Antonio. I’m sure you don’t want them getting carried away.”

With a warning look, he sauntered down the street. She watched, jaw clenched, as the termites swarmed to him like rats to the piper. She’d have to do something about that. But not tonight.

Tilda forced herself to release the anger and focus on the land, the energy flowing beneath her feet. She hadn’t set foot in this town in six years, and as strong as the energy was, it was barely worth the fury stirred up by her memories of it.

Damn Gideon for hauling her here to this rinky-dink joke of a place. For thinking this would suit her, that she’d be content to waste away here in Nowhereville. The only saving grace was the vein of magic tied to the land. And once she’d realized she could tap into that without putting up with being smothered by the rest, she’d left.

And Gideon had refused to leave with her. With the combined strength of her powers, the magic of the prophecy, and Gideon at her side, they could have done anything. The key was Gideon though. Oh, she’d tried other founding descendants. But it didn’t work. Either the prophecy was only half-true, or she needed the love of Gideon Ross to avail herself of its full power.

And that had been his downfall, and how she’d known he didn’t really love her. Because that ultimate power had always been denied her. Like fine wine, revenge was best with age. And Tilda would have her revenge. Nobody, not even the sexiest man she’d ever had, turned away from her. Especially not after she’d let him into her heart.

* * *

Deloris Ross preened under the jealous eye of her best friend. If only she’d had warning that Reba was stopping by, she’d have taken time to cut fresh flowers from her garden. So few flowers still grew in Rossdale, and nothing irked Reba more than knowing Deloris’s roses had a better scent than her own.

“I really love the new dining room set,” Reba said again. “I had no idea you were in the market for new furnishings.”

Deloris gave a little shrug. She hadn’t been, but after someone had commented on the age of her couch at the last little gathering she’d held, she’d realized she was losing her status with the townspeople. One must put on the best face possible under any circumstance. Which meant if she were going to continue to command the respect—and yes, the fear—of the town she had to present just the right image.

“Would you like more tea?” she asked, holding up her Spode teapot replica. Lucky for her, nobody in Rossdale could tell the difference between real and imitation. When Reba shook her head, Deloris refilled her own cup. Not that she was thirsty, but because of the pretty way the gold detailing looked when the light hit it.

“D’ya think it was those hoodlums out at the lake that messed up the town?” Reba asked, returning to her reason for stopping by. “Fred said everyone’s baffled at how there could be so much destruction and so little evidence.”

“Pshaw,” Deloris spat. “There’s plenty of evidence. Reggie Compton is just too stupid or too scared to do anything about it. He might have shooed off the county sheriff with that ‘no evidence’ fluff, but I happen to know there was plenty. Paint cans, fingerprints, even the muddy footprints. It’s all traceable to those wretched cultists.”

Reba nodded and reached for her third cinnamon bun. “You must be mighty proud of Gideon. Even though he’s not leader-material, he sure did rally the folks around here. Got a cleanup crew moving and is heading up the repairs himself.”

Not leader-material, her ass. Deloris barely refrained from baring her teeth in a growl.

“He’s a credit to his name,” was all she said though.

“I do love this new dining set of yours, Deloris. Must have cost you a fortune. European, you said?” Reba smoothed her hand over the sleek blond wood and sighed. “I sure wish we could afford such fancy furnishings.”

“I had it shipped over special.” She was careful not to say where exactly it had shipped from. Deloris Ross hadn’t spent over twenty-five years as a politician’s wife for nothing. “I was considering a dinner party before all this ugliness broke out. Now I think I’ll wait a bit, at least until my new living room furniture arrives, too.”

“Living room set, you say?”

Deloris preened at the envy in the other woman’s tone.

“White on white,” she said with a nod. “With silk pillows.”

“Ooooooh,” Reba breathed. “Fancy.”

“Of course,” Deloris said with a nod. Deciding the time was right, she took a delicate sip of her tea, then set the cup carefully on its saucer. She pulled a plain manila file folder toward her and patted it. “After all, I can’t see the townsfolk driving ten miles out of town to Gideon’s house for parties and such when my home is so much more accessible. Besides, like his father, he’s sure to rely on me to be hostess for all his events. I was thinking we’d start with a Memorial Barbeque, like Lucas and I used to hold.”

Reba shot her a narrow-eyed look, then pinned her gaze on the folder beneath Deloris’s tapping fingers.

“Any special event you were thinking of celebrating at this barbeque?”

“Gideon’s being elected mayor, of course.”

“Mayor? They won’t even be announcing the candidates for mayor for three months yet. Much too late for a Memorial Day party.”

Deloris tut-tutted and gave Reba an indulgent look. “You have to understand politics. Given the current political climate, it’s obviously time for Gideon to make his move. Sure, we... I mean, he can wait three months, make a declaration, and then waste a lot of time and money on a campaign that everyone knows will end in his election. But why should he?”

“Well...” Reba’s face rolled tight in a frown, then she shrugged. “Because that’s the way it’s done?”

“Pshaw. Under most circumstances, it might be. But this attack is proof positive that Reggie Compton is unfit to protect Rossdale. I say it’s time to take steps.”

Reba’s eyes grew huge and a beatific grin graced her moon-shaped face. “Impeachment?” she breathed the word as if it were a prayer.

“Exactly.”

For the next hour, the two women put their heads together, Reba taking notes as Deloris dictated the outline of her plan, dubbed ‘Project Take Over.’ A pot of tea, three more cinnamon buns, and a potty break later, they had it nailed down.

“You sure Gideon’s gonna go along with this?” Reba asked.

“Gideon’s gonna do what’s best for the town,” Deloris declared. She’d make sure of that.

“Well, it’s time for me to be going.” Reba hefted herself out of the chair. “I promised Fred I’d help him with inventorying the special order coming in today.”

“Special order?” Deloris asked. “Supplies for repairs, I’m guessing.”

Deloris paused to admire her dining set again before getting up to follow Reba. God bless eBay.

“Oh no, those won’t be here until tomorrow. This is a big ol’ order for that California gal.” Reba shot her a sly look in the way to the front door. “Gideon placed it for her.”

The only thing keeping the shock from Deloris’s face was the glee on Reba’s.

“California gal? The one living next door to you at the old Henderson place? She’s here with her brother?”

“I don’t know nothing about a brother, but she’s the one. Ordered a bunch of stuff to fix up that place. I figure she must be planning to stay, as much money as she’s pouring into repairs.”

“Those fancy types don’t last. Especially not the ones from California,” Deloris argued. She should know; her son had brought one home once. She’d only stayed long enough to ruin Deloris’s reputation, break Gideon’s heart, and derail the Ross family’s future.

“Last or not, she’s got her hooks into that house... and a few other things.” Reba, hand on the doorknob, glanced over her shoulder with a malicious look on her moon-shaped face. “I told Fred we should tack on an extra ten percent to her order, she can afford it. After all, we know Gideon don’t come cheap.”

“Gideon?”

“Well I assume that’s what his truck parked in her driveway for two and a half hours last week meant. I mean, it’s either that or your boy is romancing her. And even though we know he’s got a weak spot for them fancy gals, I’d have to think he’s too smart to get caught in that trap a second time around.”

Her jovial tone was enough for Deloris to know bets had already been placed.

“I can’t tell you what it means knowing you’re there to keep that nasty gossip at bay, Reba. I’m grateful to you.” Deloris waited a beat, just long enough for the guilt to take hold, then shooed the other woman out the door. “Next week when my new couch and loveseat arrive, I’ll call you over for a looksee.”

With that, she slammed the door and headed for her computer. She had an auction to bid on. After those snide comments and rude behavior, Reba deserved to drool with envy. Not just over the new couch, but maybe even those pretty side tables too.

Deloris booted up her PC with a grunt.

That boy had never been easy to control. Bad enough he’d had to join the military, but to be stationed in California, of all places? Why couldn’t he have stayed back east where he’d done basic training? Easterners had a better sense of responsibility, whereas California was nothing more than laidback lifestyles and loose women.

Damn Gideon, damn that snotty little California gal, and damn Reba Ambrose for her big mouth. Deloris was going to have to do some damage control, fast. The town was already stirred up against Gideon, whispering behind their hands about his lack of civic duty. His father, bless his soul, would roll over in his grave if he thought Gideon was even thinking about getting involved with another gal like that. She’d ruin Gideon.

And it was a mother’s job to keep her child safe from ruin.

* * *

Miki parked her car in front of the General Store and gaped. What on earth had happened? The whole Main Street looked like one very pissed off tornado had touched down. Blocks of paint patched many surfaces, something she’d seen plenty of on the Southern California freeway overpasses. But who expected to see graffiti cover-up here in small town USA?

A second glance showed boarded up windows, missing flowerpots, and the odd brown splatter here and there, that, if this had been a horror movie, would have been dried blood.

Miki cast a quick protection spell and, with a deep breath, exited her car. The few passersby shot her sideways looks, but nobody said a word. No surprise there, they’d probably get cooties if they greeted her.

A quick pat assured her she had her wallet, and cash. She pulled open the door to the General Store. The once cheery tinkling bell gave a half-hearted clank as she entered.

She stared in horror.

The quaint and delightful store was a shambles. Shelves hung from their hinges, contents dumped on the floor. The window display of ugly potato dolls now looked like charred French fries. A broken fishing rod, a pile of crockery pieces, and a mound of flour blocked her from stepping further into the store. Apparently the tornado made house calls.

“Oh. My....”

“We’re closed to business,” Fred said before she could finish her exclamation. “Until we’ve inventoried what’s what, I’m not selling nothing.”

“I need cat food.”

“What for? Cats don’t survive here in Rossdale.”

“Survive?” Miki cast a horrified glance at the brownish stain on the deck outside the store. “Why? What do you people do to them?”

He followed her gaze and rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s possum blood, not feline.”

Miki swallowed, not wanting to know how he could tell the difference.

“Cats just don’t seem to take to Rossdale. Dogs, now, they do fine. But a cat? Don’t bother bringing one in. It won’t last two days here. That’s the max one’s lasted, and it was kept indoors. Nobody ever did figure out how it got away.”

“I guess things change, because I’ve got a cat out at my place and I’m tired of feeding it canned crab from the pantry. I need a bag of cat food.”

“Can’t sell you one.”

“I’ve got cash.”

“It ain’t a matter of how you pay, it’s a matter of what I’ve got here to sell.”

Miki looked around the mess, bags and cans and boxes all strewn together over the floor and frowned.

“Who did this?”

“Outsiders, I’m sure,” he said with a squint-eyed look that made Miki wonder if she should lawyer up.

“Just exactly how many outsiders do you all piss off on a general basis?”

“You’re the most recent, as I recall.”

“Well, I didn’t do this.”

“Didn’t think you did. I doubt a city girl like you would be able to catch a possum, let alone slit its throat and hang it to bleed outside my door.”

Miki pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from retching at the image. Fred smirked. For the first time since she’d arrived, she appreciated her city-girl status.

The phone rang at the back of the store, and with a shrug and a ‘be back in a sec,’ Fred scooted back to answer it.

Miki stepped over the crockery remnants further into the store. Her heart ached at the sight. Despite the snotty attitude of its owner, the store had been a delight when she’d first visited two weeks before.

It was as if someone had come in and deliberately taken the charming glimpse of history and tried to obliterate it. Miki wasn’t skilled in empathy, but even she could feel Fred’s grief and dismay. He might be a jerk, but this was his livelihood, and someone had viciously tried to destroy it.

A quick glance at the back of the store assured her he was still on the phone with his back to her. Miki closed her eyes, breathed deep, and focused inward.

Opening her eyes, she muttered, “Let it be only surface harm, repair the rest now with this charm. Seal it with protection tight, safe from those who’d cause such blight,” and swept her index finger East to West in a quick arc. With a barely visible shimmer, the energy moved through the store. Miki watched, narrow-eyed, as cans undented, bags mended and the worst of the destruction repaired itself. As much as she’d like to do more obvious repairs, she knew better. So she left the shelves askew, the displays overturned and the kicked-in table in pieces.

Then her gaze caught on the darling antique dresser she’d admired with Gideon. Tears filled her eyes and her heart clenched. Splinters. The drawers, once filled with pieces of history, were busted in. The lovely paint, once aged with character, was chipped and gouged.

She spied the fabric caught under one destroyed drawer and bent down to rescue it. Covered in the same brown stains as the walkway, it was Gideon’s grandmother’s dress. Or what was left of it. Shredded lace spilled over her fingers and Miki absorbed the sense of hatred covering the fabric.

She frowned through her tears. This was the second empathetic hit she’d had in here. Fred’s she could understand. He was right here and the waves of pain were practically emanating from him in Technicolor. But this? This wasn’t Fred. If she wasn’t mistaken, it was the person behind the destruction.

Miki wished Lena was here, or better yet, their mother. Nobody could track an energy source down like Alexis.

“Might as well toss that in the trash pile,” Fred said behind her. Miki gave her face a quick swipe, whispered a glamour spell to hide her emotions, then glanced at him. Sorrow etched his saggy face as he eyed the fabric in her hand and he heaved a sigh. “Most every family in town had a piece of clothing in that bureau. Whoever did this took special care to rip them all up.”

“Ripped up the clothes?” Why would they focus on the clothes? Miki glanced at the dress again, and noted the missing sleeve.

Fred looked at her, then narrowed his eyes. Miki realized her spell had likely failed. She rubbed a quick finger under her eye and came away with a smudge of black. She sighed. She probably looked like a raccoon.

“I hate to see antiques destroyed,” she offered. Lame excuse, but the best she had. “Who would go around ruining things as beautiful as these?”

Thankfully, he took the bait, although he still gave her a thoughtful stare.

“The general feeling is it’s the work of them crazies out at the lake,” he told her. “Bunch of kooks and weirdoes mostly, they’ve been out there for years. But now that Gideon’s got the town all stirred up to take the lake back for some fishing tournament, I figure the kooks are trying to stir up trouble.”

Miki fingered the dress in her hand. It felt like a lot more than kooks and territory issues. This was hate, pure and simple.

“I’ve got work to do,” Fred claimed, although his tone was a lot less antagonistic than she’d heard before. “You might want to call Doc Ransom. It’s possible he has pet food samples or something out at his place.”

“You really don’t have any cat food?”

“No point in stocking something nobody here in town would need.”

“Tuna?” The cat had turned its nose up at the first can of tuna Miki had set out, seeming partial to the crab and flaked chicken. But tuna was still a step up from the dried food Miki had planned to get.

Fred pursed his lips, then shrugged.

“I had some, at one point. It’d be over here.” He pointed, and with a last glance at the dresser, Miki laid the dress remnants on it and followed him. “They’re likely destroyed. Most of the canned goods were dented up good, like someone had taken a hammer...”

He trailed off as, kicking aside the broken shelving, he discovered perfectly intact cans and plastic bottles of condiments.

“Well, what d’ya know? They must have missed this aisle.”

Five minutes later, Miki left Fred frowning and mumbling over his inventory, a bag filled with tuna, crab, and canned chicken clutched in her hand. And almost ran straight into a woman on the sidewalk. Miki rocked back on her heels at the look of hatred on the woman’s puckered face as their eyes met.

Miki glanced at the man’s face emblazoned on the old woman’s tee shirt. Who was he? He looked familiar. And what was a hundred-year-old woman doing wearing some dude’s face on her chest? This town was really odd.

“Um, hi?” Miki said when she couldn’t stand the silent stare any longer. “Apparently the store doesn’t stock cat food.”

Well, at least a look saying ‘pity the idiot’ was better than the silent hatred. Maybe.

“What are you doing here?” Fish-Face asked, her tone ice cold.

“Shopping, obviously.” How was that for uppity?

“Haven’t you shopped enough? I hear tell you’re tying up people’s time and energy on all your projects. Just waltzed into town, not giving a good darn about what other commitments someone might have and shoved your way to the front of the line.”

Miki tilted her head one way, squinted, then tilted it back the other. She bit her lip and shook her head.

“Was that supposed to make sense?”

The older woman’s pale face turned red.

“It made perfect sense. You think you’re so special, you tie up our town’s contractor when we need him for emergency repairs. You tie up the deliveries with supplies to make all those fancy changes to the Henderson place. You think you can get some kind of special deal by cozying up to Gideon, but I’m here to tell you, you’ll be getting nothing from him.”

“Look, lady, I don’t know what your problem is, but it’s not me. I’ve got as much right to hire anyone I want, how I pay for the work is my business, and since you’re so well informed, I’m sure you’re aware that Gideon made the bid on my repairs long before this,” she waved her hand at the stained walkway, “happened. So don’t be spewing your snotty-ass attitude all over me. I didn’t do anything to deserve that nastiness and I’ll be damned if I’ll tolerate it.”

Well, go her. Miki tamped down a slightly hysterical giggle. She seemed to be getting over her confrontation issues. Maybe this town was good for her.

Before the older woman could snap out her response, a meow at her feet caught their attention. Both glanced down, Miki in surprise, Fish-Face in horror, at the black cat wrapping its way around Miki’s ankle.

“What is that?”

“I’d heard they didn’t stick around, but even so, you must recognize a cat.”

“You moved here with a cat?” Fish-Face clarified.

“Nope, the cat showed up and adopted me.” Miki leaned down and picked it up, glad to have the comfort of its warm fur in her arms. Maybe she was standing up to the confrontation, but it still wasn’t easy on the nerves.

“It won’t last.”

“I’ve got a dozen cans of crabmeat that says different.”

“You’ll find out before too much longer here that I tend to be right,” the woman told her. With a spiteful look, she leaned in close. The cat’s hiss had her backing up, but the intensity of her glare was just as strong—maybe even stronger—from a foot away.

“I’m in charge of this town and you’re not going to get in the way. I’ll tell you this once, and only once. People here have plans that don’t involve you, and that includes Gideon.” Miki’s mouth dropped and even the cat stopped purring long enough to turn her head and stare. Neither seemed to faze Fish-Face. “Don’t be thinking you’re gonna come here and snag yourself a man. Or even grab onto one of those cash-or-couch renovation deals. Gideon’s not available to you and you might as well back off right now.”

“Who the hell do you think you are—”

“I’m Gideon’s momma, that’s who I am. And more to the point, I’m his campaign manager. Gideon’s gonna be too busy with his civic responsibilities to play with you, young lady. So you’d better just stay out of his way.”

Ears ringing, Miki could only stare. Campaign? Civic responsibilities? Questions swirled through her head, but all were overshadowed by the sick realization. This nasty-mouthed harridan was Gideon’s momma?

The woman gave Miki and her cat a wide berth as she swept around them. Hand on the door of the General Store, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Matter of fact, your best bet is to head on back to the Henderson place, pack up your stuff, and get on out of here.”

Miki saw red. Anger surged through her like flames, flickering hot and steady. She grabbed at the heat, balling it tight in her fist and raised a hand to throw a ball of energy at the bitch. The cat growled, nipping at Miki’s shoulder.

“Ow, dammit. What’d you do that for? She deserves it.” Not that Miki thought her zing would have worked. She’d likely used up all her pitiful allotment of energy fixing cans in the store. Karma still had a firm hand on her magic, giving her one shot a day, then turning everything wonky.

The cat growled again and Miki realized they’d had an audience. A large woman in bright fuchsia stood between Miki’s car and another, a smirk on her moon-shaped face.

“Ya better listen to Deloris. She’s mean when riled.”

“Obviously,” Miki muttered.

Without another glance, the woman got in her car and tried to start it. A series of gurgling noises was all it made.

“Fred,” the woman bellowed out her open window. “Fred? C’mon out here. Those hoodlums must’ve sugared my gas tank too. Come on out and push me down to the garage.”

Miki noticed the number of cars parked at the full-service gas station at the end of the block. Apparently, Fred’s sugar had been put to use.

“Sugar’s sweet and oh so dear, but it doesn’t belong in here. Clear the tank and make it run, let this mischief be over and done.” With a flick of her fingers, a pile of sugar appeared beneath the rear fender.

Wow. Miki bit back a grin. It worked.

Miki gave the heavy-set woman a weak smile and suggested, “Why don’t you try it again? There’s so much sugar on the ground, maybe they missed getting most of it in your tank.”

The lady rolled her eyes, but turned the key anyway. With a loud crank, the engine started and hummed happily. Without so much as a glance, let alone a thank you, the woman pulled away.

“Could these people be any nastier?” Miki asked the cat. “Only one person in town who doesn’t hate my guts. And he’s just been declared off limits.”

Damn if that didn’t make him just that much more tempting.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Nine

“Damn women are driving me crazy,” Gideon declared as he unlocked the side door that led directly to his office. Back when he’d built his house on the outskirts of town, he’d had a vision of it being a grand contracting firm serving Rossdale and the nearby towns. He’d planned to run it all from the domestic haven of his own home. The vision had included a lovely wife, cute kids, and, damn it all, a freaking cat.

Just went to show how insane he’d been once upon a time. He’d totally bought into the fairy tale. Now? Now it was convenient to have his office a door away from his living quarters. No wasted rent, easy accessibility to food and TV.

“Ain’t that their primary purpose?” Sam asked as he shrugged out of his flannel work shirt, then dropped onto the chair opposite Gideon’s desk. “I coulda swore that’s what my pop said back when he described to me the difference between boys and girls. He claimed women were the greatest creatures on earth, and the source of all man’s insanity.”

“Right. Except in this case, we’re talking about my mother and some crazy matchmaking notion she’s hatched up. What the hell is that woman thinking?”

“Jeez, Gideon. Don’t you know nothing?”

“When it comes to what inspired this craziness? No. Not one single thing.” Gideon dropped into the leather chair behind his desk. “You’d think she’d be too involved with the ‘repair Rossdale’ committee to be messing in my life all of a sudden.”

“From what I’ve heard, she’s already moving with her plan to repair Rossdale.”

Gideon sat up and pinned Sam with a glare.

“Something’s going on, isn’t it? I knew I wasn’t imagining all the sly looks and whispers, but usually someone’s willing to clue me in on whatever scheme Mother’s hatching. The last couple of days, though, everyone’s tiptoeing around and avoiding looking me in the eye.”

Sam scratched his scruffy beard and frowned. “Something’s up, I know that for sure. The oddest thing is everyone seems to know part of the plan, but not the whole of it.”

His back sore from a day of breaking concrete and hauling wood to set up for a new job in a neighboring town, Gideon didn’t have the energy to force the information out of Sam. Instead, knowing his friend’s need to gossip like an old lady over a hedge, he leaned back in his chair until the warning creak sounded, folded his hands behind his head, and made a show of closing his eyes.

“Whatever it is, I’m obviously not in the knowledge loop. So I guess I’m free to focus my attention elsewhere,” Gideon claimed in a lazy tone.

“Would elsewhere be anywhere in the vicinity of the old Henderson place?”

Eyes still closed, Gideon grinned. The image of Miki’s sweet face and those long, luscious legs filled his mind. “Could be. The view there is mighty nice these days.”

“City gals are a dangerous thing, you remember that, right?”

“Generalization is a dangerous thing. So is stereotyping.” Gideon didn’t want to hear a lecture comparing his ex-wife and Miki. After all, other than the fact that they’d both lived in Southern California, the two women didn’t have a single thing in common.

“I hear she had a run in with Deloris.”

That got his eyes open. Gideon dropped his feet and frowned. “Miki and Mother? Now that’s not a pretty picture.”

“Marcia didn’t get the details, but she saw it through the diner window. According to her, your pretty view held her own. Between her and her attack cat, they had Deloris on the run.” Sam rubbed his chin, then grinned at Gideon. “I’d have paid good money to see that. Nobody gets the best of your mother.”

“Is that where all this matchmaking craziness is coming from? She called this morning to ask me when I’d be available for a dinner party.”

Sam squinted into space for a few seconds, then shrugged. “You know, I’m not sure matchmaking is her actual goal this time. I mean, yeah, I heard she’d asked Fred and Reba to invite their daughter to visit. But this seems bigger than her annual ‘marry Gideon off to the right kind of gal’ campaign.”

Gideon gave a bad tempered shrug, trying to ignore the guilt nagging at the base of his neck. He knew Deloris would have greeted any newcomer with the same degree of unfriendliness. But knowing his mother, she’d added an extra dose of nasty if she thought there was a chance Miki might prove temptation to her son.

His mother, the meanest woman to ever win every blue ribbon to be had at the county fair, up against sweet Miki? The image flashed in his head, and he shuddered. Leave it to his mother to derail his progress.

Before he could work up a good cussing streak, the phone rang. With a ‘hang on a sec’ look for Sam, Gideon answered.

Ten minutes, three pages of notes, and a huge grin later, he hung up.

“That sounded good,” Sam said, leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees. If the twitching of his beard was any indication, this was Sam’s excited look. “That was the tournament guy, right?”

“Right. He wants to come out next week, check out the lake and the amenities.”

“What’s an amenity?”

“Lodging, food, gas.” Gideon glanced at his notes. “Launch ramps, bait and tackle, that kind of thing. He’s a little concerned that we don’t have an official marina, so he’s gonna want to see how we’d meet their needs.”

“Huh.” Sam tilted back in his chair, tugging at his lower lip. “I guess we should figure those things out.”

“I say we pull together a modified town meeting. Find out who’s interested, what they’ll do. Fred Ambrose could order plenty of bait and tackle, Larry at the gas station could set up something out at the lake. I’ll get the keys to the Lodge, we can check the kitchens to see if old Joe can do some cooking on site.”

“Are you sure you can get the Lodge keys?” Sam asked, the doubt in his tone echoed on his face.

Gideon grimaced. “What choice is there? This is the answer. Rossdale’s depending on it. I’ll have to get them.”

“Good luck with that.” With a nod, Sam rose.

“Where ya going?” Gideon asked.

“I’m gonna head home, make a few phone calls. If I can put together a list of what the average tournament anglers want, we can make sure we’re covered there, too. Might as well do this right.”

“Thanks. How about we meet at the library in two hours?”

“Is two hours going to be enough time?”

Unfortunately, Gideon knew Sam didn’t mean enough time to gather the key players and information. No, his doubt was whether or not Gideon could pull off the key to the whole deal. After all, permission to use the lodge was bound to carry a heavy price.

“No worries,” Gideon lied. “Rossdale’s in trouble. If my mother’s so hot on saving the town, she’ll do her part.”

* * *

“You’re sure this will work?” Miki asked through clenched teeth, pulling in as much energy as she could get. Her hair had to be standing on end, there was so much power surging through her. She stood in the center of her living room in front of a marble pedestal. Hovering inches above the pedestal was a smoky brown crystal sphere about the size of her palm.

“Of course, I’m sure,” Lena drawled from the black velvet settee she’d conjured after declaring Miki’s furnishings too practical for her. The settee contrasted nicely—purposely, Miki was sure—with the filmy red dress flowing over Lena’s perfect curves.

“Mom gave me specific instructions. She even sent the crystal herself. I think she said it was a gift from Dr. Cunningham. Not only will it help you ground and manage your powers, it’s supposed to help you find your path. Although, Mom says, you really should plan to take his three-month course.”

Miki shot a glare at her sister’s smug face. Three-month course, her ass. Dr. Cunningham was the motivational guru of the witch community. From the paperwork Lena had arrived with, his course not only would help Miki reach her full potential, she’d be able to overcome parental issues, eating issues, and any sexual deviations she was hoping to leave behind.

“That guy is a quack,” she declared.

“Yup. Ryan and I told mom that too, but she’s desperate. You know how it is for her, worrying about her baby girl.”

Lena tossed one long, black curl over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. The quintessential witch, she not only exuded a casual command of her powers, but was absolutely comfortable with her sexuality. A vivid contrast to her little sister.

“Mom shouldn’t worry about me,” Miki muttered through teeth clenched to hold the energy.

“First you step off the path, denounce your magic to marry that loser. Then you lose the loser, whap yourself in the karmic ass with a rebounding curse. Now you’re hidden away and she has no clue where. You are, for all intents and purposes, a magical disaster.”

Lena plucked a green grape from the fruit platter next to her and popped it in her mouth. Her lack of sisterly concern over Miki’s being a disaster came through loud and clear.

“Tell me, Lena, why is it you don’t seem to give a damn that I’m a wreck? Mom’s calling in professionals. Ryan’s taken to selling my furniture on eBay and reading spell books trying to find answers to my curse problem. You? You’re lying on your ass eating fruit.” And Miki? She was standing there like an idiot, pointing at a crystal to keep it floating in the air while trying to keep the image of a hot hunk of a contractor out of her head.

“Technically, I’m lying on my side.” Lena grinned at the teeth-bared growl Miki sent her. “And it’s not that I don’t give a damn. It’s that I don’t feel there’s anything to worry about.”

Thoroughly irritated with her sister, Miki waved her hand, sending the tray of fruit to the opposite side of the room just as Lena reached for another tidbit.

Lena raised a brow, snapped her fingers, and a glass of iced water appeared in her hand. Miki watched through narrowed eyes as her sister sipped. It was the look in Lena’s eyes, a mischievous hint of glee, that tipped her off.

Miki threw up her free hand, blocking the water thrown at her with a shield of energy. Like peering through a window, she watched the liquid drip down her shield, then snapped her fingers to dry it up before it soaked the floor.

“What the hell was that for?” she griped.

“That,” Lena said as she waved the tray of fruit back to her, “was why I’m not worried about you.”

“Because I’m fast enough to avoid getting soaked?”

“No, although it’s good to know you’ve got quick reflexes.” Lena used her chin to point to the crystal sphere. Miki followed her gaze, then shrugged.

“So?”

“So?” Lena repeated. “Mik, you don’t have problems with magic. You’re juggling multiple acts here, handling my distractions without a hitch, and if you look close, you’ll see you’ve charged that crystal full.”

Miki’s gaze snapped to the smoky quartz, which indeed seemed full if the glowing aura surrounding it was any indication.

“So you need a little practice,” Lena said with a shrug as she rose from the settee. “Your power is there, Mikaela. You’re as strong a witch as any of us. You might not have a specific focus yet, but I’m sure that’s going to come with time. Just give yourself a break, quit worrying so much, and let it flow.”

Lena snapped her fingers and the settee disappeared. She raised a brow at Miki and then waved her hand, sending the pedestal off into the mists too. Not sure how she felt about her sister’s expression of confidence, Miki crooked her finger, and the crystal flew over to land in her outstretched hand.

“Flow, huh?”

“Flow.”

Miki pursed her lips, running the rounded stone through her fingers. Its warmth comforted her almost as much as the ‘chill already’ look on Lena’s face.

“So ya want some lunch?” Miki asked, pocketing the sphere.

“Definitely. I’m so sick of my own lousy cooking. And given how well your curse is working, I don’t dare eat out for fear of seeing public displays of pig sex.”

Miki gave a groaning laugh and led the way to the kitchen.

Two hours later, she stood on her front porch and watched her sister disappear in a glittery flash of purple light. Miki heaved a sigh and fingered the sphere in the pocket of her baggy khaki pants. At least the pants weren’t as tight as they’d been when she’d arrived in Rossdale.

“Meow.”

Miki looked down and shook her head.

“Where have you been? I wanted you to meet Lena. You always seem to disappear whenever my sister or brother come around.”

She bent down to lift the cat, cuddling its fluffy black fur. Before she could scold the cat further, her cell phone chimed. Feeling confident and enjoying the cool afternoon breeze, Miki snapped her fingers to bring the phone to her.

And what d’ya know? It worked. With a happy grin, she punched the talk button, not even the name on the display bothering her.

“Hey, Perry. Do you realize we talk more now than when we were married? I was wondering when I’d hear from you. What’d you do, take yesterday off?”

“Very funny.”

Miki’s lips twitched at the irritation in his tone. As amused as she was, it wasn’t as much fun pushing his buttons as usual. When had hurting him, getting revenge for what he’d done to her, and most of all worrying about his opinion, stopped mattering to her?

“I didn’t call yesterday because I was being held by the police,” he informed her. His tone rang with blame. And unlike all the times during their marriage that he’d used that same tone with her, this time, Miki knew she deserved it.

“Police?” she asked weakly.

“Police. They really shouldn’t overreact so much, if you ask me. A person should be free to enjoy an after lunch... snack without being harassed.”

Miki bit back a groan. “Snack?” Did she really want to know?

He mumbled something, but all she caught were the words tablecloth and discreet. Equally horrified and amused, Miki didn’t bother to ask him to clarify.

As he went on about the unfairness of the Santa Monica P.D., Miki had to wonder how Pammy was dealing with it all, since the woman was sharing the same results. But since she hadn’t been cursed, the other woman had to be doing it by choice. Scary.

“Look, Perry, you need to quit eating out. Obviously that’s the core of the problem.”

“If I don’t go out, I’ll starve,” he claimed. Miki rolled her eyes. Sexually starve, maybe. But she’d survived that during their marriage, he could handle it until she fixed things.

Maybe she wasn’t quite over all of her anger yet.

“You won’t starve. But if you keep taking your love life on the road like this, you’re going to blow any shot you might still have at a promotion.” Might as well hit him where he’d listen.

He groaned. “I can’t lose my promotion. I’m already on shaky ground. If Betsy Etherington hears this latest scandal, she’ll shun me completely. Miki, what am I supposed to do?”

Miki pressed her lips together and gave the cat a helpless look. What was she supposed to do?

“Cook at home,” she suggested. Not that he’d ever touched a pan in the years they were together, but he had to learn sometime. “I’ll send you some recipes, easy to prepare stuff. Just stay out of the restaurants.”

“I can’t cook, Mikaela. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Irritation inched up her spine as Miki paced the length of the porch.

“Anyone can cook, Perry. You might not be good at it, but you won’t starve.” She grimaced, then heaved a sigh. “Look, why don’t you see if Pammy will cook for you?”

“She won’t. For some reason, she refuses to eat in.” Underneath his whining tone was a combination of bafflement and smug male satisfaction.

Miki fought the urge to hang up. The last thing she needed after almost a year of no sex was to listen to her ex-husband gloat that his lady-friend was liking all her public nookie.

The cat leapt up on the open window ledge leading to the kitchen and nudged Miki’s shoulder. Miki glanced at her, then through the screenless window.

“What if I cook for you?” she mused aloud. Then she winced. She didn’t want to do anything for Perry the Pig. But... what choice did she have? The more trouble he got into, the more trouble she had with her magic. She had to keep him out of restaurants and step up her attempts to reverse the curse.

“How would you do that? You’re in hiding, remember.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Licking your wounds. Recovering your pride. Hiding, whatever. How are you of any help to me there?”

Miki ground her teeth together and reminded herself the reason she was stuck still dealing with Perry the Pig. She’d brought this on. She had to find a way to get rid of him.

The cat jumped into the kitchen and padded across the counter. Miki watched her swat at the plastic lid covering the leftovers from lunch.

“I can be like those food delivery services,” she mused aloud. “You know, a daily portion of food will arrive at your doorstep each morning.” Before he could protest, or point out the idiocy of her plan, she continued, “I’ll work it out with Lena. She’ll do the, um, main cooking.”

“Lena can cook?”

No, but it sounded better than Miki would whip up his meals and have them delivered by flying carpet.

“It’s worth a try,” she prodded.

“Okay. But only for this week,” he agreed, clearly doing her a favor. “I’ll need to step up my campaign for the promotion on Monday when Mrs. Etherington gets back in town.”

Miki watched through the window as the cat curled herself into a fluffy ball on one of the still-unpacked cardboard boxes. A week? She’d been trying to lift this curse for months and hadn’t had any success. But what choice did she have?

“By the way, you can have the dining room set returned with that first meal, Mikaela. I need a place to entertain and I’m tired of your silliness. I want that furniture back.”

“Too bad,” she told him as she headed for the front door. “I sold it on eBay a couple weeks ago. Why don’t you go shopping, Perry? You should be able to control your overactive libido in the furniture store.”

“If my libido is overacting, it’s probably because of years without any inspiration,” he taunted, his usual obnoxiousness returning now that he’d gotten her help. Miki tried to ignore the barb as it sliced a raw hole in her feminine confidence. Before she could snap at him, he must have registered the rest of her words. “What do you mean sold? Mikaela, you can’t sell my furniture.”

“My furniture, Perry. Of course I can. You stole all our money. Until you turn it over, I need the cash to pay for my renovations.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go; my contractor is due any time. Your dinner will be there in a couple hours. Go buy a table.”

She hung up before she gave into the hurt of his words. Just how sexually uninspiring was she? She’d wanted to blame Perry, but she’d noticed that even Gideon, despite his flirting and a couple of hot encounters, had backed off easily enough.

Maybe Perry was right. Maybe she didn’t have anything to get a guy all sexually charged up and hot. It wasn’t like she’d spent her pre-marriage years racking up sexual escapades, but neither had she been a total loser.

She’d just been... average. Miki’s mind flashed to her exotic sister, her hunky brother. Even their mother exuded sensuality. And her? She’d never been brave enough to spread her wings or experiment. To find her inner sexual goddess. Especially during her marriage.

But now? Now she was single, free, and, damn it, Lena said she was strong, powerful, and just had to let it flow. If this wasn’t time to give that inner sexual goddess free reign, when would it be?

Miki glanced down at her baggy tee shirt and khaki pants and bit her lip. Gideon was due in ten minutes to start the renovations. Sure, he was a mortal and technically off limits. But he’d also made it clear he wasn’t interested in more than a brief bit of fun. Short term.

Maybe it was time she found out once and for all just exactly what she was made of. Sexually speaking, that was.

* * *

Gideon pulled into Miki’s driveway and got out of his truck. Instead of climbing the steps to the porch, he walked to the side of her house, looking past the yard.

Gene had been right. Her property had the best route to Mage Lake. With the main road to the lake running through land held by the Lights of Atlantis, bypassing it and cutting a new road was likely the easiest option.

At least, by the townspeople’s standards it was. Still smarting from the recent attack most attributed to the lake people, a lot of residents were itching to show the town wasn’t beaten. Gideon’s only suggestion that they go out and confront the vandals had been ignored. As much as the town wanted to thumb their noses at the group they suspected of the vandalism, they didn’t want to face them. Or, God forbid, drive past the hoodlums’ front door to beat them at their own game.

Hence Gideon’s latest assignment. To convince Miki to let them cut a road through her property. Her five acres backed Mage Lake, and was a short hop to the Lodge.

Gideon squared his shoulders and headed up her steps. Not that he’d gotten Deloris’s support to use the Lodge. Nope, she’d been conveniently absent from his hastily convened meeting. He figured getting Miki’s agreement was a lot easier, and would give him the ammo he needed to back his stubborn mother into a corner.

He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his nicest button-up shirt. Yeah, he was ready. Nothing a bit of charm, a little sweet talk couldn’t do.

Gideon raised his hand to knock on the door, confident he’d have her on his side before the hour was up. Which would leave him plenty of time to start on the first of her repairs.

Then Miki opened the door. All thought left Gideon’s brain, and his dick did an immediate happy dance to attention at the sight before his eyes.

Delicious. That was the only description that came to mind. Then again, he wasn’t doing much thinking since the blood had left his brain.

God help him, those long, luscious legs of hers were bare. Not just bare, but bared in a silky looking little dress. The exact blue of his truck, her dress skimmed over her sweet curves in a way that emphasized the treasures beneath. That invited a man’s hands to explore those treasures. Gideon’s fingers itched to get to it.

“Hello, Gideon.”

He nodded.

“You ready to get started?” she asked.

He nodded emphatically.

“Do you need help?” She looked past him to his truck, then glanced back. “Were you going to bring in supplies first, or did we need to go over a few things before you get moving?”

He wanted to move now. Move with her. Over her. Into her. Gideon swallowed deeply. He didn’t know if his zipper was strong enough to hold back the power of those needs pounding through him.

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t some horny teenage boy who couldn’t control his lust. But one glance at this woman in a tiny little summer dress, and his body proved once and for all—it was definitely stronger than his brain.

“Gideon?”

“Huh?”

“Did you want to come on in?”

Control. Get some freaking control.

“Yeah.” He dragged his thoughts away from sex and forced himself to focus. “I need to go over a few things with you, timetables and the like. Then I’ll bring some stuff in and get started.”

She smiled and warmth overrode his lust. Gideon didn’t know why it was, but just the sight of her full lips curved in pleasure made him feel good.

Still, it was all he could do to restrain himself from grabbing Miki by that tiny waist, hefting her up against the wall and begging her to let him bury himself between her thighs.

She stepped aside to let him in. Just as Gideon was passing her, she moved, just a breath, and her breasts brushed his arm. His body reacted instantly, despite strict orders to stay down.

Sure it’d been an accident, Gideon glanced down at Miki.

And went hot.

The look she was giving him through those lush lashes of hers was pure invitation. Then she blinked and raised a brow in question.

He must have imagined it.

“How about we go into the living room,” she suggested, her voice low. Not trusting his own voice, Gideon just nodded and waited for her to lead the way.

He assured himself he couldn’t go to hell just because his eyes were glued to her butt and his mind was picturing it naked.

She’d done more unpacking since he’d been there last, he noticed. Instead of a hodge-podge of color, the freshly-repaired living room was now warm and inviting. Sure, there was a mountain of pillows fluffed all over the deep burgundy couch, but it still looked like the comfy kind of piece a guy could kick back on. A pair of chairs in deep green leather angled toward the huge fireplace, and even though the floor was carpeted, she’d laid out a fancy rug. All in all, it was warm and colorful, like the woman standing in the center of it.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, gesturing to the low table in front of the couch. A tray held glasses, a pitcher of lemonade, and a plate of cookies.

“Cookies?”

Miki’s cheeks looked a little warm as she gave him a sheepish shrug. “It’s too late for lunch, too early for dinner. I wanted to make sure you kept your energy up.”

As innocent as her words were, Gideon still frowned. Why did he feel like he was missing something?

But all he asked was, “Homemade?”

“Of course. I’ve been doing a lot more cooking than usual today,” she muttered. With a little shrug that did wonderful things for that dress, she gestured for him to sit down.

Gideon waited until she was seated, then sat next to her. As soon as he did, she shifted just a little bit closer to him. He could smell her perfume, the subtle spicy warmth. His mouth went dry and he had to remind himself that she was a client, and that he was here to ask a favor. He’d damned the town once because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. He wasn’t going to do it again, dammit. With that reminder, he gulped down a drink of lemonade as soon as she handed it to him.

“So I met your mother.”

He almost spewed the bittersweet drink over the front of her. Gideon grimaced and swallowed quickly.

“Damn. Should I have brought you flowers?”

Her brows shot up. “Flowers? Like what, a funeral arrangement?”

“That bad?” He winced. “I’d hoped she hadn’t actually made an impression.”

Gideon didn’t detect any sarcasm in Miki’s snort of laughter. Instead, she just looked intrigued.

“She said a few things. I was hoping you’d fill me in on the details.”

“Don’t take anything my mother says as truth. I’d like to say she’s a sweetheart who just makes a bad first impression. But I can’t flat out lie to your face like that.”

“So your momma’s not a sweetheart?” Miki taunted with a flirty little smile. She leaned close enough for Gideon to see the faint shadow between her breasts. He quickly shifted his gaze back to her face and sucked in a deep breath.

“Hardly. I mean, no disrespect to my mother, but she’s...” How did a guy say his mother was a formidable hard ass with a heart of gold? At least, she used to have a golden heart, but she’d tucked it away for safekeeping when she’d taken to wearing his father’s ring around her neck. “She used to be a lot easier. Since my father died, she’s grown a hard shell.”

“Hmm,” she murmured.

Gideon winced. Hmm was never good.

“So what’s your mother like?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

“I don’t think you could call my mother a sweetheart, either,” Miki said with a laugh. “Of course, she wouldn’t want you to. She’s strong, that’s something to admire. My mom always says she’s done my brother a favor by teaching him to expect strength in a woman.”

“I doubt my mother is looking for feminine strength in her quest to remarry me,” Gideon said, rolling his eyes.

“Nope, that wasn’t mentioned. Of course, I’m sure I’m not on her list since she told me straight out to leave you alone.”

Gideon groaned. Damn the woman. Was there no end to her interference?

Then Miki leaned closer. Close enough that her dress gaped again, this time giving Gideon a mind-fogging glance of her bountiful breasts encased in a blue silky bra. All thoughts of his mother fled as his body stiffened.

“What I really wanted to know is what she meant when she said she was your campaign manager. I’m guessing it doesn’t have anything to do with a plan to keep desperate divorcees from chasing after you.”

Grateful to talk about anything besides his mother’s horrifying obsession with his love life, Gideon rolled his eyes and gave a shrug before grabbing a couple of cookies. “My father was mayor, actually, my grandfather and great-grandfather before him, too. She’s never accepted the idea that I won’t run.”

“You don’t want to follow in the family footsteps?”

The lemonade swirling in his stomach, Gideon stared at his cookie, not able to meet her eyes. Hell, yeah, he wanted to. But as much as his ego demanded a leading role, his love for Rossdale—and yes, healthy respect for the fury of his ex-wife—were too strong.

“Let’s just say it’s not in the cards,” was all he said though.

Miki gave a little hum. Then she shifted. Just a little bit, but those couple inches were all it took to press their thighs together. Gideon almost moaned aloud. She smiled up at him, her midnight eyes a sparkling invitation.

“So...”

“So what?”

“So,” she wet her lips, “I’m not getting in the way of your, what did she call it? Your civic duty?”

“You? Hell, no,” he said, silently cursing his mother. “You’re hiring me to do a job. That’s how I make a living, pay taxes, all that civic stuff.”

His lusting after her and picturing her hair spread over his thighs, that wouldn’t interfere, either.

“Darlin’, don’t let anything my mother said bother you. She’s got her own issues. Probably the biggest is worrying that I’m gonna be out here with you, attracted and turned on. And that will get in the way of her matchmaking attempts with whatever horse-faced patsy she’s deemed acceptable this week.”

“Why would she worry about you being attracted to me?”

His gaze shifted to watch Miki nibble on her lower lip. He stared, wanting desperately to take over the job. As if hearing his thoughts, she pressed those full lips together and gave him a slow, sweet smile.

It was the smile that did him in.

Time to get serious.

Naked serious.

Gideon tossed the cookie back on the tray and set his glass next to it. Then he reached forward to brush the back of his fingers over the soft curve of her arm.

“Probably because, for all her irritating traits, she tends to be right. I’m very attracted to you. And here I am working for you.”

“So you’re all mine?” she asked softly.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed.

“Well, then,” she took a deep breath, curved her hand over his thigh, “I’ve got a few ideas of just what I’d like you to fix.”

“You just tell me what you need, and I’ll take care of it,” he promised in a husky tone.

Miki swallowed, her eyes huge. Then she took a deep breath that seriously threatened his sanity.

“I need you, Gideon,” she told him, those huge eyes glinting with desire so intense it made Gideon want to strip bare and revel in the heat. “It’s like this fire burning inside me and only you’ve got what it takes to put it out.”

Miki traced her finger over the buttons on the front of his shirt. By the time she’d reached his belt, Gideon was ready to beg. His body flamed and his mouth watered for a taste of her. Except he knew that one taste wasn’t going to be enough. Not even close.

“Babe, I stoke that fire and it’s not something that’s gonna go out easy. It’ll burn long and hot, I guarantee it.”

“You’re big on those guarantees, aren’t you? How about you stop your talking and start showing me just how good you really are.”

“With pleasure,” Gideon said right before his mouth claimed hers.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Ten

Miki whimpered as Gideon’s mouth slanted over hers. Desire, already coiled in a tight spiral low in her belly, began to unfurl. Their only contact was their lips and his hand on her shoulder, but Miki was on fire for him.

At the gentle touch of his tongue across her lips, she shivered. She wanted to feel that tongue trace just as gently, just as sweetly, over her entire body.

She parted her lips in invitation, and oh yeah, baby, he took it. In a swift move, his tongue plunged into her mouth, an erotic dance of teeth and lips. The taste of him filled her and Miki’s thighs clenched in reaction.

Who knew a self-empowerment spell could work so well? Oh, not to attract Gideon. Even if that had been within her power, she’d never use magic to entice. But to strengthen herself enough to have the nerve to ask for what she wanted? Mmm, that had worked just fine.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “You are good.”

“Believe me,” he assured her, “I’ve spent a lot of hours fantasizing about you since you came to town.”

“About how you’d taste,” he said as his lips brushed lightly over hers. Miki gave a soft sigh at the sweetness of the move.

“About how you’d feel,” he continued as his hand swept down her shoulder to the curve of her waist, then cupped her hip. The warmth of his hand made her want to squirm, to shift so it dropped from on her hip to that aching valley between her thighs.

“About these long, luscious legs of yours and how close to heaven I’d get if I had them wrapped around me,” he told her as his hand caressed the naked flesh just beneath the hem of her dress, making her shiver.

It was that touch, and the image that flashed through her brain of her naked body wrapped around his, that scared the hell out of Miki.

His eyes left hers and dropped to his hand. To her breast. Miki swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly dry throat. Her nipples tightened to hard nubs beneath the silky fabric. With a faint smile, he laid his palm over one breast. He didn’t squeeze, or even move his fingers. Just let the heat of his hand reignite the dormant fire in her belly.

Her breath grew shallow as she waited. She licked her bottom lip as she felt the proof of his interest, his desire, stir beneath her hip.

“You react so sweetly to just my touch.” He lifted his hand, then with just the tip of his index finger, brushed over the straining tip. Miki bit back a whimper. “If your nipples are this hard, how is the rest of your body responding, Miki? I can see the lovely flush over your chest. Those hypnotic eyes of yours are dilated. Are you wet?” he asked huskily.

This time Miki couldn’t hold the whimper back. Perry had never talked to her. Following the modern woman’s sexual advice, Miki had never hesitated to let him know what she liked, but it had always been in the form of gestures. Or on the occasions he’d actually got it right, a soft moan of pleasure.

But Gideon seemed to demand not only words, but dialogue. His intense stare made it clear he wanted to know the answer to his question.

Hoping to hurry this along, maybe push him past his need to make a point and into a bigger kind of need, Miki squirmed a little on his lap. He grinned.

“Are you wet?” he asked a second time.

It was his grin, that devilish dare, that gave Miki the nerve to respond.

“Why don’t you touch me and find out?” she whispered.

His pupils flared and she felt, rather than heard, his groan. “Show me,” he said.

For a second, she wanted to yell in frustration. Why was he pushing her like this? Couldn’t she just lie back and enjoy their lovemaking without having to think? Without having to push past her comfort zone?

The she noticed the shallowness of his breath, realized the pressure against her hip had grown a lot harder since he’d begun trying to prove his point. And something clicked inside her. A need to meet him halfway, to leave average behind and explore her sexuality in a way she’d only wished for in the past.

So, grabbing her nerve along with his hand, Miki smiled. A slow, hopefully sexy smile that garnered a gratifying smile back. Holding the back of his hand, she trailed the palm over her breast again, pausing to press it tight against her straining nipple. Sensation spiked through her and she undulated lightly against him. His hand still in hers, she drew it down her body. Still self-conscious of her weight, she bypassed her not-flat abs to slide his hand over her hip, then to her thigh.

Her gaze locked on his, she took a deep breath, ears ringing slightly. Her entire being focused on Gideon, she gave them both what they wanted. She slid his hand beneath the silky fabric of her skirt and pressed his palm between her legs. Damp evidence of her desire was evident through her panties.

When Gideon’s hand slipped under the elastic band of her panties, she caught her breath and waited, her body so tense she was afraid she’d fly apart.

“You are wet for me,” he said in a husky voice. “Fully dressed, we have barely even kissed. And you’re hot, wet, and ready for me. I could slide into you right now, and your body would welcome me, wouldn’t it, Miki?”

“Oh, God, yes,” she breathed as he pressed the heel of his hand to her mound.

Miki gasped as he swung her around so she lay on the couch instead of on his lap. He stretched out alongside her, not over her, but in easy reach. The move had sent her skirt up, so it gathered around her waist, leaving her thighs and her damp panties right there for him to see.

But his focus was on her face. He brushed her hair off her temple, and Miki could smell the faint evidence of her desire on his hand. She pressed her lips together, nerves flashing again.

“God, Miki, your response to me drives me crazy. That’s anything but average. And look at you, you’re gorgeous.” His eyes followed his hand as he traced first one eyebrow, then the other. “You’ve got these midnight eyes that make a man want to beg to know what secrets you have hidden away in there.”

His hand moved over her jaw, then smoothed her mouth. “A beautiful smile and laugh that prove you’re more than just a pretty face and gorgeous body. Your sense of humor, playful teasing, they are as much a turn on as your sexy response.”

He slid his hand over her throat to her shoulder, where he pushed one of her dress straps down, then over to slide the other down. With a gentle tug, he pulled the dress away, baring her breasts.

Miki held her breath, her own eyes locked on his face. A faint flush colored his cheekbones, his eyes narrowed in desire as he looked—simply looked—at the bounty he’d bared.

His breath coming a little faster now, he swallowed, then shook his head.

“I can’t help myself,” he claimed just before he swooped down to suckle one nipple into his mouth. He lifted the other breast in his hand, his thumb strumming the aching peak.

Miki moaned, her hands clenched on the hard strength of his shoulders. She pressed herself against him, wrapping one leg around his thigh and pulling him against her aching center. In rhythm with his thumb on her nipple, she moved against his thigh as desire wound tighter and tighter.

When he grazed one nipple with his teeth, Miki cried out. Then he did it again, this time pinching the other nipple and pressing his thigh deep against her undulating center.

Color exploded behind Miki’s closed eyes as the climax ripped through her. Her breath came in gasps. She floated, her mind numb, on a sea of pleasure as her body absorbed the delicious wonder of her orgasm.

She lay there, eyes still closed, for another three seconds. Then, she opened her eyes and looked into the face of the man who was making her feel so much. Sexy, strong, powerful. All the emotions flew through her and she grinned. Time to see what she could make him feel.

“Hup,” she said, pushing against his chest with the palms of both hands.

He frowned, but didn’t argue. The disappointment on his face, quickly hidden, let her know he figured they were done.

As soon as he shifted his weight, she slid out from under his body. Then, before he could move further, she gave a quick push so he fell to his back on the couch.

With a delighted laugh, Miki moved fast and straddled him, one knee on either side of his thighs. She liked this switch of positions. Poised above him on the couch, she reveled in the still tingling aftershocks of that orgasm.

“You don’t mind if I play for a while, do you?” she asked.

“Play away,” he growled, his hands cupping her breasts. “Consider me your boy-toy and have a good ol’ time.”

“I’m definitely planning on a good time,” she assured him. Then, as his fingers played with her nipples, she returned the favor by unbuttoning enough of his shirt so she could comb her fingernails over his chest.

“Protection,” he exclaimed with a groan. “I didn’t bring anything with me.”

Passion swirling through her like a tornado, it took a few seconds for her to understand what he meant. Then she gave a little frown, debated the loss of pleasure in the current moment, and narrowed her eyes in concentration.

Heat flashed through her, sexual awareness coupled with her own magical energy and, leaning down to take Gideon’s mouth in her own, she flicked a finger toward the end table right behind his head. A flicker and flash, then she pulled away and gave Gideon a wicked smile.

“What’s it worth to you if I can not only give you that protection, but do it without leaving your body?”

“Oh, at least an extra orgasm or two,” he joked. Miki winked, then leaned forward. Her breast brushed over his mouth, and smart man that he was, he took advantage in a way that almost made her forget what she was doing.

After a few seconds of delighted torment, she pulled back, a foil wrapped package clenched between her fingers.

“I’ll take two, thanks so much,” she told him.

His gaze flicked from her face to the condom, then over his head. “You keep condoms in the living room?”

A cold wave washed over her. That was the kind of thing that would have made Perry bitch up a storm. He’d hated it when she’d hidden condoms all over the house when they were first married. She’d thought it would make spontaneity more fun. He’d been afraid someone might run across one and, God forbid, realize they actually had sex.

Then Gideon laughed and her body warmed again. “Damn, you’re my kind of woman.”

“Prove it,” she murmured, as her body warmed again.

She eyed his still clothed body and, for the first time in her life, wished that the man she was with knew she was a witch. Because it would be so much faster to zap his clothes off with magic. But, she realized with a delighted grin, probably not as fun.

She tossed the condom to the coffee table, then rose above Gideon. One knee on either side of his thighs, she finished unbuttoning his shirt. Then she gave in to the sexy invitation of that expanse of hard, muscled flesh and ran her hands up his flat abs to squeeze his pecs.

“You must work hard to keep a body in this fine shape,” she commented absently. After all, Perry slaved five days a week at the gym to keep his pasty body trim, and her brother hit the weight room at least three times a week. “You get this body hefting a hammer?”

His eyes locked on her face, Gideon nodded.

“Sweet,” she claimed in delight. “I can’t wait to put you to work here. I’m going to love watching you in action.”

Then she slid her hands down to the snap of his jeans, and wiggled her brows. “But for now, I have other work in mind.”

Anticipation surged through her as she unsnapped his pants. Miki scooted down so she straddled his knees instead of his thighs. Her dress caught around her hips, constricting her move for a few seconds.

Doubts ran through her head, but at the sexy, entranced look on Gideon’s face, she shoved them aside. Reaching down with both hands, she crossed them in front of her and grasped the silky fabric of her dress. In a fluid move, she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside.

“Whoa, baby,” he breathed.

“What?” Miki asked, looking down. Was she scary half-naked?

Gideon pressed a hand to her hip to make her twist again. His eyes lit up, a delighted grin dancing over his lips.

“You have a tattoo? Oh my God, do you know how sexy that is?”

Miki laughed in relief. “Sexy? I didn’t think of it that way. More a declaration of independence.”

He lifted his torso to bring his face close to her hip, then brushed a kiss over the rising phoenix. Miki shivered at the sensation. He lay back and winked.

The desire in Gideon’s eyes, as well as the stirring she saw against his zipper, made her feel incredible. Sexy, powerful, and about as non-average as possible.

Miki leaned forward to press a kiss against his belly, the arrow of hair curling there tickling her nose. She inhaled his musky scent and, still pressed against him, reached between her breasts to pull down the zipper of his jeans.

The rasp of the metal teeth joined his gasp.

She rose again and grabbed his waistband in both fists. She gave a sharp tug, pulling the denim over his hips. Always glad to see a man enjoy the freedom of boxers, she watched the loose fabric slide down.

The long, hard evidence of his desire sprang free. Miki leaned down to brush a kiss over the proudly jutting flesh, but before she could do anything else, he hissed and shook his head.

“You do that and you won’t even get one of those orgasms you’re planning, sweetheart. I’m about ready to go off like a Fourth of July rocket.”

“I like the idea of getting you off,” she teased. Then, because she couldn’t hold in the absolute delight any longer, she gave a giddy laugh.

Gideon watched Miki laugh, her dark eyes alight with pleasure. As much as his body was screaming to be inside her, to find its release from the delicious torment, his heart wanted to hold onto this moment. To the sight of her, that gorgeous body almost naked above him, joy clear on her face as she laughed.

Pride surged as he realized he’d done this for her. Oh, not made her gorgeous, sexy, and exciting—that was all Miki. But he’d given her this joy. This easy, relaxed pleasure in herself, in him and in the moment.

If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him dreaming impossible dreams. Wishing for an unattainable future.

Then she leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest and leaving little trails of fire, and took his mouth. Gideon gave himself over to his body’s demands. He lost himself in the kiss and the feel of her lush body over his. And let go of any crazy ideas.

A wild mating of their tongues, and he knew he couldn’t hold off any longer. He pulled back slightly and nodded his chin toward the coffee table.

“Condom?”

“Mmmm,” Miki hummed. She pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss, then straightened. She tilted her head to one side, as if assessing the situation. “So, what’s your pleasure?”

“You.”

She paused in her reach for the condom and rolled her eyes at him.

“Believe me, I plan on you being my pleasure too. But,” she said as she ripped open the foil package, “I was wondering... you know, how you like things.”

“Things?” he teased. He caught his breath as she shifted so he could kick his jeans off.

“Positions. I have to tell you,” she mused as she tapped the condom lightly against her mouth, “I’ve never spent this much time in conversation with a man during sex.”

Gideon’s gaze blurred as she ran her tongue over the condom. The message was clear and all he could think of was how her mouth would feel on him. Next time, he promised himself. He’d have those lips around him next time.

“This conversation is turning me on almost as much as your body,” he assured her. “And I’m thinking this first time is ladies’ choice. You tell me how you want it. How you want us.”

He watched her breasts sway as the breath shuddered through her. Good, he wanted her to know how sexy words were.

“I want to be on top,” she told him softly. Gideon sent up a prayer of thanks, since there was nothing he loved more than watching a woman take her pleasure from his body.

But all he said was, “Perfect. Then next time we can do it against your entryway wall.”

She paused, eyes huge, in the act of unrolling the condom over his straining flesh. “Wall?”

“Yeah, I’ve wanted to have you there since that day you talked about bondage and red velvet.”

Miki’s delighted laugh gave him hope of some hot and wild wall sex.

Then, as she finished sheathing him and moved into position, he finally shut up. He had to, because the sight of her over him, the concentration on her face as she lowered herself on his body, it completely short-circuited his brain.

Gideon gave over to the pleasure of her tight body clenched around him, moving in a sweet, slow pace. Not sure how long he could hold out, he reached up to curve his fingers over her breasts, teasing and tormenting until she hurried her rhythm.

Her breath came in pants now, and seeing she was close, he let himself fall back on the couch pillows. His hands clenching her thighs, he pumped into her. When he felt her orgasm squeeze around him, Gideon lost all control. It was as if all of the lights in the house started flickering and he’d swear, he could hear fireworks. He bucked twice, shouted his pleasure, and exploded.

In the rush of pleasure, he heard warning bells in the back of his head. The kind that signaled dangerous emotional ground, a point of no return. But he easily ignored them.

At least, as he nuzzled Miki’s neck and breathed deep, he told himself he did.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Eleven

Three days of good loving, and Miki realized she’d reached new levels of intimacy with a man. New positions, more open communication. The trust to give and take direction without fear of failure.

In other words, home improvement projects.

“Did you ever consider selling off part of the property?” Gideon asked as he knelt in the rust-ridden clawfoot tub to squish a tile to the wall. “You know, a piece here or there while you get the house ready for market. It could even help finance the repairs.”

“Part of it?” Miki glanced out the window at the breathtaking view of the mountains. “No. I’ll admit, this house is a nightmare and I won’t be sad to see it go. But I’ll miss the view, the gorgeous sight of those mountains when I do.”

Gideon glanced up at her, then out the same window. He pulled a face, but didn’t say anything.

“After so many years of city living, the quiet out here is nice,” she went on. “There isn’t much traffic or noise. I love it.”

She shrugged. “Who knows what the new owners will want to do, though. Any of the land-hungry developers from California would pee themselves to get a hold of this land. I have to admit, even though the townspeople are hostile, rude, and unwelcoming, at least they aren’t all greedy and grasping for each other’s property, ya know?”

He mumbled something, then went back to his tile squishing.

“Besides, I think I’ve actually got the repair costs covered. With my brother’s help, I’ve been selling off all the furniture I got as part of the divorce settlement. You’d be amazed at what people are willing to pay for used furniture on eBay.”

Gideon grunted. Miki gave a deep, contented sigh.

Who knew home repair could be a romantic undertaking? It probably ranked somewhere between folding laundry and pulling weeds on Miki’s previous list of what to do with a guy for fun.

But with Gideon? Sloppy jeans, one of his old tee shirts and her hair in a ponytail were the look du jour. And she was rocking it.

“You ever want to hire on as a handyman’s assistant, you just let me know,” he said as she handed him another tile.

“Please, I come from a family of overachievers. They wouldn’t disapprove of the handyman part, but a Lansing assists no one,” she said with a laugh.

Gideon nodded his understanding.

“It’s hard living up to a legend. Or a family that lends themselves to acting like they should be legends,” he said.

“Exactly,” she agreed. “I guess you’ve been there, huh? Your dad seems like he was a big deal. I saw the monument to him in the park the other day.”

Even though he’d said he was already an adult when it happened, it had to have been devastating to lose a parent. As hard a time as she had with her parents, Miki couldn’t imagine life without them. Without that hope that someday, somehow, they’d all be on the same emotional page.

“He was one of the best mayors Rossdale had. Of course, I’m probably biased,” he said with a chuckle. “He really cared about the town, about making it the best it could be. But he was careful, too, to always keep in mind what Rossdale was about. Why it’d been formed...”

Who formed a town for any purpose other than a place to live? Miki glanced over as he trailed off, but the frown on his face didn’t encourage questions.

“He must have been a very busy man,” she said instead.

“Yeah, he always seemed to have something needing his time, his attention. But as many demands as he had, he still made sure his family came first.” He set another tile, then poked the little plastic thingie between it and the one before to keep them neatly aligned. “Ninety-nine percent of the time, we ate dinner at home as a family, always on Sundays. He didn’t miss a single one of my baseball games, never skipped out on a school event.”

The love, the loss, in Gideon’s voice squeezed Miki’s heart. “He sounds great.”

“Yeah.” Then he laughed and, obviously trying to lighten the mood, said, “Of course, you’ve met my mother. Between the two of them, they pretty much balanced out.”

Miki’s opinion of Lucas Ross jumped a few more notches as she imagined having to be married to Fish-Face. Gideon obviously took after his daddy in the looks and the personality department.

“How about you?” he asked as the cat, who’d been watching from the hallway, came in and jumped up on the sink to get a better view. “What are your parents like?”

Miki pursed her lips. How the hell did she describe her parents? They were hard enough to comprehend as it was, at least she didn’t have to detail their magical eccentricities and oddities.

“My parents, huh?” She glanced up as the cat suddenly butted her shoulder with its head. Buying time, Miki reached over to pick her up. “I don’t see much of my father. He and mom divorced when I was about five. He’s...” What? The Indiana Jones of the witch world? A witch with a taste for adventure and one of the greatest minds of his generation? “An archaeologist who spends most of his time traveling. He’s been everywhere in the world, but prefers remote locations.”

“That must make keeping in touch difficult,” Gideon sympathized. Finished with the last row of straight tiles, he pointed with his metal spatula-thing to the box of curve-topped border tiles.

Shifting the cat to her shoulder, Miki lifted one out and slathered it with mud, then handed it to Gideon. Their fingers brushed and she grinned as the tingle zinged through her. Lovers for three days and all it took was the touch of his fingers to get her excited.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Except it wasn’t her father’s travels that kept them apart. It was his disappointment in her. He barely tolerated the mortal world as it was, his disgust at his ex-wife and his children’s choice to live among mortals always apparent. Miki’s abdication of power when she’d married Perry had been the last straw.

“I haven’t seen him in eight years,” she murmured softly. The cat, as if it sensed her sorrow, burrowed deeper in Miki’s arms and purred. Miki buried her face in the silky fur, took a deep breath, then sighed. “But, it’s not like he was up for any father-of-the-year awards before he took off, you know? Unlike your father, mine didn’t have a lot of time for me or my brother and sister.”

Gideon leaned back on his heels with a frown. The sight of him, all sexy and work-mussed, staring back at her with such concern while he perched in her bathtub, sent Miki’s heart stuttering.

“What about your mom? I guess you grew up with her, huh?”

“My mother,” Miki contemplated. “My mother is like a goddess. Perfect in almost every way. She’s beautiful, talented, and strong.”

The cat’s purr grew louder. It nudged at her until Miki rubbed behind its ears.

“She’s also vain, self-focused, and impossible to live up to,” Miki continued with a sigh. The cat, obviously not liking the way she was being petted, hissed and jumped out of her arms. “Mother’s been divorced, like, a million times. She’s an expert on getting her way, and always knows what’s best for anyone. Most especially her children.”

Gideon snickered. “Sounds familiar.”

“Yes, but unlike your mother, mine doesn’t think I can do no wrong. To Alexis, I’m pretty much a failure. I think it’s proof of how much she loves me that she hasn’t disowned me for being such a disappointment.”

Glass crashed to the floor in a loud explosion. Miki and Gideon both jumped. As one, they shot out of the bathroom.

Miki was closest, so she got to the small spare bedroom they’d decided to use for construction storage first. She pressed her hand to her pounding heart to try and slow her racing pulse. One of the windows Gideon had replaced the day before lay in pieces on the floor, its warped wooden frame splintered among the glass. The cat perched high on a rickety shelving unit that had come with the house. From the heat of her glare at Miki, she obviously hadn’t liked the noise either.

“Did she do that?” Miki asked.

“No. There’s no way she could push over something that heavy. Besides, it was too well balanced on the sawhorses for a tiny cat to knock off balance. It just fell. She’s lucky she didn’t get hurt.”

Miki shot the cat a narrow-eyed look, but its glare and air of indignant anger seemed to be gone. Instead, it sat on the gouged shelf, cleaning its tail and making a show of ignoring them. Miki crossed the room and ran her hands over her fur, carefully checking for splinters of glass.

“She seems okay.”

“I can’t believe she’s still here,” Gideon mused. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then reached over to pet the cat. “What do you do, chain it up?”

“No,” Miki shrugged, “she pretty much comes and goes as she pleases. Sometimes days go by that I don’t see her, but then she shows up again.”

“Huh.” He frowned, his look an odd combination of contemplation and what almost looked like trepidation. Miki peered at him, but he just shrugged. “Like I told you before, it’s been a long time since cats came around. I’m wondering what’s changed.”

“Probably nothing except time. I mean, maybe there were wild animals around or something that was scaring off all the pets.”

He nodded, but it was more a humor-the-clueless type nod than real agreement.

She waited for the defensive anger to settle in. But instead of feeling like she needed to defend herself as she’d always done with Perry, she just felt amusement. How odd. Even though she knew Gideon’s opinion currently mattered to her more than Perry’s ever had, his disagreeing with her just wasn’t an issue. Maybe because he never made her feel like he was disagreeing with her, just her opinion. An oddly empowering distinction.

Instead, she grinned and joked, “Maybe it’s magic.”

Not that she believed it was. If nothing else, she’d like to think she’d have sensed it. But she’d obviously said the wrong thing from the way Gideon turned pale and how quickly he shook his head.

“Oh, no. Nope, no magic in Rossdale. This is about the most non-magical town it’s possible to be.”

“Ooo-kay,” she said slowly. She kept her face smooth and her voice light, even as her stomach took a nasty nosedive. “You say that like you’re on trial and magic is behind all things evil, from world hunger to disco.”

"Well, not disco. I blame Saturday Night Fever for that.”

Miki laughed, but the sick feeling in her stomach didn’t abate. Was Gideon anti-magic? Most people fell into one of two categories. Non-believers or Harry Potter groupies. Then there were the few who did believe but longed for the good ol’ days when witches were burned at the stake or drowned.

“So Rossdale is all about being a normal, run-of-the-mill town, huh,” she commented as she followed him back to the bathroom. “Other than those scary potato dolls, of course.”

Gideon grinned and grabbed her by the waist. With a quick tug, he pulled her close.

“I’m going to get you a doll of your own; you’ll love it.”

Before Miki could properly form a horrified enough response, Gideon’s mouth took hers on a swift, wild climb. Thoughts of dolls, towns, and magic all fled as Miki gave herself over to the delicious sensations racing through her body.

She sighed in pleasure as his hand closed over her breast. Something nagged at her subconscious though, keeping her from giving over to the now familiar passion.

“Cat,” she gasped.

“Is that an endearment?” he murmured as he shifted his attention to nibbling down her throat.

“No.” She pulled back, still in his arms but putting distance between their bodies. “The cat is right there. We can’t do this in front of her.”

From Gideon’s laugh and his hand sliding beneath her tee shirt, he must’ve thought she was kidding. Miki glanced over his shoulder at the cat, who watched unabashedly.

Nope, couldn’t do it in front of the staring feline. Talk about intimidation. But Miki wasn’t willing to not do what he so obviously wanted to do. So she gave Gideon a wink and grabbed his hand.

Pulling him out the door, she tugged him along to her bedroom. Gotta love a guy who willingly was led by the hand to sexual pleasures. She grinned and gave him a little push so he fell on her bed.

What a sight he was. His golden hair mussed and sexy as it fell into those whisky-rich eyes. Leaning back on his elbows, his biceps bunched in a way that made Miki want to bite into them. His grin made her giddy.

Not physically giddy, though. It was an emotional thing, like her heart was on a roller coaster ride. Scary, exhilarating, and thrilling. But with a nasty worry that the car could upend at any time and leave her in a million broken pieces.

Miki was ignoring that worry, since all it would do was interfere with her fun.

With a deep breath and a smile that only trembled a little, she pushed her bedroom door shut before the cat could join them, tugged the tee shirt over her head, and, turning her back and looking over her shoulder, shimmied out of her jeans.

His gaze latched onto her tattoo. Who knew something that had started as a simple act of defiance could end up being such a turn on, so empowering. Every time Gideon got that look in his eyes, and it was often, Miki felt empowered by her new life, her new choices.

Gideon’s grin turned to an intense look of desire as he took in her purple lace panties and bra. Inspired by that look, by the surge of emotions sparking through her system, she trailed her fingertips over the pink satin trim. His eyes blurred.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed. “Sexy, sweet, and so damned gorgeous.”

Giddy laughter gurgled in her throat. Was it any wonder she was crazy about the guy? He didn’t even see the five pounds she still carried on her hips. He didn’t care that she didn’t have makeup on or that she hadn’t cooked him a fancy meal. And he let her have free rein in bed, indulging all her take-charge fantasies.

Unexpected tears welled in her eyes, but Miki blinked them away with a shaky breath. Enjoy it while it lasts. That was her new motto. So she’d enjoy it to the max.

“Want a taste?” she offered as she unhooked the front clasp of her bra.

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded and reached for her, taking them both on that wild roller coaster ride together.

As Miki watched his face above her as he took his pleasure, she realized it didn’t matter if the car upturned or not. She wouldn’t trade this ride for anything in the world.

* * *

The next evening, Gideon stretched his legs out in front of him on the new couch in his mother’s living room and tried to get comfortable. But the cushion beneath his butt felt like it was made of cement. He resisted the urge to get up and punch the snowy white fabric a few times to try to soften it up.

Of course, to punch the couch, he’d have to be able to set down his glass of iced tea somewhere. Except since his mother’s recent purchase of the fancy coffee and side tables, she didn’t seem to even believe in coasters any longer. But being the perfect hostess, she’d had to serve refreshments.

He glanced around the room at the small crowd of people, all perched stiffly on the new furniture. Like him, most balanced a glass of iced tea in one hand, a small plate of cookies on one knee. Nobody looked brave enough to eat or drink, however.

“Would anyone like more tea?” Deloris trilled from the doorway to the kitchen. “No? More cookies, then?”

“Can we get on with it?” Gideon asked. He had a date at nine and didn’t want to be stuck at this impromptu meeting any longer than necessary. Lately, anything that kept him away from Miki tended to cause him impatience.

Years of practice let him ignore his mother’s glare of disapproval as Gideon got the meeting going.

“Did you get that city girl to agree to running a road through her property?” Gene asked when they’d finished the particulars of what was needed to make the lodge usable.

Gideon flashed back to the memory of Miki in his arms, the feel of her body still warm from their lovemaking, the scent of them in the air.

“I haven’t found the right time to ask her,” he sidestepped with a shrug. Since he’d heard her voice as she talked about her land, about the beauty of the mountains he loved so much, Gideon hadn’t been able to get a hope from his head. A hope that maybe, just maybe, Miki might find herself wanting to stay in Rossdale when her house was done. Damned if he was going to screw with her view just so a few people could avoid driving by the boogeyman.

“It doesn’t matter, we have a road we can use. Right now there are more important issues to deal with, anyway.”

“More important?” Fred exclaimed. “If we’re going to host these tournaments of yours, we need a way to get out to the lake. We can’t take the old road, it’s just too...” he trailed off. But it was easy to fill in the blanks. Too close to the boogeyman.

The only thing that kept Gideon from rolling his eyes was respect for the older man. He was tired of giving way to the town’s paranoia.

“Look, Tim Watson was out, toured the lake and all our amenities. He’s on board to bring his tournament here to Rossdale. We need to have our proposal in the next week.” Gideon let that fact settle in their heads, then raised a brow. “Even if Miki did offer her land, we don’t have the time it would take to cut a road through there.”

Seeing the look in Fred’s face, Gideon rushed on before the man could say anything. “Say Miki did sell us use of the land, and say we could get a tractor in there to cut a road. Do you really think those fishermen would be willing to pull their thirty thousand dollar boats down ten miles of dirt road? Add a little rain and it’d be a mudslide.”

Gideon watched the faces around him reflect the same shock he’d felt when he’d heard the kind of money involved. Men could afford boats in that price range, they weren’t looking for a cheap deal. They’d pay to stay at the Lodge, to eat at the diner.

“It’s too bad we don’t have a fancy restaurant around here,” Reba mussed.

“Not that the diner isn’t fine,” she assured Joe, who looked like he wanted to bean her with one of his frying pans. Unperturbed, Reba went on, “But you have a fancy place to eat, something spiffy and nice, and those men with their pricey boats would likely bring along their wives and girlfriends. I’ll bet those women would love to shop or go antiquing here in town while their men were out on the water.”

“Nobody can cook more than burgers since Bea went into mourning. We could offer down home food, though,” Marcia pondered. “You know, meat and potatoes.”

Reba gave a discontented shrug. “I doubt too many guys would be willing to pay extra to haul their ladies along to feed them meatloaf.”

“Miki’s a chef,” Gideon murmured.

“What?” Marcia snapped. “What difference does that make to us? She’s a fancy uptown type. I’m sure her cooking involves raw fish, tiny portions, and unpronounceable dishes.”

“I don’t see why she won’t just donate her land,” Deloris muttered. “That’s a mighty disagreeable woman to put her selfish wants before the good of the town that’s her new home.”

A steady hammering of pain pounded through Gideon’s right temple as he gave his mother a cold look. She didn’t agree with the plan to bring in the tournament. She’d only given in to Gideon’s nagging for use of the Lodge when he’d informed her that they didn’t need her or her empty hotel to make this venture a success. The only thing Deloris Ross hated more than being bested was not being included.

“Miki didn’t refuse the use of her land,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “She doesn’t know anything about it.”

“Well, it’s not like she cares one way or another about Rossdale. She’ll be gone just as soon as you finish repairs on her house and she can put it on the market,” Deloris claimed, clamping her arms across her chest in a gesture of finality. “It’s just as well we not expect anything from her. Not her land, not her time. Definitely not any sort of... commitment.”

The hammering in his temple increased.

“You do understand what I mean, right, son?”

“Right. I got the message. So did the other twenty people in the room.” He looked around and they all nodded, looks ranging from sympathy to warning on the faces gathered around. “Now that you’ve made it clear you think Miki Lansing is a pariah, maybe we can focus on why we’re here? Are we ready to bring this before the Town Council?”

The discussion turned to strategy, since everyone there knew Reggie was going to be put out that someone other than himself and his factory might be a source of income to the town. They’d all have to have their arguments firmly in place so he couldn’t find any loopholes to refuse the proposal.

An hour later, Gideon glanced at the clock on the wall. Anticipation surged through him, along with a healthy dose of desire. He’d told Miki he’d be out at her place at nine, that was in a half hour.

“So we’re all set? Everyone who wants in on the profit of this venture knows what they need to do, what preparations to make. I’ll spearhead this at the meeting Wednesday. The key is going to be making sure Reggie doesn’t have any wiggle room.”

As everyone gathered their stuff, Gideon stood. Deloris stood too, and placed both hands on the wide library table in front of her. She gave him a nod to indicate he should sit back down. Gideon frowned, but sat.

“Now that we’ve seen what my son can do for Rossdale, I’d like to bring my plan to the table.”

The anticipation in his stomach turning to dread, Gideon watched his mother pull out a pile of manila folders, some large poster boards, and a stack of fliers.

“With the probable success of this tournament and all that it’ll mean to Rossdale, I foresee the town being free of Reggie Compton’s control. Once the Spud Doll Factory isn’t the only source of jobs and income, Reggie’s final hold will be broken.”

Gideon frowned as she held up the first of her posters. His dread turned to nausea.

“I’ve already begun steps to impeach our incompetent mayor. I now propose to you all that you offer your support to my candidate for mayor.”

She gave her son an indulgent smile that reminded him of the fact that sharks often ate their young.

“I think you’ll all agree. Gideon Ross for mayor is the answer to Rossdale’s future.”

* * *

Gideon shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he strode through the wrought-iron arch to Town Square. The warm night air washed over him and the starry sky above lit the cobblestone path. The moon, only a quarter full, glowed a hazy welcome.

After refusing his mother’s call to action, he’d stormed out of the meeting. Her accusations ringing in his ears, he’d called Miki and begged off for the night. There was no way Gideon could lose himself in the pleasure of her company with all this turmoil rattling through his aching head.

And no way he wanted to explain the source of his problems. After all, what woman wanted to listen to a man bitch about his mother and his ex-wife?

He kicked a stone off the path and made his way to the gazebo. His mother’s declaration of his candidacy rang in his head. She really believed he was the answer to the town’s future.

Of course, he knew better.

Rather than its future, he was the key to its end, if Tilda’s warning was anything to go by. Gideon recalled the poster proclaiming him Rossdale’s golden boy of politics. The last thing his ex-wife had said before she’d flown off on her proverbial broomstick was that if Gideon ever ran for mayor, she’d destroy the town with the snap of her fingers.

Since she’d totaled their house with those same fingers, Gideon hadn’t bothered doubting her. The woman had a bitch of a temper, blamed Rossdale for all their marriage woes, and was a bona fide witch.

The temper and the blame had been the actual issues in their marriage. The witch part?

In those honest moments in the middle of the night, Gideon was able to admit to himself the witch part had been why he’d married her.

Gideon climbed the steps of the gazebo and stood before the well. Much as Miki had done a couple weeks before, he rubbed his hand over the moss-covered plaque inscribed with Rosalee Wenton’s words.

Peace and prosperity I bring to thee, in gratitude for what was given to me. My blessings continue to flow from above, as long as you welcome faith, magic, and love.

Which was the part of the town’s history most people tried to ignore these days. Thirty years before, Rossdale had been a prosperous town. Not only had the Spud Doll Factory been going strong, but there had been a local logging company, tourism out at the lake, and skiing nearby. It was as if any business that opened with a Rossdale address was guaranteed success.

Except some people had been less than enchanted with a few of the businesses. Nowhere near as popular or accepted as it was today, the occult had been cloaked in hush-hush back then. Except in Rossdale. Probably because of the prophecy, or the town’s long-held belief in witches and magic.

Gideon hadn’t even been born when the change had happened. And, shockingly in a town that lived on gossip, the details were never discussed. So to this day, he didn’t know why the town had gone from accepting and welcoming magic to rejecting any and all who professed even a speck of belief.

He did remember the mass exodus of residents though. Some left for good, some moved out to the lake, forming their own community. He’d snuck out there a few times at night as a teenager, but had been disappointed. He’d expected orgies or coven rituals or at least naked people all over the place.

What he’d found were the same townspeople who’d given him cookies or patted his head when he’d been a child. They’d simply chosen to take their belief in magic and, as his old first grade teacher had explained, keep the prophecy alive the best they could.

Gideon had never been able to get behind his parents’ objection to magic after that. He’d tried to convince them, only to meet with stony silence on his father’s part and vitriolic ridicule on his mother’s.

He dropped down to sit on the step, leaning his head back against the well. He ignored the crunching sound of the dead leaves behind his head and breathed deep the night air.

The stupidest thing he’d ever done was because he’d thought he was the answer to Rossdale’s future. One night on leave, he’d met a stunning blonde with a body of steel. Sexy, provocative, and a witch in every sense of the word, she’d cast her net and caught him but good. Gideon, under the impression bringing magic back to Rossdale would fix the economic down slump that so worried his father, hadn’t thought twice about proposing.

He opened his eyes and looked around the ruined Town Square. Tilda had done this. He hadn’t seen past his idyllic idea of Rosalee Wenton or Tilda’s sexy blonde packaging. And Rossdale had paid.

From the minute Tilda had set foot in the town, she’d seemed to seep the life, the magic, out of it. And when she’d finally called their marriage the travesty it was, she’d promised Gideon that in return for not giving her the love she felt she was due, he’d never have the one thing he thought he wanted most.

The chance to step into his father’s shoes. To lead the town. To be mayor. Then she’d metaphorically stomped off. The reality had involved a lot of flashing lights, claps of thunder, and a pile of rubble where their house had stood.

Like any smart man, Gideon had ignored her. At his parents’ urging, he’d agreed to run for mayor in the next election so his father could retire.

The next thing he’d known, his father was dead in a freak accident. Gideon had pulled his name from the ballot and actively hated magic and witches ever since.

He stood and climbed down the steps. He turned back to look at the gazebo and its magic wishing well. Squinting, he noticed there, among the dead leaves and dirty brambles, tiny white flowers blooming.

He rocked back on his heels and pursed his lips in contemplation. It looked like life might have a chance here. New growth. Possibilities.

It had been six years. Tilda had long since moved on, he’d found a way to save the town despite his restrictions. He’d met a woman who brought out emotions in him he’d never expected to feel. Just the sight of Miki’s smile warmed his heart, the sound of her laughter made him believe in happy ever after.

Maybe it was time to hope again.

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Twelve

The morning after her failed attempt to push her son into politics, Deloris clomped up the unpainted steps to Mikaela Lansing’s house. She secretly hoped a board would crack or break underfoot so she could sue. She shot a look out of the corner of her eye at Reba, whose heavy breathing made it clear she wasn’t liking the pace of Deloris’s stomping.

“You’re crazy,” Reba wheezed. “You can’t just go making up rules like this, Deloris. Even if that uppity gal lets you get away with it, Gideon’s gonna pitch a fit when he finds out.”

“Pshaw,” Deloris spat. She paused at the small wicker table to one side of the wide, wrap-around porch and poked her finger in the dirt of the brilliant red geranium. Barely moist. Huh, maybe she was overwatering hers. They never grew so full and colorful as this one.

“Deloris,” Reba hissed, hanging onto the chip-painted spindle rail while she caught her breath. “You’re gonna push it too far. You should be trying to get the girl to work with us, not shoving at her until she fights.”

“I shove, she leaves. I don’t need no uppity city gal ruining my son’s life. Not again, thank you. That last one was bad enough. But thanks to this one, my boy’s refusing to take his rightful place as mayor. That’s simply not acceptable.”

Deloris raised a fist and pounded on the new front door. Her motherly pride at the obvious quality of the repair warred with her anger. Well used to channeling her emotions, she shoved the pride aside.

“Gideon’s always refused to run for mayor,” Reba claimed. But she squared her shoulders and joined Deloris at the door, just as Deloris’d known she would. “You can’t be laying that at this girl’s feet.”

“Gideon will run, his name’s already on the ballot. This girl leaves, I’ll have one less distraction to worry about.”

This girl opened the front door.

Perfectly arched brows rose in surprise as she looked them over. Deloris raked a quick glance over the younger woman. The jeans were decent enough, but too tight. The tee shirt with a naked woman with wings sprouting out her back gave Deloris an excuse to sneer.

Too bad the sneer was hard to keep in place given the rich scents wafting out the open door. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was beef roasting in there, along with something that smelled cheesy and rich. Deloris’s taste buds screamed for a sample. She told them to shut up.

“Um, hello?” the interloper, as Deloris had dubbed her, said at the prolonged silence.

“We’re here as representatives of the Rossdale Historical Society,” Deloris claimed. “We’d like to speak with you.”

At first, it looked like the interloper might refuse to let them in the house. Deloris plastered on her most intimidating look. It obviously worked, since the younger woman frowned, then gave an ill-tempered shrug.

“Okay, sure. Come on in and we’ll talk,” she invited. Moving aside to let them in, Deloris was able to get her first view of the house in a year. It was like night and day. Or a nightmare and a lovely home, to be more precise.

Evidence of repair and renovation was everywhere, from the stripped wallpaper in the entryway to the new banister leading up the stairs. Deloris followed the outsider down the hall to a living room that had her gasping in horror.

“It’s like something out of a Crayola box,” she exclaimed. The younger woman just rolled her eyes.

Color was everywhere. Rich gold on the walls, deep burgundy on the couch. A whole rainbow of colors glinted from crystals strewn around the room, and a furiously bright paisley easy chair was snugged up in the corner.

Reba gave a gasp of her own, and Deloris glanced over to commiserate. But the other woman was too busy stroking her hand over the velvet paisley to offer any support.

“You have lovely furnishings,” Reba said softly. Then she looked up, caught Deloris’s glare and clamped her lips shut.

“Thank you.” From the look on the interloper’s face and her doubtful tone, she didn’t sound much like she meant it, though. “Why don’t you both get comfortable and you can explain what you need to speak with me about. Mrs. Ross? Have a seat.”

Deloris perched on the edge of the squishy couch, folding her hands over the straw purse in her lap. The irritating young woman had the nerve to meet Deloris’s gaze head on, one snooty brow raised in inquiry.

“So why don’t you tell me why you’re here,” the interloper prodded after a few moments of silence.

“As I said, I’m here representing the Rossdale Historical Society. This house, being seventy years old, qualifies as a historical site per our standards.”

“Okay... So what? I get a plaque or something to put outside?”

“Hardly,” Deloris said with a sniff. She wished her nostrils hadn’t been assaulted with the rich scent of roasting beef as she did, though. Her stomach threatened to growl.

“Your house, being a Rossdale historic site, falls under the jurisdiction of the Historical Society.”

The interloper looked like she was going to roll her eyes again. But she stopped short and just squinted instead. She cast a look between Deloris and Reba, then shook her head.

“What, exactly, does that mean?” Her tone was a dare, like she didn’t believe them. How dare she?

Reba made a sound from the chair she’d been stroking. Afraid she’d open her big mouth and ruin everything, Deloris leaned forward and claimed, “Which means any and all renovations, construction, and changes to this house must be approved by the Historical Society. Nothing can be done unless it’s to code. It must be in keeping with the era of the house.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

The younger woman sounded surprised, and perhaps a little sarcastic. But she didn’t, to Deloris’s frustration, sound worried or anxious.

“I’m quite serious, as is this situation. You’re going against the law by doing repairs without the approval of the Historical Society.”

Miki peered at them with a look of suspicion. “Isn’t Gideon the local building inspector? I could have sworn I read that on his letterhead.” Deloris sputtered, but like any self-absorbed city gal, Miki just kept talking. “I’d think he’d know what was legal around here and what wasn’t. It’s not like I brought in an out-of-town contractor or anything.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Deloris asked with a gasp.

“Not at all,” the interloper said, obviously not impressed with Deloris’s show of affront. “I’m just saying I’m surprised to hear this is an issue.”

“Obviously Gideon was distracted by something...” Deloris trailed off, leaving her meaning clear. “I’m surprised he agreed to work for you, to be honest. He’s usually much more particular about out-of-town clients.”

“Seeing as I’m living here, I don’t think I qualify as out of town, do you?”

“You’ve only been here a month,” Deloris dismissed.

Used to sizing up her opponent and knowing just where to strike to hurt the most, she pursed her lips and inspected the other woman. Obviously a pushover, it shouldn’t take much to intimidate her. A few well-chosen words to play on the insecurities, the fresh divorce. A comment or two to rip the woman’s claws out of Gideon, and Deloris would consider the day well spent.

“I’m sure you’ll be on your way again soon. After all, there is nothing for you here.” She plastered a fake smile of sympathy on her face and leaned close. “It must be difficult for you, being all alone like you are. Divorce is painful, from what I’ve heard. Especially to the losing partner.”

She waited for that to sink in, but not long enough for indignation to take hold.

“Don’t feel bad. Even my son, poor thing, went through it.” Deloris gave an exaggerated moue of surprise, delicately covering her mouth with her fingertips. “Oops. You probably didn’t realize Gideon had been married, did you?”

“Actually, yes. Gideon told me about his marriage.” The woman leaned back on her too-soft couch and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other. With an irritatingly amused look on her face, she continued, “And his divorce.”

Oh. Deloris exchanged a glance with Reba, who was looking a little sick, the wimp. Since Gideon didn’t talk about his marriage to anyone, this wasn’t a good sign. Deloris wished she could lean back and think things through for a minute. But the look on the interloper’s face and the indulgent cushions made it clear it wouldn’t be a comfortable choice.

“Then you know how in love he was. And how devoted he is to Rossdale.”

Confusion flashed through the younger woman’s pitch-black eyes. Deloris couldn’t wait to gloat. Instead of asking the questions so clear in those wide eyes, the woman just shrugged.

“I’m really not comfortable discussing Gideon when he’s not here. Anything he wants me to know about his marriage, his ex-wife, or his choices, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Thankfully, Reba’s gasp drowned out Deloris’s own.

“What are you saying?” Reba squeaked. “How do you expect to ever learn anything without asking questions? Without taking good information when it’s offered?”

“You mean gossip, right? I’ve been on the wrong side of gossip recently and know how nasty it can be. I don’t want to be a part of that. Not over Gideon.”

As much as she tried, Deloris couldn’t put a bad spin on that. The tone was sad, not snooty. The words resigned, not lecturing.

Then the girl leaned forward with a smile. It was one of those whole-face grins that seemed to light her up from inside with a spark of mischief and fun.

“But if you want to fill me in on this town’s history I’ve heard bits and pieces of, I’d be all for hearing that.”

“History?” Reba asked, with a quick glance at Deloris for permission.

“Yeah. I’ve seen the well in the town square and Gideon’s mentioned a few things. But when I stopped in the library the other day, I couldn’t find any books on the town’s origins. I thought that was odd. Especially since you all seem so proud of your history.”

She gave them a friendly smile and raised her brows. “You know, like with that potato doll display and your Historical Society and all that.”

Deloris’s lips twitched so she pressed them tight. She refused to be amused.

“Rossdale is rich in history,” she said. “But it’s a long story and it’s getting to be my lunchtime.”

The younger woman gave her a long look. “Okay. It’s too bad you didn’t have time to share the story. I just pulled my last batch of cookies from the oven before you got here. They’d be cool now and go perfect with coffee.”

Deloris frowned. She’d been smelling roast and something savory. No hint of a sweet baking. Just then, the scent wafted through the room like a soft breeze. Sweet and sugary. Reba looked like she was going to cry if Deloris said no. Being a good friend, she offered a shrug of her own.

“I suppose we could find time for a cookie and coffee.”

“And filling me in on Rossdale’s history?”

“Very well, Ms. Lansing. It might help you understand what a complex and tightly knit community we have here. And why it’s almost impossible for an outsider to fit in.”

“Call me Miki,” the younger woman said over her shoulder. She didn’t bother to respond to the rest. Just headed down the hall.

“What’re you gonna tell her?” Reba asked in a whisper. “Not the whole story, are you?”

“Of course not.”

Before Deloris could elaborate, Miki returned with a large tray. On it was a coffee carafe, three cups and saucers, and a china plate filled with delicious cookies.

Even Deloris couldn’t fault the woman’s hostessing as she handed around coffee and smaller plates of still-warm treats. She did wonder, however, how the girl had managed to have a fresh pot of coffee made so quickly.

As Miki held out a plate and cup to Deloris, she met her gaze and held it. Deloris felt like she was drowning in the black depths of the younger woman’s eyes.

“I’ve made this just for you, I hope it’s to your taste. In exchange for the whole story of the history of this place,” Miki said in an oddly compelling voice. “Please feel free to turn it away, since once you accept I’ll listen to all you have to say.”

Deloris opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She closed it and shrugged. “I told you I’d be glad to share the story if you fed us.”

“Lovely,” Miki said, releasing her gaze.

Deloris took the plate and coffee, settling her cup on the low table in front of her and taking a bite of a cookie. Flavors exploded in her mouth, sending her salivary glands into overdrive. Rich chocolate and coconut blended in a delicious combination.

Miki gave her and Reba a few minutes to glut on cookies and refills of coffee, while nibbling patiently on her single cookie.

“I heard you were a chef,” Reba said around a mouthful of chocolate. “But I had no idea you were this good. We don’t get much fancy cooking here in Rossdale.”

“Actually, I’m just as comfortable with simple fare as I am with fancy. That’s one of the things I loved most about catering, the fact that the meals, the tastes, changed with each job.”

It was Reba’s hum that pulled Deloris out of her chocolate inspired stupor. She remembered the other woman’s wish for a good chef. To keep Reba from opening her big mouth and making unacceptable suggestions, Deloris set her coffee cup down with a clack and cleared her throat.

“Rossdale is a town rich in history. Some would call it myth, even,” she began. “Back in nineteen-oh-eight, Hiram Ross settled the town. It was about five years later he was up in the mountains, working his mine when there was a torrential rain. He was trapped, but safe enough in the mine. Sometime in the night, amidst the thunder and storming rain, he heard a woman crying in pain. Risking his own life, he hurried toward the sound, finding a beautiful young lady in distress, her leg broken in a mountain slide, barely conscious.”

Deloris paused to sip her coffee, appreciating the enraptured look on the other woman’s face.

“Hiram, being a gentleman, carried the poor thing to his mine and tended her the best he could. As soon as the rains let up, he carried her ten miles back to the settlement that was Rossdale. Her pain was so much, she passed out on the trip. When Hiram got her back to the good citizens of Rossdale, they happily tended her needs and cared for her.”

“This is a sweet story,” Miki said when Deloris paused to eat a cookie. “I’m not getting the significance though.”

“That’s because you’re too busy interrupting to listen,” Deloris reprimanded. She took another sip of the coffee, patted her mouth with her napkin, and sighed. “It took three long weeks of nursing and care before the girl regained full consciousness. When she did, she informed them that her name was Rosalee Wenton and she was a witch of great power.”

Deloris gave a gratified smile at the younger woman’s gasp of shock.

“It was clear the poor thing expected to be tossed right out of town, but the people weren’t like that, and welcomed her as one of their own. In thanks, she blessed the town. There’s a plaque in the square that reads: Peace and prosperity I bring to thee, in gratitude for what was given to me. My blessings continue to flow from above, as long as you welcome faith, magic, and love.”

They fell silent. Deloris swallowed, then shook her head like she was coming out of a dream. She hadn’t told that story since Gideon was a little boy.

“What happened?”

“The town was blessed, just like she said. It was like they could do no wrong. A gem vein would go dry, the next day they’d find silver. Everyone prospered, the town grew strong. It also attracted a lot of weirdos, especially in the sixties and seventies. People who were looking for a place that believed in magic. A lot of them people wanted other things too, like free-love and marijuana. Lucas Ross’s mother finally got tired of all the weirdos. She convinced the town council to ignore that silly old superstition and uphold the law. It started as a plan to just run off the ones who were causing problems, but soon anyone claiming to believe the prophecy was shunned. It didn’t take long to shift Rossdale’s focus away from that silly story,” Deloris trailed off. The rest of the town history made her heart ache, so she ignored the compulsion to share and ate another cookie instead.

“Did you believe in the prophecy,” Miki asked softly. “Did you think there had really been witches and that believing blessed your town?”

Deloris started to unequivocally deny it. But her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and a cramp shot through her belly. What had been in those cookies?

Miki watched, looking for all the world like a languid cat resting outside a mousehole.

Finally, Deloris shrugged. Might as well tell the truth, it wouldn’t hurt anybody at this point.

“I did believe it, but kept my mouth shut. Lucas’s mother was a formidable woman. It didn’t do to speak out against her, and if I wanted to marry my Lucas, I knew I’d do best to just keep my opinion to myself.”

Reba’s gasp drew her attention. Tears filled the other woman’s eyes and Deloris realized this was the most open, the most honest she’d likely been over the subject in almost forty years.

“But Gloria Ross wasn’t one to let things go, so she didn’t stop till she’d convinced the town it was those weirdos behind the trouble. Despite the prophecy, the town had been losing money, the logging company was closing down. This was all the proof she needed to show that magic had no place here. Neither did those lunatics who believed in it.”

Deloris took a quick sip of coffee and buried a sigh. One of those lunatics, as Gloria had deemed them, had been Deloris’s best friend. No matter, though. She’d set aside her foolish beliefs for Lucas, for the town’s best interest.

“Most people who didn’t agree with the changes just left. There are plenty of other places for those foolish beliefs, and it got rid of the graft and con artists. A few people had ties strong enough to Rossdale to not want to leave the area, so they moved on out to the Larson Farm at the foot of the mountains. After a few years, it was them on the East bank of Mage Lake, us on the West. Everyone kept their place and things were fine.”

She set her cup down with an audible snap, and straightened her spine with a silent one.

“And that’s as much as you need to know of the history of Rossdale.” Deloris felt like wiping her eyes, sure they were filled with the groggy dregs of sleep.

“Thank you for sharing that. It seems Rossdale has quite an interesting history.”

Deloris wondered at the odd smile on Miki’s face. Not that she’d ask or anything. She didn’t want the girl thinking she cared.

The younger woman glanced from Deloris to Reba, who was craning her pudgy neck like a lizard as she tried to look down the hall. Miki pressed her lips together like she was holding something back. Deloris wanted to think it was something nasty, but the humor dancing in the other woman’s eyes claimed the opposite.

“I don’t know what kind of thing you all need for your Historical Society. I’m sure you can discuss it with Gideon, since he’s the one doing the work. In the meantime, would you like a tour?”

Miki gathered the dishes into a neat stack on the tray, then stood.

“The rooms aren’t complete yet. I’ve been trying to do as much of the work as I can on my own. With Gideon’s instruction, of course. Once I understand what to do, I can handle a lot of the smaller jobs. He’s a great teacher,” she complimented. But Deloris only snorted, since she could just imagine what else her son was teaching.

Her good senses returning now that her stomach was comfortable, Deloris ground her teeth. This meeting wasn’t going as she’d planned. The younger woman wasn’t running, and that wasn’t acceptable. Deloris was determined to haul her son onto the path she and his father had determined for him. And all she had to do was a clean sweep of all the trash along the way.

Before she could resume her intimidation tactics, Reba bounced out of the chair with a clap of her hands.

“Oh yes. I want to see what you’ve done. C’mon, Deloris, we’ll get a tour.”

Miki watched Fish-Face purse her lips and wondered if she’d swallow her refusal or give in to her obvious curiosity.

Apparently curiosity was stronger than bitterness, because Gideon’s momma stood, brushed at her slacks like something nasty might have stuck to them and gave a stiff smile.

“An inspection would be fitting. After all, that’s why we’re here.”

Inspection, her ass.

But seeing as this was Gideon’s mother and he likely didn’t want to see her sporting a nasty rash, Miki just gave a tight smile and gestured for the women to follow her.

A quick tour, try to make peace with the mother of the man she was in serious like with, and she could scoot them out the door. Then she could concentrate on that little bit of history Deloris had shared and what it might mean.

After five minutes exploring the main floor, she was damned if she’d listen to Fish-Face any longer than she had to. Who knew someone could be so interesting and pleasant under a truth enchantment, only to cover it up with such nastiness the rest of the time?

“You aren’t color blind, are you, dear? The blue and green in that bathroom obviously clashed.” Deloris informed her in a snide tone. Miki clenched her teeth around a smile and inclined her head.

“Down this hall is the kitchen,” she invited. “I think we’ll skip the upstairs.”

“The upstairs are just as historic as the downstairs, you know.”

“Right. Sure they are. But it’s probably not safe for you up there with all the construction and tools and such. I’d hate for something large and heavy to land on your head.”

Deloris swallowed, obviously smart enough to get the threat. Miki had to give the older woman credit, though. She didn’t look intimidated. Just irritated.

The women entered the kitchen ahead of her and Miki was pulled from her contemplation by their exclamations.

She glanced around them and bit back her own exclamation. Although hers was mostly swear words.

“Ryan,” she said in a monotone. “When did you get here?”

Her brother lounged on the new, buffet style seat with a grin. His black tee shirt molded itself to the muscles of his chest, and she’d bet Perry’s vintage Mustang if Ryan stood, his jeans would be illegally tight as well.

“I got here during the tour and didn’t want to interrupt.” He shifted his attention to the older women. “Ladies, we haven’t met, have we?”

Miki tuned out as her brother poured charm and bullshit over the nosy women. When he sat them down and started handing out beauty advice, she went back to the living room to retrieve the dirty dishes. By the time they were all washed and put away, he’d done the ladies’ colors, advised them on new hairstyles, and given them his business card. The card, he informed them, had the address to his website where he sold makeup so good it was almost magical.

Miki rolled her eyes. But despite the earlier disdain for all things magic, Deloris ate it up like it was coated in those cookies Miki had zapped up earlier.

“I think you ladies are in for a treat,” Ryan claimed, making Miki frown and look at him in question. “Miki’s made a roast, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s done.”

Her gloating long forgotten, she gave Ryan her own annoyed glare. He ignored her.

“You haven’t tasted delicious until you’ve tasted Mikaela’s cooking. She’s won prizes for it, you know.”

Miki shot her brother a wide-eyed stare. When had Ryan lost his mind? And when had he noticed her cooking, other than a means to mooch a meal? Yes, she had won prizes, but she hadn’t thought any of her family even realized that. An odd, surprised sort of pleasure blossomed deep inside.

No matter. The last thing she wanted was these two old biddies tasting her food. The house tour she could handle. After all, the disrepair wasn’t her fault and since Gideon had done them, they couldn’t fault the repairs.

But her cooking? She was liable to turn Fish-Face into a trout at the first insult.

* * *

Tilda smoothed a hand over her hip, making sure her companion’s gaze took in her lush curves.

“We have a deal, then?” she asked in a husky voice. She liked the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as Rob Lane tried to focus on her words and not her nude body.

“You’re sure you’ll be ready for the trucks in two weeks?” he asked finally.

Making a show out of sliding her panties on, Tilda didn’t take offense at his question. After all, he didn’t know who he was dealing with. Not really.

Deciding he’d had enough of a look-see to keep him in line for a while, she reached for her dress. The peach silk slid over her bare skin like a liquid sigh. Tilda reached for her leather belt and snugged it around her waist, then looked back at the man lying on the bed.

The Vice President of Gem Mineral Resources lay on the two-hundred count sheets, his tan body a nice treat to the eyes. Tilda probably would have let him pleasure her, even without the promise of a million dollars. But only in style. She was so tired of the bare bones living out with the Lights of Atlantis, and her magic was so undependable lately, she rarely left Antonio’s holdings.

She lifted the glass of still-chilled champagne to her lips and let the bubbles ease the tightness in her throat. She was relying on her own powers exclusively now. And the loss of the land’s power was a blow she couldn’t accept. Oh, she could tap into it on occasion, but it was like a lover who’d already moved on. Very difficult to harness and not at all accommodating. And, Tilda clenched her fists, she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why.

“Tilda, you’ll have everything ready, right?” Rob repeated. “I’ve concocted quite a cover for you, but the timing is key. We need to get the thorium to our plant before the beginning of the month.”

Tilda turned to him and offered a chilly smile.

“There’s nothing standing in the way of you picking up that thorium,” she assured him. She’d make sure of it. With a nod of her head, she finished the champagne, then picked up her pocketbook. A quick glance in the mirror assured her of perfect, and Tilda nodded her goodbye.

As soon as the door was closed at her back, she sagged. Rossdale hadn’t caved like she’d planned and she was quickly running out of patience. And, obviously, time.

Perhaps she needed to pay the erstwhile mayor a visit.

With an empty smile and calculating look in her eye, Tilda snapped her fingers and vanished in an angry clap of thunder.

To hell with whoever heard it. She was tired of playing it careful.

A minute later, she stood inside the pitted and chipped door of room six-oh-eight. The sleazy motel smelled like week-old trash, forcing Tilda to breathe through her teeth. Damn Reggie Compton and his horrible taste.

She gave a grimace of disgust at the sight of Reggie’s hairy, naked ass pumping in the air.

Since it meant fewer idiotic mortal questions, Tilda made a show of shutting the door so it looked like she’d just come in through it.

“Nice ass,” she told the man on the bed.

He fumbled his shot home, leaving a mess all over the sheets and the pretty young thing beneath him. They both screamed, Reggie’s a pitch or so higher than the woman’s.

Tilda snickered and while they scrambled to cover themselves with the thin sheets, she leaned against the dresser and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Damn it, Tilda,” the man yelped after he’d caught his breath. “How’d you get in here? How’d you find me? What right do you have to just barge in on a man when he’s with his...” he trailed off and shot her a fierce glare.

Tilda squinted at the overblown redhead, trying to place her. The gold band glinting on her left ring finger nudged the memory in place.

“I hadn’t realized this was a family affair,” she excused herself prettily.

“It’s not... She’s not... We weren’t...”

Tilda raised one elegant brow. Reggie’s sputters fizzled out.

“I’m sorry. I must have mistaken this lovely lady for your brother’s wife. I do apologize... if I’m wrong.”

The redhead caught her breath with a little squeak and, tugging the blanket from Reggie’s scrawny body, she wrapped it around herself in a jerky motion. In a quick move, she’d scurried out of the bed, scooped up her clothes, and crossed the threadbare carpet to the bathroom.

Tilda waited silently, ignoring Reggie’s frustrated glare, as they listened to the woman mutter curses as she dressed.

Two minutes later, she stomped out on teetering heels and grabbed her purse. Without looking at either of them, she continued her muttering as she slammed the door.

“Stellar exit,” Tilda said with a nasty little laugh. “I’ll bet all that fire and drama are fabulous in bed. And at family gatherings, of course.”

“What in the hell do you want?” Reggie snarled as he snagged his tighty-whities off the lampshade.

“Does this mean you don’t want me?” she asked, fluttering her lashes to bring attention to her big blue eyes.

“You and your shenanigans caused me no end of trouble,” he accused, pulling his slacks on over his spindly legs. “Now you have the nerve to show up here and ruin my... date.”

“Why, Reggie, how could you say that?” She didn’t even bother to put any sincerity into her voice.

“If you’d left things alone, left the town alone, things would have been fine. Nobody wanted to tilt the applecart, change the status quo. It didn’t matter how those naysayers whined, the rest of the town would have sat around on their complacent asses.”

Reggie grabbed his shirt off the floor, shook it out then pulled it on. Between buttons, he shot her venomous glares. “But, no, you had to play games. Well, congratulations. You managed to do the one thing Gideon and Deloris Ross couldn’t. You got everyone to rally behind saving that damned town.”

Tilda blinked, her nerve endings standing on end. She shook her head. He was just babbling. He had to be.

“Oh, yeah. They are supporting this insane idea to start hosting fishing tournaments. Ross pulls this off, he’ll be shooting for the winter tourism next. Believe me, Rossdale is poised to be in better shape than it’s been in forty years.”

“A fishing tournament?”

“Oh, yeah. Fishing. As in on the water. Mage Lake, to be exact. You just paved the way to bring them right to your front door.”

“You’ll have to stop it,” she demanded. Panicky fingers tried to take hold of her nerves, but Tilda was made of stronger stuff than that. She shoved aside the panic. She wasn’t about to lose. Especially not to Gideon, damn him.

“I can’t stop it,” Reggie informed her through clenched teeth. He’d shoved his feet into his rubber soled old-man shoes and tied them with agitated fingers. “I’m not even involved in the planning of it.”

“You’re the freaking mayor, aren’t you? Do something.”

“Just what do you suggest?” he asked, his sneer echoing the sarcasm in his voice. “That I stomp into Gideon Ross’s house and demand he stop his plans to save the town?”

She ground her teeth as her mind spun. Reggie reached for his suit jacket, but Tilda was leaning on it. With a sharp tug, he snagged it from under her, almost landing her flat on her ass in the process.

“I’d think you’d have a better handle on exactly how your ex-husband operates, Tilda.” He pulled on his jacket, ran a hand over his mussed hair and opened the door.

Reggie shot her a glance over his shoulder. For the first time since she’d seduced him into thinking he could be mayor if he helped her cause Lucas Ross’s fatal accident, his eyes gleamed with contempt.

“You blew it,” he repeated. “Now you’re screwed. And believe me, you’re just not a good enough lay for me to be willing to go down with you.”

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Thirteen

Miki bit back a scream of frustration as an avalanche of rose petals poured over her, mounding in a waist-high mountain. Their silky softness and rich scent enveloped her, tickling her nose and making her sneeze.

“Damn it,” she snapped. Nothing was going right. Her magic, smooth as butter the day before, was rocky and unreliable again today.

“I’ll bet Perry snuck out for a little lunchtime nookie again,” she muttered. Other than the karmic backlash, her magic seemed to be doing great. At first, she’d had to tap into the local energy. The strength of the mountain, the swirling waters of the nearby lake. The soft breeze or the warmth of the sun. But this last week, ever since she’d filled the crystal orb, she’d felt like she’d come into her own strength. She’d even conjured up a new porcelain coating on the rusted bathtub the previous day.

But as long as Perry was involved, it didn’t look like her magic stood a chance. Home cooked meals, delivered right to his doorstep daily, didn’t seem to be enough incentive to keep his public displays of grossness in check. She had to find a way to reverse that curse. Miki’d had enough of him controlling her life while they were married, she’d be damned if she’d keep tolerating it now.

Like wading through water, Miki kicked and pushed her way out of the pile of red rose petals she’d conjured in an attempt to create a romantic atmosphere.

Gideon was going to be here in two hours for their first romantic dinner together. His first time tasting her cooking, other than the odd sandwich here or there. She didn’t need wonky magic ruining things.

Free of the roses, she turned to face the huge pile, debating her options. Miki rolled her eyes to the ceiling to keep the sudden rush of tears from falling. With a sigh, she dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and held her face in her hands.

The cat, whom she still couldn’t bring herself to name, appeared and butted her head against Miki’s arm. Her pout firmly in place, she reached out to cuddle the soft feline.

“Do you know how many times I’ve reached this point in my life, and just given up?” she asked the cat.

From the meowed response, the cat had no idea.

“This,” Miki gestured to the pile of roses, “is typically my breaking point. Proof that I’ve tried, I’ve given it my best shot. And I have. I’ve studied, I’ve trained. Ryan and Lena have both done all they can to teach me to harness my powers again. I haven’t had any inadvertent magical messes in at least a week.”

She slumped over.

“But I still don’t have it right.”

The cat batted a rose petal, making it land in Miki’s lap. She picked it up and rubbed the velvety texture between her fingers. Its scent, rich and sweet, filled her senses.

“It would be so easy to call for help. To admit failure. Or to ignore the signs by making as if it isn’t a big deal that I just denuded eight dozen rose bushes by mistake, and using the petals for some silly potpourri.”

The cat, now kneading her front paws through the fragrant mountain, looked over her shoulder to meow.

Miki shrugged in response.

“I don’t know what to do. I know what I should’ve done. That’s not the same.” She shifted her gaze to stare out the window, as if she’d get inspiration from the mountain in the distance. “I knew I should’ve confronted Perry during our marriage, that I should have worked on things. But I was afraid to ask him, then find out he didn’t care enough to try. I knew I should have talked to my mother about my lack of talents, but I was afraid she’d send me to remedial training. That she’d say she was disappointed in me.”

The mountain stood so solid out there in the distance. Green and lush with trees and spring growth, she wondered what it’d look like in the depths of winter. Still strong, even without its foliage and fluff.

Miki pressed her lips tight and drew in a deep breath through her nostrils. One of these days, she’d have to stop hiding and face the consequences. Even if they turned out to be as bad as her worst imaginings.

With a huff, she released her pent up breath and shoved herself to her feet. Swallowing her nerves, she raised both arms overhead, elbows bent and hands curved inward.

“Mother, I need you,” she beseeched.

Nothing.

“Mother?”

Still nothing.

Miki bit back a growl and clenched her teeth. She tried to send her message out in larger waves, to put the need in her mind into an energy her mother would sense.

Nothing except the purr of the cat as she rolled in the rose petals.

“Damn it,” she exclaimed. She dropped her arms to her side and glared at the roses. With a narrow eyed look, she pointed, focusing her will.

“Roses sweet by any name, return right now from whence you came.”

This time, the cat’s meow was an angry growl as her paws hit hardwood. The once towering pile of roses was now a small handful, although the rich scent still filled the air.

Miki gave a giddy laugh and scooped up her petals before the cat could damage them.

“Well, what d’ya know, kitty. Maybe Perry only jacked-off in public, huh? Cause my power rebounded a lot faster this time.”

Even though she knew she still had to deal with her problem, she also knew her mother had the equivalent of an energetic answering machine. The time for reckoning would arrive as soon as Alexis picked up her message. But for now, she had a romantic evening to prepare for.

Gideon started to knock at Miki’s front door. Then he caught the faint flickering of light out of the corner of his eye. Curious, he shifted the bouquet of roses to his other hand and followed the light around the curve of the wrap-around porch. By the time he reached the back porch, his stomach was growling and a grin covered his face.

“Damn,” he breathed.

Miki had done things up nice. A small table, cozy enough for the two of them to easily hold hands over dinner, was set with crystal and china. White candles filled the space, hanging in pendants from the porch, set along the banister, even lining a path down the back steps to surround a stand-alone hammock out in the yard. A bottle chilled in the wine-bucket and the yeasty aroma of fresh bread mixed with the vanilla scent of the candles.

“You like?”

Gideon’s gaze sought Miki out. Once he found her, he lost his breath, and most of his mind. There in the shadows, she stood like a goddess of the night. Dressed in a tiny slip of black shimmery fabric, her skin glowed in the moonlight. Her eyes, so deep and mysterious, reflected the candles’ flames.

“I think I love,” he murmured. Without question, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And, he realized as he watched her glide toward him, he’d been fooling himself to think he’d easily let her go.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she told him, her voice husky in the night air. “I got a little carried away. Instead of a salad, entrée, and dessert, we’re looking at a seven-course meal this evening.”

Standing before him, she was even more beautiful. Gideon tossed the bouquet onto a nearby chair. Not able to stop himself, he reached out to tunnel both hands into the silky darkness of her hair.

He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. Just a taste, soft and gentle. Feeling her sigh against his mouth, he deepened the kiss slowly. Like a blind man feeling his way in the dark, Gideon took the final steps, carefully navigating an emotional labyrinth. As their tongues swirled together in perfect unison, he reached the center.

And knew, without a doubt, he was falling in love with the woman in his arms.

Shock ripped through his system as the realization took hold. Gideon pulled back, staring down into Miki’s questioning eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Nothing. Being in love didn’t mean the end of the world. It meant... what? Gideon tried to calm his panicked heartbeat and willed the tension to leave his shoulders. He had to get over his past.

Falling in love was a good thing. Falling in love with a woman as wonderful, as normal, as Miki, that was a great thing. He just needed a little time to get used to it, and decide if he was going to continue to fall, or bail before it got too ugly. Once he’d figured it out, maybe then he’d share his discovery.

Shoving down his nerves, he forced a grin and gave her a quick kiss, then wiggled his brows. “Food smells great. What’re you feeding me?”

Twenty minutes later, his stomach, at least, was definitely comfortable worshiping the food she’d served.

“Damn, Mikaela, you are one excellent cook,” he said around a mouthful of some exotically spiced potato. “I’ve never eaten anything this deceptively delicious.”

“Deceptive?” She laughed and tilted her head, the candlelight glowing orange against the pitch-black waves. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

“I mean it in a good way,” he insisted. “You’ve got this simple looking meal that tastes like an exotic feast. Meat,” he pointed his fork at the steak, so tender it would flake apart with a puff of air.

“Potatoes,” he forked up another bite of the spicy vegetable mixture. “And that salad. Where did you find pomegranates this time of year?”

“Trade secret,” she laughed. Then, after a quick sip of wine, she nodded to his plate. “I tried to keep the meal centered around foods you’d be familiar with, but gave them a twist. You know, in case you weren’t into trying anything too exotic.”

He forked up another bite of steak and winked at her. “Sweetheart, you can make me anything you want and I’d be happy to eat it. I haven’t had food this good in... Well, I can’t remember if I’ve ever actually had food this good.”

Her blush was lovely in the candlelight. He’d have thought a chef owning her own catering company would be used to compliments on her cooking, but her response was refreshingly sweet.

“What kind of work do you think you’ll be looking for?” he asked with deceptive casualness. “You know, after the house is finished and all that?”

“Something to do with cooking. It’s what I’m good at. I’m not sure about catering again, although I loved the variety of it. But I’m not so great with the business angle, just the cooking angle.”

“What about cooking in a restaurant or, maybe, something like a hotel?” Or a lodge.

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Things like that have a set menu, someone else calling the shots. I guess that’d be the obvious alternative, but after so many years of creative reign, it will be hard to shift gears.”

“What if you didn’t have to?”

“Didn’t have to take orders?” Miki gave an incredulous laugh. “Unless I got on somewhere as head chef, that’s not possible. And even if I managed to work my way up to head chef, I’d still have to answer to management.”

“It’d be pretty cool if you got into a place where management trusted you totally, gave you free reign.” Not that he’d ever imagine anyone having total free reign. But almost free? It was worth considering. After all, if this tournament launched tourism the way he hoped, having an eclectic chef on board at the Lodge would be one helluva benefit.

“Sure, and having one of my trees bloom hundred dollar bills would be cool too. Not likely, but both would definitely rock,” Miki said with a laugh.

Gideon just smiled and finished his dinner. After all, there wasn’t much point in saying more until he’d found a way to convince his mother to reopen the lodge. But one way or another, he was thinking it would be a good thing to get Miki the perfect job here in Rossdale. Some how, some way.

“Dessert?” She gestured to his empty plate.

“Not yet.” He leaned back and patted his belly. If he ate anything else, he’d likely fall into a pleasure-overloaded trance.

“Walk?” she offered in a soft voice. The same soft voice she used in bed as she instructed him where she wanted him to touch her, to taste her. Gideon’s body reacted with Pavlovian haste, instantly hardening.

“A walk would be perfect.”

Hand in hand, they descended the steps and followed the gently glowing trail of stubby candles in small glass holders. Gideon breathed deep the night air, a mixture of rich earth, the lingering scents of dinner and candles, and Miki’s own fragrance.

When they reached the hammock, she gestured with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never had a hammock before. Actually hadn’t even sat in one until I got this put together. But Fred Ambrose had it on sale at the General Store and I couldn’t resist.”

“I take it you’ve resolved your shopping issues with Fred?”

“Maybe. He still insists I show him two forms of ID before he’ll take my credit card, but at least he’s not refusing to sell me things any longer.”

A glowing ray of moonlight danced over the smooth curve of her shoulder, and thoughts of Miki’s shopping woes fled. Gideon trailed his hand down her arm, then cupped her hip. His flesh strained behind his zipper, desire for her filling his senses.

“What are your feelings on making love in the moonlight?” he asked, his voice husky with need.

Rather than answer, Miki stepped away from him. Her smile was filled with promises, the kind that only a woman comfortable with her body, with sharing it, could make.

One finger flicked the tiny strap off her shoulder, then slid the other off too. With a shrug and a wiggle, her dress fell away. The moon’s glow reflected off Miki’s bare breasts, the subtle curve of her stomach, and the long, lean lines of those delicious legs.

Gideon traced his finger over the elastic of her panties. The rough texture of the lace was a vivid contrast to the silk of her skin. He swallowed. Looked again.

And free-fell the rest of the way in love. He’d deal with the terror later. Worry about the impossibilities and how crazy it was. Now, right now, he only wanted to taste her. To touch her.

To love her.

“I can’t think of anything, anyone, I’ve wanted as much as I want to taste you right now,” he told her.

She slid a finger down the front placket of his shirt, her moves so smooth it was only the soft caress of air that let him know she’d undone his buttons. Something nagged at the back of his head, but Miki raised her arms over her head, running her fingers into her hair. Her breasts, lush and tipped with pebbled delight, jutted out, beckoning his mouth. Thought fled as Gideon gave over to the desire, the rush of pleasure, waiting in her body.

“Taste me,” she invited softly.

And he did. He feasted at her breasts until she gripped his shoulders and moaned. Satisfied, Gideon dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands framing her hips as he nibbled down her torso until he reached her belly button.

When the quick swirl of his tongue made her gasp, Gideon gave into his nagging need and pushed her panties down her legs. He leaned back on his heels to look at her, nude except her spiky high heels, her soft curls damp and glistening for him.

Gideon smoothed his hand down her leg. “Did you know these legs of yours keep me awake at night? From the first time I saw you, I’ve been in lust with these long, luscious legs of yours.”

Her soft laugh was lost in the night air as Gideon gave in to one of the fantasies he’d courted in those long nights thinking of her. Gripping her calf, he held her other hip to keep her balanced and lifted her leg so her foot rested on his shoulder. A shorter woman wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without overbalancing, but Miki in those sexy do-me heels was the perfect height.

Even in the dark, he could see the nerves battling the desire in her eyes. Holding her in place, he leaned forward and breathed in her musky scent. Then, with a swift flick of his tongue, Gideon feasted on dessert.

* * *

Alone in the dark night air, Tilda stood and glared at the sight before her. Anger swirled around her like a tornado, building and spinning out of control in a dangerous, deadly way.

Damn Gideon Ross to hell and back. How dare he—how freaking dare he—ruin her plans.

Teeth clenched, Tilda quieted the tornado. Dirt and debris settled around her in an exhausted sigh, scattering across the parking lot of the Spud Doll Factory before dropping still.

Even Antonio had heard the rumors, had seen those idiotic fishing tournament people out at the lake. Now, instead of being scared to go near the lake and the Lights of Atlantis’s reputed ire, townspeople had been seen sneaking around daily.

Almost as if they actually believed Gideon’s crazy plan might manifest.

Fools.

All of them were fools. Reggie Compton for thinking he could stand up to her. The idiots of Rossdale for thinking they had a chance in hell of prospering. That pansy-boy, Antonio. And definitely her do-gooder ex-husband.

Especially after she’d warned him.

Oh, she knew what he was thinking. She was sure he’d sat there, carefully weighing all the options, considering every avenue. He’d have debated all sides of the offer, made sure he wasn’t, technically, stepping over that line she’d drawn.

No one bested Tilda Frost on a technicality.

Especially while screwing another woman.

She didn’t know what infuriated her more. That Gideon had found a way to possibly save Rossdale, despite the restrictions she’d placed on him. Or the rumors flying that he was falling hard and fast for some newcomer.

Tilda eyed the small factory before her. Reggie Compton had taken great glee to impart that one last piece of information before he’d peeled out of the motel parking lot.

It hadn’t taken her long to verify his story. She’d cloaked herself among the trees and followed some townspeople. Besides their babbling about guide jobs and fishing spots, they’d gleefully discussed Gideon and some divorcee named Miki.

It was a good thing she knew the strength of the town’s rudeness toward newcomers. A rudeness she herself had helped foster. This pitiful woman—unable to even keep her own husband, let alone Tilda’s ex—wouldn’t last much longer.

As soon as Tilda finished dealing with the little curveball Gideon had tossed, she’d make sure of it.

But first, she had a town to destroy. It was time to eliminate Rossdale, sell the thorium, and cut her losses. If she played it just right, and she would, Antonio would take the fall.

And in one pull of her fist, Tilda pulled down a bolt of lightning and watched it strike. Just like that, the stupid Spud Doll factory was destroyed in a hissing crackle of flame.

* * *

“Your pants are ringing,” Miki mumbled against Gideon’s bare chest. She couldn’t even bother to lift her head. Her body was one mass of well-pleasured nerve endings.

“Let ’em ring. I can’t feel my legs, let alone find the energy to talk to anyone.” His words were a rumble against her cheek.

Miki snuggled closer and sighed. This was perfect. Good food, good sex, and the warm night air. The gentle sway of the hammock rocked them closer and closer to sleep.

“Gideon Ross,” a woman’s voice screamed through the night air.

Miki shot straight up. Then fell straight down as her sudden movement sent the hammock swinging wildly.

“Sonofabitch,” Gideon yelped.

“Giiidddddddeeeeeeeeoooooooonnnnn,” Reba’s voice rang out shrilly from her yard, cutting through the night air. “Answer your phone.”

“Holy shit. She isn’t coming over here, is she?” Miki scrambled for her clothes. Panties nowhere to be found, she grabbed her dress and yanked it, wrong-side-out, over her head.

Just then, Gideon’s pants rang again. In a quick grab, she snagged them up and tossed them to him in the still-wildly-swinging hammock.

“What,” he snarled into the phone. Miki tried to listen, but the shrill voice on the other end was too muffled for her to make out the words.

“I’ll be right there.” A punch of his finger shut off the phone and an easy shift had Gideon back on steady ground and pulling on his pants.

“I’m sorry, Miki. I’ve got to go. There’s been an emergency. Something happened to the Spud Doll Factory.”

Revenge of the Troll Dolls? Miki smirked, but then she saw how serious his expression was. She peered around until she found her shoes.

“Can you give me five minutes?” she asked, walking backward as fast as she could toward the house.

“Huh?”

“I can’t go anywhere like this. Just a couple seconds to grab some other clothes and I’ll be ready.” Her heels hit the steps and she turned to run up onto the porch. With a quick look around, she yelled back over her shoulder, “Will you put out the candles? I’d hate to burn down all your hard work.”

Ignoring his protests, Miki ran through the back door. Whatever had happened was bad, really bad. She could tell from Gideon’s frantic moves, the worry grooved into his face. Not wasting the time it would take to run upstairs and change, Miki ran into the powder room off the kitchen where she was sure Gideon couldn’t see her.

A snap of her fingers and her grass stained dress and spiked heels were replaced by jeans, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. Miki scrunched up her face, then took a deep, calming breath.

One more snap and she actually had underwear on, too.

She was out the back door before Gideon had finished blowing out the candles in the yard.

“I’m ready to go,” she told him. Slamming her eyes closed, she realized her purse, keys, and everything were up in her room. With a flick of her fingers and the tiniest spark of light, they appeared just inside the door on the washing machine.

Miki swung her purse over her shoulder and blew out the last of the candles as Gideon hopped on one foot, shooting her odd glances, and put his shoe on.

“Miki, this is liable to get a little crazy. Most things in this town do. You don’t have to go. People could get nasty.”

“To me?” And that would be different than what? Their usual ugly behavior? She just shrugged. “You’re worried. I care about you and want to be there to help if I can. I may not be considered a part of this town, but I do live here.”

He squeezed her close and brushed a kiss over the top of her hair. Miki looked up and sighed at the look in his eyes. It was so sweet, so deep. She wasn’t even going to listen to the scaredy-cat part of her that was wigging out over what the look might mean. Instead, she stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was meant to be a show of support, but it changed quickly. She leaned into the hard warmth of his chest, desire reigniting at the slide of his tongue over hers.

“Giiiiiiddddeeeeeeeeeeoooooooonnnnnn.”

They broke apart and Miki tried to slow her racing heart.

“I take it Reba’s in charge of getting you there quickly?” she asked.

“Right. I’m surprised she wasn’t yelling earlier, to be honest.”

Miki opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed. “Earlier? As in she might have been around. Watching?”

“No. I doubt she even realized I was here until people started calling around looking for me. After all, her house is a mile away, and she wouldn’t be able to see over to your driveway unless she walked all the way out in the street.” The ease of Gideon’s laugh did more to reassure her than his words. Not that she couldn’t picture the flowsy haired Reba standing, arms akimbo, in the middle of the street with binoculars.

“Look, are you sure you want to go with me? It could be hours at least before I’m done.”

Despite the feeling that he was trying to get rid of her, Miki shook her head. She wanted to be a part of this town, of his life. That meant facing the ugliness.

And ignoring the nerves dancing through her belly.

“We’d better hurry,” was all she said.

Gideon stood, hands shoved in his pockets, and looked over the ruins that had once been the Spud Doll Factory. And the sole source of income for the majority of Rossdale.

The flames were out. The damp smell of charred wood and carnage filled the air. Gideon eyed the large clumps of metal, once antiquated, but usable equipment. Now, it was a sea of black ash.

The fire had to have burned incredibly hot to cause such complete destruction.

His stomach churning, he eyed the few people still milling about. Dave Sears sat, head in his hands, on the ground. Gideon knew the guy was trying to get his daughter through college, hoping to give her a shot at a future. God knew how he’d pull it off now.

“Who would do this,” Miki whispered next to him.

“Who? Sweetheart, nobody did this. The kids saw lighting strike. It was an accident.”

A destructive, hellacious, miserable accident. One that Rossdale would have a hell of a time recovering from. A despondent sense of helplessness filled Gideon, weighing him down with useless anger. Damn. It was like they just couldn’t catch a break.

“It just feels...” she trailed off. Gideon glanced over to see a frown of concentration creasing her lovely face. Sensing his look, she glanced back and shrugged. “Nothing. It just sucks, you know?”

“Yeah. Totally sucks.” With one last look and a few words of condolence, he steered her toward the truck and they left. Time to hit the impromptu town meeting and see if there was a chance of salvaging things.

Twenty minutes later, Gideon was rubbing his temple and wondering how long it would be before Miki packed her bags and ran, screaming, back to a real town peopled with sane, civilized beings.

Because there wasn’t one damned sane person in this room besides him and Miki. And he wouldn’t bank on him hanging in for too much longer.

“Look,” he ground out for the fourth time, “it doesn’t matter how it happened or what the weather report said. It will be considered an act of God in the eyes of the insurance company, Reggie.”

“He’s right,” Lon Franklin, the town’s retired insurance salesman, insisted. “You’ll get the standard payment. I know your policy, Reggie, and it’ll be okay. You’ll get enough to rebuild and replace the equipment. So calm down already, and let’s move on.”

Reggie frowned, but finally settled back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s important is how long is the factory going to be down? People can’t afford to be out of work that long,” Fred claimed, ponderously stating the obvious.

Reggie just stared off in space though, his lower lip quivering.

“Gideon, any chance of that tournament of yours might be a guaranteed deal?” Gene asked.

“It was looking about ninety-percent sure when I last talked to Tim Watson. But nobody here was committed, so he said until we secured the space, got ourselves moving, he’d just keep us on his tentative list. I’d think I could nudge us to a guaranteed position, but some people are going to have to step up and commit.”

Gideon looked around the room, making it clear that the commitments he referred to were from these very people. He was tired of their wishy-washiness. Because they’d hemmed and hawed so often in the past, now Rossdale was screwed. Totally screwed.

Deloris sat forward, looking the most rumpled he’d ever seen her in public. She heaved a deep sigh and swallowed, her chin lifting bravely.

“I’d say it’s time we took some major steps. Gideon, I’ll support the tournament. I’ll open the Lodge, using my own money, to make this work. I’m willing to invest in the chance that you can pull this off.”

Like a floodgate, her words sparked the rest of the townspeople. Not just the ones who backed Deloris and met for secret meetings at her house. Everyone. The whole room gathered, started talking and planning. For the next hour, Gideon answered questions, directed discussion groups, and listened to plans.

Damned if he wasn’t pumped up. This was what he’d always dreamed of when he’d pictured being mayor. Not a dictatorship like Reggie ran. Or even the benign control his father had exerted. But this, a solid give and take, a coming together of the entire town.

“You’re really good,” Miki said softly next to him.

Gideon started, then turned to face her. She’d been so quiet he’d almost forgotten she was there. Almost. Somehow, wherever he’d been in the room, the sweet scent of her perfume had filled his head. Every once in a while, he’d looked up from a conversation to see her watching him.

Gideon’s jaw clenched. Nobody had talked to her. She’d tried to offer a few suggestions, but other than Fred and Reba, most of the people had pretended she wasn’t even in the room. He’d have taken them to task, told them all off, if it weren’t for the fact that this was the first time ever the town had actually pulled together.

“Good, huh?” he teased.

She smiled, but didn’t let it go. “You understand everyone here. You seem to know just what motivates them, just how to listen. I don’t understand,” she said, waving a hand toward Reggie where he sat, still slumped, lip-out, in his chair. “Why is he mayor? From what I’ve been told by the few people who’ve deigned to speak to me, you’d be a much stronger town leader.”

She smirked, then leaned close to whisper, “I think that’s probably why they bothered to speak to me. They are under the impression I might have influence with you.”

Gideon grinned. Then, with a deep breath since he knew he was making a huge public statement, he put his arm around Miki to hug her close. “Did anyone bribe you? I’d hold out for bribes.”

“Hmm, one man said something about free manure for my flower beds. Was that a bribe?” Her smile lit up Gideon’s heart. What a woman. Here she was, in a room full of people she knew didn’t want her there, flashing this gorgeous smile.

And here he was, in a room full of people who looked to him for support. Hiding from a bitchy ex-wife and her probably long-forgotten curse.

And he’d been calling Reggie a wimp?

Despite all the stares, Gideon brushed a kiss over the top of Miki’s silky hair. Perhaps it was time to consider actually running in the next election.

“So ya gonna ask her now?” Gene asked over the gasps and whispers.

“Ask who what?”

“Ask your girly, there, about the road. Oh, I know you said the weather could be a problem and all that, but I’m thinking we’ve had enough problems, lately. Parading past those lunatics would only invite more of the same.”

Gideon struggled to rein in his patience. Before he could blast Fred for being a pansy-ass pain in his butt, Miki stepped away from him.

“I take it I’m the girly?” At Gene’s nod, she looked at Gideon. “What road? I’m confused.”

Ignoring the mutters, he explained Gene’s idea to run a road through her land to the lake.

“This would help?” she asked, her brows drawn together. She looked first at him, then at the sea of faces in the room. Gideon looked at them too, and huffed out a breath. Damned if he’d want to help a bunch of people if they were giving him the nasty, suspicious looks Miki was getting.

“Gene thinks it would help,” Gideon said. “I think we’ll be fine without it.”

She slid a glance to Gene. All it took was the raise of her brows to send the old man into a rambling explanation of why he felt it’d make a difference.

When he finally wound down, Miki looked a little shell-shocked. Then she shrugged and sucked in a breath.

“Well, I can’t say as I understand why you want to avoid those people, since it sounds like most of them are friends or relatives of yours. But if that’s an important component of this venture being a success, you’re welcome to run a road through my property.”

The whoops and hollers echoed loudly through the room. Gideon still thought it was ridiculous that they were so afraid of a few kooks, but he didn’t say so. After all, that fear and those kooks apparently were Miki’s ticket to acceptance.

His heart warmed as he watched the people surround her, welcoming her into their circle. All of a sudden she was being asked her opinion, her favorite food and invited to cook at the Lodge. Not by his mother, of course. Deloris was looking like she’d sucked a lemon. But Reba, who it seemed had been drooling for another taste of Miki’s cooking, had great plans for her.

He leaned back in his chair and gave his imagination free rein. Images flashed of the town, healed and whole, prospering under his guidance after Reggie’s term was up. Of Miki, happy to settle in Rossdale, accepted by his friends, and thrilled to cook at the Lodge. Of the two of them, building a life, a future, here in the town that meant everything to him.

Satisfaction and pleasure melded in a deep sigh.

Gideon paused in his happy musings to look over at the mayor. Worthless as Gideon might think him, he should be involved in the town’s decisions. In making this tournament happen.

“There you go, Reggie. This should get the tournament going. Maybe even as soon as next month. Hopefully that’ll give you enough time to rebuild, get the factory back up and running.”

“No,” Reggie mumbled.

“What?”

“No. I’m going to take whatever money I can get and retire.”

“You can’t do that,” Reba exclaimed.

“I can, actually. I have family in Kansas. I think I’ll go live there.” He looked around at the murderous faces in the room and turned a little pale. “I think I’ll go ahead and make plans to move immediately. The insurance company can send me my money there.”

“You’d abandon Rossdale? Abandon the town, your commitment to the office of mayor?” Deloris’s stunned tone was reflected in everyone’s slack-jawed looks.

Reggie stood, sidled to the door with his lower lip still jutting out. Hand on the knob, he took a deep breath and nodded.

“You all obviously don’t need me. I’m not in charge here, anyway. Don’t think I haven’t heard the whispers and plans for my impeachment. Hell, someone even plastered one of Gideon’s campaign posters outside my office.” He looked around, then shrugged. “Consider this my resignation. Effective immediately. It’ll be easier than your impeachment plans.”

A few sputters and mumbles broke the stunned silence. Gideon stepped forward.

“Reggie, don’t do this. Look, whatever plans some people made, they aren’t my plans. You’re mayor and I respect that office. There isn’t any reason to run off like this. To leave your home and, hell, leave the state, even.”

“You’d be surprised at the reasons I’ve got, Gideon.” Reggie swung through the door, then hesitated. He glanced back over his shoulder. The look on his face, a combination of fear and pity, made Gideon’s stomach clench.

“Good luck, man. You’re going to need it.”

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Fourteen

Floating on a cloud of happiness, Miki stretched in bed. Her muscles, limber after a long night of love making, lengthened easily. She opened her eyes to gaze at the mountain view out her window and sighed.

Somehow, in the midst of a tragedy, she’d gained the approval and tentative acceptance of Rossdale’s residents. She’d received a loosely worded compliment from Fish-Face. And she’d become an integral part of the plan to not only host these fishing tournaments, but use them to re-launch the town’s tourism.

They wanted her to cook. They’d asked her opinion. All it had taken was the use of a chunk of her land, albeit temporarily, since she didn’t know quite what to do about her original plans to sell the property once the house was done.

And, best of all? She realized as she remembered the sight of Gideon rallying the people’s spirits, focusing their energies.

She was in love.

Oh. My. Goddess.

Miki gasped as the realization spun through her head. In love. Oh baby, this was it. The real thing. Heart pounding, palm sweating, his-bad-habits-aren’t-cute-but-I-could-live-with-them, really in love. Hot sex, sweet support, he loved her cooking and made her insides turn to goo, really in love.

In love with the man who was so attached to this small town, if she hadn’t already licked every inch of it, she’d have bet money he had Property of Rossdale tattooed somewhere on his body. And her? She was a California girl, through and through. She missed the theater, the restaurants, the rush of people and energy.

More importantly, he was mortal and she was a witch.

Tears clogged Miki’s throat. Could they be more opposite, more ill suited? As the emotions threatened to overwhelm her, she tried not to freak out.

With a deep calming breath, she told herself she had plenty of time to get used to it, to accept it. To make decisions and, now that the town was a little more friendly, maybe see if she could make a place for herself here.

And better yet, to figure out how to break it best to Gideon. The panic surging through her mellowed, her heart rate returned to normal.

She was in love. The real thing. And she’d be damned if she’d run away from this feeling. No more hiding or side-stepping for Mikaela Lansing. She was in love, and was going to get her man. She squared her shoulders, focused on confident energy and felt the surge of happiness again.

Besides, telling him she loved him was going to be a cakewalk compared to telling him she was a witch.

And tell him she would. No pansy-ass abdicating for her. Never again. She might have a karmic curse hanging over her head. She might be just an average witch, instead of a super-witch. She might still be hiding from her momma and avoiding the twice-a-day emails from Dr. Cunningham inviting her to take his latest self-discovery course. But, dammit, she was a witch and she was embracing her powers.

Miki gave a light-hearted giggle and hugged herself close. Great Goddess, it felt good. She felt good. Like she could do anything. Face any demon and win.

With that in mind, she sat up. The cool cotton sheet slid from her naked body as she reached for the cell phone on her nightstand.

The punch of a few keys, and she snuggled back under the covers while she waited.

“Yes,” came the snooty reply on the other end of the line.

“Perry? I need a favor.”

“Mikaela? What could you possibly need from me? The new furnishings I finally had to purchase when you wouldn’t return mine?”

“You’re still harping on that? Let it go already,” she advised.

“You took those furnishings from the house before I ever had a chance to... say goodbye,” he claimed. Miki could tell there was something going on, even through his defensive tone.

“You wanted to say goodbye to the furniture?”

“I chose it, it was only fair that I keep it. Instead, you and that Neanderthal brother of yours hauled it away before I even got home from court.”

Actually, the minute the divorce decree had been settled, Ryan had zapped the furniture out of the house and into a waiting moving van.

“Perry, this is a ridiculous conversation.” Miki rolled her eyes, then heaved a sigh. She was supposed to be making nice. “But look, I have a few pieces left. I can, maybe, sell them to you. Or at least let you visit them to say goodbye.”

She couldn’t imagine a more ridiculous offer. But apparently, it suited her ex-husband. His excited agreement was so loud, she had to hold the phone away from her ear.

“You still have the couch, right?” he asked. Miki squinted as an odd suspicion flashed through her head.

“Nope. No couch.” She rattled off the furniture that hadn’t been listed on eBay yet. But his response was considerably less excited. “What’s the problem? I thought you wanted to say goodbye”

“To the couch.”

“The couch? Why the couch?”

“I can’t believe you sold that, Mikaela. Can’t you track it down? I’ll match whatever you got for it if you can return it to me.”

The flashing suspicions solidified. The fact that Perry was offering to pay to say goodbye to a piece of overstuffed, rock-hard, ugly-ass furniture proved there was something going on.

Miki sat up, cradling the sheet to her chest. Didn’t matter that he was on the phone and couldn’t see her, old habits died hard. And Perry hadn’t ever been one for daylight displays of nudity.

“I’ll look into it,” she said. And she would. Because she wanted to know just exactly what dirty trick he’d pulled. She was positive he’d pulled one, she just didn’t know what it was.

Yet.

“That’s not what I called for, though.”

“What? Did you need a pat on the head over the food? Breakfast this morning was quite nice, thank you. I’d have preferred to go to the Café for bagels and lox, but I’ve been banned.”

She winced.

“Look, I’m really sorry about that. More sorry than you could know, actually. But, that’s not why I called.”

“Why, then?” His tone was as short as his word.

“I need some advice.”

“I beg your pardon?” His shocked tone wasn’t even faked. Miki could tell because he’d dropped that snotty inflection he’d taken to using a few years back.

“I need your advice,” she repeated slowly. It was all she could do to resist the condescending tone that she’d have normally added. “You know, some help.”

Silence.

“Perry?” Miki grimaced, then realizing how stupid it was to hide her body from the telephone, she slid from bed to pace. The cool morning air wrapped around her nude skin like a soft blanket, making her feel both decadent and sexy. “Look, I’d really like to know what you think about something.”

“Since when have you cared what I think about anything?”

Miki stopped pacing so fast, her hair whipped around to smack her in the face.

“I used to care a lot. Then you decided to divorce me and I had to learn not to care.”

“You stopped caring long before the divorce, Mikaela.”

For the first time, she heard regret and hurt in his tone. Tears rushed to her eyes and her breath caught at the pain clenched around her heart.

“That’s not true. I always cared. I cared so much I buried myself trying to be what I thought you wanted.”

He gave a derisive laugh.

“It’s true,” she insisted. “You have no idea what I gave up for you. What lengths I went to so I could try and be what you wanted. Why the hell would I do that if not because I cared?”

“Maybe because you were afraid to fail.”

His words, soft, and for once, non-accusatory, hit her in the gut. Miki sank down on the bed and gasped. She clenched her teeth against the onslaught of tears. Suddenly feeling very exposed, she snapped her fingers, and was enveloped in her favorite, thick chenille robe and nubby socks.

“I wanted our marriage to work,” she insisted through the pain.

“Maybe you did. But why? We didn’t want the same things. We’d grown so far apart we couldn’t even agree on what to have for dinner, let alone anything else.”

“But I...” let him have what he wanted. Miki’s breath shuddered in as she realized Perry knew it, too.

“Giving in isn’t love, Mikaela. And the last few years, that’s all we did. Gave in to each other.”

Miki was silent. She couldn’t find any words. Was he right?

“Look, it doesn’t matter. We’re divorced and you’re going to find me my couch. Talking about what ifs and who did what is a waste of time.” And just like that, Miki remembered why they’d had so much trouble ever working out any issues. Perry was the master at avoidance. “What did you call for?”

“Call for?” She frowned. “Oh. I need your advice on something. The town, Rossdale, they’re looking to increase their tourism. What kind of advertising should they focus on? I know it’s not your field, but you’re so good at knowing how to catch the right eye, how to bring in the right publicity.”

“You think I’m good at that?” His shock was clear.

“Yeah. I think you’re good at a lot of things, Perry. We may not have made it together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your better qualities.” All two or three of them. “I really do wish the best for you.”

And just like that, a chime rang out, followed by the sound of chains breaking away. Miki looked around for the source, but there was none.

“Did you hear that?” Perry asked.

“Um, yeah.” Miki bit her lip, then smiled. “You know, maybe after you help me with this, you should try eating out again. I’ll bet things are a lot better for you now.”

No wonder she hadn’t been able to remove the curse. It’d taken not only her forgiveness, but owning responsibility for her part in the divorce. No spell could compare to honesty.

Forty minutes later Miki went downstairs with a notebook full of ideas and a frown on her face. Even though she’d finally had a good, healing conversation with her ex-husband, she couldn’t get Perry’s accusation out of her head.

Was she afraid to fail? His words, while irritating, had a ring of truth to them.

Waiting for the coffee to perk, she grabbed a box of Cap’n Crunch from the pantry and reached in for a handful. The cat, still unnamed, jumped up on the counter and Miki tossed a couple Crunch Berries her way.

“Failure sucks,” she told the cat. “It’s not something anyone aspires to, right? So given that, why is it such a bad thing to be afraid to fail?”

The cat meowed and Miki tossed her a couple more pieces.

“It’s not like I’ve gone through life avoiding things,” she insisted, pacing now with her box of cereal. “I’ve followed my dreams. I studied and became a chef. I started my own business. I married a friggin’ mortal, for Goddess’s sake. Every one of those carries a pretty high failure rating.”

The cat meowed again. Miki rolled her eyes and set the box of cereal on the counter. The cat reached out one paw, pulled the box down and watched as cereal spilled out over the countertop. The golden squares and colored ‘berries’ stood in contrast to the bright white tiles. Then the cat, with her usual finickiness, swatted the squares out of her way.

Some help she was. Too into her own needs to even give Miki a cuddle for comfort.

So Miki took her comfort in the form of a huge cup of coffee and made her way back to the buffet.

“It’s not that I’m afraid,” she mumbled, eyes closed and her head leaning against the wall while she let the caffeine zing through her system. She felt a thump on her lap, then the warm, furry body of the cat as she butted her head against Miki’s chin.

“I just hedge my bets, sometimes. Like, when I married Perry, I knew he would be anti-witch. So instead of losing him, I abdicated. I ask you, is that fear of failure?”

The cat, now seated on the table, wrapped her tail around her body and gave Miki a long, intense stare.

Miki groaned and dropped her head back to the wall with a thud. “Fine. So maybe I am a little wary of losing at some things. At things that really matter. Maybe it was easier to lose my parents’ respect by abdicating than them finding out how dismal I really was at real magic.”

The cat meowed.

“Real magic. The life changing kind. Not this,” she waved her hand and the cereal still spread across the counter all flew with a whoosh back into the box, “kind of thing. But the kind that matters. The stuff that makes a difference in people’s lives. Like my father does. Or Lena and Ryan. Even Mother, when she’s not getting another divorce, works amazing magic. Me? I can tidy up.”

“What a bunch of bullshit.”

Miki screamed, then flew from the buffet. Hands pressed to her chest to try and keep her heart from jumping out, she glared.

“Dammit, Mother!”

In the place of the cat, her mother now sat on the buffet table, her legs elegantly curled under her. She raised one hand to run it through her hair, the same pitch black as her children’s. Then she grinned.

“Oh, please, I can’t believe you never figured it out. You’re a bright girl, Mikaela, but I have to say, between the lack of perception and now this insane crap you’re babbling, I’m beginning to doubt you.”

“Doubt me? You spent the last month dressed up like a cat. You snuck in here, pretended to be a stray. You...” Miki opened and closed her mouth, but no more words would come. Instead she let out a blood-curdling scream.

“Impressive, darling. I’m sure your nosy neighbor enjoyed that.”

“I fed you tuna.”

“I know. I did appreciate the way you added the pickle relish for me, too. That was sweet.”

“Sweet?” Holy cow, she was losing her mind. “Mother, will you please explain yourself?”

Alexis Lansing slid from the table and stretched her arms overhead. Her black pantsuit hugged curves Miki had spent half her life envying.

“What’s to explain? You wouldn’t tell me where you were, what you were doing. You’d just come through an emotionally horrific life-changing event and I knew you’d need me.” Alexis gave a delicate shrug and poured herself a cup of coffee. “So I came in disguise. Just to watch out for you, make sure you were okay.”

“How’d you find me?”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “Please, Mikaela. Do you really think I’d ever not know where each of my children was? It’s like a homing device that comes with childbirth. For being such bright witches, you and your siblings are fairly obtuse sometimes.”

“Ryan and Lena are the bright ones,” Miki muttered.

“Okay, that’s enough of that crap.” Her mother slammed her coffee cup down with a loud crack. Miki was fairly sure she’d enhanced the sound to emphasize her point. “I’m tired of this, Mikaela. I gave way when you married that limp whitefish, but only because I thought you loved him. But that’s over now and we’re going to deal with this little inferiority complex you spend so much time polishing.”

“I’m not polishing anything.”

“You’re only good for tidying up?” Alexis brutally reminded her. Miki winced. Damned if she’d ever babble her heart out to an animal again.

“Look, that was self-pity, not an inferiority complex.”

“Don’t try and bullshit me, Mikaela. I’m the master and you haven’t even graduated the minors yet.”

Miki knew her lower lip was jutting, but she couldn’t stop the pout. Thirty years old and she was being chastised like a bratty little kid. Well, screw that. She wasn’t a little kid, she was a grown woman. One who’d come through a nasty divorce, teetered on bankruptcy, and just broken an ugly karmic spell.

“That’s enough, Mother.”

Alexis raised a brow in regal inquiry.

Miki shoved her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

“Look, I appreciate that you want great things from your kids. I’d imagine if I ever had kids I’d want that, too. And I’m sorry if I’ve been a disappointment to you. But I won’t be talked to like a misbehaving child. This is my house, my life, and my choices. I expect you to respect that.”

Alexis narrowed her eyes, huge and black like Miki’s own. She tried to read the emotion there, but her mother was too skilled at shielding.

“Let’s take those a point at a time, shall we?” Alexis slid into the banquet booth and waved a hand to the chair opposite her. Miki pressed her lips together, but sat.

“First off, I’m your mother and, yes, I do expect great things from my children. Great as in a life that makes them happy, fulfilling work, and loving people to support them on their path. I might have been worried about you for a while, Mikaela, but I was never disappointed.”

“I’ve never been as good as Lena and Ryan at magic—”

“Don’t even start that crap with me. Your sister and brother have their gifts, yes. But they didn’t just walk into them. They studied, they worked, and they apprenticed. That’s a choice every witch has. Most don’t choose it, though. It’s like mortals and those school things. Master’s programs? Many are content with finishing high school. It’s not a bad thing to choose not to continue studying, Miki. It’s simply a choice.”

Miki swallowed and looked at the table, her gaze tracing the fine lines of the wood grain. “I didn’t really choose not to continue, though,” she admitted in a whisper. “I just didn’t feel called in any direction. I thought that meant I wasn’t supposed to go on.”

Alexis blew out a deep breath and tapped her long nails on the table. Miki heard her counting backward from ten under her breath and winced. Oops. Never a good sign.

“Okay, I’m going to let you off on that one. It was my fault. Well, mine and your father’s. When you’re sixteen, you’re supposed to be taken to the High Priestess for training. I was in the middle of my second divorce. Your father, damn his eyes, was off discovering the magical attributes of the Ancient Egyptian handmaidens.”

“I got an invitation, but I refused it,” Miki reminded her. “It wasn’t your fault I didn’t go.”

“Miki, dear, it’s not normally a choice. At least, not in our family. Nobody wants to go. Your sister threw a weeklong tantrum over going. Ryan ran away from home, we finally found him in Italy. It was our responsibility to make you go, but we... well, we blew it.”

Miki gave a little shrug, trying to act like it hadn’t mattered. Her mother put her hand over hers and the tears welled up. Miki sniffed and met her mother’s own tear-filled gaze.

“I guess I thought you and Dad didn’t think I was special enough to go. I figured that’s why you didn’t push me.”

Alexis’s face crumpled and she shook her head, obviously too upset to speak. Finally, she was able to take a deep breath. She pulled a lace hanky from the air and wiped her face before handing Miki a matching one.

“Darling, your father and I had as much faith, belief, and confidence in you as we did Lena and Ryan. To be honest, and you can’t tell them this, we had more. They needed the training, the extra push. But your magic, your powers and connection with the elements were beyond anything we ourselves could master. We, well, we justified our selfishness with the fact that your natural talents were more than you’d likely learn from the Priestess anyway.”

Miki grimaced and shook her head. Alexis reached over and grabbed her hand. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Miki. You know that. Not only because my oath forbids mistruths, but because I’ve made it a policy to never lie to my children.”

“You really thought I had that much talent, that much power?”

“Don’t you feel it? Right now, close your eyes and feel for the elements.”

Miki did. The earth, its strength and solid hum of energy, answered her call. As did the wind, whipping through the open window to flutter through their hair. She could feel the placid waters of the nearby lake, as well as the fissures of liquid moving under the house. The sun, its fiery warmth, filled her with energy.

She opened her eyes and met her mother’s knowing gaze with a confused frown.

“I can call up the wind, create fire. I can cause the earth to tremble and the rain to fall. But I can’t communicate with the elements like you do. I can’t feel them. I can use them, but you master them.”

Miki swallowed a couple times. She tried to understand the wildly contrary feelings rushing through her head. With a deep breath, she accepted her second shock of the day.

“So, I guess I’m afraid of failure and one hell of a strong witch?”

“That’s my girl,” Alexis beamed. “Nothing like a little inner conflict to keep you interesting.”

“I need something, Mom. I don’t know what, but I feel like I need help with the magic. Even though I broke the curse, and I’ve gained control of the magic, I still feel like there’s more. There’s something...” she didn’t know how to explain it. It was like a nagging in the back of her mind that she had something to do. She just didn’t know what.

“See the High Priestess, Miki. She’s asked about you. Even if you don’t go to her for religious training, she’ll help you find what you need magically. She’ll point you in the direction to find your answers.”

Miki ran through the procedures in her head. The last time she’d knelt before the High Priestess, she’d abdicated her powers. Would she be welcomed back? Could she accept the responsibilities returning would demand?

“Okay,” Miki finally agreed, for the simple reason that she couldn’t think of any other options. At least, none that could help her the way she wanted.

“Good girl.” Alexis stood and came around the table. She held out her arms and with a grin, Miki launched herself into them. There was no place so safe as her mother’s arms.

“Now, we’ve settled that,” Alexis said, pulling back. She brushed a hand through Miki’s hair and gave a smile that was only a little shaky around the edges. “Tell me about the hunk. He’s got a nice ass and beautiful eyes. You’ve caught yourself a live one there.”

Their laughter filled the room as Miki leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder and told her all about the man she’d fallen in love with.

* * *

Under the growing moon, Miki stood in the center of a circle of unlit candles. The soft white silk of her robe fluttered against her bare thighs as she lifted her arms to the clear sky overhead.

“Powers, Elements, Deities three. Maiden, Mother, and Crone, I call to thee. Here in this circle, I call forth the power, Your aid I seek at this midnight hour. I’m answering the call of destiny. Cleansing and preparing, so mote it be.”

A rush of energy surged through her, then whipped around the circle of candles, flaming them to life. She lowered her arms and cupped her hands, shoulder height, and lifted her chin.

“Great Goddess, grant me the answers I seek. Show me my path, reveal my gift. Allow me now to heal this rift.”

The candle at the center of the circle, floating about three feet above the ground, flamed to life.

Miki stared into the flame. Scrying had never come easy for her, but in the past, she’d always shied away after a single try. No longer.

Instead of trying to stare into the fire seeking images, she gave herself over to the energy of the fire. She let the heat fill her senses, the golden-red flame’s flickering light hypnotize her.

She floated on an emotionless cloud, simply observing the images that flashed through the flames. Three-fold tasks stood in the way of her claiming her power.

The first she easily recognized in the image of Perry. She’d met that task today, broken the curse. And while she knew there were still bits and pieces to resolve, for the most part she had a good handle on it.

The second image confused her. An icy blonde woman, looking like a winter queen. The night was dark against her back and she seemed to take great pleasure in the pain of others. Of one person in particular.

Gideon. Miki sighed as his image floated through the flame. She wasn’t surprised he was her third task. After all, telling him she was a witch would be a huge step forward in her acceptance of herself and her magic.

The images wavered, then, like a huge explosion, clashed together as the flames shot high over Miki’s head. She gasped, but held tight to the power. Gently, she brought the flame back down, then let the images, the power, fade.

Pleasure and power mingled in her system, filling her with a sense of pure acceptance. She was a witch. Perhaps not as skilled in glamour as her brother, or as gifted in divination as her sister. But her powers were strong.

She was a witch. And damned if she’d ever deny her powers again.

She’d have to tell Gideon. He’d accept her. Unlike Perry, he was a man sure of his own strengths. He wouldn’t find her threatening. And while he might possibly doubt her at first, given the town’s magical history, she figured he’d believe easily enough.

Who knows, maybe he’d been the kind of kid who’d had a major crush on Bewitched’s Samantha?

She was still confused over the winter-queen woman. She wasn’t anyone Miki recognized, although the sense of vindictive nastiness nagged at the back of her mind. That energy she’d felt, but she couldn’t recall where or when.

No matter, it’d come to her. For now, she was on her path. That’s all that mattered.

As Miki lowered her arms, a gentle shower of white rose petals rained down around her. Their heady scent filled her senses. She was one with the power.

She held her hands out, palms flat, and the candles’ flames lowered to a soft flicker.

The cat wound herself around Miki’s ankles, her meow sounding like approval. Miki laughed in delight and spun in a circle.

As she made a full turn, something caught her eye.

She looked over, and her delight turned to dread.

Oops. This was definitely not the way she’d planned to fill Gideon in on her little secret.

“Um, hi,” she said softly.

He gave a silent nod. The dark night hid his expression from her. His body language, though, didn’t look too friendly.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Especially this late.”

“Obviously.”

Miki bit her lip at the amount of ice packed in that one word. It wasn’t the cold that worried her. It was the lack of surprise. Most mortals who’d walked in on an act of magic either gushed, babbled, or passed out. Gideon, though, didn’t seem at all surprised.

“I kinda had some news for you.”

“Really? I had some for you, too. But I don’t think it’s nearly as shocking as yours.”

Except he didn’t seem shocked. She tried to sense his emotions, but it was like running into a steel wall. Nothing but cold, closed energy. Her earlier dread curdled in her belly. Miki wiped her damp palms over her robe, and wished she’d done the ritual skyclad. Maybe the sight of her naked body in the candlelight would have distracted him a little.

A gentle wind danced between them, and her gaze caught the fluttering paper in his hand. She narrowed her eyes. It was one of the flyers she’d seen declaring him for mayor. Miki pressed her lips together to keep her delighted yelp from escaping. After all, it suddenly didn’t feel much like they’d be doing any sort of happy dance together.

“You’ve decided to run,” she said softly. “I’m so glad. You’ll be a wonderful mayor for Rossdale.”

“I’m interim mayor for now. There are procedures to follow, things that need to be settled with Reggie if anyone can track him down. But in the meantime, I’ll pinch hit.”

“That’s great,” she told him in all sincerity. “I know the town will prosper under your guidance.”

He didn’t say anything. Unfortunately, he did step closer, so she could see his expression. Miki’s stomach took a quick nosedive to her toes. Well, for a man who didn’t seem at all surprised to walk in on an act of magic, he sure didn’t look happy. At all.

“When did this...” he trailed off, then waved his hand toward the circle of gutted candles. “Is this something new?”

“New? Um, no. I mean, I’ve had it for years. I just, well, you know...” she trailed off herself and gave an uncomfortable shrug. This really wasn’t the way she’d planned to tell him. Miki sucked in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. If there was one thing she’d learned in her conversation with Perry that morning, it was that the other person had the right to know all the facts.

“I’m a witch,” she blurted out. With a wince, she mentally slapped herself in the forehead. Not the gentlest way to share the news. She pasted a serene look on her face and waited for the onslaught of questions.

When they didn’t come, she shifted, the grass growing chilly beneath her bare feet.

“Gideon?” She took a step forward, so only a foot or so separated them. She could smell his cologne, see the rigid planes of his face. Even his hair seemed to resist movement, although there was a soft breeze fluttering around them. “Don’t you want to say something? Anything?”

He frowned down at her, then shook his head slowly.

“No. No, I don’t want to say anything.” His words, still ice-cold, sounded empty. Emotionless.

She swallowed the trepidation in her throat and reached out to lay her hand on his forearm. At least he didn’t pull away. Miki reveled in the warmth of his skin beneath hers, the now-familiar energy of him rushing into her with a soft caress.

“I thought I was falling in love with you,” he blurted out.

She gasped, pleasure surging. Her smile dimmed when she saw he didn’t look nearly as happy about the news.

“But I was wrong. I didn’t know you, not all of you.”

“This,” she waved her hand to indicate the proof of her magic, “doesn’t change me. I’m the same woman you say you fell in love with. With just a little extra. It doesn’t change me, Gideon. It shouldn’t change us.”

“It changes everything. What you have, what you are? That’s the one thing in the world I’ll never accept.”

With that, he shook her hand off and turned away.

Miki watched through the blur of her tears as he walked off. She tried to swallow, tried to find her voice, but couldn’t.

She swore she felt her heart break. One man refused her for not being all she was. The other turned away because he wouldn’t accept her for her true self.

She drew her power around her like a comforting blanket and swallowed deeply. She’d be damned if she’d let Gideon walk away so easily.

“You’re right,” she told him, finally finding her voice, although he was long gone. “This does change things. I’m not willing to give up. Not until you give us a chance.”

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Fifteen

“Hey, Gideon. Another delivery for ya,” Fred said with a snicker in his voice. Gideon grimaced, then plastered a blank look on his face as he turned to face the owner of the General Store.

“This time it’s the special lunch from Bea’s. Miki ordered it, but Marcia refuses to talk to you, so I’m delivering it.”

“Refuses to talk to me? Why?” Gideon asked, hoping to divert Fred from a replay of the litany of questions he’d peppered Gideon with four times already today.

“She figures you must be a complete jerk if Miki’s trying this hard to get your attention and you haven’t even called to thank her.”

Gideon took the tray of food, the scent of grilled onions on a medium-well hamburger filling the air. A double order of onion rings and a cola joined the burger. In a plastic cup half-filled with water was a pink carnation, a red rose, and greenery. He didn’t need to read the tiny tag attached to each piece to know what they meant. It’d been the same the last three times. Carnation for never forgetting, the rose for love, and the sprig of pine for hope.

Gideon clenched his teeth, fighting to gain control of the urge to take the vase and throw it across the room. Damn it. He’d thought Miki was special, but not that way. He didn’t want her to be a witch. Anything but that.

Too damned bad he didn’t get a choice.

After refusing, six times, to see her the day before, she’d taken to sending gifts and tokens. Pulling in the townspeople to her side. As much as it irked him to see their sly grins and know they were all gleefully sticking their fingers in his private life, it was easier than having to see Miki’s face. Or the pain in her eyes. The same pain he felt, but refused to acknowledge.

His jaw set, Gideon slammed the tray on his makeshift desk. He’d taken over the meeting room of the library as an office. He’d wanted to work from home. To hide away and deal with his anger, hurt, and shame. But after his acceptance as temporary mayor two nights before, the townspeople hadn’t been willing to let him too far out of their sights. After all, their current mayor had already skipped town.

“How would Marcia know what I have or haven’t done?” Gideon couldn’t stop himself from asking. “And since when is she on Miki’s side?”

“So you admit there are sides?”

Dammit, he knew better than throwing these people even the hint of a bone. Like a pack of rabid dogs, they’d be all over it.

“I’m not admitting anything. Look, Fred, I don’t have time for this. I need to solidify the contracts, start preparation for that first tournament. The pre-fishermen will likely be out here the first of the month. That leaves us three weeks to save our asses.”

He’d had to pull a lot of strings and make a lot of promises to get them a date that soon. But with the demise of the Spud Doll Factory, jobs and a source of income were imperative to the town. How sad was it that he was actually grateful for the turmoil? It gave him plenty to concentrate on, to help him ignore his pain over Miki’s shocking news.

“Did Gene get back from inspecting the docks and launch ramps out at the lake yet? He’d promised to do that this morning.”

“Nope, haven’t seen him since he corralled your momma to go out there with him. He’s scared shitless of them cult people, he figured Deloris was the toughest person he could think of to protect him.”

Gideon pulled a face and jotted himself a note to go talk to the people living on the East side of Mage Lake. Maybe they’d be willing to get involved somehow. It was time to heal the rift, bring the town back together.

Of course, they all believed in supporting magic, so it was doubtful they’d be too reasonable. Too bad he hadn’t realized Miki’s true calling. He could have sent her out there, let her lure them in like the Pied Piper.

“Boy, it’s not that we don’t appreciate what you’re doing here, ’cause we do. But you need to put your own affairs in order first, so you can give this the focus it needs.”

It was all Gideon could do to keep from growling at the older man. He sucked in a deep breath, ignored the stabbing ache in his heart at the idea of letting Miki go, and shook his head.

“There’s nothing to put in order. Miki’s stay here is only temporary. It always was. She’ll be on her way soon. And believe me,” he said bitterly, “the last thing we need is her sticking around. I don’t think the town is ready for what she’d stir up.”

“What the town is ready for is accepting that girl. She’s proved herself a standup kind of gal.” Fred jutted his chin at the lunch tray, then the huge vase of flowers, balloon bouquet, and black-haired spud doll holding a sign that said ‘Let’s talk.’ “She wouldn’t go to all this trouble if all she cared about was leaving.”

Fred sighed, then leaned his weight on the old buffet table Gideon had unearthed to use as a desk. Gideon winced as the table creaked at the weight, but it held.

“Boy, we all know how hard it was for you when your wife up and waltzed out of here. But, other than both being females from California, she and Miki have nothing in common. You might think you’re saving yourself a world of hurt pushing the girl away so it won’t be so bad if she leaves. But all you’re doing is denying yourself a chance at happiness.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s a lot more involved. And believe it or not, Miki and Tilda have an amazing number of things in common.”

Like being witches. Damned witches. Most men went through life happily oblivious to the fact that there really were witches in the world. Gideon, though? He seemed destined to seek them out, open up his heart, his life, and his damned town to their machinations.

“All women have things in common, Gideon. Let’s be realistic, there are only so many traits out there. Some might say that my Reba and your momma have a lot in common, if you know what I mean. But you and I both know it’s what they have different that really counts.”

Fred didn’t know what he was talking about. Gideon’s grinding teeth must have warned him he’d gone too far. With a roll of his eyes, the older man shrugged and lumbered to his feet.

“You just think about it, boy. That girl has potential. Even though I don’t want this getting back to your momma, I have to admit, I kinda like the gal.”

Gideon stayed silent as Fred left. Not hungry, he ignored the tray of food and tried to work on his supply list. After five minutes of staring off in space, he threw the pen across the room and shoved to his feet.

Why the hell did Miki have to be a witch? Why couldn’t she be the sweet, spunky woman he’d fallen in love with?

He caught sight of one of the Wilson boys heading toward his pseudo-office, a huge teddy bear in his arms and an even huger grin on his freckled face. With a groan, Gideon realized he just couldn’t take any more.

He sidled to the side-door, slipping out before the boy saw him. But once outdoors, he realized there was nowhere to go to escape the gossips, the sly looks, or the well-meaning advice.

So he went to the one place he knew he could be alone. The Town Square.

He wandered along the cobblestone path, the murky shadows making the square dim as night, even though it was barely noon.

As Gideon wandered the meandering path, he noticed here and there sprouts of green growth. He frowned. When had things started growing here again?

Miki would have loved to see it. She’d been fascinated with the square and its history. Gideon snorted. And no wonder. A history that included a witch was right up her ally.

Hadn’t that history been part of Tilda’s fascination with the town? Why she’d insisted they move back there?

Not that he could claim Miki’d moved to Rossdale for the history. No, she’d moved here to heal, to try and regain her spirit, to get her feet back under her.

And she’d done one hell of a job. Even though with hindsight, he could see where magic had played into some of her progress with the house, he’d also seen her apply a lot of elbow grease, good humor, and effort.

She’d come out of a rotten marriage, like him, but she had recovered. Gideon stopped stomping around and heaved a sigh. He shoved his hands into his front pockets and leaned back on his heels while he contemplated the gazebo in front of him.

In barely a month, Miki had managed to do what Gideon hadn’t in six long years.

She’d found faith in herself again. He’d watched it happen. Watched her confidence grow, her humor support her. She’d taken the rotten hand dealt to her, and played it for all it was worth.

And him? He’d been hiding here, like a wussy-boy, from his ex-wife and her nasty threats. Six years after she’d blown up their house and stormed off, Tilda was still running his life.

Gideon hunched his shoulders against the spasms of tension and stared at the gazebo, although he really didn’t see anything but a blur of remembered images.

So now what? Was he willing to let Miki go because she had one little thing in common with his ex-wife? He’d known from their first date that Tilda was a witch. She’d never been one to hide her light under a bushel, and he’d been fascinated. Raised with Rossdale’s history, he’d always identified with Hiram Ross. Although he’d kept it to himself, he’d often thought it was the town’s rejection of magic that had caused its downfall.

If he were honest, he’d married Tilda because she was a witch, secretly thinking she would make him Rossdale’s hero. Instead, he’d been a big fat zero.

But he’d fallen in love with Miki because of who she was. Sweet, plucky, and deeply loyal. And he’d turn away the best thing to ever happen to him because... what? She had that one little thing in common with Tilda? At least she wasn’t the vindictive, nasty type his ex was.

He plunked down on the gazebo steps to try to sort through all his conflicting thoughts. His heart was screaming for him to run to Miki and beg her to forgive him. Damned if his head wasn’t yelling the same thing just as loud.

Something tickled his neck. Gideon slapped at it, thinking it was a bug. But it didn’t feel like a bug. He turned and his jaw dropped in shock.

Holy shit. The last time he’d seen the well, it had been covered in dead brambles. Now it was lush with green leaves and small, fragrant white flowers twining around it.

Hope unfurled inside him, as fragile as the tiny white blooms. He brushed the plaque and read the words again. Faith, magic, and love.

Even though he’d been busting his ass this last week to make the tournament happen, he’d never been quite sure if it’d be enough. If there was really a chance of saving the town from ruin. Now, reading this with new eyes, Gideon realized the simple truth.

Rossdale needed its witch. That was the source of its success or failure. That belief and acceptance of magic. And while he’d believed in it—after all, a house in flames was damned good proof—he’d never really accepted it.

Could he now?

He closed his eyes and called up the image of Miki’s face. Of her smile and the sound of her laugh. If he tried, he could almost smell the sweet scent of her perfume.

If the magic was a part of Miki, then yeah, he’d accept it.

His heart pounded with excitement as he considered the ramifications, the possibilities. He barely bit back his roar of triumph.

They’d survive. With or without Miki, they’d not only make it all work, but they’d lift the miserable gloom that had kept the town teetering on extinction for the last thirty years.

But it’d be a hell of a lot better with her.

He needed to think a few things through. He was sure there was more to the prophecy than a simple acceptance of magic. There had to be. His best bet was figuring out that sticky business of the people who’d left Rossdale years before to live out at the lake.

Gideon puffed out his cheeks and considered his options. It looked like it was time to start repairing his town. But first, he needed to repair his relationship with Miki.

* * *

Gideon waited for the townspeople to take their seats. After his epiphany in the Town Square, he’d tried to reach Miki, but she wasn’t answering her cell. He’d taken a trip out to Mage Lake, met with a few old friends, and learned some very interesting facts about what was really going on out there.

And while he was amped over his discovery and what it meant to the town, he was still antsy to fix things with Miki. Had his refusal to acknowledge her overtures been too much? Had she changed her mind?

And if she had? When Tilda had left, he’d actually been relieved. But life without Miki? He didn’t know if he could do that.

Setting aside his personal thoughts, he called the meeting to order and quickly got to the point.

“Look, I met with a few of the people out at the lake. We have a chance here to reunite the town, and I think we need to take it. Right now they’re being jerked around by some guy named Antonio. The people I talked to said nobody would be sorry to see him gone, but too many of them are afraid of him.”

“So?” Marcia asked, still wearing the same glare she’d had for him since she walked in. “What’s that to us? They are the fools who got all wrapped up in that cult crap, let them deal with him.”

“They were once a part of this town. And I believe if we’re going to survive these lean times, if we’re going to successfully implement all those tourism plans, we have to mend some fences.”

The room exploded in argument. Thankfully, nobody seemed to expect him to actually answer, they all just wanted to voice their opinions at the top of their lungs.

Gideon stretched his head from side to side to try to relieve the tension knotted in his neck. For the first time, he was finding it hard to find the energy to care about the town. Not when the one person who really mattered seemed to have disappeared before he could fix things between them.

Then, like the sun coming out on a dismal, dark day, she walked in and quietly took a seat in the back row of folding chairs.

A rarely felt joy suffused him and Gideon sent up a prayer of thanks at the sight of her. His grin stretching his cheeks, he ignored the arguing townspeople. He stepped down from the podium and made his way through the crowd to where she sat. Her eyes were huge, almost amused at the ruckus in the room. But it was the trembling of her lower lip that kicked him in the gut. He’d hurt her. And, despite the sudden stares and voices calling his name, the only thing that mattered was setting things right. He reached out to take her hands in his and pulled her out of her chair, then out the door.

Once outside, he turned to face her. With both hands gripping her bare shoulders, he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

“Sweetheart, I have maybe five minutes at the most before they all come out here screaming for attention. But I have to fix things with you. With us.”

“Yeah?” He saw her swallow, her lips pressed tightly together. Those huge, midnight eyes stared up at him, the hurt he’d caused plain to see in their depths.

He looked around the deserted street, the evening air heavy with the scent of nearby roses, and heaved a sigh.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this. I know we need to talk, and this obviously isn’t the right time. But I don’t want you to keep thinking there’s a problem.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed a soft kiss over her knuckles before turning it over to place a kiss on her palm.

“Miki, I’m sorry about what I said the other night. I’m sorry if I seemed, well, prejudiced. I realize what you have makes you special, but that’s not a bad thing. I knew you were special all along.”

She pressed her lips together, then gave a sniff. “I realize that was probably a shock, my being a witch and all. And part of me wants to just let it go, be grateful that you’re willing to accept my magic, and move forward.”

His stomach, already working toward a world-class ulcer, burned. “But?”

“But I’ve come to realize I’m more important than that. I am actually proud of who I am, Gideon. Of what I am. I need to be with someone who feels the same. I won’t hide ever again. Not from someone I’m in a relationship with.”

“So,” Gideon said slowly, “What you’re saying is I have to accept you, magic and all?”

“Yes.” Her wince was infinitesimal, but enough to tell him she didn’t believe he could do it.

Gideon couldn’t stand that look, so he pulled her close, and despite the audience, kissed her. When he pulled his lips from hers, Miki gave him a breathless smile, but didn’t drop the subject.

“As great as that is, I won’t walk away from my powers, Gideon. I won’t deny who I am.”

He frowned. “Walk away? Why would you? This is who you are, Miki. I... Well, I have reasons it freaked me out, but it never entered my head that you’d give up a part of yourself. Not for me, not for anything.”

There was a pounding and they both looked over to see Fred, Reba, and Deloris tapping at the window. Fred and Reba were grinning, but Deloris looked ready to spit carpet tacks. Right at them. Gideon grimaced, but nodded at their gestures to return to the room.

“I have to get back in there. I just dropped a huge bomb on them, I can’t leave until we settle the issue.” He tucked her under his arm and brushed a kiss over the top of her head. “I have some things I need to tell you. Will you come back to my house after the meeting? We need to finish this talk.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he promised.

Her smile slowly spread, erasing most of the worry. Not all, but enough to give him hope.

“I can’t wait,” she said quietly. “After we talk, can I take you to bed and have my way with your body?”

They were laughing over the descriptions she whispered of what she’d like to do later when they walked, arm in arm, back into the room.

They were met by applause, whoops, and catcalls. Gideon grinned and looked down to see the look of pleasure on Miki’s face. Looked like she’d gained one hundred percent acceptance now.

He caught sight of his mother’s pinched face at the front of the room, and realized maybe it wasn’t quite one hundred percent. Yet.

Then, slowly, the clapping and yells died away. Gideon figured they’d all caught sight of his mother’s disapproval. Too damned bad. He made his way toward the front of the room, frowning as he saw the faces weren’t chastised, but actually a combination of fear and shock.

He looked at his mother, but she wasn’t looking his way. She faced the podium, her jaw low and her eyes huge.

Gideon couldn’t see through the crowd, but as if they’d sensed his confusion, the bodies parted, clearing the center aisle and leaving a clear view of the dais.

Gideon’s feet stopped of their own volition, as did his heart. For a brief second, his eyes blurred. He blinked, sure it had to be a mistake. A mirage. A damned nightmare.

“Gideon,” the woman leaning against the podium said.

“Tilda,” he returned. “I didn’t realize hell offered day passes.”

Miki gasped at the nasty bitterness in Gideon’s tone.

Next to her, his body was rigid with tension. His arm had fallen from her shoulder, and he didn’t seem to notice she was even there. Of course, neither did anyone else in the room. All eyes were on the slinky blonde up front.

Miki narrowed her eyes at the woman, a sense of familiarity nagging in the back of her mind. She knew she’d never seen her before, though. After all, that overblown sexuality wouldn’t be easy to forget, even for a woman used to the plastic perfection of Southern California.

A lush body filled an icy-blue dress so well, Miki had to wonder if the fabric had been sewn in place. The face was a work of cold perfection, almost-white brows drawn together over pale blue eyes.

That’s when it hit her. The woman was the Winter Queen of Miki’s vision the previous night. Tension, already tight from the energy floating through the room, ratcheted up a dozen notches. Miki steeled herself, both physically and emotionally. This woman was trouble.

“Aren’t you the clever one, Gideon? After all these years, I’d apparently forgotten how quick you were.” She looked him over like a starving woman looks at a feast. With a deep hunger and an almost predatory gleam in those calculating eyes. Miki unconsciously moved closer to Gideon. Whether it was to claim her territory or to protect him, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was this woman looked like she wanted to eat him alive.

Then spit out his bones.

That’s when the tingling at the back of Miki’s neck registered. She squinted, then relaxed her gaze enough to take in the stranger’s aura.

Her heart sped up and her mouth went dry. She bit her lip and tried to align her jumbled thoughts.

The woman was a witch. And unlike most Miki had spent her life around, this one carried an air of nasty self-indulgence that scared the hell out of Miki.

“What are you doing here,” Deloris spat. Miki glanced at Gideon’s mother and caught her breath. She’d thought the woman hated her, but that had been nothing compared to the ugly animosity being aimed at the Winter Queen. “Get the hell out of Rossdale, you’re not welcome here.”

“Now, now, Deloris. Is that any way to speak to your daughter-in-law?”

Miki gasped. Gideon’s ex-wife was a witch?

The sound must have caught the blonde’s attention, because the woman turned her cold blue gaze on her. A slow, insolent inspection and a flick of those eyes later, and just like that, Miki was dismissed as unworthy of her notice.

Miki clenched her fists.

“What do you want, Tilda?” Gideon asked in a low voice.

“Why, darling, I’m sure you know exactly why I’m here.” She snapped her fingers and, to the gasping shock of the crowd, a flyer declaring Gideon for mayor appeared in her hands. “Tut tut, I thought we’d settled this a long time ago, Gideon.”

Gideon gave a careless shrug. “Times change, Tilda. Get over it. You have no power here, no reason to be around. Go back to wherever you’ve been and enjoy your life. We’re through. We have been for years.”

Tilda tilted her head, then gave it a slow shake and a regretful sigh.

“Darling, of course we’re not through. Well, you and I aren’t. This pitiful town, on the other hand, is quite finished.”

Ignoring the whispers and shock running through the room, Gideon frowned. Then his face darkened with a look that Miki could only describe as hate. Fear, real fear, moved through her as the undercurrents of anger and violent energy threatened to engulf the room.

“You did it, didn’t you?” he said quietly. His words, so low and vicious, quieted the entire room. Heads craned and eyes darted between Gideon and Tilda. “You’re behind the vandalism. And you destroyed the factory.”

“No,” Miki breathed. It wasn’t that she was completely naïve, but to use one’s powers in such a vile way? If Miki had incurred karmic retribution over a simple-if-justified spell on her ex-husband, this woman had to be up for some mighty strong retribution. Didn’t she know that?

Miki looked closer, and in those icy eyes, she saw no signs of remorse or caring. That’s when she realized the woman not only didn’t care about karma, she probably didn’t believe in it. Not that belief was necessary for karma, it was a non-denominational force. But, because of her own brush with karma, Miki knew the woman’s powers had to be affected. Either that, or she was tapping into some other force to keep retributory fate at bay.

“I warned you long ago, Gideon, not to mess with me. Just like I warned that little cockroach, Compton. Where is he hiding, by the way?”

“What do you want?” Deloris demanded, her face so white Miki worried she might pass out. “Why are you trying to destroy our town?”

“Trying? Look around, old woman. I’ve already destroyed it. Your pitiful attempts to breathe life into it are just as doomed as that stupid doll shop.”

She stood, her presence filling the room with a dreadful kind of energy. Everyone stared at her, most trembling in fear. The only ones who didn’t seem overwhelmed by her were Deloris, Miki, and Gideon.

“I’ll give you all until tomorrow night to clear out. Then I lay waste to this joke of a town. If you doubt me, just look at the ashes of that factory.”

She snapped her fingers, and to the gasps and moans of the gathered people, ashes fell from the ceiling, along with small, charred figures. Miki recognized them as the town’s collection of Spud Dolls she’d once laughed at in the General Store window.

Tilda waited a beat, as if making sure her message got through, then cleared her throat. Everyone’s gaze locked on her.

“I’m being more than generous in giving you a day to gather your belongings and clear out of town. I warned you, Gideon, that if you ever had the gall to go against my wishes and run for mayor, I’d end this town.”

She held out her hand, palm up, and in a flash, a small desk plaque proclaiming Gideon Ross, Mayor, appeared on her fingertips.

She clenched her fist, and the plaque crumbled. With long, elegant fingers, she scattered the dust at her feet and tilted her head.

“You were warned, now these people will pay the price.”

Tilda raised both hands over her head. She looked at the terrified faces surrounding her and gave an evil little laugh.

“And please, don’t be foolish enough to think that little witch can save you.” Those ice-blue eyes flicked over Miki, leaving a cold trail of contempt in their wake. “After all, she’s the reason Gideon doomed you all to destruction.”

In a flash of lightning and a thunderous boom, she was gone.

* * *

How could she go from accepted and welcomed to reviled and hated in just ten minutes? Miki pictured the angry faces, the hurtful words of the people who seemed to blame her for Tilda’s destructive return. Who knew it would hurt so bad to lose people whose respect she’d had less than a week?

And Gideon? He’d patted her arm, absently told her he couldn’t talk to her right then, and walked off in a daze. Goddess only knew where he’d gone, although plenty of townspeople had tried to find him.

Her head still reeling with shock, Miki stood outside an immaculate two-story house and tried to calm herself. While she let her breathing steady, she took in the structure.

It was hard to imagine such a lovely piece of architecture looking boring, but somehow it did. All whites, creams, and the palest of tan, the house screamed uptight control.

The perfect home for Fish-Face.

Her thoughts still spinning from the evening’s events, Miki wanted to just go home and drink coffee. Then, once she’d snagged a nice caffeine buzz, she wanted to pack up and leave. But she couldn’t. Not until she understood what had happened. What was really going on.

Since Gideon wouldn’t talk to her, she was left with only one option.

She raised her hand and used the monogrammed brass knocker to announce her presence.

When Deloris came to the door, Miki was glad to see the woman had regained a little color. Then she caught a whiff of her and as her eyes began watering, realized the color was straight from the bourbon bottle.

“Mrs. Ross, I need to talk to you.”

“Why would I want to talk to you?” Deloris demanded, her eyes glassy bright as she glared. “You’ve already managed to destroy my son and my town. What’s left?”

“Look, I haven’t done anything and you know it. That nasty woman is responsible for whatever you think is going on.” Miki took a deep breath and committed herself to something she had no idea if she could handle. “I can’t stop her unless I know what that is. What’s really going on?”

She waited, watching the struggle on Deloris’s face. Miki wasn’t sure if it was the booze or if the woman actually believed she could stop the destruction, but Deloris finally, reluctantly, stepped aside and waved Miki in.

Miki entered and stopped short in the arched entry to the living room. She barely held back her laughter, knowing Deloris would take it wrong.

But how many shocks was a person supposed to take in one day?

First she’d had reason to hope Gideon did have serious feelings for her and was willing to accept her, magic and all.

Then she discovered the ex-wife of the man she loved was a vindictive bitch with enough power to make her nasty wishes into an ugly reality.

And now? Now she walked into a boring little house in a remote Idaho town, and found all the pieces of her old life arranged neatly around the living room.

“Nice furniture,” she snickered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, really. But if you ever decide you’re done with that couch, I know a guy who really wants to buy it.”

Deloris squinted at her, then at the couch, then back.

Miki couldn’t resist a grin.

Then it sank in. Deloris opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Eyes round, she shook her head. Miki nodded.

“SweetRevenge?” Deloris asked.

Miki gave a tired laugh. “Is that what screen name Ryan used? I didn’t handle the actual eBay sales, my brother did. I hope you didn’t pay too much, that’s one hell of an uncomfortable couch.”

Which reminded her. Miki hurried over to run her hands over the slick fabric. She ignored Deloris’ outraged demands to leave it alone, and turned the cushions to check the zippers. On the last one, she found it.

Reaching into the cushion, she pulled out an envelope. Standard size ten, it could have simply held cleaning instructions.

But Miki knew better.

She opened it and tried to decipher the printout. Deloris stood on tiptoe to read over her shoulder.

“Swiss account?” Deloris asked softly.

“Is that what it is?” Miki bit her lip, then shrugged. Why didn’t she feel anything? She’d found the proof of Perry’s treachery, and could not only reclaim half, if not more, of their money back. She could reclaim her old life, or make a new one in style.

Obviously reaching the same conclusion, Deloris came around and poked a finger at the papers.

“Good. You can leave now.”

“Right,” Miki agreed. She shoved the papers back in their envelope and put it in her back pocket. “Except I’m not going anywhere. I love your son, so get used to it. I’ll do whatever I can to help him, to help Rossdale. Why don’t you pull that stick out of your ass and help me?”

“You? You’re as bad as Tilda.”

“Hardly,” Miki sneered.

“You’re a witch, aren’t you? Which explains quite a few things, like why my son is attracted to you. Or was attracted to you. Don’t think I didn’t hear him telling you to leave, to go home. Gideon doesn’t want you here, nobody does.”

Once, that would have sent Miki to her knees trying to scrape together a shred of confidence. But now? Now she knew better.

“Right. You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. In the meantime, tell me about Tilda and Gideon.”

“What about them?” Deloris asked reluctantly. Miki wasn’t sure if it was a sign that she believed her or if she was just giving in to the buzz, but the older woman dropped to one of the tan chairs Miki hated so much and gestured to Miki to be seated.

She did, reluctantly. Not because of Deloris, but because she’d promised herself she’d never put her ass on that horrid couch again.

“What happened? Did you know she was a witch? Did the town know?” Miki held her breath, her future hinging on the answer. “Did you all run her off because of it?”

“We didn’t run that woman off, although I’d have liked to. She was my son’s wife, so I tried to accept her.”

Miki waited.

“Fine. Yes, I knew,” Deloris admitted with a huff. She crossed her arms over her breasts and scowled. “And her leaving was proof positive that Lucas’s mother was right. There’s no place for that mumbo jumbo crap here. So, yeah, I knew she was a witch. But I kept my mouth shut.”

Miki’d bet half of the money she’d just found that it’d almost killed Deloris to keep her mouth shut.

“She left on her own. She dragged that boy down in the dumps lower than we’d ever seen him. She made his life miserable, always bitching and wanting more and more. She hated this town and didn’t bother to hide it.”

“Why did Gideon bring her here then?”

“Because of that witch stuff. I’m sure he thought that’d be the answer to Rossdale’s issues. That if he brought magic back to the town, it’d heal.”

“Do you believe that, too?”

“I believe it takes more than a bit of magic to heal things. The prophecy states love, magic, and faith. She didn’t love him, and he had no faith. Without those, all the magic in the world isn’t enough.”

There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Sixteen

Could this damned day get any worse? She’d woken up sure she could sway Gideon from his anti-witch stance with a few romantic gestures. Now? Now she was damned near anti-witch herself.

Miki wrenched the steering wheel to the left, pulling her car out of the bumpy weed patch just before she ended up in an irrigation ditch. She wiped the tears off her cheeks and tried to focus her swollen eyes on the road.

After her chat with Deloris two hours ago, she’d been discouraged, but still determined to find a way to help Gideon. She’d looked everywhere for him, even going as far as asking at least a dozen belligerent townspeople for help. But nobody knew where he was. At least, they didn’t admit they did.

Of course, they’d all been so busy hurling insults, threats, and blame, it was hard to tell. She’d finally given up and headed home. Now all she could think of was losing Gideon, which probably made her just as selfish and absorbed as the townspeople claimed.

Panic surged through Miki as she drove down the darkening country road. She had to find him. Had to talk to him, even if he didn’t want to talk to her. Even if he was through with her, which seemed to be the case.

Because no matter what his feelings toward her were, the town needed him. Needed both of them. Everyone was so scared, some were even packing. A few had grabbed family heirlooms and headed out of town already.

Swallowing hard, Miki tried to ignore the tight ball of pain coiled in her belly. She wanted to scream through the tears. How could Gideon just take off? How could he avoid her after all the revelations? People were even saying he was so torn up, he’d abandoned them.

They were wrong, of course. Gideon would do something. Hopefully, she could help him. They had to work together, had to stop things before they got worse.

As much as he might hate all witches right now, she was the only chance he had against his ex-wife.

She pulled up in her driveway and, seeing the figure on her porch, let out a little growl. With a flick of her finger, she cast a glamour to clear the evidence of her emotional breakdown.

At least now she knew who the ice bitch was.

“You’re on private property,” Miki said as she got out of her car and slammed the door. Cliché, sure, but she didn’t know what else to say that didn’t focus on swear words.

“I won’t stay long,” the blonde drawled, pulling away from the pillar she’d leaned on. “Of course, neither will you.”

“Really?”

“Look, you’re a cute little thing and I’m sure Gideon had fun with you.” Tilda’s voice took on a hypnotic rhythm as she descended the steps with fluid grace. “He’s partial to women with a little something extra. He’s also extremely prejudiced. He won’t stay with you, no matter what he promises.”

Miki sneered at her words, but a strange sort of lassitude fell over her and she couldn’t find the strength to rebut them.

“All he wants from you is to answer that silly prophecy he seems to think holds weight. You and I both know it’s ridiculous. We both know true power. Gideon? All he wants is to use you. Use you for the town, and since it’s so easy, use you for sex.”

Miki wanted to protest, but the words were buried somewhere in her head and she couldn’t pull them to the surface.

“Go home, little girl. Tonight is the full moon and I’m taking back what’s mine. I suggest you get out of my way.”

Like shaking off a bad dream, Miki struggled to focus. “I won’t let you destroy this town or hurt these people.”

Tilda leaned back her head, a contemplative look on her cold face.

“Do you really think you can stop me?”

Miki couldn’t seem to think anything, her head was so foggy. But she gave a defiant nod anyway.

“Tell you what, little girl. If this town means so much to you, I’ll make you a deal.” Tilda paused to inspect her long, manicured fingernails. Then she gave Miki an icy smile. “You leave. Now, tonight. In return, I’ll spare the town. I won’t level the houses. I won’t even force the people to leave.”

“You’re lying,” she accused.

Tilda laughed, the sound sending shivers down Miki’s spine.

“I don’t have to lie. I have all the power here, all the control. I’m offering you a deal. A chance to save this pitiful town and a bunch of people who hate your guts. Take it or leave it. Either way, I win.”

She glanced up at the darkening sky, then gave Miki a long look.

“Don’t waste your time pining over Gideon. He’s mine. He always has been, he always will be. You snap those little fingers of yours and get yourself out of Rossdale tonight. Comfort yourself with the idea that you saved these people. Because that comfort and your belongings are all you’re taking with you.”

And with a flash of ice-blue light, she was gone.

Only after the smoke of her departure cleared could Miki pull herself together. Words jumbled in her head, but none made sense.

She just knew she wanted to leave. It was time to go home. After all, without Gideon, there was nothing here for her.

* * *

Thanks to magic and the conjuring of a few dozen cardboard boxes, Miki had packed the upstairs, and was working on the living room when the pounding started on her front door.

She didn’t want to see anyone. She had to leave, fast. It was time to go home, before it was too late. She struggled to grasp what exactly ‘too late’ meant, but it kept slipping away.

The pounding wouldn’t stop. With an irritated growl, she waved a hand to stop the knick-knack dance, as she’d dubbed it, into the packing box and tossed her packing tape gun aside. She stomped to the door and flung it open, ready to blast whoever was there.

“I can’t pack any damned faster, so you’ll have to just hold off on running me out of town,” she spat at Deloris. Miki looked past the older woman’s shoulder and rolled her eyes.

“Great Goddess, did you have to bring the whole town to back you up?”

“Actually, yes,” Deloris claimed. The only sign of her earlier booze-fest was the bloodshot glint to her eyes, otherwise she was her usual buttoned-up, fish-faced self. “They feel exactly as I do and we agreed you’d hear the message stronger if it was presented by all of us.”

Trying to tamp down the scream building in her throat, Miki glared. At least fifty people spilled out over her porch and into the front yard. She was sure she hadn’t actually met half of them.

“I don’t need this,” Miki said, swinging the door shut. Deloris’ hand shot out, halting the door, and Miki’s exit.

“You will listen to us.”

“Why on earth should I? You’ve all been nothing but ugly to me since I got here. Now, through no fault of mine, you’re all screwed and now you’re not only still ugly, you’re blaming me.”

Deloris raised her chin. For the first time, Miki saw a resemblance to Gideon. She blinked back tears. No point in crying over another mortal rejection. She should be used to them by now.

“We’ve talked and while we realize we can’t change the past, we’d like to discuss the future.”

Miki gave a helpless laugh. “Future? That bitch is about to annihilate your town, and you want to have a discussion?”

“Exactly. See, you’re obviously a bright girl.” Deloris reached into her straw purse and pulled something out, offering it to Miki.

She automatically took it. The squishy soft doll filled her hand. Holding it up to the light to see better, Miki couldn’t stop her grin, even as she struggled with the shock.

“Is this supposed to be me?” The black haired Spud Doll was dressed in traditional witch’s garb, but her gown and hat were a glittering white, and instead of a wand, she held a spatula in her little stick hand.

“Even though that bitch, as you called her, destroyed the town’s collection of Spud Dolls, we did have one for every resident. You’ve proven you’re a part of the town, and you deserve a doll.”

Miki hugged the ugly thing to her chest and blinked back the rush of tears. The fog that had pushed her so hard to run from Rossdale started to lift. Acceptance into a doomed town by way of a hideous potato with a head. Just what she’d always wanted.

“Look,” Fred said, poking his own balding head over Deloris’s shoulder, “we know we treated you poorly. You might be willing to admit that the whole magic thing was a mighty big shock. Then we find out that Tilda, who we thought was long gone, is to blame? Her following it up with news that you’re a witch, too, well, that was just more than most people could take all at once.”

Miki eyed the crowd, noting the nods and downcast looks.

“Okay, so what’s this? An apology posse?” She shrugged, even though a few of the bands eased around her heart, she didn’t see how much had actually changed. “Fine, I accept your apology.”

“Well, you see,” Fred stumbled over the words, “that’s not exactly an apology.”

Miki lifted both the doll and her brows.

“It’s more of a... Well, it’s more of a point.”

“A point? So you’re not sorry for your actions and nasty words?”

“Oh no, we’re sorry for those,” Deloris replied. “But you need to get used to how we are around here, now that you’re one of us. We might get snippy and rude with each other,” she said, her words insinuating that Miki was now a part of that inner ‘each other’ circle. “But as a town, you’ll find we all band together when it counts.”

Aha. Miki squeezed the stuffed potato, not sure why her head suddenly felt like it was going to explode. She blinked against the pain and struggled against the overwhelming compulsion to shut the door and go back to her packing.

“What’s your point,” she asked hoarsely.

“You’re a part of Rossdale now. We’re going out to fight that nasty woman, and we expect you to go with us,” Reba blurted out, her words all rushed together in a single breath. When Reba elbowed Deloris aside, Miki had to hold the potato to her mouth to hide her snicker.

“You’re going up against Tilda?” Miki clarified. Had Reba fallen into Deloris’ bourbon bottle? Miki looked around to share her amusement with the others.

But they all had that same serious, stubborn, ready-to-get-their-asses-kicked look in their eyes.

Shit.

“What makes you think you stand a chance against her? Not only is she a witch, she has no conscience. She won’t hesitate to send you all flying to Wyoming if you piss her off.”

“She might have magic, but what we’ve got is more important.”

Miki slanted Deloris a questioning look.

“We’ve got faith, love, and with you, we’ve got magic. The foundation of what will keep Rossdale safe.”

Suddenly, Miki heard Tilda’s voice whispering in her ear, reminding her that they only wanted her for what she was. They hated who she was. Was being rejected as a witch better or worse than being wanted only because one was a witch? Miki’s lower lip trembled as the emotions of the day surged over her in a tidal wave of exhaustion. When her knees buckled, a quick grab of the doorframe was the only thing that saved her dignity.

“What?” Deloris yelped. “What’s the matter?”

The older woman shot a dark look over her shoulder at the crowd, then shooed them back with her hands. “Go on, ya’ll. Go get in your vehicles. We’ll be heading out to Mage Lake in ten minutes, one way or another. We’ve got no choice. Go on, I need to talk privately here.”

Gotta love Deloris’s control. Two minutes later and it was just her and Miki facing each other in the doorway.

“My only use to you is my powers?”

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Deloris snapped with a roll of her eyes. “Each one of us has something we bring to this town. I’m the glue that holds it together. Gideon is the natural-born leader. Fred is the one who keeps us all cozy with his store and reminders of what this town’s about. You’re a member of this town, you just plop your gifts on the table with the rest of us and help out.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is if you want it to be.”

Miki swallowed, her heart pounding like she’d run a four-minute mile. There was no guarantee Gideon would want her, no matter what she did. And she had no idea if she was strong enough, magically, to take on a woman as unprincipled as Tilda. But as she pressed her hand to her temple and forced the foggy mists aside, she knew she wanted to help.

“Count me in,” she murmured, wondering if she was going to be sick. Before the nausea reached her throat, though, she felt a quick wrench. Suddenly, her head was clear, and her intention to kick Tilda’s sorry ass and do whatever she could to save the town returned full force.

“She put a spell on me,” Miki realized aloud.

“No surprise there,” Deloris said with a sniff, crossing bony arms over her chest and shooting a glare around the porch, as if Tilda might be hiding there somewhere. “She’s a nasty one, that’s for sure. I’m coming to appreciate that that witch thing is as individual as people, seeing as you’re nothing like her.”

And that, Miki realized, was acceptance in Deloris’s book.

She wanted to laugh, but felt too weak.

“You’re really going out to face her?”

“We’ve got no choice. Gideon stormed off muttering something about taking her on himself. It took us a whole half-hour to gather and decide you had the most at stake here, being all lovey-dovey with my son, and deserved to be included. But we’re running out of time, so you’d better come on. You can ride with me.”

“Give me a second to get my breath and a quick shot of caffeine.”

“We don’t have time to waste, so hurry it up.”

No way was she dealing with Tilda without a clear head. Miki snapped her fingers for a strong cup of coffee. Nothing happened.

With a frown, she tried again. Nothing.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know,” Miki said, trying not to panic. Where was her magic? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening herself to the energy. And felt nothing. It was like she was encased in a bubble, unable to feel the energy at all. Any energy.

“No,” she groaned as her breath hitched.

“She zapped you?”

Her terrified gaze met Deloris’s. The older woman didn’t look surprised, though. Or even scared. Just determined. Miki drew on that, focused on Deloris’s lack of reaction and used it to calm herself.

“She must have added a twist to her spell, so as soon as I threw off the compulsion to run away, I’d lose my powers.”

Miki pressed her lips together and waited to hear they’d be better off without her. She was obviously useless to the town now.

“Well, come on then,” Deloris urged with a shrug as she grabbed Miki’s arm and pulled her out the door. “We don’t have time to cry over spilled milk, and we need you.”

“For what? I have no magic, I’m hopeless against Tilda.” Now that the fog had lifted, Miki remembered the other woman’s threats. “Besides, she said if I left town, she’d leave you all alone.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Deloris said, shoving Miki toward the passenger side of her sedate Ford sedan. Miki climbed in the car, her head still spinning with emotions.

“The woman’s a known liar, so why would you believe a word she says? As for that hopeless talk, pish posh. I told you, you’re a part of the town now. You’re a smart girl who knows that magic stuff, so you might see ways we wouldn’t to defeat that icy bitch. And most important,” Deloris said as she backed out of the driveway to lead the procession to the lake, “Gideon needs our help.”

Was this what acceptance felt like? A combination of exultation and nausea? Miki didn’t know, and couldn’t worry about it right now. If Deloris was right, and unfortunately she usually was, then Gideon was alone out there facing Tilda. While Miki was pretty sure Tilda wouldn’t hurt him physically, she was clearly obsessed with him.

Miki tried to send out a call to someone for help. Any of her family would be strong enough to wipe the floor with Tilda. But all she got was that same bubble blanketing her energy and keeping her from reaching out.

She bit her lip and tried to steady her breath. Okay, so she was really going up against Tilda with a bunch of crabby mortals at her side, powerless.

Well, that was just fine. Because Mikaela Lansing was ready to kick some butt, magic or no magic.

* * *

Gideon looked around and looked around the flagstone arena the cultists had built along the lake. The area was obviously set up for some kind of worship. He’d been shocked the day before when he’d come out in search of a few sympathetic old friends, and seen the phallic shaped tower rising up over this pseudo-worship site. Apparently, the town’s assessment was right and this was a cult, in every sense.

Fortunately, it was a cult that realized its day was done. The people he’d talked to, including the huge dude who claimed to be in charge, had all been willing to work with him on the tournament deal. Unfortunately, nobody had seen fit to let him in on their most revered resident.

Tilda, the bad bitch.

“Have you been hiding out here all this time?” Gideon sneered at his ex-wife.

He gave a disgusted shake of his head before glancing at the large rock that seemed to serve as an altar. After checking to make sure it wasn’t gross with dried blood or anything, he hefted himself up to sit on it.

As he’d hoped, his act of disrespect combined with his nasty attitude was keeping Tilda distracted and off-balance. He’d considered an Uzi and a round or mortar fire, but after he’d got a look at the people, he realized that was serious overkill. His fight was with Tilda, and Tilda alone. There’d been enough collateral damage in that particular war already. Instead, he was settling for a little psychological warfare.

“Gideon, darling, I simply couldn’t stay away from you,” Tilda said in what he figured was supposed to be a seductive tone. He’d been immune to her wiles for so long, though, all he wanted to do was roll his eyes. But it was probably too soon to send her over the edge.

“Right. So after blowing our house to smithereens, you stormed out here where you’ve been living for the last six years?”

“Hardly. You know my power. I come and go as I please. But I do make a point to check up on you, of course.” She sidled over, looking up at him with a kittenish look at odds with her patrician features. “After all, we might be divorced, but you still have a great deal that I want.”

“I never had anything you wanted. That’s what I just can’t figure out. You were after something, I know that. But it wasn’t me. So what was it?”

“You sell yourself short, Gideon,” she said, her voice low as she trailed her hand over his thigh. She gave him a look under her lashes, then walked her fingers up toward his zipper. Gideon slapped his hand down over hers and shook his head.

“Does this crap actually work with other guys?”

Tilda’s eyes frosted over and she snapped her hand out from under his. He thought he actually heard her teeth grind.

“Look, let’s cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you to leave Rossdale alone? Completely alone. As in you’re gone, and the town is left to grow again without your interference.”

Apparently finished with the seduction act, Tilda sneered and rolled her eyes.

“After the horrible way they treated me,” she scoffed. “Why on earth would I let that town off scot-free?”

“Get over it, Tilda. That was over six years ago and you don’t give a damn about those people. Besides, we both know you want something else. You didn’t stick around all this time just to mess with a few people who pissed you off. You could have done that any time, so why now?”

“Because you had the nerve to bring that little witch here, to let her have access to my pool of power,” Tilda burst out, her words the most animation he’d ever seen from her.

Aha. There was the reason she’d stuck around. A pool of power? Could it have to do with Rosalee Wenton and her blessing to Rossdale? His mind raced. Had Miki’s arrival, her magic, somehow blunted Tilda’s powers?

“Any power here belongs to Rossdale,” Gideon said, trying to buy time to think. If Miki was a challenge to Tilda, was she in danger? Gideon swallowed to clear his suddenly dry throat and forced himself to ignore the worry climbing up his spine.

How far would Tilda go to eradicate a challenge? Had she done something already? He shouldn’t have ignored Miki’s calls, should have made sure she was safe. But he’d figured this was his mess so he’d rushed out to the lake to play hero.

He had to go. Had to make sure she was okay.

No longer caring about dragging the confrontation out to get information, he pulled a quarter out of his pocket and flicked it across the stones, a signal for the man waiting. The coin hopped across the rock, then landed in the lake with a loud popping sound.

“Trying to make a wish to save your silly little witch?” Tilda asked with a sneer.

He didn’t bother to answer as a loud clatter of shoes against the flagstone alerted her to company. Tilda drew herself up and flexed her fingers like a soldier gripped a gun when going into battle.

“Antonio,” she exclaimed, her gaze taking in the Fabio-looking beefcake. The guy was wearing linen pants, sandals, and a flowing shirt. The granola-style peace and love looks were at odds with his obvious antagonism. “You’re supposed to be out of town making arrangements. I told you things had to be taken care of this week.”

“I guess you’re not in charge of everything now, are you?” the beefcake sneered at her.

Gideon snickered. It wasn’t looking like Tilda’s night for getting much respect.

“I warned you not to try and screw me over. You obviously thought you’d move while I was gone this week. What was your plan, Tilda? Destroy the town, move the thorium, and collect the profit all for yourself before you disappeared with this boy toy here?”

Gideon knew the beefcake had used the term ‘boy toy’ to make Tilda think he was jealous, but he tried to look offended. But, damn, how many insults was a man supposed to take in order to save his town? Wasn’t it bad enough he’d had to sit on his ass all this time? Now this?

“Just exactly who do you think you are, taking that tone with me? You’re only here by my good graces, Antonio. I could have ended your sham anytime I wanted.”

Antonio gave her a look of disgust, then shook his head. “I told you before, my subjects are loyal to me. I’m done with this game.”

He clapped his hands and they were surrounded by people. Most, Gideon didn’t recognize. A few he’d spoken with the day before, then again this evening.

“My consort seems to have lost sight of her loyalties,” Antonio claimed in a booming voice. “Take her captive. I’ll let the nearby townspeople deal with her as they see fit.”

Antonio finally met his gaze, a look of satisfaction on the other man’s face. Gideon nodded, glad to see some good had come from the con man’s hold on the people. Things were all coming together the way they’d hoped. Gideon had been a little unsure, but the other man had convinced him he had a great deal of power himself, enough to handle Tilda’s magic. Not having a clue how to tell one way or the other, Gideon figured he didn’t have any choice and joined forces with the cult-leading con man.

A group of men advanced on her, but Tilda’s cold laugh froze everyone in his tracks. Gideon and Antonio both turned just in time to watch her send a spear of frozen ice shooting across the flagstone covered grounds at the building.

The stone wall burst, sending a shower of rocks everywhere as the huge rumble filled the air. People ducked the flying rubble, some hitting the ground with their hands over their heads. Only Tilda, Gideon, and Antonio ignored the destruction. “You stupid ass, do you really think you have the power to challenge me?”

“I am the Alchemist of the Lights of Atlantis,” Antonio assured her. “I’ve got the power to do any number of things.”

Gideon squinted. He sure hoped that wasn’t as stupid as it sounded.

Tilda gave an icy laugh and a haughty toss of her head.

“You’re nothing that I haven’t let you be,” she informed him. “You have no power and are no longer anything but an irritant to me.”

With a flick of her hand, light flashed. Gideon blinked, then blinked again. Antonio was gone, and in his place stood a peacock, feathers spread as it made a hideous cry.

Damn. The guy had been even stupider than Gideon had thought. What now?

His mind raced. He wasn’t letting Tilda win. He wasn’t sure how he was going to win yet, but he would.

To buy time, he figured he’d try to strike some kind of deal with Tilda. Even if it meant selling his soul, he’d make sure Miki and Rossdale were safe.

Before he could do anything, Tilda walked over to the peacock. With a nasty rip, she yanked out one of the peacock’s bright tail feathers and smoothed it down her face. The bird bawled in pain. With a tilt of her head, she faced the crowd and asked, “Now who wants to challenge me?”

Fear was tangible in the silence. Only the gentle lapping water sounded behind her triumphant cackle.

“I will.”

Miki, her black hair glinting in the moonlight and white tee shirt softly molding her curves, stepped up onto the dais.

Tilda hissed. Gideon stared in surprise. His heart clenching at the sight of her.

“What are you doing here?” he muttered, wanting her gone as much as he wanted to see her.

“Your mother told me I’d find you here,” she said with a wink and a rueful look.

“Ahem.”

Gideon winced at the familiar cough. He stared as his mother, Fred and Reba, and a few dozen more surrounded Miki, melding in with the cultists scattered around the flagstone patio.

Holy shit, half the town was there.

Gideon squared his shoulders and tamped down his worry for the people he loved.

“Listen to your mommy, Gideon. She obviously knows your little witch is as useless as that stupid doll she’s carrying.”

That’s when Gideon noticed the Spud Doll in Miki’s hand. He wanted to grin, knowing how much she’d mocked the figures, but its clear meaning made his heart warm.

Then Tilda’s words sank in.

Useless? His gaze shot from Miki’s too-calm expression to his mother’s glaring countenance. He glanced at Fred, whose jowls were shaking, he was so angry. Then at Reba, who looked like she was about to pass out from fear.

Something was wrong.

“I warned you, little girl,” Tilda was saying, her icy glare pinning Miki in place. “You should have left when you had the chance.”

“And you’d have left Rossdale alone?”

“Of course not,” Tilda scoffed. “Rossdale and its glorious power, as well as Gideon and his glorious body, are mine. I intend to keep them both.”

“I won’t let you,” Miki told her quietly.

“You have no choice. You are nothing, little girl. Even if you did have your powers, you’d be no match for me. But we both know you’re powerless, don’t we?”

Powerless? Anger surged through Gideon, making him want to howl in rage. Miki was in danger. He’d thought she’d be protected, be safe in her magic. But somehow, Tilda had taken that from her. The violation of it horrified him.

“What the hell did you do?” he growled. “Are you so insecure and scared that you have to steal other people’s power to make yourself feel good?”

“Not just other people,” Miki told him. “She’s tapping into the land as well. Rossdale sits on one of the strongest energy vortexes I’ve ever felt. She’s using your ancestor’s blessing to shore up her own magic.” Miki shot Tilda a derisive look. “Without it, I’m sure she’s got as much power as that peacock over there.”

Her almost silent growl was their only warning. Tilda raised her arm, her face clenched in rage. From her upraised hand, she released a bolt of ice at Miki. His heart racing, mind screaming to hurry, Gideon jumped forward to shove her out of the way. Rolling, he wrapped his arms wrapped around Miki to protect her as best he could, and they felt the ground shake as the ice hit the flagstone less than a foot from them. He hunched over Miki as shards of glass-like ice rained across the patio.

“So that’s your final choice, is it?” Tilda’s cackle dripped with ridicule. “Fine. You can both die together. I’ll rule this town and its powers anyway.”

The feel of Gideon’s strong arms enfolding her sent a welcoming warmth through Miki’s system. As if all her senses suddenly came to life, she shivered with pleasure, despite their dire situation.

“Are you okay?” he murmured against her hair.

She did a quick inventory. Other than what was promising to be a nasty bruise on her butt, she seemed to be fine.

Then it hit her. She felt fine. She also felt Gideon. The bubble had burst. His act of love must have broken Tilda’s spell.

Quick as lighting, ideas and plans flashed through her head. Miki considered and rejected until she settled on one.

She gave Gideon a warm smile and brushed a kiss over his cheek. She was gratified by Tilda’s annoyed hiss.

“I need you to piss her off,” she whispered in his ear. It was a dangerous game, especially since she couldn’t let him know she’d regained her powers. But she couldn’t risk Tilda getting a clue.

Without question or even a look to indicate he’d heard her, he got to his feet and helped her up.

Miki reveled in the feel of his arm, heavy on her shoulder as he pulled her close. The security of his embrace filled her with a sense of triumph. Who knew a mortal could hold so much magic? But for her, Gideon did. He’d given her a new appreciation for her own powers. Then, his love had returned those powers to her. Because nothing short of true love would have broken Tilda’s spell.

She stepped away from him and gave a little wave of her hand for him to get on with his irritating of Tilda. While he taunted and ragged his ex-wife, Miki ignored the flying insults and took a deep breath, centering herself.

With another breath, Miki opened herself to the power of the land. She drew in the strength of the looming mountain, the placid lake. She called on the gentle air to fill her with its energy and focused on the inner flame of magic. Energies surged, mixing and mingling with her own power. Miki’s senses sharpened and even her hair felt like it was tingling as the energy grew within her.

Finally, she took a step forward, putting herself between Gideon and Tilda.

“You need to leave Rossdale,” she said. Even though her tone was soft, her words a calm contrast to the bitter insults flying, both combatants instantly silenced.

“I’m not the one leaving. You are. Time’s up, little girl. You had plenty of chances, now you’re going to have to pay for your audacity.” Tilda slanted a look at Gideon. “Any final words for your little witch?”

Miki forced herself to keep her focus on Tilda. She couldn’t afford to break concentration, and even though she knew it’d taken a great act of love to break that spell, she still wasn’t completely confident in Gideon’s acceptance of that love.

Then he stepped over, aligning himself next to her. He thankfully kept his hands to himself, but she could feel his support all the same.

“Whatever you do to Miki, you’ll have to do to me, too,” he informed Tilda.

The other woman gave a mocking laugh. “Unlike in that pitiful little town of yours, you’re not calling the shots here, Gideon.”

There was a shuffle of sound and Miki felt the air moving around her. Warmth closed in, soft and supportive.

“Whatever you do to Miki, you’ll have to do to us, too,” Deloris said from over Miki’s shoulder.

That’s when she realized they all stood behind her. To show their loyalty. They all believed she was powerless, and still they chose to fall with her rather than let her fall alone. Miki fought back tears at the implicit love and trust.

Knowing she couldn’t hold on much longer, she lifted her chin and pulled the power into a tighter coil.

“Tilda Frost, I call you here, to stand trial for pain to those I hold dear. Your magical power I strongly bind, the more you fight, the tighter this spell will wind. Your magic’s gone, you’re now done. This binding compounds three times three, as the land you abused abjures thee. Karmic debt will now find you, until you repay what is due. By powers of Earth, Air, Fire, and Sea, my will is cast, So mote it be.”

Tilda’s derisive laughter echoed across the lake. Miki just smiled and raised both hands, palms up, until they were shoulder high.

She met Tilda’s bitter gaze and, holding it prisoner with her own, she snapped her fingers and let the energy loose.

Like an overwound spring, the magic flew with a flash of purple sparks and shimmering lights. The clap of thunder drowned out the gasps and Tilda’s scream.

Miki considered, then snapped her fingers again. Tilda, so pale she seemed translucent, flinched.

“You have a car and your belongings waiting. Not because I’m nice or anything. But this way you’re gone and the good people of Rossdale don’t have to look at your bitchy face while you find a way to get out of here.”

Tilda sputtered, tried to zap them all a few times with her bound powers before giving up with a howl. When she saw the vicious looks on the faces around her, she gasped out a few threats, then turned and ran. A minute later, they heard a car start.

“Ding dong, the witch is gone,” Fred chanted with a slightly hysterical laugh.

“No,” Gideon corrected, pulling Miki into his arms. She sank into his warmth with a giggle of her own. “The bitch is gone. We’re keeping the witch.”

His mouth claimed hers before Miki could respond. The cheers and whoops of joy faded into a soft buzz as she gave herself over to the overwhelming love she felt for Gideon.

Much too soon, he pulled back and, with a deep sigh, looked down into her face. Miki’s heart melted at the emotions she saw in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Hey, it’s my town, too. I have an ugly potato to prove it.”

They laughed, then arm in arm, turned to watch the cultists and townspeople’s reunion. A few men Miki didn’t recognize were wrapping a rope around the peacock’s neck. One approached the couple, despite the look of terror on his face. His gaze quickly slid away from Miki to latch onto Gideon.

“If you can change him back, it’d be appreciated. He’s got some information on a mineral strike that by rights belongs to your town.”

Gideon glanced down at her and Miki gave a nod. Reversing his transfiguration wouldn’t be hard. Hell, after gaining Gideon’s love and fighting off Tilda’s curse, she didn’t think there was anything she couldn’t handle.

“I can change him back, I just need to catch my breath first.”

Before Gideon could reply, Deloris stepped in front of them, her face pinched and disapproving. Miki frowned. She’d thought she’d gained Deloris’s support, but maybe she was wrong?

“Well?” the older woman demanded, her eyes fixed on her son.

“Well, what?”

“You’re mayor of this town. What do you have to say to the woman who saved it? I think you owe her something other than a pitiful little thank you.”

His jaw clenched, then he nodded. “I’d have preferred some privacy, but seeing as this is Rossdale I suppose she should get used to the lack thereof.”

Before Miki could ask what he meant, Gideon turned to her. His hands heating her shoulders, he waited until everyone quieted, forming a circle around them. Miki glanced around, nerves suddenly stabbing at her.

“Miki, I...” He looked at the people surrounding them and grimaced. “I love you. Not just because you saved my town and my virtue, but because you’re the most amazing woman I know.”

Miki pressed her lips together to hold back her cry of joy. She couldn’t hold back the tears streaming down her cheeks though.

“You’re a part of this town. You’re meant to be here. The prophecy requires love, faith, and magic. You’ve taught me the real meaning of all three. I’d love you if you weren’t a witch.” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek before reaching down to raise her fingers to his lips. With a warm kiss across her knuckles, he told her, “But your magic is as beautiful as the rest of you. And that’s saying a lot, since you are the most beautiful soul I’ve ever met.”

Then he released her hand and stepped back. Miki’s heart climbed to her throat as Gideon dropped to one knee and reclaimed her hand.

“Mikaela Lansing, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you the magic of that love. Be my wife.”

Marry another mortal? Eyes huge, Miki imagined what her life would be like now, what her marriage would mean.

Crazy. It’d be absolutely crazy.

And she’d love it. Giddy and lightheaded, she laughed and threw herself into his arms. This time the cheers didn’t fade into the background, but surged around her like a song of joy.

“I’m going to want little witches,” she warned through her tears.

“What better place to raise them than a town founded on magic?”

—The End—

About the Author

Tawny Weber

New York Times and USA TODAY Bestselling author of more than thirty books, Tawny Weber writes sassy, emotional romances with a dash of humor, featuring hot alpha heroes. It’s all about the sexy attitude! A fan of Johnny Depp, cupcakes, and her very own hero husband, Tawny enjoys scrapbooking, gardening, spending time with her family and dogs, and hanging out with readers on Facebook.

Fans are invited to check out Tawny’s books at her website, www.tawnyweber.com. For extra fun, join her Red Hot Readers Club for goodies like free reads, complete first chapters, recipes, insider story info and much more.

Connect with Tawny:

Twitter: @TawnyWeber

Facebook: www.facebook.com/TawnyWeber.RomanceAuthor

Website: www.tawnyweber.com

Additional Books by Tawny Weber

SUGAR AND SPICE: A Karma Café Novella - Book One

SWEET NOTHINGS: A Karma Café Novella - Book Two

QUEEN OF HEARTS

Family Stone Romantic Suspense, Book Six

Shelley

by Lisa Hughey

Dedication

I loved writing Shelley’s book. From the moment she appeared on the page in Jess’s book, I started thinking about her. About all her sacrifices and the things she endured to make sure her kids were launched into the world successfully.

The traditional romance usually features characters in their mid to late twenties, sometimes early thirties. The construct behind that makes sense. It’s a time when men and women are ready to settle down and potentially have children. It’s logical.

But what about all those women out there who didn’t get their happily ever after when they were younger? Women and men don’t shrivel up and die after age thirty-five so why should romance characters? I loved that both Shelley and Ric had some mileage on them but were still open to the possibility of love. I hope you did too.

Acknowledgments

I’m pretty lucky to have a talented group of writers as my work support system. Thanks to the Pens Fatales for our random email exchanges on everything from business to personal and happy to snarky.

Thanks to AC James for all sorts of things…far too many to name. It’s amazing how much one simple email changed my business life. I’ve learned a lot and had tons of fun.

Huge thanks to Adrienne Bell and LGC Smith for our weekly meetings.

Ginormous thanks to Cecilia Gray for our weekend writing marathons and always, always sharing your business knowledge with me.

As always, thanks to Kim and Jennifer at The Killion Group for everything! Thanks to Amy Atwell at AuthorEMS for dealing with the challenges of uploading to the more difficult vendors.

I am blessed to have you all in my life!

Queen of Hearts: Chapter One

Could she be more out of place?

Shelley Stone sat at the end of the ultra-trendy bar. Blue neon and soft white uplights glowed, spreading over the wall behind the display of upscale liquor bottles, and giving the AquaKnox bar a fuzzy, almost surreal ambiance with a dash of sophistication. Shelley scanned the drink menu and people-watched as she waited for the rest of her party to arrive.

Despite the fact that she lived in a mansion in Monterey, and had a portfolio that rivaled Warren Buffet’s, she had never embraced a hedonistic or sophisticated lifestyle.

She was more at home in a pair of Capri jeans and cotton halter top than the dressy, formal attire she wore now. Her LBD was subtly sexy, with matching V’s in both front and back, revealing a discreet amount of cleavage. The skirt hit above her knees. Not so far above as to be indecent but short enough that she bared a sleek amount of toned, tanned leg.

She wasn’t quite sure how she let Bliss talk her into this dress.

Her soon-to-be daughter-in-law could be quite persuasive.

On the outside, Shelley looked like she belonged. But on the inside, she was still that naïve kid from Wisconsin, who with starry-eyed innocence searched for a man to make all her problems disappear.

Instead, the man had given her more problems, then disappeared himself.

Shelley sighed.

She ordered a Lemon Drop martini from the handsome, younger bartender. He gave her an assessing once over before granting her an intimate smile. “How’s your evening so far?”

She let a jaded cynicism shadow her eyes. “Just fine.”

In truth, her evening was weird. Her son was getting married. Jack wasn’t really her son, but her stepson, who was only ten years younger than Shelley. God, how was it possible that at the end of the week she was going to be the mother of the groom?

Shelley looked more like Jack’s older sister. But in every way that mattered, Jack was her son.

She was damn proud of the man he’d become.

The bartender took the brush off philosophically. “If you change your mind, I’m off at eleven.” His smile promised decadent things. Hot, sexy, naughty things that she hadn’t experienced in a good long while.

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“I bet you could be a lot better.” He lightly flirted. Not enough to be offensive, but clear enough that if she wanted to she could probably hook up with him when he got off work. Except he left her cold.

Besides the fact that he was younger than her adopted sons, she wasn’t attracted to the muscle-bound bartender. At all.

Someone brushed by her seat, so close, the hint of clean soap and bracing aftershave tantalized her senses. Heat skittered along the bare skin of her back. And she couldn’t help but turn to see who initiated that reaction. He had a broad chest laden with muscles, wide shoulders, a flat stomach, thick shiny black hair with a few threads of silver, and the healthy glow of the physically fit on his dark-skinned, likely Hispanic, face. He languidly sat on one of the barstools three down from her. His magnetism was like a force field, and Shelley had to consciously avert her gaze.

The heat the bartender had been trying to generate was a flicker compared to the surge of attraction this guy caused. Her response was so intense, Shelley flushed.

Shelley purposely kept her attention on the tart drink in front of her.

Within a minute, two overly made up and overly bare twenty-somethings started chatting up the hot, older guy. She was too old compared to the sexy, young girls who were trying to pick up the man. They were clearly looking for a sugar daddy. She wanted to offer them some hard-fought, well-intentioned advice…Don’t do it.

But she knew they wouldn’t heed her warning.

She sure hadn’t listened to her mother. Which was how she ended up pregnant and alone at eighteen.

The older sophisticated man who’d swept her off her feet, at least it felt like it at the time, had dropped her ass the second he’d found out she was knocked up. While she’d been devastated at the time, looking back on it now, she was grateful that Jack Stone Sr. had dumped her.

She had been forced to become strong and learn to take care of herself.

Jackson Stone Sr. was a class A bastard who left a trail of women behind him.

The best day of Shelley’s life had been going to the Stone mansion and becoming mother to Jack’s boys as well as her own daughter, Jess.

Now her babies were all grown up. In the past few months, all four of her kids had found partners. She approved of her kids’ choices, and believed they had chosen well. She was so thrilled for them. Happy they’d found companions to share the ups and downs of life.

But since they’d all become couples, her life felt more empty than before.

They were all in Las Vegas for a weeklong family vacation and celebration before Jack and Bliss got married.

Connor and Ava, Jess and Colin were already here. Riley and Di would be here in the next few days. Couples everywhere she looked.

Except for her.

She’d come down to the restaurant a little before their family dinner was supposed to begin, to give herself time to gather her thoughts. She didn’t want the sadness that had plagued her lately to overshadow Jack and Bliss’s wedding trip.

Shelley picked up her martini, gave herself a slight tip of the glass to toast successfully raising four kids and then took a sip of the sweet-tart, strong drink. A small, bittersweet smile curved her lips. Four kids.

Damn. She had moments where she felt about a hundred years old. While she wouldn’t trade one moment of the last twenty years for a footloose and fancy free life, melancholy for the loss of her youth hit hard. She’d gladly forsaken her immediate future to raise four kids. But now what did she do?

Her glance shot to the too young women again and she rolled her eyes. Good luck, girls. She’d been cured of that starry eyed innocence in about fifteen seconds when Jackson Stone Senior had told her to get rid of her baby.

She could still remember that visceral shock to her heart when he’d calmly handed her money and said he never wanted to see her again. She’d numbly taken the handout, even though she had no intention of aborting her baby. She’d not been aggressive, she’d just gone away.

Jess had been the first of many blessings in her life. The best decision she’d ever made had been walking away from Jack Sr. The second had been coming back.

Now all her ‘kids’ had found their soulmates.

Most days, Shelley had no belief in love and forever. But she’d never shared her feelings on the subject with her kids. They had to make their own mistakes, their own decisions. She couldn’t fault that all four had found extraordinary people to share their lives with and she hoped with all her heart that they found nothing but joy together. They deserved every drop of happiness they could eke out of life.

However their love had unleashed a long buried wish for that same kind of closeness with a man. Her young romantic soul had been crushed by years of struggle. Sex had been number one hundred and one on her priority list. She might not believe in forever love, but she’d sure like to experience some physical, temporary sex.

She’d watched the father of her child run through women like a bowling ball through pins. He’d also managed to alienate his entire family along the way. Thankfully, nowadays Jackson left them alone.

He had certainly managed to get more than his fair share of sex while Shelley had been basically celibate at home. She’d dated several men in the last few years. Nice, debonair older men. The kind who hadn’t helped raise their own kids and were searching for wife number three. What was wrong with her that men her own age wanted nothing to do with her?

She was thrilled that her children had found happiness and love. But she knew she was destined to be alone.

* * *

Enrique “Bulletproof” Santana, Ric to his friends, BP to his men, raised a surprised brow at the blatant come on from the hot, young, make that barely legal woman, who’d approached him as soon as he sat down to wait for his friend on the bar stool at AquaKnox.

“You in the mood to party?” The brunette ran one neon pink, polished nail down the placket of his white Polo shirt.

“We’re available.” Her friend who was almost identical except her hair color was blonde, crowded close to his other side and let her surgically enhanced breasts rub against his bicep.

They were gorgeous, no question, all tanned long legs, large fake breasts, and puffy lips slicked with bright gloss that matched their nails. Their dresses revealed as much as they concealed, in bright geometric patterns with strategic cutouts, and spike heels that could double as lethal weapons.

But he wasn’t interested in the sure things.

He was likely crazy, because his attention kept returning to the sleek woman at the end of the bar like a heat seeking missile targeting infrared radiation. She exuded a subtle sexuality that was far more appealing than the obvious charms of the two girls next to him. The woman at the end of the bar had some mileage, she was probably close to his age, but she wore it well. More than well. Fantastically.

He’d been feeling less than content lately. As if something were missing in his life. He’d accomplished his career goals, achieved the rank of Commander in the Navy before he retired to form his own company.

His choice of companion had definitely gotten younger as he’d gotten older, mostly because women his age tended to be married with kids, or divorced and bitter. However, he found himself ignoring the unsubtle chicks in favor of the older, more seasoned woman, and that surprised him.

When the woman at the end of the bar pursed her red slicked lips over the edge of the martini glass, his cock stiffened at the lush promise of her mouth. She exuded an understated sex appeal that was all the more attractive because she wasn’t trying at all.

The sugar from the rim coated her lips and all he could think about was licking those crystals from her mouth, then having her mouth pucker over something more personal.

She didn’t have that frantic air of desperation that hovered most of the women he met these days. Or the calculated eagerness that he detected in the wide-eyed gazes of the young women who continued to run their soft, pampered hands with their sharp colorful nails along his chest.

These girls were searching for the bonus, figuring out how they could get ahead from the encounter. Versus the woman at the end of the bar who wasn’t even in the game.

Ric carefully grasped the brunette’s hand and lifted it away from his body. “Excuse me, ladies.” He walked between the nubile babe sandwich without a backward glance.

Life was too short to waste time. When he knew what he wanted, he went after it. His problem lately was he had no freaking idea what he wanted.

Until she sat down at this bar.

Suddenly all he wanted was her.

He had a commitment tonight. He could bail. As long as he was at the ceremony in a few days, his buddy would understand his compulsion to snatch this woman up and take her for a ride. Before he’d abruptly turned into a taken man, his former SEAL teammate had been just as willing to avail himself of a hot woman as Ric.

He prowled toward the woman tucked away at the end of the bar. She glanced over just as her pink tongue swiped at the sugar-frosted rim of her martini glass. An unexpected flush rose from the deep V of her neckline, her breasts demurely showcased by the black little black dress. The blush spread over her face as she intuited his predatory intent.

She started to hunch, then determinedly squared her shoulders and deliberately shifted her attention to the glowing blue wall behind the bar. Water cascaded down the glass wall and shimmered in the subtle lighting.

“Is this seat taken?” He spoke directly to her, forcing her to acknowledge him. His voice deepened as he leaned closer and inhaled her sexy, earthy scent. Up close, her skin glowed with a healthy tan. Her inner exuberance for life completely overshadowed that subdued, demure façade.

She lifted her vibrant green gaze and held his for one long moment. The she dropped the thick fringe of her dark lashes and shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

“Ric.” He held out his hand, knowing she’d take it. Her good manners would force her to shake even if she wanted to avoid him.

“Shelley.” Her voice was husky as he slid his palm against hers. The shock of electricity was instantaneous and physically visceral. A bolt of attraction zinged straight to his cock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an incendiary reaction to a mere brush of hands.

Instant lust. Damn. He wanted her.

Now. For hours. If just the touch of her hand evoked this kind of physical reaction, he couldn’t begin to imagine what would happen when he covered her body with his and drove home. Just thinking about it hardened his cock into a club.

Her hand was small and delicate in his, but not soft. She had some calluses as if she were unafraid of hard work. The contrast was highly intriguing.

Which enthralled him even more.

She snatched her fingers away. Goose bumps peppered her arms and her nipples poked the black silky fabric. Ric suppressed a wickedly satisfied grin. Oh yeah. She was as affected as he was.

He knew had to proceed carefully or she would bolt.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

Ric raised his index finger to signal the bartender. When he sauntered over his face was set in an annoyed frown. “I’ll have another Sam Adams. And can you please put the lady’s drink on my tab?”

“It’s already taken care of,” the bartender responded shortly. Ric had seen him hit on the woman earlier, clearly her sex appeal wasn’t limited to forty-year-old guys. Because the bartender was easily ten years younger than her. Possibly more.

Ric understood the bartender’s animosity but no way was he going to let this kid win. His life’s strategy had served him well. She was his. Win at all costs.

She jerked. “But—”

“It’s already taken care of,” the bartender said again firmly.

Her smile lightened her face and brightened her moss green eyes. “Thank you.”

The bartender glared at Ric before speaking to Shelley. “My pleasure.”

“What brings you to Las Vegas?” Ric propped his elbow on the clear bar with lights embedded in the Lucite, and turned his back to the bartender effectively cutting him off and enclosing them in a private circle of two.

“Look. I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice man.”

Nice. The kiss of death. Ric suppressed the urge to snort. He wasn’t nice. But he also didn’t want to scare her.

“I can be not so nice,” he said silkily. The insinuation registered in her small inhalation of breath. Not giving her time to complete the brush off, he leaned so close he could see the dilation of her pupil as her body reacted to his words. Clearly he’d sparked a chemical reaction and she was thinking of something not so nice too.

Hoo-yah, she was as affected as he was.

Her skin warmed and her scent, something floral with a hint of earthy musk, heated and surrounded him. God damn, he could just eat her up. Her breath caught at their combined heat and the promise in his eyes. He wanted her. Wanted to spend the night with her, exploring all her sweet feminine places. Her hand fluttered at the base of her neck where her pulse beat rapidly in her throat. Her tongue came out again, this time to lick at her lips. Ric nearly groaned. He’d never had this kind of primitive reaction to a woman in his life.

She might be saying not interested, no thank you, but her body was giving him a completely different message. Come and get me.

He wanted to fist pump in triumph, but he kept his reaction under wraps.

“I—”

“No games.” He didn’t want to waste time on some sexual dance that was half seduction, half innuendo, but all fake. He wanted to press up against her. Wanted to show her without words how much he wanted her. “I am insanely attracted to you.”

She rolled her eyes. He could tell she was getting ready to blow him off. And God, for the first time in his life, the thought of begging didn’t fill him with disgust. He was ready to get down on his knees and plead with her to spend time with him.

“I think you’d have better luck with your previous companions. I’m sure you can catch them if you run.” She dismissed him with a cool smile and feigned disinterest. Except the flush across her chest and face had deepened and her pupils had dilated nearly encompassing the bright green of her iris.

His body seized with almost frantic desperation. She was trying to shut him down. His entire endorphin system was going haywire, as if an EMP had wiped out every cogent thought except one. Get closer to her.

“I don’t want them.” If he didn’t get to touch her, he would expire on the spot. “I want you.”

“Eeep.” She gulped down the martini, her lips pursed against the glass rim, and Ric’s entire body froze, paralyzed with lust.

“I’m not bluffing.” The rough edge to his voice had her leaning back.

“Um.” Her painted fingernails pushed the almost empty martini glass between them as if she could create a barrier to protect herself. But she couldn’t protect herself from her own body’s reaction to the pheromone cocktail that was making him dizzy and drunk on her.

Ric’s heart thudded with an unrelenting sense of panic. He couldn’t stand it if she shut him out.

“Problem here?” The bartender interrupted.

Ric responded quickly, “No.”

“Not at all,” she replied politely and shot the bartender a bland, half smile before turning to address Ric. “You certainly are direct.”

“I’m old enough to know what I want and go after it.” Ric slid closer to her and yes! she didn’t back away. Her tongue came out and licked the sugar that dusted her mouth.

“My,” she said faintly.

She clearly wasn’t used to the honest approach or the fact that he considered her sexy. But damn, his body was on fire.

“Have dinner with me.” He curled his fingers over her free hand, the one resting on her bare knee. “Let’s get to know each other better.”

What he wanted to say was, Come back to my room with me. Let me feast on your curves and learn every erogenous zone on your delicious form. Let me worship your body and discover your secret places and subtle turn ons.

But as skittish as she was, if he confessed what he wanted to do to her, she’d rabbit. And in this monstrosity of a hotel, he’d never see her again.

“I have plans,” she said huskily.

“So do I.” He threaded his fingers through hers. Her hand was cool to the touch but a fire burned beneath her prim dress and her lowered lashes. She was thinking about it. “But I’d rather make new plans.”

He wanted to push harder. Being passive wasn’t in his nature. But instinctively Ric knew if he didn’t back off some he’d lose the opportunity. He hadn’t made O-6 pay grade because he’d been tentative or indecisive. He’d risen through the ranks of the Navy because he’d been a creative problem solver.

“I’m sure you could find an easier…dinner companion,” she demurred. Still trying to deny their attraction.

“I look at obstacles as opportunities.”

She laughed breathlessly. Her fingers tensed under his, as he carefully stroked his index finger over the back of her hand. And he prayed that she’d throw caution to the wind and agree to have dinner with him.

He was so close he could see the striations of green in her eyes along with her clear longing to leap. “No strings.”

She raised one perfectly groomed auburn eyebrow as if to say, really?

He kept up the honesty. “Didn’t say I don’t want there to be strings. Just that I won’t attach any to dinner.”

She traced the rim of her almost empty martini glass with one French-manicured nail. Her shoulders had hunched slightly and he knew she was getting ready to say no.

“Take a chance.” Ric urged. “Throw the dice. It’s Vegas.”

Acquiescence flowed over her body like a wave crashing on the shore of Coronado. “Where are we going to dinner?”

For some reason, Ric felt as if he’d already won the war. “Follow me.”

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Two

Ric. The insanely hot man who’d just asked her to so much more than dinner lead her away from the bar, his fingers curled around hers loosely. She might be inexperienced but she wasn’t stupid.

Shelley tried not to shiver but her body was lit up like the neon flashing, frenetic lights of the Strip and she buzzed with adrenaline and the anticipation of doing something wicked. She was so far outside her comfort zone right now she might never find her way back to the settled land of easy and comfortable.

As he rubbed his thumb over the sensitive valley in her palm, Shelley wasn’t sure she cared.

Her heart beat in her chest, pounding out an uneven rhythm as she realized that for the first time in years she was doing something strictly for herself. His forearm, muscled and thick and dusted with dark hair, brushed against hers, causing a cascade of tingles through her entire body. From his forearm. As if he was having a similar response to her, he gripped her hand tighter, possibly worried she might run away.

Which was a fairly intuitive reaction, because with every other step she second-guessed her response. What was she doing? She was supposed to be meeting her kids and their significant others for dinner. Not running off with a stranger.

A stranger whose bicep strained the ribbed hem of his short sleeve white Polo shirt. The bright clean white emphasized his darkly tanned, smooth skin. The pique shirt clung to the pectorals and rippled abs beneath the simple cotton. His khaki pants cupped an interesting, mouth-watering bulge. His quads bunched and released beneath the innocuous pants as he strode purposefully toward a small steak house hidden in the corner of the giant lobby.

He wore the uniform of the casually rich, like so many of the men in her home town, but instead of a gym-toned body and slight paunch, he radiated power and a unconscious virility that had her weak in the knees.

Her insides tightened and her sex clenched as she thought about all that power and strength between her thighs. She pictured him above her, his strong jaw tight with determination as he invaded her body with long luxurious thrusts and a fierce sexuality.

She was crazy.

She was imagining sex with a stranger.

A stranger who evoked a pure intense sexual desire that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, if ever. She’d been an infant when Jackson Stone Sr. had swept her off her feet.

Now, she was a mature woman.

A mature horny woman who hadn’t had a man in a long damn time. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever had a man that was this much man. He exuded testosterone and radiated a sexual power that would be thrilling and overwhelming in the bedroom. That was still no reason to run away from her commitments and consider doing inappropriate things with a stranger.

Or imagine a man she just met naked and sweaty and rocking her world.

“We’d like a table in the back, if possible.” Ric smiled at the young hostess. His teeth were startlingly white in his swarthy face and emphasized his full, dark red lips. One smile and the girl scrambled to make him happy.

Shelley couldn’t stop the instinctive eye roll at the girl’s obvious reaction to his sensuality. She tried to ease away but he anticipated the move and pulled her closer. So close the heat of his body seeped into hers. Her entire body sizzled as if he exerted some sexual force field that caused the air to whoosh from her lungs and the atmosphere around them to snap and crackle with unfulfilled cravings.

Ric stared into her eyes. “You are so beautiful.”

“You’re in the land of beautiful.” She tried to deflect because really, telling her she was beautiful?—Of course the initial pleasure at a compliment was nice, but—let’s get real.

There were beautiful women everywhere in Vegas.

“It shines from inside you, in your bright eyes and the glow of your skin. And it’s all the more potent because you don’t seem to realize how attractive you are.”

With those words, she melted. Because even if it was a line, he’d delivered it with such sincerity that she was loathe to contradict him. She hadn’t been complimented like that since Connor when he was in third grade and he’d written a poem about her hair and eyes. Connor! The kids.

She was supposed to be going to dinner with them. Crap. “I need to let my…friends know I won’t be joining them for dinner.”

“Ah, yeah.” He smiled deprecatingly. “Me too.”

He moved with an innate grace. He pulled her chair away from the table in an unconscious move that told her that he was no stranger to the chivalrous gesture. As she sank into the cushioned chair, Ric trailed his fingers across the back of her bared shoulders. What should have been an impersonal touch became a sensual caress as his slightly callused fingers scraped along her nerve endings and shimmered over her skin. Goose bumps peppered over her arms, arrowing from her shoulders down to her neglected sex. Everything tingled.

Shelley needed to focus and settle her family so that she could enjoy this dinner, date, whatever this was.

She sent a quick text to her daughter Jess. Going to bow out for dinner. See you tomorrow morning at the spa. ☺

Her phone dinged. Jess: Everything okay?

All good. Enjoy your dinner. xo mom

Jess: U want me to chk on u?

No! Panic immobilized her, but she had to play it cool. Otherwise, Jess would be at her door and realize that she wasn’t in her room.

Shelley quickly texted back to her. All good. Just tired. Love u. mom Turning off my ringer for the nite. Have fun!

The hesitation that had gripped her earlier was gone. She wanted to be here. Wanted to spend time with this man. Hopefully the promise of him would live up to her expectations. She suddenly knew that she needed this night for herself.

Wanted him for herself.

“Everything okay?” His liquid dark eyes pierced her as if he could see inside her soul to the anticipation that fired her body.

“No problems.” She wasn’t about to confess that she was texting her adult daughter. This wasn’t about getting to know each other, about beginning a relationship, this was about mutual attraction. Mutual satisfaction. Distilled down to its elemental level, this night was about sex.

About him and her in a hot sweaty tangle of limbs and lips.

Bringing up the fact that her daughter was twenty-seven was a sure mood killer. He’d probably dated women younger than Jess.

That quickly, her confidence fizzled again. What was she doing?

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

Shelley pushed back her chair. “Nowhere.” She wasn’t about to share her mental journey into her sad, lonely history. Before she could stand, he grabbed her chair near her thigh and pulled it under the table. His bicep flexed as he easily moved her back into place.

“Don’t go.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” she confessed.

“Having a drink.” He smiled, but there was an edge to the smile that caused her pulse to speed and her heart to thunder. “And dinner.”

“I don’t do this kind of thing.”

“Eat?” he inquired with amusement.

“Eat with strange men.”

“Hey. I’m hardly strange.” His dark eyes glimmered, full of sensual intent, in the flickering candlelight. That focused regard set her off balance again. “But let’s change it so that we aren’t strangers anymore.”

Getting to know each other? Once he knew her, he wouldn’t want her.

As if he could sense her jittery need to run, he squeezed her fingers and said softly, “I don’t do this either. Not anymore. At the risk of being too honest, at least not in the last five or six years.”

Conversely his honesty calmed her. She liked that he waited for her to process his revelation. So she stayed. Settled.

Get to know each other. She could do that. In Monterey, she was the Queen of Small Talk.

“What do you do?” Shelley asked.

He answered, easily, vaguely. “Security.”

He didn’t hold himself with a military bearing and she should know, since all three of her boys had served. Jack and Riley in the Navy and Con in the Army. He had a casual slouch that in no way diminished his power or intensity. She didn’t want to bring up the military.

“How about you?”

There was another conversational topic she wasn’t going to touch. Since she spent most of her time in Monterey volunteering, serving on philanthropic boards, and now farming, she tended to forget that she was an extremely wealthy woman.

She didn’t get out much, so being a target for a con man or scam artist was usually not a concern. Except since the article in the paper that highlighted her wealth, instead of the ground breaking philanthropic farm she owned, she’d been the focus of several stalkerish emails and internet proposals. Now she was in Las Vegas and Jack seemed to think she needed to be extra careful. He’d warned her before they arrived. Because of the crazies who’d come out of the woodwork after that article, Jack had been concerned for her safety.

“I’m a farmer.” Which was true. She had been an avid contributor to the Food for Life food bank for years. And recently she’d bought land and begun a program to work farmland, not for profit, but specifically to supply fresh produce to the local food bank. She was very proud of Happy Tummy Farm. But she didn’t want to get into the specifics.

“Ah.” Ric still held her fingers in his. He lifted her hand and turned it over so that her palm was open and exposed. Then he kissed the sensitive hollow with a brief press of his firm lips. “That would explain the calluses.”

Lightheadedness swamped her.

Good lord, he’d only kissed her palm.

An unexpected moan escaped as he kissed her palm again, his lips lingering. She closed her eyes in a swell of embarrassment so acute she wasn’t sure if she’d recover.

“Damn, I want to hear that again.” This time he kissed her palm and caressed her with a barely there lick of his tongue against the already sensitized skin.

“Oh my God.”

Shelley tried to tug her hand away and squeezed her thighs together as if she could hold in the rush of arousal creaming her exquisite black lace panties.

“Christos. I want to hear you moan like that in my ear.” He nipped at the heel of her hand and another zing of arousal traveled through her body like a wildfire through a drought-ridden canyon.

Another rush of arousal flooded her. As if an alien had overtaken her body, she placed her hand on his thigh, and beneath her palm his muscles flexed. She leaned over so that her mouth was right next to his ear. Food was forgotten. Getting to know him better was forgotten. All she wanted to was to be alone with him.

“Let’s go.” Her lips skimmed the whorl of his ear. Her cheek brushed his and though he had obviously shaved earlier, the slightest scruff of stubble scraped against her softer skin.

Common sense reared its head. She needed to be clear. “Only for tonight.”

“That works.” His hand over hers squeezed tight. He pulled back just enough that an inch separated their noses as he stared into her eyes. His black gaze was like liquid sin. “You sure?”

There it was again. Chivalry.

So she gave him the only answer that she could. “Yes.”

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Three

Ric followed Shelley into the elevator, admiring her from the backside while the mirrored walls reflected her from all angles. The look on her face was soft, luminous. Her eyelids were heavy and a subtle glow shined her skin.

She had gorgeous lines to her body. She had curves. Not too curvy but enough that no matter where he grabbed he’d have a handful. Which meant she was built for sex.

Dammit. His body was on fucking fire. His erection pressed against the zipper of his rarely worn khakis. He leaned back against the rail and pulled her in front of him, knowing the security guys in the booth just got a great shot of him sporting wood.

Ric slid his hands around her hips and rested his palms on the slightly rounded curve of her belly. The touch was less than sexual but as she relaxed into his embrace, she eased back against his chest.

“Oh.” She let out the surprised puff of sound as his dick nestled into the cleft of her ass. He started to try to put space between their bodies but her palms skimmed over his forearms to rest over his hands and effectively held him in place.

Ric nuzzled the sweet spot behind her ear with his nose. “The first time is going to be hard and fast. Is that a problem for you?” He sure as hell hoped not because he wasn’t sure he could go slow until he took the edge off this insane lust.

“The first time,” she said faintly. But as if his words flipped a switch, she melted further into his embrace.

He ran his tongue down her neck, until he hit her collarbone and then he nipped the thin skin over the delicate frame.

The elevator dinged.

“My floor.” One more time he worried she was going to change her mind. Not that he couldn’t deal with the extreme hard on himself if need be but he was literally dying to sink into her hot, wet, sex and discover her feminine secrets.

“Thank God.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the elevator.

Ric grabbed his key card and shoved the key in the slot, desperate to get inside his room and inside her.

The heavy door swung open and they stumbled in. A soft glow cast light on the side of the bed but the rest of the room was bathed in shadows.

“I need you.” As the door slammed shut, Ric shoved Shelley up against the wall and devoured her mouth. He might have felt badly about the rough treatment except she was yanking his Polo from the waist of his pants as he eased down the zipper of her dress.

Her hands were insistent and hot on the skin of his back as she rubbed against the fucking pipe in his pants.

Her shoulders were pressed against the wall but she’d canted her hips so that the ridge of her pubic bone massaged his erection. He shoved the dress off her shoulders, and it dropped to the carpet.

Ric nipped at her lips as he took in her glory. She was perfect. High pert breasts, a mostly flat stomach with a just a hint of curve, and nicely rounded hips. The see through lace of her bra revealed as much as it concealed, and her nipples speared the delicate fabric broadcasting her arousal.

She wore boy cut, lace panties that matched her bra and a pair of spike-heeled pumps that made her almost as tall as he was.

The sight of Shelley in her sexy lingerie and her heels nearly brought him to his knees. “God damn, you’re beautiful.”

She ripped his shirt over his head and ran her hands over his stomach. His abs rippled in respond to the scratch of her nails against his six pack. Ric scraped his teeth down the cord of her neck and pressed sucking kisses along her collarbone. “Unbutton.” Sucking kiss. “My.” Sucking kiss. “Pants.”

She caressed his cock through the fabric and he groaned deep and husky in his throat. “Now,” he demanded gutturally.

She fumbled with his zipper as he cupped her breast and lifted the globe from the lace so he could suck her distended nipple into his mouth.

Her head thunked the foil-papered wall, while her fingers were busy shoving his pants to the floor. He toed out of his loafers as her hot palm curled around his thick, almost painful, erection.

Her breath caught as she pumped once, twice.

“Dios, cariña. Not going to last long.”

Ric slid his palms underneath the lace of her panties and curled his fingers over her ass, shoving the black lace down her toned thighs with impatient urgency.

He wanted nothing more than to push into her tight wet heat. But he’d never gone without a condom and he wasn’t about to start now. “Condom,” he muttered against her damp skin, his breath made her nipple pucker even harder.

But she still didn’t lessen her grip.

“Honey, you’ve got to let me go.”

Once she loosened her hold, Ric paused for a moment to study the picture of her. She leaned languidly against the hotel room wall. Her thick auburn hair tumbled around her shoulders, her breasts popped out of the lace cups, on display for his ardent gaze, and her panties puddled on the floor around her fuck me heels. A simple diamond pendant lay in the valley between her spectacular breasts. Her heavy lidded gaze met his openly and she smiled seductively like a temptress. Her nipples were wet from his mouth. Her legs were slightly apart and arousal glistened on her thighs.

Her heady musk scented the air and ramped him higher, harder.

“Hurry,” she whispered.

“Fuck. Don’t move.” He hustled to the bathroom and thanked God he’d unpacked before he’d gone to the bar. He ripped open the package as he strode back to her, then rolled the rubber over his aching cock.

He was back in a flash, and with one quick eager move he shifted his palms beneath her ass and lifted her up. With a jerky motion he impaled her on his cock.

They both groaned as she sank down, her pussy gripped him tight and to the hilt.

“Wrap your legs around me.” She was still wearing the stilettos. Damn if that image didn’t make him even harder.

She curled her arms around his shoulders and used her leg muscles to bounce up and down on his cock. Her heels dug into the flesh of his ass. Ric slanted his mouth over hers and inhaled her as he pounded up into her tight feminine sheath.

Every thrust rubbed the length of his cock against her clit and massaged her. Her breathing became more erratic. With a long lusty moan, she blew over the edge into orgasm. Her pussy convulsed around his cock, sucking, contracting, until he came with a shout, pumping into her with unrestrained fervor. Her breasts bounced with every thrust.

Fireworks exploded beneath his closed eyelids as he pumped and pumped, expelling his come in a burst so forceful his knees dipped and his mind fuzzed at the loss of cognizance. She was digging her nails into his shoulders so hard he’d have marks in the morning and he didn’t give a damn.

Her pussy continued to squeeze his erection. Sweat slicked his skin and heat rose from her body. Her nipples rubbed his pecs and her thighs still had a steely grip on his hips as her orgasm seemed to go on forever.

Ric’s heart tattooed a frantic rhythm in his chest, banging hard even as the beat slowed. Adrenaline and endorphins pinged through him in a cocktail of sexual satisfaction. God damn, he knew their attraction was off the charts but he still hadn’t expected this.

He stayed rooted inside her, as he came down from the intense orgasm.

Ric dropped his forehead to the curve of her neck. His breath heaved in and out as if he’d just finished a grueling PT session. He’d feel bad about attacking her like a pit bull except she’d been right there with him.

Now she was as wrecked as he was. Her thighs went lax and her hands were no longer trying to dig into his flesh, and instead rested lightly on his shoulders, while her back pressed up against the wall.

“Holy shit.” He licked her neck, savoring the slightly salty taste. He couldn’t wait to taste her in other more intimate places and smiled against her skin. “Told you round one was gonna be fast but, day-um, that likely set the ground speed record for orgasms.”

She giggled. The soft sough of her breath over his cheek bathed him with pleasure. He needed to get her in bed and start on round two before she had time to think.

Right now she was flushed and satisfied. A lazy smile curved her lips and her eyes sparkled with a hazy satisfaction. But he was pretty sure that once her brain started firing again she’d try to bolt. And no way was he going to let that happen.

* * *

Ric carried her over to the bed. Carried her.

A primeval thrill fizzed in her blood. She was in good shape for her age but she was not a lightweight. His biceps bulged as he strode toward the king sized bed but he wasn’t struggling at all.

He held her with one arm and yanked the sheets down the bed. Then he knelt on one knee and placed her gently on the cool, high thread count cotton.

She was wrapped around his torso like an octopus. Suddenly she realized that when she let go, he’d be able to see her in all her forty-five year old glory. With her not quite as tight skin, breasts that weren’t quite as perky as in her twenties, and the faint ripples of stretch marks on her tummy from Jess. A mother’s badge of honor but definitely not sexy.

He started to back away and she held on tight. Fortunately he misinterpreted her tight snug hold. “I’m just going to get more condoms.”

Thank God he was prepared. She certainly hadn’t planned to have sex when she’d come to Vegas for Jack and Bliss’s wedding.

He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek and she forced herself to smile and pretend that she wasn’t totally embarrassed about being naked in front of a stranger. As if he understood, his gaze hadn’t left her face. He stared at her for another minute, tracing her features, before he headed to the bathroom. The ambient light from the open bathroom door accented the play of his glutes as he moved with unselfconscious grace.

She couldn’t help it. She pulled the sheets up and over her breasts. She knew she looked pretty good for her age, but she certainly didn’t look anything like the bar bunnies who had been hanging on him earlier tonight.

Her brain started working overtime. What was she doing here? This was madness. She was a mother of four adult children. Even if they weren’t all biologically hers. She shouldn’t have engaged in a random hook up in a bar.

Her breath shortened. Worry and shame tightened her lungs. Her fingers curled around the sheet as she contemplated throwing it off and making a grab for her clothes.

He tossed three condoms on the nightstand. Three. Condoms.

Her insecurity built. The pressure, the worry that she couldn’t give him what he wanted, what she wanted, hit her. And she couldn’t draw in precious air.

Then Ric was there. “Cariña, take a deep breath.”

She realized he was right. She was practically hyperventilating.

He was gorgeous. Lean muscled strength, a smattering of dark hair dusted his pectorals and arrowed down to his hardening erection.

The sight of all that masculinity, the thick purple head of his cock, kissed with a glistening drop of arousal was stunning. His cock bobbed showcasing the V of his muscles, his thighs bunched and flexed as he crawled over her. His body was awe inspiring, but what had her breath slowing and her heartbeat calming, was the intent, intense look in his glittering dark eyes. He wanted her.

Why, she had no idea.

“Breathe,” he commanded.

He knelt on one knee, curled his palm around her nape and kissed her. His lips were warm and firm. He invaded her mouth with his tongue in a confident, aggressive move.

She loosened her death grip on the sheet and stroked the warm tensile strength of his biceps. She waited for him to lower over her. It was hard to miss what you rarely had but she still trembled in anticipation of his bigger, harder body covering hers. Inside hers.

The musky scent of sex permeated the warm air surrounding them, wrapped them in a sensual blanket of heat and lust. “I can’t wait to taste all of you.” Her body responded to his words as if he’d licked all those places he couldn’t wait to touch.

Ric gently tugged the sheet away from her body. His palm skimmed over the curve of her breast, her nipple hardened into his caress. With a reverent hiss, he trailed his tongue down her neck and then pressed wet open mouthed kisses along her breastbone until he stopped in the valley of her breasts.

His face buried between her breasts was a visual aphrodisiac. His dark hair brushed the sensitized skin of her breastbone and the scruff of his beard was a delicious scrape over her softer skin as he nuzzled one mound with his mouth and cupped the other in his hot palm.

Shelley didn’t just want to be a recipient of his sexual attention. She needed to be an active participant in their physical play. She skimmed her toes up the back of his thighs, and gloried in the bunch of his ass beneath her hands. His cock brushed the valley of her stomach like a hot thick brand. Good, gracious, he was hard again, searing her with the promise of ecstasy.

She squeezed her arms around his shoulders trapping his head between her breasts. He snickered and turned his head to the side, licking up the slope before suckling her nipple into his mouth.

“You’re not distracting me that easily.” He pushed up, disengaging her legs, as he nipped his way down her stomach. She prayed he wouldn’t notice the silvery strands of her stretch marks.

But he was too busy tonguing her belly button to comment on her body. Her thighs fell open as he kissed and suckled his way down her body until his nose was buried in the auburn curls at her sex.

He smiled against her clit.

“Oh,” she gasped. “You don’t have to—”

“You’re right.” His tongue lapped at her slit in one long languid lick. “I want to.”

She’d only had this done to her a few times. And it had been nice but truly she couldn’t seem to let go of her inhibitions enough to enjoy it. “Really.”

Ric scooped his arms underneath her thighs, lifting her up until the back of her legs rested on his shoulders, his palms cupped her ass, and he was face planted in the heart of her sex. He inhaled slowly, then pressed an open mouthed kiss right over her opening.

He spread his palms wide and pressed down on her lower belly as his tongue continued to do wicked things to her. His swarthy skin was a stark contrast to her pale belly and lighter curls. Her pulse sped up.

“What a gorgeous pink pussy.”

Her hips jerked at the dirty talk.

He chuckled against her curls and then used his thumbs to spread her wide. The air was cool against her damp sex. “Someone likes it dirty.”

Her entire sex clenched, dying for more of him.

As if he knew exactly what she wanted, he jammed his tongue inside, stabbing in a rhythm that had her clenching wanting more than the bulk of his tongue inside her, wanting the girth and thrust of his cock.

Her feet were planted next to his shoulders and her hips rocked involuntarily into the hot press of his mouth. His slight stubble stimulated nerve endings as her whole attention narrowed to the carnal attention of his tongue and the stroke of his hands.

God it was building again. Her body was like a hot air balloon slowly filling, expanding until she knew she was going to take off in a burst of helium. Anticipating her imminent explosion, Ric’s mouth continued to work her sex and he slid his hands up and cupped her breasts.

Then he sucked her clit into his mouth at the same time he pinched her nipples hard. She lifted off, flying as her sex clenched around nothing, convulsing with an explosive fury.

The lusty moan that erupted from her was as much a surprise as her body imploding in a spectacular burst of sexual bliss. She was going to have to rethink her position on oral sex. That had been more than just nice.

She wasn’t loud during sex. She wasn’t loud anytime. She was proper, and quiet, and dignified. She’d spent years perfecting that persona, dealing with the malicious gossips and their snide comments when she’d first gone to live at the Stone Mansion at twenty-five.

She was a calm placid lake. Nothing could rattle her. And that naturally bled over into her somewhat sparse sex life.

At least it had. Ric continued to work at her, feeding an orgasm that seemed to go on and on and on. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “I don’t—”

He pulled her closer as she tried to push away from the intensity of her climax. But Ric held her down, pressed on her belly and continue to eat at her. She didn’t usually have multiple orgasms. One per night seemed to be her limit so she was already at 200 percent.

She was almost incoherent. “I can’t—”

“Of course you can.” He smiled, she could feel his lips curving against her sex.

She was forty-five years old and she still had problems with sex talk. It stemmed from early sexual experiences resulting in an unexpected pregnancy. She had stunted her sexual growth. Being a single mother, and then suddenly mother to four at twenty-five, she had skipped the sexual revolution and the world’s easy acceptance of casual sexual encounters. Which meant sometimes she had difficulty verbalizing explicit wishes and situations. “But you haven’t….”

“I will.” He prowled up her body dropping kisses in random spots, her hipbone, the valley between her ribcage, the underside of her breast.

His cock was hard and hot along her thigh. Even as loose as she was right now, taking him again was going to be a challenge. Dammit, if she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.

Her arm was trembling as she reached for the condom packet. “I believe in equal opportunity orgasms. Your turn.”

She tore open the package and tossed it onto the carpet. With careful deliberation, she rested the condom on the head of his cock. Her fingers strummed along his thick length. Damn, he was big.

“I’m all for equal rights,” he quipped. Ric groaned as she rolled the condom slowly over his erection all the way down to the root.

She explored his body with her hands, running her palms over his broad shoulders and skimming the defined muscles of his lats. With an unexpected urgency, she sucked on his tight nipple and grabbed his ass.

“Trying to slow it down here.” Ric panted.

“Why?” she murmured against his mouth. Completely bewildered.

“Mutual satisfaction.”

“I’ve already been satisfied,” she said urgently. “Twice.”

Ric laughed low and husky, the sound trilling over her nerve endings and stimulating a cascade of shivers. “Yes, you have.” He rubbed the head of his cock over her dripping sex. She wanted him inside her again.

Everything in her clenched. She was nearly blind with need. She curled her legs around his butt and urged him to breach her. “Do it.” It was a command, and finally he listened.

He slid all the way inside her, filled her up, buried to the hilt, her sex sheathed his girth. “I guess round three will be the slow and steady one.”

Round three?

But before she could register that thought, Ric began to power in and out of her, and sensation after sensation bombarded her. The heat of his body, the thick invasion of his cock, the rub of his chest hair against her breasts.

Then he tunneled his hands underneath her body and tilted her hips. The new position changed the angle of his thrusts and suddenly the head of his cock rubbed a spot inside her.

Oh my God.

She’d thought the infamous g-spot was a myth. But Ric had just busted that myth wide open.

Shelley moaned. Her channel was on fire as he breeched her body and caressed that sensitive ridge. Her desire swelled and grew in immense waves until she trembled on the verge of another cliff. Impossible.

She never had this many orgasms. But as his body plundered hers, with every rock of his hips, her nerve endings focused on that spot.

His thrusts took on an urgency and he began to slam into her. Each bang increased the pressure on that secret internal ridge, and her body began to shake. He slammed his mouth over hers, their teeth clashed together. Her hips jerked in time to his thrusts as the incredible pressure built, until scent, sound, sensation crescendoed into a violent mind blowing explosion.

Her vision went white, and she clung to his shoulders as if he could anchor her to this world. Ric groaned into her mouth and his body arched back into a rictus of pleasure. His release pulsed inside her. Her body contracted around his as he shot his come into the condom. Her insides fluttered, triggering another mini-orgasm.

Ric was panting as if he’d just run a marathon and she lay limp and replete beneath him, her body still vibrating with the force of her climax. She couldn’t move. She still couldn’t believe that she’d come again. “You must be some kind of sex magician. I don’t ever….”

He stifled a laugh. “That’s me. I’m a regular David Copperfield of orgasms.” He was draped over her insensate form. Her arms had fallen to her sides, her legs were splayed open and he was hard and satisfied between them.

He should have been too heavy, instead his weight was comforting, pleasing. He rested his forehead in the curve in her neck.

Shelley snickered. She threaded her fingers through his short hair. “At the risk of…swelling your head—“

“Christos, woman, give me a few minutes to recover before you talk about my head swelling again.” He wiggled his hips.

She laughed as he’d meant her to do until his still semi-hard cock hit that spot inside her again and she shivered. “I don’t ever—”

“Let’s change that rhetoric.”

“Hmmm?” She was only half listening as she languidly ran her fingers through his hair and over his strong, muscular shoulders. He was really quite beautiful.

He rephrased her former sentence. “I haven’t in the past ever—”

“Ever,” she said emphatically. Too satisfied and sated to be embarrassed. “Ever. Had that many orgasms in one night.”

“Let’s see if we can set another record.” He rolled them over so that she was on top of him. He ab curled up and swirled his tongue around her nipple. Her sex spasmed as his cock pulsed in her overstimulated sheath and his pubic bone rocked against her clit.

“Give me a second.” Ric discarded the used condom in a tissue on the bedside table and then ripped open another package.

“Not possible.” But good God damn, her body seemed to be on board with another slower round. It was sweet of him but she needed to be honest. “The odds of another orgasm for me are about a billion to one.”

“Never tell me the odds.”

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Four

A loud, frantic pounding on the door woke Ric.

Shelley was draped over his body, one thigh slung over his, her arm across his chest and her chin snuggled into the crook of his neck.

He grinned. Setting records was certainly fun.

The pounding increased in volume. “Jeez. Don’t get your cammies in a twist.”

Shelley lifted her head sleepily. “Everything okay?” Her rich burnished red hair was a tangled mess around her face, beard burn reddened her chest and neck. Love bites peppered the curve of her shoulder. She looked absolutely wrecked and absolutely gorgeous.

“Probably the maid.”

Ric snagged his pants and hustled to the door.

“Come on, BP. Open up!”

Not the maid. He peered out the peephole and sure enough it was his best pal, Jack.

Ric held his pants so he covered his naked cock and opened the door a crack. “Not a good time.”

He could hear Shelley rustling behind him. All he wanted right now was to get rid of Jack and get back to setting more records. He grinned.

“I’ve been texting and calling for the last hour,” Jack snarled.

“Perhaps there’s a good reason why I didn’t answer,” he said mildly. A little surprised since Jack Stone wasn’t really prone to outbursts of emotion. He was a cool calculating SOB most of the time.

“Sorry to disturb your love fest.” Jack pushed the door open with an irritated shove. Since Ric wasn’t expecting it, his body gave instantly as Jack burst into the living room. “I have a big problem. My mom is—“

Jack stopped dead and whirled around. “In your bed? What the fuck, BP?”

“Jack?!” Shelley was clutching the sheet to her chin. She’d drawn her knees to her chest and her eyes were wild as she stared at his friend. But what in the fresh hell was Jack talking about? No way was Shelley old enough to be his mom.

“Shelley.” Jack’s face was set in a murderous frown as he advanced on Ric. “What is going on here?”

“What?” Ric felt like he’d walked into an alternate universe. His lover from last night couldn’t possibly be Jack’s stepmother. Could she?

“Well, if you don’t know then I guess I need to have the birds and the bees talk with you before you and Bliss get married.” Shelley sniped at Jack.

Ric laughed huskily.

Then he frowned when he noted that she had her hand over her eyes and she’d tucked into a ball, making herself a smaller target. Since Jack had burst in here, she hadn’t looked at Ric once.

“Jesus, Shelley.” Jack looked at such a loss that Ric wanted to smile but instead he planned to hustle Jack out of here pronto.

“As you can see, she isn’t missing. Why don’t you give us some privacy?” Ric spread his legs in an uncompromising stance, but his authority was diminished a little by the fact that he was still naked and clutching his pants in front of his dick.

“Jesus, Ric. Put some damn clothes on.” Jack said, “We aren’t done yet.”

Shelley’s forehead thunked on her knees. “You’re my stepson, not my father.” She tried again to lighten the atmosphere but Jack was having none of that.

“So, um, you’re Jack’s….” Ric gulped. He’d had sex with his friend’s stepmother. It sounded dirty, no matter how he looked at it. His gaze snagged on the delicate arch of her collarbone and the hickey on her shoulder and grinned. “You cougar.”

Shelley stifled a laugh. He was pretty sure she was smiling beneath her bowed head. “You aren’t helping.”

Jack muscled his way to stand in between Shelley and Ric. “Put some clothes on. We need to talk.”

“I think you’ve embarrassed Shelley enough for this morning.” Ric was suddenly done with Jack’s blustering. He knew what kind of man his friend was and he wasn’t a saint. Ric and Shelley hadn’t done anything wrong, and they were both consenting adults.

Before he could point out that fact—

“And you,” Jack turned on Shelley. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

Shelley lifted her head and stared steadily at Jack. “You really want me to respond to that?”

“Oh for God’s sake.” Jack rubbed his palms over his face. “My eyeballs are seared and I may be scarred for life. But I need to talk to you and it can’t wait.”

“Are all the kids okay?” The panic in Shelley’s voice pricked Ric’s conscience and that’s when he decided to accommodate Jack.

“Sorry, Shel, yes. Everyone is okay.” Jack said, “But I need to talk to you. Now.”

Ric caught his friend’s urgency and unfisted his pants. He pulled them on one leg at a time. The rasp of the zipper was loud in the silent, tense air. Ric grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt from his old Navy duffel. On his way back to the king sized bed he tried unobtrusively to kick the condom package under the overhang before his friend saw the obvious physical evidence of last night’s sex fest.

Based on the rigidity of Jack’s body, he’d failed.

He handed the concealing clothes to Shelley. “We’ll wait in the sitting area while you….” He gestured to the clothes.

He and Jack stepped down from the bedroom area into the expansive living room of the suite and Ric strode over to the massive floor to ceiling windows.

All the Palazzo rooms were suites. He’d upgraded a bit, but the nine hundred plus square feet of space still wasn’t enough to make this situation comfortable.

Shelley scooted into the bathroom. He stared at her reflection in the windowed glass, assuming his friend had the decency to not look.

“What the hell, BP?”

Ric crossed his arms over his bare chest and turned around to look his friend in the eye. “How was I supposed to know Shelley was your stepmom?”

He didn’t want to mention that they hadn’t exchanged a lot of personal details. But he also needed to defend himself from Jack’s conclusions. “You neglected to mention that she’s gorgeous and she’s hot.”

“Please stop. I’m going to start bleeding from my ears.”

Ric couldn’t help but tease Jack a little more. “Did you know—”

“Ric,” Shelley said sharply. “Stop.”

His lips quirked. He had no grace to be embarrassed. “Come on, babe. You’ve got to admit, it’s a little funny.”

Jack turned on the only mother he remembered. “And you.”

“There’s no Ric on the guest list.” Shelley raised her eyebrow. “How was I supposed to know he was your friend?”

“Enrique Santana.” Ric extended his hand as if they were just being introduced. “It’s a pleasure,” he practically purred.

“Cut it out.” Shelley flushed and batted his hand away. “Jack, why are you in such a tizzy?”

Suddenly Jack’s former animosity fell away. “We couldn’t find you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

There was a solemnness to his face that had Ric sobering up but he couldn’t help but defend her. “She’s hardly a teenager.”

Although she looked like one, swimming in his grey sweats and swallowed up by the large white t-shirt. He couldn’t help the primitive satisfaction that he got from seeing her in his clothes with her hair rumpled and her neck reddened from their festivities.

“I told Jess that I’d see her this morning,” Shelley replied. “We’re not supposed to meet until ten.”

“Yeah, but when Jess went to check on you this morning, your door was open.”

Shelley frowned. “That’s not right. I locked up before I went down to the restaurant.”

“That’s not all.” Jack suddenly looked really reluctant. “Your room had been ransacked. Clothes thrown all over. Your cosmetics were dumped all over the bathroom. Basically your stuff is destroyed.”

“What?”

Ric stepped closer to Shelley, his protective urge instinctive.

Jack stared out the window, avoiding his stepmother’s regard. “I may have downplayed your threat level.”

Ric noticed the shadows underneath his pal’s eyes. Something more was going on here than an outraged son. “What threat level?”

“Um, Jack, maybe we should move this discussion to your room.” Shelley started backing away from the window, from them. “I’m sure Ric has things to do.”

“Not until he answers.” A primal urge to protect and defend roared through him. No one messed with his woman.

Wait, his woman? What the hell? One night of spectacular sex aside, he didn’t have a woman.

“Really Ric.” Oh, the awkwardness here was off the charts. “Thanks for a…lovely evening.”

Lovely. Ric wanted to beat his fists on his chest and howl. Lovely didn’t come close to describing their explosive encounter.

“We’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, actually. This is good,” Jack said.

“Good?” Shelley had stopped backing away.

Shelley looked like she wanted to bolt again. This time for a different reason. With an inexplicable resolve, he didn’t want her to leave.

“What threat level?” Ric asked again.

Jack was glancing between them in pure assessment.

“I’m, ah, fairly well off.” Shelley waved away her fortune.

Ric wondered how she’d gotten it. As far as he knew she’d never married Jack’s father. Maybe she was independently wealthy.

“When my dad decided to bail on us when I was fourteen, I made some stipulations. Shelley got the house, a small percentage of the business, and full legal adoption of all of us. Dad’s only provision was she had to take the Stone name. I think he thought if people believed they were married, women would quit assuming they were going to be the next Mrs. Stone.”

Shelley’s whole face softened. “Such a fierce protector.” Her smile was a little melancholy. “Always looking out for everyone. He was…my champion.”

Ric couldn’t believe the stab of jealousy that pricked his heart. He didn’t want Jack to be her champion, Ric wanted to be the one who put that sweet smile on her lips and that soft look in her eyes.

It was as if her magic pussy had cast some weird emotional spell over him. That random thought had him wanting to take a step back, and usher them out of his room so he could clear his head and go back to enjoying Vegas, all the perks of Vegas, and his friend’s wedding.

“Turns out Shelley is a hell of an investor.” Jack smiled proudly. Then he bluntly cut to the heart of the problem. “She’s loaded.”

Coming from Jack that was pretty impressive because although they never discussed it, Ric knew Jack’s father was the sole owner of Stone Aeronautic Engineering and that he’d developed and patented some part of a plane that every commercial manufacturer and military contractor used. The guy wasn’t just rich, he was mega-rich.

“But how did they find me?” Shelley asked with bewilderment. “I registered under an alias.”

Jack paced the living area of the suite, completely ignoring the opulent luxury. “But no one else in the family did. My wedding isn’t exactly a state secret.”

Shelley snorted. “I was actively involved in the planning. I know exactly how many people know about your wedding.” She teased him.

“Even so.” Jack said softly, “Somehow they figured out your alias. I really don’t like the escalation of this, Shel.”

Ric wondered how serious the threat was. “So what’s the threat?”

“Really, Ric, there’s no need to bother you with this.” She made it sound like it was a trivial issue, like having to ration toilet paper in the latrine. But Ric wasn’t buying it.

When Jack had been banging on the door he’d been panicked. Now that Ric’s head was clearer, he recognized the fear in his friend.

“Shel. BP is in the security business.”

“Why do you keep calling him BP?”

“Bulletproof.” Jack shook his head. “Damndest thing. He never got shot. Ever.”

Shelley made a little ‘oh’ of distress.

He had plenty of other wounds, but in all his years in the Navy he’d never taken a bullet. Of course, that wasn’t relevant right now.

He’d done protection detail on some high level principals. If they needed analysis, he’d make this a working vacation. “I’m happy to help.”

“Great. Then it’s settled.”

“Oh, really, not necessary.” Shelley was backing away again.

Rick shook his head. “What’s settled?”

“You can be Shelley’s protection detail until we figure out where the threat is coming from.”

Ric’s first instinct was to protest.

“Wait, what?” Shelley beat him to it. “No way.”

Perversely, that pissed him off. Wow. “I’m damn good at what I do.” He felt compelled to add in a clear, calm voice.

But something in his face must have given him away because she was suddenly contrite. “This has nothing to do with your skills. I imagine you are hyper-efficient, detail-oriented, and highly effective.”

Suddenly they were both thinking about his skill and attention to detail in the sack. He could see it in the heat of her gaze.

Shelley closed her eyes, and blew out a breath as her head tilted back on her neck. The angle and clean lines reminded him of a moment last night when she’d been on top of him, riding his cock like a cowgirl, with a look of complete ecstasy on her face and sensual abandon in every line of her body.

His cock responded to the memory like Pavlov’s dogs to the damn bell. And he hoped no one was paying attention to his pants otherwise they were going to see the memory response in his morning wood.

“I’m messing this up.” Shelley crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her bare biceps.

She propped her fists on her hips and focused on the extravagant Las Vegas skyline view from his window. It was unseasonably warm this April. Heat shimmered off the pavement, and waiters scurried around the opulent pool delivering food and fruity drinks to the sunbathing guests.

“Only I could have a one night stand who’s going to follow me around for the next four days,” she muttered.

Suddenly Ric’s stomach dropped as he realized he hadn’t really taken that into account. Spend the next few days basically glued to her side? That wasn’t quite how he’d planned to enjoy his vacation either. Of course, he hadn’t planned to have a one night stand that turned into four days of awkward. But he would do it for Jack. And for Shelley.

“And still no one has told me the threat.”

“It’s pretty nebulous.” Shelley blew out a frustrated breath. “You have what belongs to me. I want it back.”

Ric touched on obvious points of contention.

“Sounds personal. So did you beat out anyone for a promotion? Or close a deal that forced someone out?”

“I…own the farm outright now. We did have a bit of a dust up last February, but the man involved confessed, it was all hushed up. He received a commuted sentence. Frankly, he’s lucky his penalty wasn’t worse. I bought him out and the farm is not for profit anyway. I don’t have anything of his.”

“She’s right on that count.” Jack nodded. So he was clearly aware of the farm situation.

Ric slipped into work mode. “Are you dating anyone who recently broke off with another woman?” He was thinking out loud. Then he realized what he’d just asked. Obviously they just reached another level of awkward.

“No,” Shelley bit out.

He knew it was embarrassing, but really she needed to come clean. “Are you sure? Since this sounds personal. Could they have been dating someone and you didn’t realize it?”

“For that scenario to be considered, I would have to have been dating someone.”

“Okay well, let’s go back a few months. Sometimes these things fester.” Ric was thinking about how engaging she was, how funny, how hot, and how sweet. How she could lure away a guy without even trying.

“No one.” She ducked her head, and an embarrassed flush covered her cheekbones. Ric smiled at the tumble of her hair.

“Come on, Shel.” He cajoled. “I know this is a little awkward but we need to start somewhere.”

“Right. Well, my last date was three years ago. I went out to dinner with an older gentleman who was on the Food for Life food bank board with me. He subsequently died a week later. They figured out he had a weak heart.” She snapped, “I really doubt his fifty-year-old daughter has hatched some evil plan to come after me.”

Ric wanted to laugh at her snarky comeback. But he was stuck on the first part of her confession. “Three years?”

She flushed again and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Ric looked to Jack for confirmation because really, that couldn’t be true. No way had the amazingly sexy, hot woman who’d smoked up the sheets with him last night not had a date in three years.

But Jack just nodded.

Three years.

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Five

Shelley wanted a giant sinkhole to appear in the hotel room suite and swallow her up. The humiliation was almost more than she could take.

She knew she should be upset about the fact that her hotel suite was trashed but seriously it was just stuff. She was more dismayed that her one night stand was now quizzing her about her sex life.

Ric was still standing there, unmoving.

Well, wasn’t this special? She’d struck him dumb over her serious lack of sex life.

Now he knew how sexually deprived she was and how much of a total novice she’d been at the whole hook up process. Which would have been fine, if she didn’t have to spend the next four days with him shadowing her every move. And explaining her life in excruciating detail.

“That’s a great idea,” Jack gushed.

Shelley had no idea what idea Jack meant. “What are you talking about?”

“Since I think it’s wise not to advertise that you’ve got a bodyguard, the cover can be that you’re dating.”

Dating? Oh, hell. That was even worse.

Shelley and Ric winced at the same time. Neither one of them had had any intention of seeing each other again after last night. It was supposed to be a one night hook up and stress free encounter.

Oh my God.

For the first time, ever, she had a one night stand and now Jack wanted him to become her bodyguard. By their nature, one night stands should be anonymous, and over in one night.

She shouldn’t have to share the embarrassing and scant details of her dating and sex life.

When she was younger and moved into the Stone Mansion, she didn’t date. At all. The kids had enough upheaval in their life with a father who was a total man-whore. She’d believed that they needed stability and kept the focus just on them. So, she didn’t date when the kids were in the house. By the time she was ready for a date, she’d been thirty-five and had more money than she could ever spend in her lifetime which meant that any interest was slightly suspect. She’d also been unsure about how to go about finding a date.

Now Jack wanted her to ‘pretend date’ her one night stand.

She wanted to mouth the word, sorry, to Ric. His dark brows were lowered over his deep, secretive eyes while he seemed to be assessing facts.

“It’s best if Shelley stays here,” Ric said. “I don’t think it’s safe for her to return to her room.”

Jack was nodding complacently as if he hadn’t just been chewing her out for spending the night with his friend.

“What?” Stay here. As in stay with him? This just kept getting better and better. “No.”

But Ric and Jack didn’t acknowledge her growing distress.

Ric shot a guarded look at Jack. His face set in serious lines. “Did you check the room for bugs and cameras?”

Jack said, “Waiting until the cops are gone.”

Bugs? Cameras? “You think someone was spying on me?”

“Not necessarily. Maybe they wanted to see your reaction to the destruction.” Ric was thinking out loud.

It occurred to Shelley at the same time she saw Ric and Jack exchanged a weighted glance. “It’s possible that not going back to your room last night was a good thing.”

They’d been waiting for her?

Shelley’s heart beat in an uneven rhythm. “So someone could have been watching me? Or waiting for me?”

That tidbit caused her more anxiety than the destruction of her clothes and stuff. The grim looks on both their faces told the story. Her stomach rolled, pitching like she were on a sailboat in the Monterey Bay.

“I have some pics I took before security got to the room.” Jack thumbed through pictures taken with his phone to show Ric.

Ric said quietly, “That’s an awful lot of rage.”

“Let me see.” Shelley tried to grab the phone but Jack held it up and over her head. “Jack!”

“It’s her life. She needs to see.” Ric peeled the phone from Jack’s hand. “Besides, she’s tough. She can take it.”

The off the cuff compliment caused a pleasant tingle in her belly. He casually curled his bare arm around her back, the thick bunch of his bicep was firm and solid behind her shoulder blades while he held the phone so she could see the pictures of her room.

Shelley’s breath caught.

But not because of the pictures. Ric’s heat seeped through the thin cotton of the t-shirt he’d given her to wear. The memory of her straddling his thighs, her palms pressing on his shoulders, when he’d ab curled to a sitting position and completely rocked her world, had her going wet.

Last night, he had curved one arm around her shoulders and the other low around her hips and guided her as she rode him, his cock splitting her in two, and his arms alternately lifting her up and then slamming her down. They’d bounced so hard the bed had been squeaking and her hair had been flying until he’d taken his fist and gripped her hair to the edge of pain. He had slanted her head so their mouths could meet in a brutal kissing match.

His strength had cocooned her. He had pounded up into her until they came together in a burst of physical ecstasy. His groan had been long and loud against the curve of her breasts as her sex had convulsed, sucking him dry.

It had possibly been the most explosive sexual encounter of her life. She’d clutched his head to her breast and sat in his lap impaled on his cock. He had throbbed inside her, hitting her g-spot and pulsing against her cervix, her ass on his muscular thighs as they flexed and released. Sweat had slicked their skin and sex had smothered the air.

Her heart had been pounding so hard she’d thought she’d pass out from the force of its beats. He’d completely overwhelmed her.

Shelley could feel the flush start in her belly and spread outward like ripples in a pond. She came back to herself, and hoped neither man had figured out where she’d gone mentally.

Super, she was getting turned on. In front of Jack no less.

Right now, Shelley felt protected and safe in the curve of Ric’s arms. She was so much shorter without her heels that she felt almost delicate. Shelley realized she’d yet to breathe, and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.

The black pools reflected awareness back at her. As if he’d been caught up in the same memory, the skin on his cheeks had tightened and his body hardened. Heat shimmered around them, like a physical wrap of chiffon that made everything go hazy and filmy. For a moment, she thought it was only her being fanciful, until his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered before his lashes fluttered down over his eyes. She noted the slight beads of sweat on his upper lip, as if he were restraining himself from pushing into her space and claiming her mouth.

God, was it hot in here? All the air sucked from the Universe and her lips buzzed with the reaction to his scorching glance.

Caught in the mesmerizing haze of sexual awareness, she wasn’t sure who had leaned closer—her or him or if it was mutual—but the spell was broken by Jack clearing his throat.

“Need my phone back.” He reached between them and gently pried the phone from Ric’s fingers. “I’ll get back to you on any surveillance equipment.”

Ric broke their connection, shifting his gaze to Jack. He took a step back from her. And she was momentarily bereft. The air conditioner kicked on and a blast of cool air blew over her, shaking her out of the sexual thrall.

“Good.” Ric nodded. “Bring anything salvageable here and then we can discuss an op plan.”

Jack seemed unnaturally eager to get out of the hotel room.

But once Jack left the buffer that kept the tension between her and Ric to a low simmer was gone. The silence was fraught, at least on her end, and she started to voice her objection to the arrangement he and Jack had worked out. “I really don’t—”

“I know this will be awkward.”

That was an understatement. “Ya think?” she snarked.

In the giant sweat pants, soft on her bare bottom and thighs, and the simple cotton t-shirt abrading her nipples, she felt underdressed and out of sorts. She needed the comfort of her own clothes.

Her clothing had become her armor. Her attempt to hide her feelings from the judgment and censure of her neighbors. There were two kinds of wives in Monterey. The old guard who’d been married to their husbands for years, frequently before the men had made their fortunes. And the trophy wives, who’d pushed out wife number one and sometimes number two, to get to those fortunes. The trophies were younger, hotter, and ironically more on edge than wife number one.

Both kinds of wife had something in common. They were always on the lookout for a woman trying to steal their man. Shelley had been a double whammy, she was younger but she wasn’t married to Jack Stone Sr. So both sets of wives feared her and shunned her.

Finally she’d found her place, in the philanthropies she supported and the charities she worked tirelessly for, while raising the four Stone children. Over the years she’d developed her armor to shield herself from the venom and jealousy of those wives.

She learned to choose her outfits carefully as a kind of protection from their suspicion, and to guard her feelings from unnecessary hurt.

Without her regular clothing, and clad in Ric’s soft casual sweats, she was stripped of her regular armor and stratospheres outside her comfort zone.

“We’re adults,” Ric finally replied. “We’ll handle it.”

Now that Jack had left, the giant elephant in the room, the unmade bed, sat in silent condemnation. The passion from their night was obvious in the absolutely wrecked state of the linens.

Shelley wasn’t really familiar with post-one-night-stand procedures. And she wasn’t supposed to leave. So what did she do next?

To give her something to do, she leaned over the disheveled bed and tugged on the sheets. She kept her focus on the white linen so that she didn’t have to look at him.

She was doing fine with ignoring him until she smoothed the sheet under the pillow and found her lace bra.

The tiny ‘oh’, that whimper of distress, was loud in the room.

“What’s wrong?” Ric asked.

“Nothing.” Could this get any more embarrassing?

“As the principal it’s your job to tell me if anything is out of the ordinary.”

Oh my God.

She gripped her lacy bra in her fist and shook it at him. “Okay. It’s out of the ordinary for me to find my freaking bra underneath the pillow in a strange man’s hotel room.” Shelley’s face was as red as the rare steak she hadn’t eaten last night by the time she finished. She whirled around so that her back was to him and blinked away tears.

It was too much, the last straw in an emotionally fraught few hours. “That enough intelligence for you?” She shoved back the tears and hoped he couldn’t hear them in her voice. Dammit. She hated crying.

God, the temptation to just burrow in the closet and hide, the way she’d wanted to do all those years ago when she’d first arrived in Monterey, was really powerful. But she was stronger than that. So she did exactly what she’d done twenty years ago.

She put her shoulders back, shoved her chin up, and channeled her inner Eleanor Roosevelt. No one could make you feel inferior without your consent.

She wasn’t going to be a victim.

He moved so quietly she hadn’t realized that Ric was right behind her until his palms curled over her shoulders. “Hey. Sorry.” He turned her around gently and brushed the tears from her cheeks. His voice rumbled from his chest. She stared at his naked torso, amazed all over again that this man had taken her to bed and engaged in hot, sweaty, messy sex with her. But, last night was over, and they needed to move on.

This was going to be awkward enough as it was.

“I’m fine.” She shrugged off his embrace and marched over to the puddle of clothing on the floor. She picked up her dress and shook out the wrinkles. She opened the large closet in the bedroom and hung it on one of the heavy wood hangers, then discreetly looked around for her shoes.

The whole time she tidied up the suite, Ric watched her.

Waiting for her to break again? Good luck with that.

“You want breakfast?” he finally asked.

“Sure.” She couldn’t eat a thing.

He picked up the hotel phone and proceeded to order for both of them. “I’ll grab a shower. Do not under any circumstances open the door for any one.”

“What about room service?”

“If they come in the next five minutes, which is doubtful, no. Just tell them to leave it outside the door.”

She really didn’t see what the big deal was. Why would room service in a hotel this big be a threat? However, she wasn’t stupid. If Mr. Security wanted her to not open the door, she wouldn’t open the door. “Okay.”

He nodded once.

Shelley heard the shower go on, tried not to imagine Ric with water running over his head and down his body, his dark swarthy skin glistening. But the more she tried not to imagine it, the more the images bombarded her. His wide palms and thick fingers rubbing soap over the hair of his chest and following that happy trail down to his groin.

Her flesh heated and her eyes closed on a moan as more images from last night strobed through her. His beard scraping her inner thigh, the iron strength of his biceps as he held her against the wall, the rippled ridges of his abs as he’d pushed inside her.

Sheesh, she was turning herself on just from the memories.

What in the world was happening to her? She considered herself to be slightly asexual. She’d never really needed sex. It was pleasant. A nice release. Clearly something she could live without since it had been a really, really long time.

But last night, he’d awakened something within her.

Like Sleeping Beauty to Prince Charming she’d come alive at his intimate kisses. Shelley snorted. Of course, he was no prince.

He was rough-edged and blunt. So far from her former lovers that the difference was…exciting, thrilling, arousing. The sex had been raw and erotic.

All she could think about was doing it again. With him.

The shower shut off just as someone knocked at the door. Too early to be room service. She wouldn’t open it but she could at least go check to see who was there.

She stared out the peephole and her heart sank. With a deep sigh, and only the slightest hesitation, Shelley opened the door. She really didn’t want to do this.

“Come on in.”

The door swung shut with a solid thunk. Shelley felt more awkward in the borrowed sweats and t-shirt in the heavy silence.

Ric came bounding into the main living area of the hotel room, stark naked, hair dripping wet, and gun in his hand. All those images she had imagined in her head didn’t do justice to his absolutely ripped body.

“Shelley, what the hell?” Ric snarled. “I told you not to open the door.”

“Mom?” Jess’s eyes were wide before she shoved her palm over her eyes.

They stood there in an awkward triangle. Wonderful.

“Ric meet my daughter, Jessica.” She dropped down on to the sectional sofa in the living room and threw her arm over her face. “Maybe we should call Colin and Connor and get them over here to see you naked too.”

God, the mortification. Was this her payback for failing to mention when they were hot and heavy in the restaurant or banging against the wall that technically she was a mother of four grown adults?

Mary, Mother of— Wasn’t she allowed to one thing, one thing, for herself?

“Be right back.” Without another word, Ric headed back into the bathroom, presumably to dry off. Shelley was still leaning on the sofa cushions.

“Really mom?” Jess plopped onto the sofa next to her. “I can’t decide whether to high five you, because he’s hot, or give you a hard time because, Jeez, you’re my mother.”

She wanted to laugh it off or make some sage comment because she’d been the one dispensing advice for so many years. But the truth was she was tired. And disappointed. And embarrassed.

Wasn’t she allowed to have a sex life?

She wanted to play it off. Laugh, make a joke, be light-hearted and pretend like this wasn’t one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, because that is what mothers do. Except she wasn’t just a mother. “I’m a woman in the prime of my life.” She cursed the fact that her voice broke.

“I know that,” Jess’s said softly. “It’s just a little disconcerting to see what kind of prime you’re getting.”

Jess giggled.

The sound was so similar to the way she had laughed when she was a little girl that it brought a melancholy smile to Shelley’s lips. She’d done a damn fine job of raising her kids. She was proud of that, of them.

“I’m lonely, Jess,” she confessed. “You’re all grown up and have your own lives now. I just wanted one night….” She trailed off.

“Oh, mama.” Jess lay her head on Shelley’s shoulder and curved her arm around her waist. “I can imagine.”

“Don’t imagine too much,” Shelley said dryly. “It would scar you for life.”

“I love you,” her daughter whispered against her shoulder.

“Love you too, punkin’.” But she wanted more. Was that wrong?

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Six

Ric was on his way to talk to security at the hotel. The only reason he’d left Shelley with her daughter was because Jess knew how to fire a gun.

Ric strode down the hallway toward the hotel’s security offices. His mind on the break in, but his body itching to get back to Shelley.

Yeah, he knew her daughter had been a sniper and was proficient with firearms, and still, he didn’t like Shelley out of his sight.

This low level of panic that streamed through him was unsettling. They had just met.

It was supposed to be a one night hook up, no strings, just some hopefully awesome sex and then adios.

Instead he found himself worrying about what was really happening here. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop while he’d been in the bathroom getting dressed, but he had excellent hearing and he’d caught Shelley’s forlorn confession when she’d blurted out to her daughter that she was lonely.

Her admission had affected him deep in his gut, because she’d nailed his problem exactly.

That restless, uneasy antsiness that had plagued him over the past year finally had a name. Loneliness.

Maybe it was because in the past he’d spent most of his days with his team, or embroiled in planning and executing ops, but since he’d left the Navy and started his own business, his life had been a series of short term dating partners juggled between jobs.

For the first time in a long time, since his divorce at age twenty, he was interested in pursuing a relationship.

Shelley Stone came with a lot of strings, most specifically four. Three of whom were taller than him and outweighed him by several pounds. But he’d grown up scrapping and scrounging to defend himself and he was pretty sure he could take them in a fight. Individually.

If they ganged up on him, he was a goner.

Even so, he had the strange and overpowering urge to fight for her if they didn’t approve. He couldn’t believe he was thinking like that.

Focus on the damned problem, Enrique.

Jack had found both listening devices and cameras in Shelley’s room. Fairly high tech equipment too. Ric was meeting Jack downstairs in the security offices so they could review the camera footage from Shelley’s floor.

Once he was buzzed in to the casino’s highly secure offices, Ric beelined for the monitor in the corner where Jack sat with a uniformed security professional.

“What have you got?” Ric hoped they had something to go on.

Jack handed him a stack of photos. “Check out the pictures of her room again. When I went back and looked objectively, something kept niggling at me.”

Ric flipped through the pictures. Her clothes were strewn over the floor, looked like they’d maybe been slashed. The cosmetics in the bathroom had been opened and dumped in the sink. Her shoes had been ripped. Ric paused on a particularly pair of sexy red heels and wished they hadn’t been destroyed.

His mind arrowed back to last night. Shelley in nothing but her bra and those black patent leather pumps, her legs curled around his ass and her heels digging into him. He’d bet he had bruises on his butt. His lips tilted up.

“Ric,” Jack said sharply.

Oops. Ric wiped the smile off his face and studied the pictures again. His first thought when he’d seen the chaos on Jack’s phone had been a lot of rage but, after analyzing the larger sized pictures, he had different perspective. “It’s a little too….” he struggled for the right word. It was a mess, no question but there was something meticulously ordered about it. “Neat.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought too.”

The security guy pulled up the video recordings from the prior night.

Jack was clearly uncomfortable. “What time did you guys, uh, meet?”

Ric flushed. “At the bar, about nine.” Thankfully, Jack didn’t ask what time they’d gotten to his room. Because the land speed record for hook ups hadn’t been broken but they’d come close. Their attraction had been that intense.

“Start at 8 p.m.” Jack requested the security guard.

They watched the video, scrolling through hours of hotel guests. Several amorous couples; a group of drunk women dressed up for a bachelorette party, the guest of honor wearing a short white veil and a Beauty Contestant banner across her chest that read, “Bride To Be”; one guy with two hookers, one on each arm; and finally at two a.m. a lone man got off the elevator. Before he got to Shelley’s room, Ric knew this guy was the one.

He was wearing a ball cap with no logo, long sleeves with a paunchy stomach, baggie Levi jeans, and generic tennis shoes. The cap was pulled far enough down that only his jaw was visible. And he’d angled his head so that no usable shots were captured by the camera.

“No identifying features, tattoos.”

Ric eyed the way the guy moved. “Stomach could be fake.”

“Yeah. Watch the way he walks. It probably is.” Jack studied the man as he paused at Shelley’s suite. He didn’t look around, no furtive glances or uneasy movements.

“Definitely not an amateur,” Ric said which didn’t make him feel any better. Then he barked out, “Hold and zoom in on his hands.”

Sure enough he was wearing thin latex or vinyl gloves.

“I don’t like this,” Jack said.

They continued to watch, keeping an eye on the time stamp. “Guy was in and out in under ten minutes.”

The man sauntered toward the elevator, no rush, no agitated movements. He displayed no signs of temper at all. At first glance and with the angry words written on her walls, the destruction was an act of rage. However, there was a more calculated intimidation going on here.

“Shift to the cameras in the casino,” Ric said. From the time stamp on the floor video, they started watching that elevator on the main floor. But the guy never came out. They knew he had gotten in the elevator going down so they checked each floor’s cameras until they found the tape. He’d gotten out on the third floor then walked toward the shops.

Ric’s uneasy feeling grew. “We need to talk.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

“Can you print the best picture of him we can get?” Ric asked the security guy.

The casino ran the image through their facial recognition software but their database was full of known cheaters and grifters, not work for hire guys like this one.

“Sure.”

“Print several copies,” Ric said.

Jack interjected. “Six.”

Ric raised a brow. “Six?”

“Me, you, Con, Riley, Colin and John.”

“Who’s John?”

“I guess we haven’t caught up in a while,” Jack said ruefully. “I have another brother.”

Seriously? Ric’s mind shifted immediately to Shelley. Like she didn’t have enough stuff to deal with. “Must have been rough on Shelley.”

“Nope. She was the first one to really welcome John into the family.” Jack said proudly, “Shelley is one of the most amazing, resourceful, strong women I know.”

Ric thought about the woman he’d had sex with last night. She was more than that. She was a sensual, charming, funny, fun woman who deserved a hell of a lot better than she’d gotten lately.

What was he thinking? That he’d be the one to give her what she deserved?

Ric shuddered. It was like her pheromones had wrapped around his brain and squeezed out all his common sense.

They were a hook up, he reminded himself sternly.

A hook up he now had to protect.

“I think the cover of you and Shelley dating will work nicely.” Jack interrupted his musings again.

Ric thought of all the things they would do if they were really dating. His cock started to rise as he imagined he and Shelley exploring this white hot attraction further.

“But Ric.” Jack clapped a heavy hand on Ric’s shoulder. “One more thing.”

“What’s that?” Ric asked absently, his mind on all the ways he could ‘cover’ Shelley.

“No more touching, Shelley.” Jack laid down the law.

“What?”

“She’s vulnerable.” Jack countered. “I don’t want her hurt.”

“Shouldn’t that be her decision?” Ric asked evenly.

“Maybe. But I’m asking you, as a friend, to take care of her, not bone her.”

Ric pressed his mouth together. He would try, but he wasn’t making any promises. “I understand your position. But Shelley is a grown ass woman. She can make her own decisions. And if she decides she wants me….” Ric thought back to that three years. She’d been right there with him in his hotel room last night. Jack was thinking about Shelley as a mother not as a woman. “I’m not going to refuse.”

On the other hand, what the hell was he thinking? One day ago he would have said he wasn’t interested in getting involved with anyone, especially someone with lots of strings attached. A relationship with Shelley had strings written all over it. So, yeah, maybe Jack had the right idea.

Not to mention, getting involved with a principal was really a bad idea.

Jack said, “Let me tell you about the notes she’s been getting.”

Ric help up his palm. “What about Shelley?”

Jack raised a dark brow.

“She needs to be in on this discussion.”

“I was trying to protect her.”

“You don’t need to withhold things from her.” Ric pulled out his phone. “Let’s all meet in my suite.”

“Fine. I’m going to call Con in.” Jack studied the picture of Shelley’s intruder. “I don’t want whoever is behind this to know where Shelley is.”

Ric knew Jack would have a better pulse on the situation. “Do you think she’s in physical danger?”

“The evidence of the pro would indicate this is more about scaring her, showing her they could get to her whenever and where ever they want.” Jack studied the pictures. “And so far the threats have all been fairly innocuous.”

A possessive, primitive need to protect her rose in Ric. “They must know enough about her to know you run a security company.”

Jack nodded.

“Yet, they still chose to make a move against her.” Ric contemplated that fact. “That indicates a level of arrogance that makes me uneasy.”

Jack replied, “Maybe they’re under the assumption that I wouldn’t care if something happened to her.”

“Are we sure the threat is really about Shelley?” Ric’s gut clenched with an unnamed emotion. Though they’d just met, he didn’t want anything to happen to her. “Could it be aimed at you?”

“It’s possible.” Jack tapped his finger on his lips. “John is investigating a lead on the missing girls. Ava’s friends.”

“I thought the asshole was awaiting trial.”

“He is, but we found a connection to a strip club here in Las Vegas.”

“So this could just be to distract you?” Ric thought out loud.

“Except, I’m staying away from John’s investigation so they don’t connect it to my family.” Jack mused. “At least not right away.”

“Then maybe the focus on Shelley is a back end way to get to Stone Consulting.”

“It isn’t like I haven’t made some enemies lately.” Jack propped his hand on his hips.

Ric snorted. “Lately?”

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Seven

There was a knock on the suite door despite the ‘Do Not Disturb’ placard on the handle.

Shelley sighed and headed for the door.

“Uh, mom. You don’t answer the door until this is over.” Jess’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Let me.”

Shelley moped, and shuffled to the sofa. She dropped onto the L-shaped sectional. The sweats which before seemed soft and comfortable now chafed. She wanted her own clothes. She wanted her own life. It hadn’t been hers for all of an hour and she was already going stir crazy.

She was used to being busy.

Jess flipped the lock and opened the door. “Come on in.”

Shelley shoved into the corner of the large sectional sofa. Her knees were pressed up to her chest and she rested her chin on them as she waited to see who was here now. It felt as if the whole world was going to know that she’d had sex with Ric Santana.

“Hey, Shel.” Connor her youngest son and the hardest of all her children to figure out walked in to the living area of the suite. She loved Con. Perhaps more than the other kids. He’d been broken when she’d gone to live in the Stone mansion. Jack Stone Sr. could be a complete bastard. For some reason, he’d been most venomous toward his youngest son.

After Shelley had arrived, she’d tried to act as a buffer. To protect Con from his father’s cruel mean streak. She’d never understood why Jack Sr. had such an intensely rancorous response to Connor. He was the sweetest and so intelligent that Shelley had known that he’d surpass her smarts by the time he was a teenager.

“Con.” She pushed to her feet and headed for him.

There it was. That slight hesitation, as if he braced himself for her touch, then he wrapped his strong arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder for just a moment. Sweet, sweet boy. Even if he did still hold himself away from Shelley’s affection.

The only person he didn’t hold back with was Ava. His girlfriend.

“Jack asked me to meet you guys here but I’m not sure—”

The hotel room swung open. Jack and Ric strode into the room and over to where Shelley, Jess, and Con stood.

Shelley noted Ric’s glare at her until he shifted his gaze to Con and it lightened. What did she do now? She’d tried to get out of his hair. He’d been the one who insisted that she stay in his room.

“Con, there’s some leftover breakfast if you want it.” She reverted to mom mode, trying to take care of everyone, feed everyone.

“Why are you eating breakfast in Jack’s former CO’s suite?” Con frowned.

Shelley flushed.

Jess whispered something in Con’s ear and his eyebrows rose.

Wonderful. Maybe Ric would like to strip naked so Con could see him in the buff.

Shelley turned her glare on Ric.

He raised his dark eyebrows and held up his palms in surrender. His face was perfectly impassive but she could tell that inside he was laughing. She wasn’t sure how but she could tell.

“Quit laughing,” she hissed at him.

Ric blinked as if surprised. It was clear that she had shocked him by recognizing what was going on behind his blank face.

“Nice to see you again Connor,” Ric said blandly.

“I’m going to head downstairs and pick up some new clothes for you.” Jess hugged her tight.

Thank Goodness. “Yes, please.”

Shelley flushed again when Con said, “You don’t have anything to wear?”

Jack diverted Connor’s attention. “Shel, we’ve got some pictures to show you.”

They all sat on the sectional sofa. Jack on one side and Con on the other. Isolation surrounded her, separating her from her family and whoever was stalking her. Then Ric sank down on the glass topped coffee table directly across from her. His thighs bracketed her legs, heat rose from his body. His worn jeans and the body hugging gray Polo shirt were casual, without any attempt to make a statement. The kind of clothing a man supremely comfortable in his own skin wore.

His subtle air of command wrapped around her, making her feel as if nothing could penetrate his shield of protection.

Her tension wound tighter than Ric’s abs as he handed her a picture.

The quality was decent, but the man had tilted his head at such an angle that she couldn’t see more than his jaw line. The baseball cap brim, a generic denim material, covered most of his face. The angle of the camera made it impossible to figure out how tall he was.

But she recognized the entrance to her suite.

“That’s the guy?” Her heart thumped.

“Yeah,” Jack said gruffly. “You recognize him?”

Shelley tried to study the man objectively, searching for some clue to his identity but too much was hidden by the way he avoided the cameras. “No.”

This man had gone into her room, cut up her clothes, dumped out her cosmetics, and violated her stuff.

It was just stuff.

But what if she’d been in that room?

Sweat bloomed on her chest as the destruction of her room came back to her. He’d sliced her clothes. If she’d been there would he have sliced her? Her heart picked up the pace as horrible possibilities flashed through her mind. Her breath shortened and her finger trembled as she traced it over the man’s face.

“I don’t even know him,” Shelley whispered. “Why would he hate me so much he’d destroy my things?”

Ric’s knees touched hers. “Hey. You weren’t there.” He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned in to smooth his palm over her forearm and linked his fingers with hers. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His touch soothed her immediately.

Shelley lifted her gaze from the picture. His dark, brooding eyes were sincere and she fell into the bottomless promise of safety. She wanted to respond to his pledge. The solemn words felt like more.

Not just here and now. But weighty as if she could depend on him forever.

Instead of making her run, fast and far, she leaned closer until they were only inches apart. “Okay.” The air was heavy with expectation.

Con tapped the picture, breaking the connection that thickened the air around them. Shelley and Ric leaned away from each other at his interruption.

“We’re pretty sure that this was only meant to scare you.” Jack’s voice was gentle.

“They did a good job of scaring everyone.” Shelley’s sense of humor rose again.

“How so?” Con asked.

“There are three of you in Ric’s suite, and you’re all hovering.” Her lips quirked, and she tried to find the humor in the situation. It was either that or curl into a fetal ball and retreat from the world.

“Good point.” Jack’s lips quirked. “But the fact is that if you look at the mess he made it’s too neat, too methodical. Initially we thought rage, but after looking at the larger pictures, we think this was supposed to be intimidation.”

“So what do you think they want?”

“They want you to leave,” Ric said. The message had been sprayed over the walls. Leave or else.

Shelley’s ire rose. “No. Not happening. I am not missing your wedding,” she vowed to Jack fiercely.

“Okay.” Con popped open his laptop. “We need to go over the other threats you’ve gotten.”

“It’s just a few random emails.” Shelley dismissed the weird letters and proposals she’d been receiving. Really, there wasn’t anything in those fishing communications that was truly threatening.

“That’s my specialty.” Con smiled, the action softened the skin around his eyes. He was so much more relaxed and happy with Ava in his life. “I trace things.”

“You know, sometimes I think we should thank Fernandez,” Shelley said softly to him.

Con lifted his inquisitive gaze from the screen to her. “What?”

“He brought you and Ava together.”

Prior to his relationship with Ava he’d still had traces of that defensive teen. Con had needed someone just for him. And he’d found her in Ava. He deserved the bone deep happiness that bled from his pores and bathed him in a soft content light. Shelley brushed her fingers over the lock blond of hair that always seemed to tumble into his tawny eyes.

“True.” Con hesitated, then curled his fingers around hers and held her hand for a moment. The unconsciously affectionate gesture rolled over her like a wave of joy for his happiness, and his ability to finally settle in his own skin. “Was there a reason you brought up Fernandez? You think he has something to do with your current problem?”

“Don’t knock intuition.” Jack stared at the computer screen.

“Fernandez.” Ric frowned. Oddly, his gaze was on Con’s hand on hers. “Shelley didn’t have anything to do with taking him down.”

“Not really.”

Con launched into a quick rundown of the situation with Jose Fernandez, the politician from Monterey who had used a horrific kidnapping of four young Hispanic girls to advance his career. “We exposed him for the fraud he was. But you’re right, Shelley wasn’t really involved, with the exception of giving Ava a place to hide until we were ready to confront him.”

“True.” Shelley smiled reminiscently.

“He could be attempting to get to you and Jack through Shelley,” Ric mused. “Does he know how close you all are?”

“Everyone knows how close we are, ever since that article about the farm—”

“What article?” Ric clipped out.

“It should have been nothing.” She hated the attention on her. “The article was supposed to be about the program we, I, implemented. A new kind of way to support the Food for Life food bank. Supporters sponsor an acre of land. The cooperative farm grows the food. Then the harvest goes straight to the food bank so that the recipients have access to fresh produce.”

“Instead, the reporter profiled Mom,” Jack said.

“I knew having my picture taken in front of the house was a mistake.” Shelley shook her head. She’d tried to finger comb the tangled mess of her hair but it was still untidy around her face, distracting her from their serious discussion. She couldn’t control the shiver as she remembered how it became so messy. Ric’s hand fisted in her hair, holding her head tightly. Like he’d never let her go. Her body reacted to the visceral erotic memory, zooming her right back to that moment in bed.

“The end result was still an increase in people willing to adopt an acre of land and a big boost for Happy Tummy Farm and the food bank, but it also brought attention to me personally. I’ve gotten several proposals and, um, offers.”

“Proposals?” Ric said slowly.

“Um, yes, marriage proposals.” Shelley shuddered. “From strangers.”

It had been so weird to be the focus of that much attention. She tended to stay in the shadows. She supported plenty of causes but quietly behind the scenes. She’d learned long ago that having money meant many people wanted you to part with it. She’d finally had to pick a few philanthropic efforts, get involved in the process, and choose those projects that spoke to her.

Ric’s lips quirked.

“Laugh all you want but having a stranger show up on your front lawn with a marquee and marching band to ask for your hand in marriage is a little disconcerting.”

The attention made her uncomfortable.

Even the regard of the three other people in this room made her squirm. She was much better at lavishing attention on the kids, or her charities, than taking it for herself.

“Okay.” Ric was suddenly all business as if he sensed her need to fade into the background.

Con pulled up her email account.

Her email. “How’d you do that?”

He just looked steadily at her. “This is what I do, Shel.”

“Invade privacy?” Indignation rose in her. First her hotel room, now Con was invading her personal email. “How’d you get my password?”

“We need to have a talk about your password,” Con said.

Shelley’s face burned. She knew it was dumb but that date changed her life. The day she’d gone to the live at the Stone mansion. And it was too personal to share with Ric Santana even if they had shared bodily fluids. “Not now.”

Ric got them back on track. “Show me the emails.”

She pulled them up. She wasn’t sure she should tell him. “I deleted the ones that were um, more personal.”

“Personal how?” Ric was back in her space, his chest puffed and his body somehow bigger. He’d morphed into Mr. Protection.

“More proposals offering to…satisfy me.”

“How many exactly?” Ric pressed.

“I didn’t count. I just deleted.”

“Con?” Jack prompted.

“On it.” Connor’s fingers flew over the keys and within about a minute he had an answer. “Around one hundred.”

“A hundred? Seriously.” Ric’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“It’s that surprising?” She hopped up and strode to the windows, focusing on the skyline instead of her currently complicated life. She curled her toes into the plush carpet and tried to ground herself. She was spiraling out of control and she couldn’t seem to stop it from happening. “I’m not dog meat.”

“Shel,” Ric’s voice softened. He approached her, his reflection in the glass was concerned. He cupped his palms over her shoulders. “Of course not. Tactically, I’m trying to figure out how many people we have to investigate.”

The heat from his hands burned through the thin t-shirt. She was out of sorts and out of control and she hated it. “This is so crazy.”

“One step at a time.” Ric tugged her so that her back pressed against his front and his arms wrapped around her tightly. “We’ll figure it out.”

Accepting his help felt strange. She looked out for herself. She had since she was eighteen and pregnant, her mother kicked her out of the house, and Jackson Stone shoved money at her for an abortion.

“Let’s get back to the heart of the matter.” Jack glared at the way Ric was touching her, staring intently at the contact of Ric’s hands on her shoulders.

Ric lifted his hands off.

“Well, I would think you should start with the people who asked me for money,” Shel said reluctantly.

She thought about the other words on her hotel room wall. You have what’s mine, I want it back. Although how her money was theirs, she had no idea.

“How many of those are there?” Ric turned her around so that she could looked into his gaze. Without her shoes on, their height discrepancy was far more pronounced. His larger broader frame dwarfed her but the effect was comforting rather than menacing.

“Can’t say as I counted.” She snarked.

Jack cleared his throat. “I’ve got the full list.”

Her eyebrows rose. “The full list?” Her voice got softer.

“I started intercepting the emails and diverting them into a separate follow up account.” Jack said, “You didn’t need to see all that crap.”

“I can handle my own life.”

“Sounds like it’s more than any one person could handle.” Ric diffused the tension that blossomed between her and her two sons.

“We were just trying to take care of you, Shel,” Con said. “The way you took care of us.”

With his words, everything in her softened. She loved her kids. “I really can take care of myself, sweetie. Been doing it for years.” But the their intention was sweet.

“Now it’s time to let us help you.” Ric turned on his charm, the same charm that convinced her to go with a stranger to his hotel room. But thinking about it now, she’d made that decision without all the facts. What if Ric had been one of the crazies that had been dogging her life for the past few months?

Ric’s gaze had darkened. He was thinking the same thing.

“Connor, your job is to track the emails,” Ric directed then he turned to her. “Any other people who physically invaded your space?”

Tension sloshed in her stomach, making her realize she hadn’t eaten much of the breakfast and she hadn’t had dinner last night.

Shelley shared the details of the people who had actually approached her in person. “But none of those people seemed intent on harming me.”

They discussed the logistics of getting to the bottom of the mystery.

“So we’re all on the same page here.” Ric seemed to have taken over. “Jack, you need to keep working on that other thing. Con, keep at the computer investigations.”

While they were discussing the details of her stalker—how weird was that?—things were easy to overlook. But as the conversation wound down and everyone had their assignments, Ric said, “I’ll be in charge of physical protection detail.”

The reality that she was essentially stuck with Ric Santana, the man who was supposed to be nothing more than a one night stand, hit her again.

A knock on the door had all three men reaching for weapons.

Ric peered through the peep hole. “It’s Jess.” He stowed his weapon in the holster at his waist, and unlocked the door.

Jess breezed in with several shopping bags. “Got you set up.”

“Thanks, Jessy.” Shelley hugged her daughter tightly.

“Let’s connect again in a few hours,” Ric said. He looked around, “By the way, where is Riley?”

“He and Di are on their way back from the Philippines.” Jack said, “They’ll be here in a few days. But I already gave Ry a heads up.”

“I’m just going to put on some fresh clothes.” Shelley flushed. Awesome. No one had been paying attention until she brought up the fact that she was wearing Ric’s clothes.

As if she sensed her mother’s discomfort, Jess said, “I’ll be along in an hour to get you.”

Ric barked. “I don’t want you going anywhere without me.”

“Spa day,” Shelley said brightly, trying to distract everyone from the fact that his immediate response had been over the top proprietary. Even if he was supposed to be protecting her, there had been an extremely unprofessional note in his voice.

“I’m going with you.”

Jack and Ric exchanged another weighted glance. Ric nodded at Jack.

“I’m out,” Jack said.

“See you later mom.” Jess headed for the door.

“Keep her safe,” Jack commanded Ric.

Con gave a chin lift to Jack and Jess. “I’ll be along in a minute.”

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Eight

Connor Stone was a wildcard, a little out of step with his brothers. Ric could predict Jack and Riley’s response to a situation but Connor played his hand close to the vest.

This was going to be interesting.

Ric waited.

Shelley had already made a dash for the bathroom. She disappeared to put on the new clothes that Jess had brought up from a boutique in the massive mall attached to the Palazzo and Venetian.

Con stood at parade rest, hands clasped in front of him, body relaxed yet ready. “I’d like to ask your intentions.”

Ric blinked. “My…intentions.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hesitated. His intentions last night had been to engage in hot, anonymous sex with a sultry woman. But he didn’t think that’s what Connor wanted to hear and he wouldn’t embarrass Shelley by revealing the truth of their encounter.

“Shelley is an adult,” Ric said evenly not answering the question.

Connor shifted closer, his gaze intent, narrowed. “Who, for all intents and purposes, has had very few adult relationships. She’s…special.”

Ric knew that. He appreciated Con’s defense of his stepmother. He did. Although he felt about fifteen and standing in his girlfriend’s living room while her father glared at him accusingly. Ric nodded but again didn’t say a word.

“Okay. I’ll be watching you.”

Ric was waiting for Connor to point his fingers at his eyes and then back at Ric like some kind of overlord.

Connor warned him. “Don’t hurt her.”

The inference that Ric would hurt Shelley pissed him off. “I’d rather have you trying to find whoever trashed her hotel room.” Ric couldn’t help but needle him.

“That’s next.”

Connor bulked his shoulders and clenched his fists, and Ric relented. “Connor. I don’t want anything to happen to her either. I’ll do my best.”

“It damn well better be the best you’ve ever done.” Con bit out, “Don’t fuck up.”

His fierce protection of Shelley made Ric respect him more. “I won’t let anything hurt her.”

The door to the bathroom opened just in time. Shelley stepped into the bedroom. She glanced between Ric and Con. “Everything okay here?”

Con nodded. “I’m going to get started tracing these people.”

Shelley smiled. “Thanks, Con. I hate to ruin everyone’s vacation.”

“You aren’t ruining anything,” Ric refuted. “And don’t worry. We’re on it.”

Con bent to brush a kiss over Shelley’s forehead. Ric observed the slight hesitation before he touched Shelley. “Stay aware of your surroundings at all times. And…listen to Ric, he knows what he’s doing.”

Vindication, of a sort.

“Okay, sweetie.”

After one final, brusque nod, Con strode from the room. Ric couldn’t help but be thankful that her kids were taking the threat seriously.

They were alone. The nine hundred and forty square foot hotel room suite that had seemed so spacious when half of her family had been in the room, suddenly shrunk. The sexual tension that had dissipated with everyone here blasted back into his mind as he registered her outfit.

Black yoga pants, a gift from the Gods, hugged her spectacular ass and thighs, and the deep pink clingy spandex jacket with its mock turtleneck and short zipper clung to her small high breasts. Ric flashbacked to last night, lifting her to his mouth and savoring the sweet taste of her surrender.

Inappropriate thoughts swirled through his mind, promises he’d made to Jack, promises to Connor, and more importantly, to Shelley. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

That meant keeping his distance. She wasn’t a hot pickup anymore, she was his principal. And getting involved with a client was the worst possible decision in a protection scenario. No touching, he repeated silently, no touching.

He was on board with that mantra right up until she shuddered. Shelley wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes.

“Hey, hey.” He couldn’t ignore her worry and there was no one else here to comfort her. Ric tentatively pulled her into his arms. As if his touch unleashed her restraint, she launched herself into his arms her body shaking. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

“Don’t cry.” He couldn’t deal with a crying woman.

“Cry?” She shoved out of his embrace. “I’m not crying. I’m pissed.”

Relief poured through him. Oh, thank God.

“Someone is messing with my family. My kids deserve a worry free, relaxing vacation. You know this is the first time we’ve taken a family vacation in years.”

She stomped around his room, her eyes bright with indignation. “Jack and Bliss deserve the week before their wedding to be happy and stress free. They’ve already endured so much.”

Ric opened his mouth to agree.

“And Con! He and Ava went from being a couple to having Maria live with them. Helping her adjust to living in the real world again. They have their own hotel room so they can finally have some much deserved privacy. They don’t need to be dealing with this crap.”

Ric figured Con managed to get some private time with his girlfriend but before he could bring that up, Shelley waved her hands in the air. “Jess and Colin are adjusting to working for Jack. And Colin moving here to the US, to another freaking country for Pete’s sake. And Riley and Di have been running as many school supplies as they can to the Philippines since last November. If they’re not delivering supplies, they’re fundraising and banging on doors getting donations. They deserve to enjoy this time. Not be bothered by nutjobs and have their vacation ruined by some crazy person.”

Ric noted in that long-winded diatribe that not once had she mentioned herself. “And you Shelley.”

“What about me?” she asked crossly.

“What do you deserve?”

She opened her mouth, closed it. Then frowned. “What?”

“You mentioned everyone in your family except you. Don’t you deserve a nice, drama free vacation and celebration of Jack’s wedding?”

She shrugged, and the action drew his gaze to her breasts. Her beaded nipples poked the silky fabric, sharp little points in a room that was far too warm for those tight berries to be a response to cold. “Sure.”

He could tell she didn’t believe that she was entitled to the same things. Her disregard for her own happiness made Ric want to give her everything she deserved and more.

So much for his easy and uncomplicated vacation. Fuck it. He realized he didn’t like easy or uncomplicated anyway. He tucked the multi-colored red and brown strands of her hair behind the shell of her ear then trailed his fingers along her neck. She shivered from the light contact.

“You’re so fucking responsive,” he murmured.

The air thickened with the swirl of pheromones. Shelley caught her breath. His body responded to the subtle signals she was emitting. The softened posture, the prick of her nipples against her top, the languid droop to her eyelids, as he eased his finger beneath the stretchy knit neckline.

Her pulse thudded in the hollow of her throat and the urge to run his tongue along the same path his finger had taken was overwhelming.

His blood rushed in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of her breath. He was so attuned to her that he could hear the deep thump of her heart against her breastbone. Her feminine scent, floral and sandalwood entwined, flooded his awareness. His cock rose as heated intimate moments from last night swirled in his mind. He cupped her jaw in his hands, his fingers threaded through her hair to hold her tight, or hold her up, he wasn’t sure which.

Ric bent his knees and pressed his lips to her thudding pulse. Her skin was satin smooth beneath the purse of his mouth. He couldn’t resist the temptation. He swirled his tongue over the sweet evidence of her desire.

Shelley gripped his wrists, holding on to him tenaciously. He groaned against her throat as she leaned into him.

His lips moved over her soft skin. “We need to stop.” But damn he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to drown in her. Drown in her exquisite taste, drown in her honest sexual reaction, drown while she took him under in a wave of lust so primal his body sizzled with the urge to submerse in her.

Shelley skimmed her palms along his forearms, then his shoulders until she buried her fingers in his hair and fisted her hands. She scraped her lips along his stubbled jaw, and nipped at his ear lobe.

She rubbed her rounded tummy along the weapon in his jeans. She got him so hot so fast, it was as if he’d time traveled back to his teens.

He knew they needed to stop. Before they left this hotel room, he had to get his badass, stalker kicking vibe back because he could do no less for this amazing woman. He had promised to protect her. He couldn’t do that if his head was wrapped up in making love to her, not watching her six.

Ric held her in place against the wall, and traced a path from the curve of her collarbone up her neck and along her jaw until he returned to her lips. He pressed gentle sipping kisses to her mouth. His lips clung to hers with each longer inhale, until he finally pulled away.

Ric rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, and he savored the press of her breasts against his pecs. “I need to be focused.”

She laughed, a small puff of breath. “You seemed awfully focused a second ago.”

He smiled. “Wrong focus. I need to stay focused on your protection. But, later, after this is over, I’d like to shift the emphasis to…more intimate endeavors.”

That was breaking the rules of a one night stand.

She tensed a little in his hold. Shit, maybe he’d misread her enthusiasm.

“I know it’s violating the unspoken laws of a typical one night stand,” he spoke quickly before she could shoot him down.

“We’re so far past typical that we might as well give up and call this thing something else.” Shelley squeezed his shoulders. “I’d like that as well.”

Ric’s tension eased. They were on the same page.

Her face darkened, a crinkle crimped the skin between her brows. “I don’t understand why someone one would want to scare me.”

“You’re gorgeous, nice, and rich.” Ric stated the obvious. “You have it all.”

“I have a wonderful family that matters and a big house. But I definitely don’t have it all.” Shelley thunked her head on the wall.

“But to the outsider your life is perfect.” Ric smoothed her hair away from face. She had to know that to the casual observer her life was idyllic.

“Yeah, if they only understood how lonely I am.” She visibly shook off her melancholy. “Oh shut up, Shel.”

She brushed her palms down her sleeves like she was brushing off the attitude.

“Poor little me,” she said viciously.

“Hey.” Ric said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s okay to want more.”

“I just want to make a difference,” she said firmly.

He noticed she didn’t say she wanted more for herself. Every time she spoke up and out, it was for someone other than herself.

“Why the food bank?” Ric asked suddenly.

“It’s a worthy cause.”

“It’s an excellent cause.” Ric felt like he already knew her better than that. She didn’t just do things because they were worthy causes. He’d skimmed the article that seemed to jump start the crazies who were hounding her and stalking her but he hadn’t seen a mention of the impetus behind that particular charity, so he asked again, “Why the food bank?”

“You ever have to choose between a place to sleep and a meal in your stomach?” she asked abruptly.

“Fortunately, no.”

She nodded, her burnished red hair skimmed the curve of her shoulder. “It sucks.”

So she was saying that she….

“The reason I went to Jack Stone Sr. years ago was because I was tired of worrying about Jess being hungry.” She said softly, “I wasn’t planning on staying at his house. I tracked him down to ask for a job so Jess and I could eat.”

Ric’s stomach cramped at her matter of fact statement. He knew it was twenty years ago, but he could tell that the moment still rankled.

She laughed bitterly. “Jack Sr. is a bit of a prick in case you weren’t aware.”

“I’ve heard.” Jack hadn’t said much about his father, but the little he’d shared was enough to give Ric a fairly clear picture of the bastard. “What happened?”

“I got there. And Con opened the front door.” Shelley had a faraway look in her ocean green eyes. “He was like a little wounded angel. Their latest nanny had just quit. Literally.”

“As in literally?”

“She thought she was going to be the next Mrs. Stone.” Shelley shook her head. “As if anyone who knew Jackson would want that. I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.”

“I must have caught Jackson at just the right moment. He was headed out of town with no one to watch the kids.”

“So he asked you to stay?”

“Initially he offered me a lump sum to leave Jess and never come back.”

“Holy hell.”

“It had worked with Connor’s mother.” Shelley shrugged. “I can’t imagine.”

“You turned him down?”

“I didn’t want his money. I just wanted a safe place to sleep and enough to feed my daughter. So I suggested I take care of all of his kids instead.” Shelley smiled. “My desperation led to the best things that ever happened to me.”

Ric’s heart expanded. She was magnificent.

“I love all of those kids as if they were my own,” Shelley said.

“You know it’s mutual.” Ric couldn’t help but reassure her.

“I know.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “We need to find this asshole.”

“I will.” Ric vowed. Her sadness made him want to take away her pain and make her laugh. “Besides now I have extra incentive.”

“What’s that?”

“The sooner I find this fucker, the sooner we can go back to bed.”

And just like he wanted, she laughed.

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Nine

The phone rang.

Ric held up one finger and stalked to the bedside table. “Santana.”

To keep her mind off her other troubles, Shelley admired the play of his glutes beneath his jeans. His short shirt sleeves accented the muscled strength of his forearms.

That quickly she was in that moment last night when he lifted her up against the wall and pushed inside her.

Shelley’s knees went weak and her head light.

All that leashed power and testosterone had coalesced into the hottest sexual encounter of her life. Of course that wasn’t saying much since her prior encounters had been fairly tame. But a hundred times yes, she wanted to try again.

Because what if her off the chart response wasn’t a fluke? Or a lack of response to sexual stimulus over the past few years? And instead their mutual detonation was an honest to God, organic reaction to their chemistry.

After several uh-huhs, he hung up the phone.

“Everything okay?”

The panic on his face was priceless. “Spa time.”

She giggled when he grimaced. “Think you can handle it, tough guy?”

“Not a problem,” he replied smoothly. “But you follow orders. Without question.”

Ric opened the hotel room door, held up his palm and re-conned the hallway before gesturing to Shelley that it was safe to come out. “Tell me what’s planned.”

“Full day. Yoga, massages, facials, lunch, and the hydro-spa.” She wasn’t sure but he may have just shuddered.

Ric walked in front of her and slightly to the right, his hand resting on the grip of his weapon.

A little shiver of fear ran over her. “Isn’t the gun overkill?” After all, the man had only trashed her hotel room.

“I take your safety very seriously.” Ric pressed the button for the service elevator. “Behind me, out of sight when the doors open.”

She swallowed, licked her lips. “What about your safety?”

“Not important, as long as you’re safe.”

“I don’t like that.” Shelley’s stomach roiled at the thought that Ric could get hurt because of her. “At all.”

“Your feelings are insignificant.”

“Nice.”

“Shelley. We can’t have this discussion now.” Ric led her in to the service elevator that the staff used. “I don’t like this.”

They were on the fifteenth floor. Their choices were the service elevator or the stairwell. Neither was optimal. They rode the elevator to the third floor in silence. Ric pushed her behind him again, the heat from his body surrounded her, reminding her that he was putting himself in front of her.

She hated that.

“Maybe we should re-think this. I don’t want you to get hurt.” The doors slid open. Ric finished perusing the hallway and let Shelley exit the elevator.

“It would be more than fine with me if you want to go back up to the room where I know you’ll be safe.” Ric constantly scanned the hallway as they headed toward the spa. “However, don’t worry about me.”

Shelley bit her lip. “I don’t want to let Bliss down.”

“Then, in you go.”

Bliss, Jess, and Ava waited in the lobby of the Canyon Ranch SpaClub. Instrumental flute music and tinkling water fixtures were supposed be soothing to the ear but Shelley was so tense she wasn’t sure anything was going to calm her. The atmosphere was distinctly feminine, which only emphasized Ric’s stark masculinity.

Shelley introduced Ric to Ava. He nodded to Jess and Bliss, who he’d met in DC with Jack earlier in the year.

Their party was a melting pot of pretty. Bliss was half-Irish, half-Chinese with bright red hair and exotically tilted eyes. Ava was gorgeous with long dark hair and her beautiful dark eyes. And finally Jess with her multi-hued blonde hair and cool green eyes.

The receptionist was frowning at Ric. “He can’t come in unless he has an access pass.”

Ric opened his mouth to argue but before he could say a word, Shelley leaned over the desk. “Add it to my account.”

“Did you book the appointments under your name?” Ric drummed his fingertips on the check-in counter.

Shelley blinked. “Umm, yes.”

“That is a security issue.” He glanced around the reception area, empty except for their party. “I don’t like it.”

Shelley put her hand on his forearm. His muscles flexed beneath her fingertips, the zap of electricity took her off guard. As if he had a direct line to her erogenous zones, Shelley’s body heated, softened.

“This is Bliss’s bachelorette day.” Shelley didn’t want anything to ruin Bliss’s party. “Please.”

Ric calculated options for another moment. “Okay. But I need to stay with you.”

She wasn’t used to having a bodyguard. Having Ric around constantly was going to be unsettling and unnerving, but if that’s what it took to make sure Bliss had her special day, then Shelley would do it.

“Thank you.” She wanted to lean up and kiss his cheek but instead she stepped back and smiled with gratitude.

His dark gaze followed her movements and somehow she thought perhaps he had known what she wanted to do. His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered there, before sliding to hers.

Ric’s tone was all business. “You’re welcome. You do what I say, when I say it, no arguments.”

Shelley nodded.

“Hannah will show you to the changing rooms.” The receptionist smiled tightly clearly not happy with Ric’s presence.

The girls changed into their yoga gear. Shelley and Ric waited tensely in the private exercise room that was meant to be calming with its bamboo papered walls, a fountain trickling in the corner, and rolled yoga mats sticking out of a large basket near the un-lit fireplace.

Their instructor, a woman at least twenty years older than Shelley, with silver white hair in a bun and a peaceful air floated into the room. She smiled serenely. But her glance was filled with concern as she noted Ric’s street clothes and holstered weapon. Once Bliss, Ava, and Jess were in the room, Ric nodded at Shelley and slipped outside to guard the entrance.

The yoga class went a long way toward easing Shelley’s tension.

But as soon as they opened the doors, there was Ric. Standing guard. Standing at attention. The stress and the awkward that she’d managed to bend and twist her way out of during yoga came hurtling back.

After facials and massages, they were served lunch in the Aquavant room with the hydro-spa. Humidity simmered in the private pool room.

Ric tried to sit unobtrusively in the corner but Shelley was hyperaware of him. Her body instinctively knew where he was in each room she had been in. He exuded a sexuality that sparked her own visceral awareness of him.

It had been easier to ignore him when she’d had her eyes closed during her massage and facial. But as the women sat at the dining table in spa robes, Shelley couldn’t ignore the way her body reacted to his commanding masculine presence.

A spa staff member served their pre-ordered lunches at the small table.

Shelley picked at her salad. The greens were fresh. The tomatoes and cucumber crisp. The chicken grilled and still warm. The vinaigrette lightly seasoned. But she was so unsettled that everything seemed off and she barely ate. At this rate, she’d lose that extra five pounds that always seemed to linger on her hips.

The girls drank a light white wine while Shelley stuck to water.

After lunch, they submersed in the deliciously scented pool, relaxing in the warm salt water, while Ric continued to stand guard.

Shelley lay back against the edge of the pool, her head rested on the lip and her body floated in the warm soothing water but she couldn’t unwind. The tension of the day had manifested in her stomach and she pressed her hand to her belly wishing she could just relax.

Ric noted her movement. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She couldn’t even have a moment. He was that observant.

Of course, his observation skills had paid off tremendously last night. She flushed and hoped the steam from the pool would disguise the fact that she was getting slightly turned on.

From outside their private room, a woman was complaining loudly about the fact that her trip to the pool was delayed. That was thanks to them.

Oddly something about the woman’s voice, or maybe her whine, registered with Shelley. “I don’t see why some people get special treatment.”

Shelley opened her eyes and lifted her head as the door rattled.

Ric was across the room and in front of the ornate doors in a heartbeat. He had his weapon out and ready. Her body tightened. She couldn’t imagine that someone complaining about a hydro therapy bath was a threat. But what if she was? Ric was standing right in the way.

“You need to leave this room alone,” the spa employee said to whoever was on the other side of the door.

“Fine, but don’t think the manager won’t hear about this.” The voice faded as if the complainer was walking away from the room.

Everyone relaxed.

Ric didn’t return to his seat. He stood next to the door, his body ready.

Shelley let her gaze trail lightly over him. His shoulders were broad and sturdy. His stomach flat, pecs rippled beneath the simple Polo shirt. His worn jeans cupped the bulge beneath his zipper and molded to thighs as thick as the eucalyptus trunks in her yard. His biceps tested the hem of his shirt sleeves, and dark hair dusted his forearms. A wide, black tactical watch emphasized his thick wrists, and drew her gaze to his hands. Those hands had caressed and stroked every single inch of her body, taking her to heights of pleasure that she’d never experienced before.

The memory of all that man between her thighs swept over her and her entire body liquefied in remembered lust.

Ric’s gaze found hers, heated. But all he said was, “I’m going to step outside for a moment. I’ll be right back.” He nodded to all of the women.

“But we know it was a man that wrecked my hotel room.” Shelley understood caution but that was definitely a woman’s voice.

“It was too neat. He could have an accomplice. Or he could have been hired by a woman. At this point we can’t rule out any possibilities.”

Then he was gone.

“Someone’s a little hot and bothered.” Bliss’s dark gaze shifted from Shelley to where Ric had just been standing. Shelley wanted to sink under the water in total embarrassment. Hopefully the flush on her face would be attributed to the moist heat of the pool rather than being turned on.

Jess laughed softly. “She should be. I saw him naked.” She fanned her face with her fingers.

“Jess,” Shelley hissed.

“I’d ask more questions, but we’re talking about my mother-in-law-to-be.” Bliss teased.

“Cut her a break,” Ava said. “Con is freaked out by the whole thing.”

Bliss frowned. “Yeah, Jack too.” Her smile fell from her face and shadows darkened her eyes.

Shelley wondered at Bliss’s expression. She thought that Bliss had been unnaturally subdued today but she really didn’t know her future daughter-in-law that well. “Everything okay, honey?”

Bliss blinked furiously. “Of course. What could be wrong?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell us?” Shelley said softly.

“I just….” Bliss pulled her legs in to her chest in, wrapped her arms around her calves, and rested her cheek on her knees.

They all waited, sensing that something important was coming. “Why isn’t Jack taking care of your security?”

Shelley had wondered the same thing. Did it really make sense for Ric Santana to watch her? However, she didn’t think that’s what had really upset Bliss.

“And?”

“I think he’s having second thoughts,” Bliss whispered. Her words were barely audible over the rush of the bubbles in the pool.

“What?!” Jess sat up so quickly that water splashed over the edge and onto the tile floor.

“No way.” Ava shook her head violently.

Shelley curled her arm around Bliss’s shoulders. Her body was tight with tension. “Why do you think that?”

“Because he’s been really distant and distracted since we got here.” Bliss tucked her head down hiding her face from them all. “And I just can’t help but feel like maybe he’s changed his mind.”

“He’s loco over you.” Ava patted Bliss’s shoulder. She pressed her lips together. “I work with him every day. I know what he’s like when you’re not around. He’s not going to change his mind.”

“Gotta agree with Ava on this one. Although you do make a good point about having Ric do mom’s security,” Jess said.

“You should just talk to him,” Shelley counseled. “Ask him what’s wrong.”

“We were apart for a really long time.” Bliss sighed. “It’s possible that he’s changed his mind. Maybe now that the initial blush of lost love is over, he’s figured out he doesn’t really want me.”

Shelley hated the catch in Bliss’s voice. She didn’t for a moment think Jack was having second thoughts. But until Bliss brought it up, she hadn’t really thought about the fact that Jack could have done her security. Of course, Shelley hadn’t argued because she really didn’t want to take over Jack’s vacation time before the wedding. But maybe it was time to have a quick talk with her oldest son.

Her stomach rolled and another wave of heat flushed through her. But this time it wasn’t from arousal.

Shelley jerked as her stomach did another slosh but this time it was more like a washing machine in spin cycle.

“You okay, mom?” Jess asked.

“I—” Her stomach protested. Suddenly, she knew if she didn’t get out of this pool, she was in trouble. She shoved out of the water and sprinted for the small garbage can in the corner.

“Ric,” Ava called out.

He burst back into the room just as Shelley lost the small amount of lunch she’d managed to force down.

“What the hell happened?” Ric barked out.

Shelley continued to puke in the small can. Bile burned in her nose and humiliation swept through her. Wonderful. Was it possible to be any more embarrassed?

Ric placed his palm on her forehead.

Clammy sweat coated her skin and slicked his warm palm. “You okay, cariña?”

She nodded. But then a throbbing, pounding hit her head, and Shelley dry-heaved for another thirty seconds.

“That was weird. All the sudden I felt sick.”

“I hope you aren’t coming down with something.” Bliss stroked her palm over Shelley’s back.

“How sudden?” Ric asked suspiciously.

“One second I was fine and the next I…wasn’t.”

Ric stalked to the table. “Which dish is yours?”

“The salad.” Ava pointed to Shelley’s plate.

“You didn’t eat much.”

“I wasn’t that hungry.”

“You aren’t doing some stupid thing where you don’t eat before the wedding are you?” Ric asked harshly.

She wanted to take offense but she also wanted to laugh. “No.”

“You didn’t eat dinner last night and you barely ate any breakfast,” Ric said.

Shelley flushed. But this time it was from embarrassment when all three of the girls snickered, clearly recalling why she didn’t eat dinner.

“Do we really need to discuss my eating habits right now?” Shelley ducked her head.

“Why didn’t you eat?” He wouldn’t let it go.

She shrugged. “I felt a little off so I stopped.”

Ric picked up the plate using the linen placemat to keep from touching the ceramic dish and handed it to Bliss. “I need you to have Jack get this analyzed.”

Shelley’s embarrassment fled. “What?”

“Maybe there’s a reason you felt off.” Ric curled his fingers into a fist. “I think it’s time for you to go back to the room.”

Bliss, Ava, and Jess were nodding, somber looks on their faces.

“You,” she faltered then forced herself to continue. “You think my salad was drugged?”

“I’d like to get it tested.” Ric didn’t exactly answer her question. “In the meantime, you should probably go upstairs and lie down until we get a report on exactly what was on or in that salad.”

Shelley’s head spun. He really thought someone had drugged her food. Good gracious, what if someone else had eaten her salad? She needed to get away from the girls before something happened to one of them.

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Ten

Ric paced the suite.

He was pissed because Shelley had been poisoned on his watch. All day, he been distracted by her. Finally in that private pool room, he kept getting preoccupied by Shelley in her demure, and frankly, what should have been unsexy, swimsuit. He’d missed something.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have let Shelley go to the spa at all.

Ric stared at the toxicology report from her lunch. Jack had been able to get the results rushed. Shelley had been poisoned. There had been traces of Tetrahydrozoline in her salad. Someone had dripped Visine, fucking over-the-counter Visine, on the lettuce. Fortunately she hadn’t eaten much so she’d only had a mild reaction to the chemical. If she’d eaten more, she’d have been in the hospital, but it most likely wouldn’t have killed her. Which just made the whole situation a little more weird.

“I’m sorry, amigo.”

Jack was slumped on the sofa, looking as worn out as Ric felt. “What the hell are you sorry for?”

After resting for the last few hours, Shelley was taking a shower, so Ric could speak freely. “I should have anticipated something like this. The entire day felt off.” He’d attributed his uneasiness to the awkwardness of the situation. Initially he’d been caught up in protecting Shelley but as the day wore on and the threat level seemed to recede, other less professional thoughts had crowded his mind.

Shelley was absolutely stunning in her conservative swim suit that was more appropriate for doing laps than lounging by the pool. He’d known he needed to get out of that room when he’d started day dreaming about him and Shelley in the pool naked and doing decidedly un-spa-like activities.

His body had heated and his cock had hardened. He needed to act like the professional he was so, at the time, stepping out seemed like a good call.

Feeling slightly trapped, Ric had used the woman complaining to exit the private room for a moment. A note in that woman’s voice had set him on edge. He wanted to see if he could catch a glimpse of her. His gaze had tracked along the ceiling to see if they had cameras in the spa’s hallway. They didn’t, but hopefully there was film of her at the spa entrance or in the reception area.

He hadn’t liked the spa’s set up. Too many unknown people who couldn’t be vetted even though they were in different rooms than Shelley. Turned out he’d been right to worry since she’d fallen ill.

Now, he flipped through the photos of all the spa guests for the day. “Any of these women, or men, look familiar?”

Jack shook his head. “No. We’ll have Shelley take a look when she’s done.”

He didn’t like the suspicions that were swirling around in his mind. Something about the whole situation seemed…off. Ransacking her hotel room. Poisoning her with a non-lethal dose of Tetrahydrozoline.

“It never occurred to me that the attacks would escalate this fast,” Jack said.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ric slapped the report against his palm. Frustration and temper crested in a wave.

“Well this definitely adds suspicion of an accomplice,” Jack commented.

Ric stared out the window at the skyline. “Yeah. While there were some men at the spa, the clientele were mostly women. Historically women were more likely to use poison than men although I’m not sure that holds true now. Plus it was only enough to incapacitate her. And we have no proof that the woman outside the private pool room was anything more than a disgruntled customer.”

Jack paced around the room. “I wish I had some idea of what the hell is going on.”

The door to the bathroom opened.

Shelley exited in a cloud of steam. Ric admired the completely unselfconscious sway of her hips. She was wearing the hotel’s thick cotton robe and he nearly swallowed his tongue.

She struck him mute when she headed straight to his side. “Are you okay?”

In his line of work, he needed a serious poker face. He never showed emotion. It was one of the issues that had come up regularly back when he’d been trying to have relationships. His girlfriends never had any idea what he was thinking. They’d complained more often than not that he didn’t share his feelings.

Shelley had picked up on his hidden distress after knowing him less than a day. That was shocking.

“I’m fine. Nothing is wrong.” Ric threaded his fingers with hers and squeezed. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said fiercely.

“Oh. I know you won’t.” Shelley disengaged their fingers.

As if his capability was never in question. She’d wiped out his frustration with four simple words. She believed he would keep her safe. Ric vowed right then and there that he wouldn’t let her down.

Her entire body stiffened, then she frowned. “Hi, Jack.”

“Shel.” Jack nodded sternly.

“We’ve got the pictures of the women and men who were in the spa while you were there.” Ric gestured at the sofa. “Have a seat and we’ll go through them.”

The spa didn’t have cameras in their interior hallways, only in the waiting room slash reception area. He’d printed pictures of all the people who had gone in and out while Shelley and the girls were getting their treatments. But unless Shelley could identify any of the people, right now it was a dead end.

Twenty minutes later, Shelley hadn’t been able to identify any single person. So the pictures were a bust. At least for now.

But she fidgeted on the sofa. Something else was going on. Ric watched Shelley closely.

“Um, Jack, I need to talk to you.” She wasn’t twisting her hands but her demeanor was one step up from a worried mother.

“Shoot.”

Shelley darted a furtive glance at Ric. “Alone.” She blinked, her lashes covering her gaze and creating a shadow over her cheeks.

Ric puffed up his chest ready to argue but Jack beat him to it.

“Listen, Shel. Ric needs to hear whatever you have to say.”

Her face flushed red. Whatever she needed to say, she was seriously embarrassed. Ric supposed he should have offered to leave the room, but after this morning, he had no intention of leaving her alone again.

“He can’t protect you if you keep things from—”

“Bliss thinks you’re having second thoughts,” she blurted out. She jumped up from the sofa and propped her hands on her hips.

Jack bunched his fists. “What?”

“Normally I wouldn’t get involved in your relationship.” Shelley said, “But she was really upset earlier.”

“She….”

“Thinks you’re reconsidering the wedding.” Shelley said softly, “You need to talk to her, Jack.”

“Why would she think that?” The true bewilderment and sense of panic on Jack’s face was a revelation. Ric had never seen his buddy so gone over a woman. He supposed that’s why Jack was getting married.

“Well,” Shelley shot an inscrutable look at Ric before shifting her attention back to her stepson.

“Come on, Shel.”

“She wondered why you aren’t doing my security.” If he wasn’t mistaken, Shelley was feeling guilty for questioning why Ric was doing her security. Not that he minded.

She mouthed, Sorry.

Ric froze. He knew why Jack wasn’t watching out for his stepmother. He was on a very private, very personal mission.

Ric exchanged a significant glance with Jack.

Shelley shifted her gaze back and forth between the two of them. “What?”

“What, what?” Jack said.

“What was that look?” Shelley directed her question to Ric already figuring out that Jack wasn’t going to say a word. But it wasn’t Ric’s secret to share. Before Ric could reply, Jack butt in. “How could she think that?”

Shelley shrugged. “You haven’t been back together that long.”

Jack shook his head.

“When you know, you know. It hits you right here.” Jack thumped his fist over his heart. “I need to go.”

Shelley nodded. “Talk to her.”

Ric eyed Jack. “The Visine is a dead end.” There was no way they could track every single purchase in the area and that assumed it was bought in Las Vegas. “But Con is continuing to trace emails.”

“We good?” Jack asked.

“I’ve got it.”

Shelley rubbed her palms over her biceps. “What about the dinner tonight?”

“What dinner tonight?” Rick asked.

“Family dinner,” Jack said tersely. “I didn’t invite you because I thought you’d want some of your own time in Vegas.”

Ah. That made sense. But if Shelley was going to a family dinner, there’s no way he’d let her go without him.

“I’d like to go,” Shelley said.

“How are you feeling?” Ric asked.

“My stomach is still a little queasy. But better than I was.”

“The only way I’d be comfortable with you attending is if I’m also there.” Ric refused to budge on that point.

“Private room. Don’t have to leave the hotel.” Jack gave the details. “I’m placing people, actually two, in the kitchen.”

Ric nodded. “Okay. Then you can go.”

Shelley bristled beside him. But there was no way in hell he was letting her out of his sight. “We’ll hang here until the dinner.”

“But—”

“No arguing.” Ric was adamant. “Your safety is the most important issue.”

Besides, she needed to rest.

“I’m out,” Jack said.

After Jack left there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. He’d just insisted that he and Shelley spend the next few hours here and not leave.

She plopped down on the sectional sofa that overlooked the Vegas skyline. “Can you tell me why Jack is having you do my security?”

He tried not to let her lack of confidence in his skills bother him. “It’s not my secret to share.”

Shelley sighed and her shoulders slumped. The neckline of her robe gaped open just enough to show the alabaster curve of her breast. Ric swallowed and turned his focus to the scenery rather than Shelley’s hot body. The smoking attraction that arced between them all day shot from low simmer to white hot electric.

“However I can absolutely guarantee that it is the exact opposite of him having second thoughts.” His pal was one hundred and fifty percent hung up on his fiancee.

So much so that Ric envied his pal’s commitment.

“Good.” She smiled softly. “That’s good. Jack deserves to be happy.”

There she went again with other people deserving things. But that wasn’t a conversation they needed to have right now. Shelley rubbed her palm over her abdomen.

“You doing okay?”

“Besides the fact that someone tried to poison me?” Shelley quipped.

Ric’s stomach turned at the reality that someone had succeeded. They hadn’t wanted her dead. Otherwise….

Damn, the thought that she could be hurt, burned like acid on his skin.

Ric needed to touch her. To reassure himself that for now she was okay. He sat on the sofa and curled his arm around her shoulders somewhat tentatively, but then she turned and practically threw herself into his embrace. Her head butted his collarbone and she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

“How did you order your lunch?” Ric turned over details in his brain, searching for the right fact. The one that would cause all the other elements to fall in place and create an actionable picture. For now all they had were random acts and random threats, but nothing that tied it all together.

“We pre-ordered ahead of time,” Shelley replied.

“So they targeted you.” But again they didn’t give her enough to kill her. Just enough to get her out of the way. “Before you got to Vegas did you have any other overt threats?”

Shelley snorted. “Nope.”

A shiver worked its way over her body and she curled into his heat. “What about tonight? No one else got sick today but what if they try again tonight and hurt one of the kids?”

Ric hated to see her so upset. He rested his chin on her head.

“I couldn’t stand it if someone got hurt because of me.”

“Hey.” Ric inhaled the sweet floral scent of her shampoo, the fragrance invading his senses. “We’re on top of it. Besides there wasn’t enough to actually kill you. It was just supposed to incapacitate you.”

Which again was sort of weird. Almost as if they just wanted to scare her away. Ric rubbed his palm over her back and tried not to notice her warm naked skin pressed against his chest.

“Did you have any attempts while you were still in Monterey?”

Shelley shook her head, her damp hair rubbed his chin. “No.”

So perhaps they were just trying to scare her away from Las Vegas. “Why would someone want you away from Vegas?”

Ric shifted so that his legs stretched out on the sectional sofa and Shelley twined her bare legs with his. The hem of the white cotton robe rode up until the back of her knees were exposed. Hardly an erotic sight, but Ric was remembering last night. Shelley laid out on the rumpled sheets, those gorgeous toned thighs bracketing his face as he devoured her pussy.

The sounds she’d made as she was coming were indelibly imprinted on his brain.

Just thinking about those damn noises had his cock rising. He couldn’t have sex with his principal. It wasn’t a safe move. But damn he wanted to bury his face in her sex and lick and suck until she was writhing beneath him, begging him to make her come.

Shelley shifted then went motionless as she felt his erection.

Ric held back a groan when instead of shifting away she stroked her belly against his straining hardness.

They were both panting. Shelley had burrowed her hands beneath his cotton Polo and smoothed her palms over his abs and chest. She was burning him up.

He rolled her so that she was sandwiched between the back of the sofa and his body. With a deep groan, he buried his face in the curve of her neck and breathed her in. He couldn’t take this any further, but he needed a moment to get a grip.

Shelley twined her legs with his and stroked his cock through his jeans.

“We can’t.” He protested.

A loud knock at the door startled them both.

Shelley jumped off the sofa so fast she swayed, perilously close to falling over.

“Lock yourself in the bathroom. If you hear anything suspicious, climb in the tub and use the phone to call security.” He shot instructions at her like bullets. Ric eased his weapon from the holster and headed to the door, covering his bases, even though he doubted her perpetrator would just knock on the door.

The banging got louder. “Shelley!”

Connor. Cockblocked by her stepson. Ric still peered through the peephole to verify it was indeed Connor Stone. The guy had impeccable timing.

Connor’s grim face stared back at him. Ric unlocked the door and let him in.

“What took so long?” Connor growled.

“Con?” Shelley came out of the bathroom, still in the short robe, her hair mussed and her lips reddened. “Is everything okay?”

Connor’s attention shifted between Shelley’s attire and Ric. He scowled at Ric who fought the urge to smooth his hand over his hair. Shelley was a grown woman, dammit.

“You took forever to answer the door,” Connor finally replied.

Shelley flushed. “Ric was just being extra cautious.”

“I’ll bet he was.”

“Was there a reason you stopped by?” Ric tried to divert Shelley’s focus away from Connor’s sarcasm.

Connor blinked. “Oh, uh, yeah. I found four email addresses that I want you to take a look at.”

They sat on the sectional sofa. Shelley intuitively returned to the spot she’d just vacated. Ric had a primitive compulsion to be close to her. He forced himself to sit at an angle so that Connor could show her the addresses. “By analyzing several variables, language, tone, and type of message, I was able to distill all the possible matches down to these four as potential matches.”

He had printouts of each address along with the emails sent. Ric leaned closer so he could read the contents. “Can you look at these and see if you know the senders?”

Shelley studied the four sheets.

“Are any based in Las Vegas?” Ric asked.

Shelley was so close that he could see the small mole at the corner of her mouth. She must cover it up with makeup most of the time because he hadn’t noticed it before.

Her scent rose from her skin and he lost himself in the bottomless pools of her eyes.

Connor cleared his throat, and they broke apart. “Why Vegas?”

“I’ve been thinking about it.” Ric concluded, “Prior to coming to Vegas all the love letters and threats had been verbal or written. No physical contact. But since Shelley arrived here, there’s been an escalation.”

Both acts against her seemed perpetrated with the aim of getting her to leave Las Vegas. “Why would someone want you gone from here?”

“I don’t know.”

Connor said, “You recognize any of the screen names associated with these email addresses, maybe from another form of social media or as a nickname for someone you know?”

“No.” Her heart was beating so hard that her breastbone shook her entire chest.

“Hey, it’s just a line of investigation.” Ric covered her hand, squeezed her fingers, amazed all over again at how delicate she was once you got past the force of her personality.

“Good point.” Con nodded. “Two of the addresses are from Vegas but both have decent security.”

Shelley shivered.

“Shel, you know we would never let anything happen to you.” Connor consoled her.

“Oh, sweetie.” Shelley’s smile was bittersweet. “I’m more worried about all you kids.”

“We’re hardly children.” Connor hesitated for a second, then patted her hand. “Don’t worry, I will figure this out.”

“Everyone is working to make sure you’re safe.” Ric couldn’t help but add. But if anything that seemed to make Shelley more uncomfortable. And he understood. She didn’t like being the center of attention. He got that. He preferred to travel under the radar too.

“It’s almost as if we’re dealing with two different perpetrators.” Connor frowned.

Ric rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. So far his relaxing vacation was turning out to be higher stress than he’d anticipated. “I’ll keep her physically safe. Think you can handle the cyber aspect?”

“I’m going to run a different analysis program and see if I can get a legal name and location for all four of these addresses.”

“Sounds good.” Ric shook Connor’s hand.

It may have been his imagination but it seemed as if Connor squeezed a little too long during the shake. Another warning. What Connor hadn’t seemed to figure out was that Ric would do anything to keep Shelley safe.

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Eleven

She didn’t have a good feeling about this.

Shelley and Ric entered the private dining room at the steakhouse. They walked in to the dimly lit, atmospheric restaurant.

Ric had placed a possessive hand at the small of her back, his fingertips burned through the thin material of the sexy black dress. Desire sizzled in a direct line from his fingertips to her clit. She’d spent extra time on her makeup and slathered a shimmery lotion over her bare arms and legs hoping to distract herself from the real worry that she was putting everyone in danger.

Shelley recalled the last time she was here. She was wearing the same LBD and heels that she’d worn just last night.

It seemed almost impossible that she’d only been here twenty-four hours ago with Ric. The sexy stranger. Now he was Ric, her sexy bodyguard, and they had barely been out of each other’s sight. With that thought her muscles twisted into a bunched mass of frustration and fear.

She’d coiled her hair up into a complicated twist leaving her neck bare.

“It’s going to be fine,” Ric murmured in her ear. His breath puffed over her neck and goose bumps skittered across her arms. The hum of spirited conversations greeted their arrival as Ric had Shelley precede him into the private dining room.

“Shel.” Jack pushed back from the head of the table. Her protector was all grown up and in charge. She really hoped Jack and Bliss had worked out whatever was wrong. Bliss rose from the table, stunning in a little black silk dress with a Mandarin collar and red silk accents, silk buttons down the front, and black patent Louboutins with the signature red sole. Shelley noted that the strain around her dark exotic eyes, high cheekbones, and tight smile hadn’t gone away.

Shelley impulsively hugged Bliss. “It will be okay.”

“I think that’s supposed to be my line,” Bliss said ruefully.

Jack slapped Ric on the back in a man hug, and they spoke quietly. So quietly, Shelley couldn’t hear a word.

“Looking good, mom.” Jess hugged her tightly. “How are you doing?”

“Better.”

Colin kissed her left cheek, then her right. “Always here if you need another bodyguard, love.”

Shelley squeezed him in an appreciative hug. “Thank you.”

Jess held Colin’s hand loosely in hers. Shelley was thankful her daughter seemed happy, settled. Although she worried a little about Jess working for Jack, she also knew that Jess could take care of herself.

Shelley glanced around the room. “Where’s John?”

“He’s working an angle on finding Fernandez’s contact in Vegas,” Jack explained. “For right now, we aren’t advertising that he is part of the family. He’s staying in a condo with Maria and Marissa who works with Bliss at Adams Larsen.”

Bottles of corked wine sat at even intervals on the table. Platters of seafood, calamari, oysters, and tuna were scattered at each end.

“Did someone vet the food?” Ric was in full protection mode. Though they were in a private room with just family, he hadn’t moved far from her side.

“Shane and Keisha volunteered to observe in the kitchen.”

“So, no break in the chain of custody.”

Shelley snorted. “Did you really just call serving appetizers—”

“I take your safety very seriously,” he whispered in her ear. The tingle skittered over her spine. “And I won’t let anyone hurt you. Or your family.”

The conviction in his voice was like a balm to her rattled nerves.

Before she could say thank you, Connor and Ava walked into the room. Together they were striking. Ava with her thick black hair and darker skin and Con with his blond hair and unusual golden brown eyes. Shelley’s heart melted at the soft look on Con’s face as he gazed at Ava.

Greetings were exchanged. The atmosphere in the room was downright festive. They sat at the large rectangular table and started passing the appetizers. Ric was on her right at one end of the table, his body like an inferno, and his thigh seemed awfully close to hers. His presence was distracting. Connor was on her left with Ava next to him. Jack sat at the head of the table with Bliss on his left. Jess and Colin sat across from Con and Shelley.

Shelley observed Jack. He appeared to still be carrying a lot of stress. She hoped that whatever was going on between him and Bliss worked itself out. Jack deserved to be happy.

Con reached over and clasped her hand in a quick squeeze. “How are you?”

His gaze slipped to the proximity of Ric’s body to hers. Shelley tried unobtrusively to ease away, but Ric tugged on her chair until she was closer to him. “Sorry to be causing so much trouble,” she started.

Before Shelley could say anything else, a bleach blonde woman dressed in black skinny jeans, stiletto heels and a blue sequined tube top, burst into the room.

“Connor, baby. Is that you?” She squealed in a baby doll voice that was more suited to a teenager and threw her arms wide open. Shelley wasn’t sure how old the woman was, her face had been slightly distorted by plastic surgery so she could be anywhere from thirty to sixty.

Her body had likely been altered too. She was thin with large breasts. Something about her was familiar, but Shelley couldn’t figure out why she thought that.

Beside Connor, Ava froze. Connor discreetly laced his fingers with Ava’s.

Connor cleared his throat. “Do I know you?”

Shelley studied the shape of the woman’s chin and her eyes as they filled with false tears. Finally she figured out how she knew the woman. She’d only met her once, a long time ago, but she was pretty sure it was Kandi.

“Do you know me?” She scooted around the table and flung herself at Connor. “I’m your mama.”

Everyone in the room stuttered to a halt. Con had gone stock still. Not moving. Not breathing. Bliss and Colin’s mouths were both hanging open. Jack looked ready to murder her. Ava was trying unsuccessfully to tug her fingers from Connor’s but he was holding on too tightly. Ric just sat silently, observing.

So it looked like was up to Shelley to salvage the situation.

She stood smoothly trying desperately to control the urge to bitch slap the woman. Con so did not need this right now. “Kandi, I don’t think this is the proper time—”

“I was talking to my son.” Kandi tilted her head down as if she were looking over a pair of glasses frames, her unnaturally blue eyes stared at Connor with an unholy light.

Shelley tried, patiently to shove down her rage. This woman was not going to ruin Con’s vacation. And calling him her son was a bit of a stretch, since she’d only been back once in the last twenty years and that was to ask for more money. She’d timed that visit for when the kids were at school so Con hadn’t seen his mother while she’d been trying to extort more cash from an absent Jackson Sr.

However, Shelley wasn’t going to stop Con from visiting with his mother if he wished. But she knew her adopted son well enough to know he would hate being the center of this kind of attention.

Always trying to be the peacemaker, Shelley tried to fix this. She pasted on her accommodating, lady of the manor, ‘you won’t hurt me with your superior attitude and misplaced jealousy’ smile that she’d perfected all those years ago when she’d first moved into the Stone mansion and used it to try to put Kandi at ease. “Why not make arrangements to meet sometime later?”

Con shoved his chair away from the table and stood. “What are you doing here?”

Kandi threaded her arm through Con’s and leaned into her biological son. Her cobalt blue sequined top showcased her purchased cleavage prominently, as she stared at Con and blinked her false black lashes. “Baby, I live in Vegas.”

Jack started toward Kandi, which was not going to end well. But before he could take more than one step, Con held his palm up to stop his brother. “I’ve got this.”

Her acrylic nails were the same unnatural blue as her eyes and obscenely gaudy next to Con’s understated navy blazer. He carefully peeled her fingers from his forearm. “I meant, Kandi,” his voice was a low growl, “what are you doing in this room?”

“I saw the family name on the waitress podium out front.” Kandi was definitely not comprehending the angry vibe rolling off Connor. He was pissed.

When Shelley looked at him, she didn’t see a grown man, rather the bewildered child he’d been when Shelley had shown up on Jackson Stone’s doorstep all those years ago. Because she knew how sensitive he was and how much it would pain him if he yelled at his mother, Shelley intervened. Her only thought was to protect Connor.

“I think it would be best if you exchanged numbers,” Shelley started.

Kandi ignored her. Didn’t even look at Shelley.

“Shel, stop.” Con gently brushed his palm over her shoulder then turned to Kandi. “What do you want?”

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw your name,” Kandi simpered. “I had to see you.”

Shelley opened her mouth but nothing came out. She quivered with the urge to get in Kandi’s face and give her a piece of her mind. How dare she mess with Connor like this?

She jolted when Ric tugged her back into her chair and draped his arm casually over her shoulders. She was probably the only one who knew there was nothing simple or casual about his hold. She wouldn’t be able to break free.

“I’ll make this as clear as possible,” Connor said softly. “Leave.”

Finally Kandi got that Connor wasn’t happy. “We can exchange numbers.”

“I don’t think you understand.” Connor folded his arms over his chest, his shoulders bulked. “Don’t call. Don’t come back. Ever.”

“But,” Kandi sputtered. “Connor, baby. You can’t mean that. I’m your mama.”

“You are nothing but an egg donor,” Connor replied calmly.

“But—”

“Shelley,” he placed his palm on Shelley’s shoulder and squeezed, “is my mother. The only mother I want or need.”

Shelley’s heart swelled. She tilted her head so her cheek brushed his hand.

“You can’t possibly mean that.” Kandi stomped her stiletto booted foot, her enhanced breasts jiggled and her face twisted into an ugly mask.

“I absolutely mean it. She’s an angel.” Connor smiled.

But Kandi wasn’t done. “I’m your mother.”

Shelley thought Kandi might actually launch herself at Connor.

Ric jumped in front of Kandi and subdued her with one quick action. Shelley hadn’t seen him move. He held Kandi’s arm in an iron grip. “You need to leave.”

“But—”

Ric said calmly, “Call security.”

Kandi tried to wrench her arm away but his hold didn’t budge. “Forget it. I’ll leave.”

Ric and Jack exchanged a pointed look. “You okay with that, Connor?”

Con sighed wearily. “Just let her go.”

Ric escorted her to the door. Just as he was about to get her out of the room, their waitress rolled in a cart with the first course and stopped just inside the doorway. She looked confused at the group of people clustered around the entrance. In that moment of distraction, Kandi tugged her arm from Ric’s hold and almost ran in to Shane Washington.

Behind Shane, hovering on the other side of the doorway, stood a bulky man in an Armani suit, hair military short, and craggy blunt features. The man hadn’t been visible until the waitress opened the door.

Once the waitress and Shane were between Kandi and the rest of the room, Kandi shot Shelley a venomous glare. Shelley recoiled at the visible hatred in Kandi’s gaze.

“Let’s go, Kandi,” her male friend spoke. He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the exit.

That had certainly been weird. Her trip to Las Vegas was just one bizarre happening after another. She hated to imagine what could happen next.

But in typical fashion, Shelley tried to put everyone back at ease.

Her stomach was a mess, between the remnants of her drugged salad, and the sickly acid from this last confrontation, she’d be happy not eating for a week.

“Who’s hungry?”

Ric stared after Kandi and her companion and then made a dash for the entrance. Jack shot out of his chair too. But the cart and Shane blocked their exit, and by the time they got around the obstacle and ran through the restaurant, it was too late.

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Twelve

What a clusterfuck.

As soon as Ric saw Kandi’s companion, he put it all together. They might be Shelley’s stalkers. After all, what were the odds that Con’s mother would show up at the same time that Shelley started having all her problems?

He and Jack had come to the realization at the same time and taken off after the pair but it had been too late. After searching the casino floor, they finally returned to the restaurant, frustrated and subdued. He and Jack had both made calls and notified security, but no one had been able to find either Kandi or the guy. Ric had called his computer guy to run a check on Kandi but he didn’t have her companion’s name. So far, his guy hadn’t turned up much beyond a crap ton of credit card bills and an apartment in Vegas.

Connor had been quiet through the rest of dinner. Of Jack’s siblings, Connor was the brother Ric knew least. Army vs. Navy. But Jack had never spoken of his brother with anything but admiration and maybe a little exasperation.

If only Ric had put it together sooner. But Kandi hadn’t acknowledged Shelley at any time during her interaction with Connor until that very last vitriolic look.

Which led Ric right back to his current problem. This wasn’t going to be a fun convo.

While Shelley was in the bathroom, he quietly dialed Jack. “Tell me you got a picture of Kandi’s friend.”

“Yep,” Jack said. “I’m running it through the facial comparison program now.”

“There was something about the way he moved.” Ric mused. “Did you see it?”

“I thought so too,” Jack said. “Good call. It is him.”

So Kandi’s friend was the one who trashed Shelley’s hotel room.

Although Shelley’s protection duty had only started this morning, he was ready to have this particular job over with. Sitting next to Shelley tonight at dinner had been torture. Every time she moved in that dress, he remembered the night before.

She was unbelievably sensual.

He wanted to eat her up. But first they had to catch the people harassing her.

“So it’s likely Kandi was working with him to try to scare Shelley away.”

“What the hell is her end game?” Jack snarled.

“Hopefully the cops can round them up quickly and we can find out.” Ric let relief swell over him. This would be over with soon. Ric hesitated which pissed him off. He wasn’t the hesitating type. “What about Connor?”

Jack barked out a laugh. “What?”

“It has to be asked.” Ric paced to the bed and back as he ran his fingers through his hair.

That shut Jack up. “You can’t really think—”

“Doing the job you asked me to do, Jack.”

“Shit. You’re right. Even though you’re wrong. There’s absolutely no way my brother had anything to do with whatever is going on with his biological egg donor.” Jack blew out a frustrated breath. “Fuck.”

“I need to have a chat with him.” Logically Ric didn’t believe that Connor Stone had anything to do with the threats to Shelley. But he wouldn’t be doing the job Jack asked him to do, the job he’d vowed to do, if he didn’t pursue the lead.

“I’ll call him,” Jack said. “I need to prep him.”

Ric didn’t like the idea of giving Connor a heads up but he understood Jack’s reasoning.

“I’ll send him down.” Jack said, “You keep watch on Shelley while I work with the police.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ric said fiercely.

“Thanks, BP.”

Ric heard the strain in Jack’s voice. He had been aware of the distance between Bliss Lee and Jack tonight at dinner. “You make any headway on that other project?”

“I thought I did but it was a dead end and I’m running out of time,” Jack said wearily.

“You may want to come clean with your fiancée.”

Of course, what did he know about fiancées? His failed marriage had been over years ago.

“Giving it a few more days.” Jack was unable to let go of his hope. “Later, BP.”

Ric hung up and waited for Con to arrive.

Shelley emerged from the bathroom. She had changed from her dress into a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. There was nothing overtly sexy about the outfit and still every nerve in his body came to attention. Like a pointer dog on the trail of prey, his cock rose toward her.

Sweet mercy, it was going to be a long night.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and Ric’s cock deflated faster than a popped balloon. This was going to be ugly.

Shelley’s head lifted from the magazine she was pretending to read on the sofa. “Who do you think it is?” Her eyes were wide and startled.

“Connor.”

She shifted getting ready to answer the door but Ric held out his palm. “I’ll get it.”

He let Jack’s younger half-brother into the room. Connor nodded tensely at Ric. He knew exactly why he was here.

Connor Stone was a wickedly smart man.

“Hi Con.” Her smiled faded at the serious expression darkening the younger man’s eyes.

Connor knelt next Shelley. “I’m sorry.”

Right away Ric’s hackles rose. What the fuck? Could Jack have been wrong?

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Shelley grabbed Con’s hands and Ric immediately went for his weapon. “Put that away,” she demanded.

Shelley ran her hand through Connor’s hair.

“Shelley.” Connor bowed his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Con, you are not responsible for her actions.”

He hugged her tightly for a moment. Then, because he understood that Shelley’s blind faith wasn’t enough, he stood and addressed Ric, “What do you need?”

Ric nodded. “Just a few questions.”

Shelley jumped up. Her heart was pounding so hard he could see her chest shake. “What are you talking about?”

Ric was pretty sure this conversation was going to deep six any chance of sex in the future but if it kept Shelley safe then he’d forgo the extra hot hook up in a heartbeat. “I need to verify that Connor didn’t have anything to do with your attacks.”

Connor’s mouth tightened but he nodded. Shelley on the other hand jumped in front of her adopted son as if to shield him from Ric’s evil interrogation.

“Shelley.” Ric’s heart sunk.

“He had nothing to do with what happened.”

Connor curled his palm around Shelley’s wrist. “He’s right to ask.”

“No, he isn’t,” she said fiercely, a mama bear protecting her cub. She glared at Ric. Fantastic. He definitely wasn’t getting laid any time soon.

“Have you had any contact with Kandi Kane recently?” And didn’t that sound like something straight out of a porn flick? She must have legally changed her name.

Shelley fumed beside Connor.

He shook his head. “She came by the house once when I was around four. I vaguely remember it being…unpleasant.”

Ric had a difficult relationship with his mother but at least she’d been around. And she loved him. He knew that even if they weren’t particularly close.

“Any other contact?”

Con replied, “No.”

“Would you be willing to submit your phone?” Ric asked.

“Sure.” Connor reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Although his surrender of his phone really proved nothing since Connor was a computer genius.

“You know that I could program my phone not to show specific contact information? Or I could have a burner.”

All that was true. Connor was savvy enough to do it.

“This is absurd.” Shelley curled her arm around Connor’s shoulders. “He has nothing to do with Kandi and her issues.”

Ric rubbed his palm over his face. “Shelley. Jack asked me to keep you safe. If I don’t follow all potential trails, then I’m not doing my job.”

Her mouth flattened into a tight line.

“So that was the first time you’d seen your mother in years?”

“Uh yeah.” Connor looked ill at ease. “In the spirit of full disclosure, I did…look her up when I was about seventeen or eighteen. But I didn’t have any contact with her.”

“Oh, Con,” Shelley said softly. “You could have asked me.”

“Yeah, I wanted to do it on my own. But once I did some research I knew I didn’t need to see her in person again.”

“Sweetie.” Shelley’s green eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault she’s a fucking gold digger.” Con clenched his fists and his face contorted into a brutal frown. “I promise you. I will not let her hurt you.”

“I know that.” Shelley turned and glared at Ric. “This is done.”

It was. Ric could see by the sheer affection between them and the way that Connor shielded Shelley from Ric that Connor would never hurt Shelley. “Can you, uh, stay in the room with Shelley, while I make a quick call?”

“Yeah.” Con smiled.

Ric let himself out of the room.

Shelley paced around the sofa trying to burn off the frantic, angry energy that Ric’s questioning had caused.

Neither one of them said anything for a few moments. Then she couldn’t stand it anymore. “You know I had nothing to do with that, that travesty that just occurred.”

“Shel, I’d be more worried if he didn’t question me.”

“Well that sucked. Of course you don’t have anything to do with whatever is going on.”

She kicked at something on the floor and it skipped across the carpet next to Connor’s shoe. He picked up the crumpled condom package. Oh my God. The maid hadn’t been allowed back in the room since the incident and somehow they’d missed one.

“Yours?” Connor raised one eyebrow.

“Oh my God.” Her face burned. She’d blushed more in the past day than in the past twenty years. But there certainly wasn’t going to be any more sex happening here now.

“At least you practiced safe sex.” Con snickered.

“You want to think back a few months to me walking in on you and Ava?”

That shut him up.

“I thought not.” She was mostly teasing him.

Con wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tugged her into a hug. No hesitation, no tentative pause before he showed her affection.

Shelley’s heart melted at the fact that Con finally, finally embraced her with no hesitation. All it took was having her hotel room trashed, being poisoned, and threatened by her baby daddy’s ex-girlfriend.

Shelley almost laughed.

“I’m glad you’ve got someone, Shel.”

“It’s only temporary.” That truth hurt. It was realistic. It was only temporary. Their few hours of pleasure had somehow turned from a one night stand into a bizarre unexpected need for protection. Ric had promised to protect her body, but she wondered how she was going to protect her heart.

“You never know,” he said softly. “It was killing him to have to interrogate me about Kandi. Because he knew it hurt you.”

Shelley shrugged.

“Shel, he did it anyway, to keep you safe.” Connor said, “It takes an honorable man to do what’s right even if it will make things difficult for him.”

“Aw, sweetie.” Shelley hugged Connor. “I love you. You know that right?”

“I know.” He rested his cheek against her hair. “Love you too.”

In the oddest way, Kandi had managed to give Shelley something she’d been waiting and hoping would happen for years. Connor had finally fully accepted her.

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Thirteen

He was sick of these four walls.

Shelley paced around the suite, which yesterday had seemed fairly large. But after being confined for the past twenty-four hours while the police, and the extended Stone family, searched for Kandi had taken its toll.

In an odd twist, the boyfriend had come forward last night and turned himself in for trashing Shelley’s hotel room. He’d had a massive fight with Kandi after they left the restaurant last night, and he’d gotten a look at the Stone family.

He knew when to cut his losses. So he’d confessed to the crime, and today his attorney plead the charge down to the more minor misdemeanor charge plus a fine with no incarceration.

He also told the cops that Kandi was totally cray-cray. What he didn’t know, was where Kandi had disappeared to.

He’d confessed about the same time that Con had broken the encryption on the Las Vegas emails. The poor guy was pretty broken up about the fact that his mother was the one who’d been harassing Shelley.

But now Kandi was in the wind.

Between him and Shelley hiding out in this damn room together, they were both beyond tense. The urge to jump her was growing stronger. He really wanted to lay her out on the bed and ravish her.

Never in his fucking life had he used the word ravish. He was going crazy and he was pretty sure Shelley wasn’t far behind.

Not to mention the fact that she was still pissed at him for questioning Connor.

Shelley counted off the steps to the floor to ceiling windows. Then she paced to the sectional sofa. “You know I hate to complain, but I’m going nuts.”

Before he could answer, she started babbling.

“Actually you don’t know I hate to complain. Because you don’t know me. But I do. I hate it. I’m used to being swamped.”

Ric thought about security. He thought about Jack’s influence. Maybe he could do something about their combined antsiness. They needed to get the hell out of this hotel room.

“Give me half an hour.”

She stopped dead in the middle of the room. Interest, speculation lit up her bright green eyes. “For what?”

“I don’t want to get your hopes up.” Ric pressed a number on his cell.

It took more like forty-five minutes, but Ric managed to get them entrance into the closed fitness center and spa.

The security guard who escorted them to the secured facility and let them in admonished Ric, “Call when you’re done. Use the phone at the desk. Your cell won’t work in here. And please, don’t leave a mess.” Ric had a feeling this wasn’t the first time he’d escorted guests into the supposedly closed spa.

The previously soothing reception area was bathed in darkness except for one soft spotlight over the registration desk. The fountain in the corner was silent.

“Oh my God.” Shelley giggled, practically giddy with the forbidden. In her pale gray and neon yellow running shorts and tight gray and white spandex halter top, her sleek form taunted him. “I can’t wait to get some action.”

Action. He wanted to groan. He needed some serious physical action to keep his mind out of the gutter and off of getting some action with Shelley.

She bounced on her toes as she waited for him to open the doors to the exercise room. Ric quickly averted his gaze from the jiggle of her breasts. He tried to block the memory of her riding him, tits bobbing as she slammed down on him.

Ric wiped the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. Shit. Was it hot in here?

Shelley zoomed over to the treadmill and hopped on. Her ass, cupped lovingly by the shorts, swayed enticingly as she started a brisk warm up on the treadmill.

Ric figured that in the closed spa, with only the security staff and Jack knowing they were here, she was safe enough. However he was still armed. He placed his weapon on top of the water cooler next to an open treadmill. Ric vowed to stay alert. To keep his focus on the surroundings and off his principal.

He started running. The slap of his shoes on the treadmill beat a cautioning taunt in his head, don’t look, don’t look.

But he couldn’t help himself. Shelley was flat out running at an incline. Her breasts bounced with each stride. Her rich auburn hair had drifted from her pony tail to wisp around her face. A light sweat gleamed on her skin and her cheeks were already a little pink from the exertion.

But what drew him like a fucking moth to a porch light was her beaming smile. Her lips curved with happiness and her moss green eyes sparkled. Her joy at the simple fix nearly knocked him over.

“Oh my God.” She huffed out her breath. “Thank you. I could totally bow down to you right now.”

An image of her on her knees bowing for a completely different reason flashed in his brain. His cock reacted immediately to the carnal thought.

She must have realized how her words could be misconstrued because her face flushed bright red. “Um, you know, in thanks.”

Ric snorted. He couldn’t help it.

She wasn’t trying to be suggestive.

“I’ll just shut my mouth now,” she said.

They ran in silence, the only sound in the heating room was the swish of the treadmill belts and the thud of their feet.

Shelley grabbed her water bottle and drank. Ric was mesmerized by the graceful arch of her neck. Now he was rhapsodizing over her neck. What the hell was wrong with him?

“This feels so good.”

“You work out a lot?” he asked, thinking if he could get her talking he could ignore his body’s reaction to watching her run.

“Most of my exercise comes from working on the farm. But I do try to get a run in a few times a week.”

“Tell me more about the farm.”

“I bought the land. I have several full time employees. The rest are transient. But we grow the crops, harvest the produce, and then the crop yield goes to the food bank.”

Ric watched as her face blossomed with animation. “Isn’t that expensive?”

“It is but we’ve implemented a program where people adopt an acre. So they pay the operating costs.”

“Smart.”

“It’s a fantastic program.” She gestured with enthusiasm. “That’s what the stupid article was supposed to be about.”

“The article that prompted this whole thing?” Ric asked. “I thought it was a local piece.”

“It was. Except it got picked up by a syndicated paper and things just sort of snowballed from there.”

Kandi’s companion had told the police that she’d seen the article about Shelley and gone completely wacko. She believed that she should have Shelley’s money, Shelley’s life.

“Although the original reporter,” Shelley grimaced. “Skewed the article to be more about me and the Stone mansion, the farm and the program got some good publicity. Our donations are up.”

Ric admired her dedication.

“So overall I’m happy.” Shelley continued to run. “Really, I can’t complain.”

She took the extra attention on her personal life, and unexpected irritation of dealing with the stalkers, with grace. “Why aren’t you more pissed?”

Shelley pressed the buttons to slow her pace. “My life is pretty damn amazing. I may have had some tough times but now I am grateful for every day and my healthy children and the ability to help other people.”

Ric stopped his treadmill and hopped off. He grabbed one of the pristine white towels and rubbed down his face.

“You are extraordinary.”

“How can I complain? I’m blessed,” she said softly. Her eyes softened and her smile widened as her treadmill slowed to a halt. “But, thank you.”

Yet whenever the subject came up she was more worried about her kids and their happiness.

Sweat gleamed over her skin.

“Trust me.” Ric said, “Plenty of people complain.” He tossed a clean towel to Shelley.

Shelley shrugged. “I feel sorry for people who don’t ever find happiness.”

After grabbing his weapon from the water cooler, he dropped onto a weight bench and straddled the black leather seat. “Do you ever think about your own happiness?”

“Not really.” Shelley wiped the sweat from her face. “I just focus on other people. That brings me happiness.”

Maybe that’s why he had been discontent lately. She was making him think about things. Assess his life, assess his priorities.

He realized that being trapped in a hotel room with her had still been some of the best days of his life. In fact the last two days had been a revelation. He liked her. His restlessness in the hotel room had more to do with their incredible attraction than a desire to get away from her.

In fact, he didn’t want to get away from her. He wanted to spend more time with her.

“I’d like to make you happy,” Ric blurted out. Then felt incredibly stupid. She didn’t need him to make her happy.

But he’d certainly like to try when this whole situation with Kandi was over.

Shelley’s eyes widened in surprise and she stumbled as she stepped off the treadmill. She appeared to gather her thoughts and then she visibly relaxed, smiled.

“I’d like that.” The gleam in her eyes turned speculative. She gripped the ends of the towel in her fists as her gaze skimmed his body. He’d stripped off his t-shirt once he started really sweating leaving his chest bare.

“I can think of a way you could make me really happy.” Shelley’s smile was full of innuendo as she eye fucked him.

He laughed. “Shelley.” His laugh broke when her gaze snagged on his steadily growing cock. Shit. No way to hide that while wearing his navy mesh basketball shorts.

Ric took a large gulp of water hoping to cool down his arousal, and his reaction to her blatant come on.

She was making him happy with just her words.

“I’d really like a happy ending.” Shelley sauntered closer to where he sat.

Ric choked on the water and some trickled from his mouth and down his chin. She couldn’t be saying what he thought she was…could she?

“That’s really—”

“A great idea,” she interrupted. “A fucking fantastic idea.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Ric raised his eyebrows totally trying to stall her, distract her, anything to keep his brain off what she wanted.

“Nothing today,” she grumbled. “That’s for damn sure.”

Ric nearly choked again. He’d unleashed a monster. A sexed up, horny monster apparently.

She stalked closer. “How about a skinny dip?”

“I’m sure they frown on—”

“The only reason we had our suits on yesterday was because you were in the Aquavant room with us.”

Ric swallowed again.

“So you want to….”

“Have sex in the hydro-spa pool.”

Ric coughed again at her blunt, uncompromising words. “Pretty sure their patrons don’t usually have sex in the pool.” She stood in front of him now. Her legs straddled the weight bench and her hard nipples were level with his gaze. Her entire body radiated heat and arousal.

Slowly, so slowly, he had plenty of time to back away, or to push her away, Shelley lowered her body until she sat on his thighs. “Okay. You win.”

Thank Christ.

“No sex in the pool.”

His erection was harder than the barbell bar and about to burst from the elastic waist of his shorts.

“We’ll just have sex right here,” she whispered.

“Um, Shel.”

Damn, but her sweet, toned ass sliding along his thighs was a special kind of torture. Before he could say another word, she pressed her palms to his cheeks and her lips brushed ever so lightly against his mouth.

Her bold tongue licked at the entrance as she rocked her hot pussy against his erection.

Fuck it. They were alone in the fitness center. There were no cameras. No one could get in.

Ric groaned into her mouth and when her tongue touched his, his control broke. He palmed her ass and rocked her harder into his cock. The heat from her sex seared him.

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his pectorals exploring his skin with firm strokes.

He scraped her top up her body, the blade of his palm slid along her breastbone until he curved his hand around one exquisitely formed breast. Ric broke away from her erotic kiss and bent his head to taste the aroused bud.

He rolled her hardened nipple on his tongue like a sweet berry and he sucked. Hard.

Shelley moaned, her head tilted back, and her fingers gripped his shoulders like she was clinging to the side of a mountain and about to fall.

He speared his other hand beneath her shorts and along the smooth skin of her ass until he stroked her sex. Damn, she was soaking wet.

How could he resist her?

Shelley sat on Ric’s thighs, his legs tightened beneath her ass. She marveled at the sculpted muscles of his chest. A smattering of black hair dusted his pectorals and lead in a happy trail down to the waistband of his basketball shorts. The bulge beneath the mesh was large, thick, and growing every second.

Her head went light when she thought about all that power inside her.

His biceps bunched, his brawny strength held in check as he tweaked her nipple with his callused fingers.

His cock pushed the waistband of his shorts and the purple mushroom head wept with pre-come. Shelley licked her lips.

Ric’s scent mingled with the musk of their arousal and wafted in the air like a super charged aphrodisiac. She scraped her fingernails lightly along his scalp, triumph rose as he groaned into her mouth.

The last few days trapped in the hotel room with him had stoked her libido. She’d gone from an asexual being to becoming nearly obsessed with sex. Or maybe it was him. Maybe he brought out all these new, forbidden sensations in her. As if he was high-powered fertilizer, her sexual desire had grown from tiny to mammoth with every moment in his presence.

It wasn’t just that. When he’d said he wanted to make her happy something had snapped to attention inside her. She was used to looking out for herself, making her own happiness. And if someone else tried, there was usually an end benefit for them. But there hadn’t been any calculation in his gaze. No judging the effect of his words. He’d seemed almost surprised when he’d blurted out the statement.

He ripped her top over her head, the spandex caught on her ponytail holder, and her hair came tumbling down. Ric pulled his mouth away from hers. She sat on his lap, her bare breasts exposed to his gaze.

They definitely weren’t as perky as they had been twenty years ago and while her abs weren’t as tight either she thought she looked pretty good. She fought the urge to defend her body.

“Damn. You’re gorgeous.” If the expression on his face was indicative, he wasn’t complaining.

With his index finger, he traced the blue vein that ran from her neck down to her breast. That one single point of contact was like a lightning strike, electricity shimmered over her skin. Her nipples tightened into nearly painful peaks.

Ric sucked, using his tongue to press the bud hard to the roof of his mouth. Sensation shot straight to her pussy.

She ached.

She wasn’t sure what had come over her.

Her forced seclusion had stripped her of her power, stripped of her choice, and trapped in the hotel room with a man who wouldn’t touch her and who she wasn’t supposed to touch. She had been aching and aroused and frustrated beyond belief and all those sensations tumbled into a major break in her control.

She was a grown ass woman, and she wanted Ric Santana. Bad.

She knew he wanted her too. The spectacular bulge in his shorts had been a dead giveaway that the man wanted to have sex as desperately as she did.

She sat on the boards of multiple philanthropies. She’d raised four children mostly on her own. She’d faced down haters, jealous wives and mistresses, judgmental men, the bastard of them all Jackson Stone Sr., and she’d triumphed.

Two nights ago, she’d decided to throw years of reticence out the window.

At the time, she’d thought it was just a reaction to being here for the wedding. But if she were honest, she now believed that she was only having these feelings because of this man. There was something about him. About him and her together that was magic.

“I need you.”

“Far be it for me to disappoint a lady,” his voice was husky with arousal.

“I don’t want to be a lady right now.” She was tired of being a lady. Tired of trying to be the perfect citizen, the perfectly benevolent patroness. She’d spent years being polite, demure, above reproach, never making waves, never rocking the boat. She’d been that woman since she’d gone to live in the Stone mansion years ago.

And where had that gotten her?

Forty-five years old and she’d only had a handful of sexual partners. Until two nights ago she had never had multiple orgasms in a night. She’d never been so lost in another person she’d give anything to stay lost forever. Suddenly that lack seemed like an incredible waste of her life.

“I want to do everything,” she told him enthusiastically.

“Everything?” But he didn’t seem stoked, he seemed bewildered.

“Yes.” Shelley thought about all the naughty things she’d read about or heard about when women talked in hushed voices at the country club, sometimes the same women who judged her for going to live with Jackson when Jess had been a little girl.

Bitches.

A thousand different images, sexual positions, sensual possibilities bombarded her brain. As if they’d been locked away behind her prim façade and with one simple sentence he’d released the floodgates. He wanted to make her happy.

“I want to go down on you.” That’s what would make her happy. Or at least it was a start.

Ric laughed. “I’m certainly not going to argue with you, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at here cariña.”

“I have years of sexual repression to make up for,” Shelley said defiantly.

“Okay.” But his actions had changed from sexual to comforting.

Forty-five and still a damn good girl. “Maybe you don’t understand, but when I got pregnant I’d barely had a single orgasm.”

Ric choked on his water.

“And then I had a baby at eighteen. My mother kicked me out.”

“Christos.”

“I’m not telling you this for your sympathy,” she said crossly. “I was trying to survive, not club hopping. And since I moved in with Jackson twenty years ago, I’ve had three lovers. Three boring older lovers.”

Ric swallowed. In sexual years she was just a baby. “For years I’ve been the Queen of Lonely Hearts.”

He brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek almost tenderly.

“Stop that. I don’t want tender.” She wanted hot, raunchy, dirty, nasty sex. “The other night was the most sexually explosive encounter of my life. And I don’t want it to be a one off.”

“Me either,” he replied huskily.

“Make me scream.”

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Fourteen

“Far be it for me to deny you…anything.”

She hadn’t moved. Was barely breathing. “You’ll—”

“Do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

She eyed him speculatively. “So if I said I wanted to go down on you right now….”

Ric rocked up into her. “I’d say, I’d prefer to be inside you but it’s your choice.”

Her breath caught.

“Okay, we’ll do that later.”

“So what do you want now?”

“You,” she said breathlessly. “I want you.”

She burrowed her hands beneath the waistband of his shorts, shoving the material below his balls, and trapping his thighs. But he forgot all about the awkward when she wrapped her fingers around his cock. Her grip was tight, firm, erotic as she pumped his erection. “Gonna have to let go for a minute, sweetheart.”

Her gaze was fixed on his cock, the head peeking between the gap in her fist.

Shit, if she kept this up it was going to be over before it started. “Stand up,” he commanded.

Ric made sure his weapon was within reach and he still had a view of the only entrance to the room.

Shelley complied but she made sure to drag her breasts along his chest as she stood slowly. “You are so beautiful.” He traced kisses up her abdomen and along the underside of her breasts.

Shelley curled her arms around his shoulder while his mouth played with her nipples.

Ric shoved her shorts to her ankles, trailing his palms along the back of her legs and down her calves. She shivered and he couldn’t fucking wait to be inside her.

“Shit. Condom.” Ric mentally reined himself in.

“It’s okay.” She breathed in his ear.

“I won’t put you at risk.” No way would he be responsible for another unplanned pregnancy.

Shelley stepped out of her shorts, grabbed the bright material, and withdrew a single package from the pocket. She ripped it open with trembling fingers.

The leather bench seat was cool beneath his bare ass. But he was burning up. He rubbed his fingers along her dripping wet sex while she tentatively rolled the condom down his erection.

“Still pretty amazing,” she whispered.

“Yes, you are.” He paused. Absolutely amazing.

“I was talking about how that fits inside me.”

Ric wanted to shout with laughter but the awe in her gaze humbled him.

“You can take it.”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s watch.”

They bent their heads. Ric had never seen a more beautiful sight than his cock sliding into her sex. Slow. Even. Every inch inside her and he seemed to swell harder, until he was buried balls deep. Her slick channel throbbed around him snug and sweet. The buzz in his body built as they sat still, neither moving.

Then she moaned. The sound was soft, erotic. “That feels so good.” She nuzzled the skin behind his ear.

He took in the moment. The soft dim lights of the gym. The weight of her on his thighs. The snug clench of her sex around his cock. Her breasts pillowed his chest and her face nuzzled his neck. Her warm breath in his ear. The little sounds of her pleasure as she waited for him to satisfy her.

He felt like a god.

She’d blown his fucking mind.

How was that possible? He’d been around the world. Survived several tours with the SEALS, including some nasty places. And none of that had prepared him for the sweet, bombshell that was Shelley Stone.

Ric began to move, pressing his feet to the floor he pushed up into her, then rocked back. The head of his cock rubbed her g-spot, pushing her higher.

He swelled almost painfully tight. Desire built in the base of his spine.

They crashed into each other, her body strung taut. “Let go,” he demanded. She bounced on top of him reaching for her pleasure.

Rick tilted her head and stared fiercely into her aroused, haze green eyes. “Let go,” he demanded again.

With a noisy cry, she began to convulse. Her gaze went unfocused, and her lids drooped as her orgasm flowed over her entire body.

That was all it took for Ric to let go. His fingers bit into her hips as he held her still. The buzz at the base of his spine exploded outward and he began to come in long punishing pulses. Her pussy squeezed his cock, and his brain simply shut down.

Shelley’s chest heaved and her breath soughed over him. She was slumped over his shoulder, barely moving. Little aftershocks sizzled beneath his skin. His cock was still semi-hard inside her, as they reveled in the mind-altering orgasm.

“Fuck me,” he finally breathed out.

“Been there. Done that.” She lifted her head, her eyes bright and her smile radiant. “Ready for round two.”

He groaned. “Not here.” They were out of condoms. And he wanted hours in a bed, taking his time to give her all those experiences she hungered for.

Ric’s semi-hard cock slipped from her body. “We can clean up down here first.” One of the pool rooms had a misting shower. “Then head back to the room.”

“Okay.”

They grabbed their clothes. Ric held her hand gently in his left. In his right, he carried his weapon.

“You really think you need that?” she asked.

“I won’t leave you unprotected.” Didn’t matter if he thought he needed it. He didn’t think Kandi was bright enough to evade the police for long but she’d proven to be pretty resourceful up to this point.

“I’ll be quick,” she said and headed for the shower.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right back.” He needed to dispose of the condom. Fortunately there were private bathrooms connected to the pool room. He would only be gone for a second.

Shelley finished rinsing off. She thought about waiting for Ric and standing under the water with him. But now that he wasn’t right with her, doubts and insecurities came rushing back in. No need to highlight her body.

Besides, she was hoping she could convince him that they’d be safe in their hotel room if he stopped this overprotective need to guard her every second.

The cops should pick up Kandi soon. Right?

She pulled her running gear back on, then turned as she heard the door open, ready to greet him with a wide smile. She was going to have fun convincing Ric to do that again.

“Well, isn’t this special?”

Shelley’s heart thudded in her throat.

Shit. Kandi stood in the doorway. The gun in her hand was huge. Kandi didn’t look so good. Her hair was disheveled and her tight jeans looked like they could use a washing. She still had on the heavy makeup from last night including the false eyelashes but her mouth was bare of lipstick and her eyes were wild.

Shelley could only be thankful that Ric was in the bathroom. Her heart beat erratically. She knew she needed to keep Kandi distracted. She didn’t want Kandi suspicious of the fact that Shelley was in the spa by herself. She knew if she stalled long enough that she and Ric could overpower Kandi. Ric wouldn’t let her down.

“What are you doing here, Kandi?”

That was the million dollar question. What did Kandi want? Because no matter how Shelley sliced it, she couldn’t figure it out. She didn’t really believe that Kandi wanted a relationship with Connor. She definitely wanted Shelley gone. But why?

“I want what I deserve.” Kandi spat, “I’ve spent the last twenty-seven years slaving away, working my ass off, while you reaped the benefits of the Stone life of luxury.”

“By life of luxury, you mean, wading through vomit when all four kids had the stomach flu? By going to parent teacher conferences alone and trying to figure out how to help the kids with their homework, making lunches, refereeing arguments? By living through their first broken hearts? The first time they came home drunk? The endless nights of worry of through their deployments?”

“Whatever.” Kandi waved her hand, blithely dismissing Shelley’s years of parenting. “I don’t care about all that stuff.”

Shelley was channeling ‘be alert’ vibes hard, hoping that Ric figured out something bad was going on.

The door to the bathroom opened. The squeak was barely, noticeable but Ric stopped cold when he saw Kandi and her gun. Kandi had her back to the bathroom door so hopefully she hadn’t noticed him.

Shelley relaxed. Ric was here. After years of taking care of herself, she knew Ric wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Shelley’s job now was to keep Kandi distracted.

“I have a question. Why didn’t you get an abortion?” She really wanted to know. “Don’t get me wrong, Connor is a wonderful man and I’m really proud of him and I’m thrilled you didn’t make that choice. But I’m guessing Jackson Sr. gave you money just like he did me.”

“It’s a sin.” For an infinitesimal moment, Kandi looked lost. “I couldn’t do that.”

Huh, hadn’t seen that one coming.

“But I couldn’t raise a baby.” Kandi stomped her foot. “Don’t you see?”

“I see a selfish woman, who never thought beyond her own needs,” Shelley sneered. Ric was almost at Kandi’s back.

“Fuck you! You stole my life!” Kandi shouted. “I should be living in that house. And flying around in that private jet.”

Ric hadn’t taken his gaze off Kandi as he carefully eased closer. But he lifted his brow so Shelley answered, “It’s not really mine. But yes, the family has a private jet.”

She just needed to distract Kandi for another minute and Ric would be close enough to disarm her.

Shelley said fiercely, “I will do anything for my kids.”

“Connor isn’t yours, he’s mine.” Like a kid playing tug of war with a toy, Kandi seemed stuck on claiming Connor.

“So what is it that you want Kandi?” Shelley asked softly.

“All you had to do was leave,” Kandi said. “Why wouldn’t you just go? I could have taken your place and everything would be perfect.”

The woman had clearly lost her freaking mind. “What’s the plan now?”

“I have to kill you,” Kandi replied calmly.

“That doesn’t really work for me,” Shelley said in her most haughty Queen of the Manor voice.

“Whatever.”

Shelley let her gaze slip to Ric. That was a mistake. Kandi stepped back and whirled, weapon up and steady in her hands.

Shit. Ric was close enough that he could lunge and overpower this crazy woman, but based on the confidence with which she held the weapon, she’d be able to get several shots off. At this range the damage would be considerable.

Now he remembered what had been bothering him. It had been Kandi’s voice outside the door yesterday at the spa. But when they’d reviewed the security tapes, she hadn’t been in the lobby area. Which meant that she had access to another way in to the spa. Which meant she had a contact within the hotel. Dammit.

Missing that detail had lead right to this moment.

Wasn’t this irony? He’d spent almost twenty-five years in the Navy and never been shot. He’d gotten dinged up plenty of other ways. Knives, shrapnel, burns, but he’d never taken a bullet.

That’s why he’d been nicknamed Bulletproof. Now, retired from active duty and in the private sector, he was going to get shot by a gun-toting, crazy ass exotic dancer with a grudge against the Queen of the Junior League.

He laughed. The Universe had a wicked sense of humor.

“I am not funny,” Kandi screeched.

“No. But you’re going to ruin my perfect record.” As he stood there, the light shone down around him from above. In that moment, he realized that to protect Shelley he’d lay down his life. He didn’t care if he got shot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kandi cried.

Ric held perfectly still, trying hard to project an air of calm. He didn’t want to do anything to rattle her.

He was going to have to move soon but he wanted more information before he got shot. “How did you get in here?” Ric asked.

“There’s an employee entrance. You just have to know the security code on the door.” She laughed. “Easy, peasy. I used to date a security guard here.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” he injected every bit of admiration he could manage into his voice.

“Believe it or not,” Kandi said proudly. “Connor didn’t just get his smarts from his father.”

As long as she kept the weapon trained on him he’d keep her talking. But he saw the resolution in her gaze and knew their time was up.

“Which means, I’ve got to wrap this up.” She straightened her shoulders and aimed the weapon.

Ric bunched his thighs and launched himself at her. The report of the weapon was deafening in the tiled room. Shelley screamed as Ric slammed into Kandi. He shoved her arms above her head, and the gun went off again. The bullet ricocheted around the room as he took her down, slamming her body to the tile floor. Her head thunked hard and her body slumped.

Then the pain hit. Blood obscured his vision and painted everything red.

Fuck. That hurt. His last thought was he needed a new nickname.

Queen of Hearts: Chapter Fifteen

It was over.

Kandi was in custody.

Ric had a nice, bright white bandage on his scalp and a new scar. But Shelley was safe. Not a scratch on her.

His suite was bursting with food and people. Platters of cheese and crackers, veggies and dip, and bottles of wine and beer sat on the wet bar. Shelley, Jack, Bliss, Jessica, Colin, Connor, Ava, Shane Washington, and Keisha Johnson were all jammed inside his room. Riley and Di were on their way in from the airport.

Everyone had a beverage while they munched on the snacks.

After two days of being trapped in this room and wanting nothing but to get out, Ric wished everyone would leave so he could be alone.

The adrenaline let down was kicking his ass hard.

Especially because he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be alone with Shelley.

But somehow he didn’t think her family would be on board with that. She was across the room on the sofa. Ric was resting on the bed, propped against the pillows. The furthest distance away from her as possible and about a million people between them. It wasn’t his doing, so he figured it must be hers.

Jack was jabbering away about charges and evidence but suddenly Ric could feel the weight of her stare. On him. He met her gaze, held the intense connection and let everything he was feeling show.

He wanted all these people gone. Now.

Shelley shot up from the sofa. “Okay, everyone. Time to let Ric rest. Clear out.”

Relief pushed hard.

It took another half an hour before the room was empty. The guys squeezed his hand and offered, ‘I owe you’s. The girls gave him hugs and thanks.

“If you’re up for it. I could use your help on that other project I have going on.” Jack shot a furtive look at Bliss but she was busy hugging Shelley.

“Happy to help.” It was clear Jack still hadn’t talked to his bride-to-be. “Let me know what I can do.”

“Later, NLBP.”

NLBP?

“No Longer Bulletproof.”

Ric smothered a laugh. Especially since Shelley was glaring at Jack. Jack gave Ric a chin lift then headed out the door.

Connor was last. “You ever need anything, you ask.”

Ric nodded, then groaned. The bullet had seared across his scalp. He’d been damn lucky. Since he’d refused the pain pills, it still hurt like hell.

Jess said, “You coming mom?”

“I’m good.” Shelley crossed her arms over her chest. She was back in the yoga pants and top.

“But where are you going to….” Jess trailed off. “Ohhh.”

“I’ll see you later,” Shelley said firmly.

Thank God. Ric hadn’t been sure that she’d been planning to stay. Finally they were the only two left in the room.

“I thought they’d never leave.” Although her words were confident, Ric could see the nervousness beneath her surface.

Shelley hesitated then crawled on the bed to settle next to him.

Ric pulled her closer. With her breasts cushioned against his chest, he burrowed his fingers through her hair and cupped her head in his palm.

He kissed her. Poured every bit of love and longing and want boiling inside him into the caress.

Shelley broke away gently. “What?”

Of course, she wouldn’t settle for nonverbal communication. Luckily, after a life in the Navy, he was used to having to spell things out in triplicate. “I’m crazy about you.”

She blushed.

It wasn’t just a little pink in her cheeks either. The heat traveled over her torso, shot up her neck, and flooded her cheeks. He’d surprised her. Again.

“I’m too old to fall into, and fall for, insta-love.” Shelley tried to deny their attraction.

So she thought it was okay to ask for sex, but not to demand love?

“No, you’re old enough to know when you see something you want. Make the decision and then go for it.” Ric countered. “You’ve seen enough shit in your life to recognize the real thing.”

“It’s too fast.”

“Bullshit.” Ric was not going to let her get away. “It’s not fast enough.”

Dammit, his body had recognized hers when she was sitting on that barstool two nights ago.

“I don’t need anyone,” Shelley said. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

He couldn’t help it. His heart simply fell. What had he thought he could offer her? Nothing. She already had more money than she knew what to do with. A rewarding career with the farm. Her family, her kids.

“I know.” But inside, he knew he had what she needed. He just had to convince her.

“But just because I can take care of myself doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice to have someone else looking out for me,” Shelley said softly. “I knew you’d rescue me.”

That belief in him was just one of the many things he loved about her.

“I want to be the one who makes sure you get the peace you deserve. To look out for you because you’re too busy looking out for everyone else. To make you happy. To love you.”

Shit, he’d done it. He’d actually used the L word.

“I…would like that.” She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “What if we’re wrong?”

“Then we’ll work on it.” Ric had never felt more committed in his life. “But we aren’t wrong.”

She threaded the fingers of her right hand through his.

He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “I didn’t come here looking for this.”

She snorted. “Me either.”

“I know you didn’t. You never think of yourself first.” Ric rubbed his palm of his left hand along the furrow in her spine.

“Having your life flash before my eyes changed my perspective.” Shelley shivered. She shifted so that she was sitting on his lap and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. They were twined together, comfortable and erotic, as if they’d been in this position a million times.

“We fit,” she said softly.

“Like we were made for each other.” Ric smiled. “Take a gamble on me.”

Shelley said softly, “Okay.”

“I, uh, don’t have a lot of experience with relationships.”

“Me, either.”

He wanted to give her romance. He wanted to give her passion. He wanted to give her all the silly, impractical loving gestures that she’d missed out on before. He wanted to do things he’d never even considered. He wanted to fulfill every single fantasy she had and ones she hadn’t even thought of yet.

As she lay on top of him, thinking about those fantasies, his cock began to harden.

“Really?” She laughed.

“What can I say? I told you I’m crazy about you.”

Shelley’s heart filled with joy. He was crazy about her. It was there in every look, in every gesture. His erection nudged at her butt. No way. She couldn’t believe he was getting turned on now. “You have a concussion. The doctor said no physical exertion.”

“I look at obstacles as opportunities.”

“While I applaud your creative thinking and optimism, I’m not going to put you in any more danger today.” She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and savored the sweet, tender, loving embrace.

“There’s always tomorrow.”

“And the day after that.” She rested her head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. Contentment settled over her. She said firmly, “Tonight we’ll use the opportunity to talk.”

She bussed his forehead with a kiss and gave thanks that his reaction time was faster than Kandi’s trigger finger. The Universe wouldn’t have been so cruel as to give her Ric and then take him away. She needed to grab hold of every moment. No regrets. She might not be quite ready to use the word love but he should know how she felt. She inhaled, counted her blessings and made a life-changing admission. “I’m crazy about you too.”

Ric’s smile took her breath away. He squeezed her against his chest, his embrace sexy and comforting at the same time.

“Since I can’t rock your world with mind-blowing sex,” he paused.

Shelley waited, wondering what he’d say next. Anticipation shimmered in the air.

“I need a new nickname.”

Shelley sat straight up and stared at him. That’s what he wanted to talk about? He’d lost his mind. “You want to figure it out now?”

“Got to get it nailed down before NLBP sticks.”

Shelley shuddered at the fact that he was no longer Bulletproof.

“I was thinking…K.O.S.H.”

Ric’s steady, calm heartbeat was suddenly super-charged and going a million beats a second. “KOSH?”

“King of Shelley’s Heart.” He carefully placed her palm over his thundering heart. “After all, you’re the Queen of my Heart.”

With that declaration, he managed to rock her world anyway.

—The End—

About the Author

Lisa Hughey

USA Today Bestselling Author Lisa Hughey has been writing romance since the fourth grade, which was also about the time she began her love affair with spies. Harriet and Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys later gave way to James Bond and Lara Croft and Jason Bourne. Exploring the complex nature of a profession that requires subterfuge and lies fascinates her. She loves combining her two passions into fiction. As evidenced by her Black Cipher Files series.

Taking a break from romantic suspense, Lisa entered the paranormal world of the Angelic Realm. The Seven deals with forbidden relationships between humans and Archangels. At its heart, Rafe is a novel about the dynamic of family relationships. As this series evolves, the core story continues to be about love triumphing in the face of opposition and heartache. (The really hot Archangels don't hurt.)

And recently she's been immersed in the Stone Family novellas, stories about a blended family of brothers and a sister who have a lot more in common than they realize. But of course she couldn't just write about family and romance. There are complex plots, bad guys, and suspense too.

Lisa loves to hear from readers and has various places you can connect with her, although, shh, Twitter is her favorite.

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Additional Books by Lisa Hughey

FAMILY STONE BOX SET (Stone Cold Heart, Carved in Stone, Heart of Stone, Still the One, and Jar of Hearts)

COLD AS STONE

IN TOO DEEP

by Amber Carew

Dedication

To Mark, Matthew and Jason, with love.

In Too Deep: Chapter One

He had to get out. Now. The thought sizzled through Frank's brain like a current of electricity, while across the crowded ballroom the subject of his turmoil calmly played her game. Stunning in her shimmering blue gown, she glittered like a precious gem in this setting of the rich and elite.

Emotions clashed and careened wildly within him. Was that really Angel? The woman he had once loved. The woman he had hated for four long years. He couldn't be sure.

He had never wanted to see her again and yet now he couldn't stop staring at this woman who looked so much like her. His mind screamed retreat while his burning emotions demanded confrontation. Frozen by his doubt, he forced himself to linger until he could determine her identity.

A waiter hovered by a circle of guests offering hor d'oeuvres, cutting off Frank's view of the woman. The room swam back into focus, and he damned the Bureau for forcing him to spend his first night in New York at this glitzy, shallow party. But they'd given him no choice. Somewhere in this room his new partner waited to meet him. If the woman really was Angel…. He hooked his index finger in the collar of his white, pleated shirt and tugged. He didn't even want to think about the disaster that would cause.

All about him people tossed chips around and laughed, careless of how much they lost. The theme was Monte Carlo, the aim to raise money for cancer. Frank chose to observe. Gambling went along with his job—along with the requisite losses.

The waiter moved, and he gazed again at the woman in the blue dress.

At least once, he'd lost more than he could afford.

His gaze followed the curves outlined by the iridescent blue gown. So far, he'd only seen her from the side. She stood at the roulette table. Her dark hair, sleekly pulled to the back of her head with a gold clip, shone in the soft light. Could Angel have tamed her riotous curls into a smooth coil like that? Probably not. His eyes narrowed. The graceful curve of her neck looked the same. As she turned around and leaned over the table to scoop up the chips she'd just won, laughing, revealing the deep crevice in the dip of her neckline, his pulse lurched. Surely the woman didn't realize how much flesh she exposed. Every man near her did, however. Because, just like Angel, she had a generous amount of cleavage to expose.

It couldn't be Angel. The last time he'd seen her had been in Hawaii.

Hawaii. Four years ago. He'd gone to the island on a case, following the notorious drug lord Domenic Cavaglione. Frank's department had known something big was planned when Cavaglione headed there for an extended vacation. Frank and his partner had been dispatched to keep an eye on the suspect's activities. Cavaglione had spent the first few weeks attending a few closed meetings, but basically biding his time.

Frank and his partner had cycled shifts watching their target and Frank used the dead time to work on his tan and enjoy the sights. He'd soon found a sight worth watching in the beach front cabin three down from his. Angel Tortina.

He remembered the first time he'd seen her. With her long curls swirling around her shoulders, she'd been wearing a bright crimson bikini that made his heart pump triple time. Her legs were long and shapely and she was generously curved in all the right places. With a figure most women would die for, she still maintained an air of sweet innocence that attracted him far more than mere physical attributes, though he couldn't deny that her body enticed him. After all, he was a normal, healthy male.

He'd made a point of meeting her and for three weeks they'd spent time together, enjoying each other's company, getting to know each other. She'd been just an interesting diversion—until he realized he was falling in love with her.

Sweet Angel. His body had ached for her. So many times he had come close to sweeping her up and carrying her back to one of their cabins to make passionate love, but her delicate, hesitant kisses told him she was…inexperienced. If he'd had more time, if he hadn't been on a job… He'd wanted to be the one to show her the ways of love.

Then he'd found out who she was—and who she worked for. Cavaglione!

Even then, smitten as he was, he'd actually believed Angel could never be involved in illegal activities, that somehow she had been unaware of her boss' shady dealings. Frank didn't want to remember what had happened after that. He'd been a fool! He'd never made such a grave mistake in his life. He was lucky it hadn't been a fatal mistake, not only for himself but for his partner, too.

A burst of laughter nearby dragged Frank back to the present. He grabbed his drink and gulped it down, trying to drown the bitter taste of self-disgust.

* * *

Angel knew she was being watched. A person couldn't get very far in her business without developing a special sense about these things. She glanced around and saw a scowling man thump his drink on the table, then glare into the liquid depths. Had it been him? She continued scanning the room. She knew that prickly feeling.

She stacked her chips in four neat piles. One white, two red, and one short pile of blue. She picked up a red one and tossed it onto the square marked fifteen. Fifteen? That had been her cabin number in Hawaii. She frowned. Why would that come back to her now after so many years?

Again, she felt the prickle and glanced up, unconsciously fixing on the same man she'd noticed earlier. His expression neutral now, he stared at someone two tables over, yet Angel was sure she'd seen his focus shift slightly when she'd locked her gaze onto him.

His features were obscured by the dim light. Staring intently, she could make out an angular jaw, dark, wavy hair cut short on the sides and longer on the top, and eyebrows that angled up and away from his straight nose. He reminded her of the one man she'd do anything to forget.

Frank O'Connor.

But of course this wasn't Frank. As far as she knew, he was still in California. This man just resembled Frank. She stared down at her hands and realized she was flipping a chip over and over between her fingers. The croupier declared final bets before starting the wheel.

Frank represented an episode in her life she'd rather not think about. He had fallen in love with her and he'd gotten hurt. Well, damn it, that wasn't her fault. Fool. You should have stayed away from him as soon as you started to fall for him.

Glancing at the ball spinning round the wheel, she sipped her wine spritzer. Right now she had enough to cope with in her job without worrying about a ghost from her past. Her current task was at a standstill and her boss planned to bring someone else on to work with her. She had a very bad feeling about that.

The clink of the ball into its final destination triggered a groan from the man next to her.

"Fifteen. You won again." The woman beside Angel nudged her.

Angel focused on the new pile of chips the croupier pushed toward her and started to sort and stack them neatly onto her piles. She glanced in the direction of the scowling man and this time their gazes clashed.

Good Lord, it was Frank! She knocked down two of her piles as her hand flew to her chest. He started to get up. Panic flared within her. He was coming to confront her! No, not here! He couldn't!

After what she'd done to him, how he'd looked at her with murderous intent the last time she'd seen him, she realized he could. And would.

Her heart pounded against the wall of her chest as she stepped back from the table, trying to ignore her roiling stomach. She'd scanned the ballroom for all the exits earlier, a precaution she always took.

"Ma'am. Don't forget your chips."

Her attention flickered away from Frank's intent gaze for a fraction of a second and she glanced at the croupier.

"I…uh… Take them as a donation." She waved her hands distractedly.

He smiled and swept them away from her into the house pot. "That's very generous, ma'am. Have a good evening."

She glanced back toward Frank, expecting him to be closing the distance between them. But he was no where to be seen. She glanced around and saw a broad, tuxedo-covered back disappear out a side exit.

* * *

Frank's heart thudded in his chest as he paused in the hall to consider his options. Thank God the croupier had distracted her long enough for him to slip out of the ballroom. Away from Angel. Damn it! She'd caused a disaster in his life once before. He wouldn't allow her to do it again.

A quick glance at his watch confirmed he should be meeting with Cindy, whom he'd never seen before, in about fifteen minutes. He was supposed to see her at the black jack table. She'd be wearing a tennis bracelet studded with sapphire crystals alternating with diamond-like stones. He'd offer to buy her a drink and they'd start to chat. He had a few key phrases to work into their exchange.

But he couldn't chance being seen with his new partner now. Not with Angel hovering around. She wouldn't hesitate to blow Cindy's cover wide open. He raked his hand through his hair. What the hell would he do now?

He had to get out of here as quickly as possible. He slipped his hand under his jacket, checking for his gun, hoping he wouldn't need to use it. The buzz of conversation drifted up from the lounge one level down, mingled with music from the ballroom he'd just left, the noise pressing in on him, crowding him, urging him to move faster. But he kept a steady pace. Drawing attention to himself was the last thing he wanted right now.

Would Angel send someone after him? He marched by the large potted plants toward the column of elevators, then past them to the stairs. Discarding the idea of slipping up to his room to grab a few of his belongings, he raced downwards.

Reaching the bottom stair, he pushed open the door to the ground floor. He strode down a short hall past the elevators, through the lobby, and out onto the street where he hailed a cab. Right now he could think of only one safe place to go.

* * *

Frank bolted upright, the grogginess of sleep thrown off as he came fully alert. Someone was opening the door. Planting his feet on the floor, he jerked his head around and winced at the sudden kink in his neck. Dennis stood just inside the office, watching at him.

"Frank, you look like hell," he grunted as he slung his briefcase onto the desk. "You sleep in those clothes?"

"Yeah."

Frank got up from the couch and slumped into the grey leather chair, feeling more than a little grey himself this morning. He could only imagine the sight he made. Pleated white shirt open at the neck, tuxedo pants rumpled. He glanced down at his patent leather shoes. The other trappings of formality lay strewn across the couch and side table. Cummerbund, tie, jacket, cuff links.

Feeling the itch of morning growth on his chin, he grazed a hand over it distractedly. Yeah, he must definitely look a sight to the tall, well groomed man who had been his boss for the past three years. Impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit, white shirt, and burgundy striped tie, Dennis tossed his grey trench coat onto a hook then strolled over to his desk and sat down.

Frank glanced around the office. Almost bare. Dennis had moved here a week ahead of Frank but was obviously still getting settled in. Two cardboard cartons sat on one side of his desk, flaps up. Dennis must be waiting for filing cabinets to be delivered, otherwise he'd be fully unpacked by now.

"You want to tell me what's up?"

Frank glanced up to see Dennis staring at him with narrowed eyes. He pushed himself a little straighter in the chair, trying to release himself from the fog that had seized his brain. A fog that matched the white mists he could see outside the window this morning.

Damn! He'd grabbed a little sleep on the couch but it wasn't enough. He needed a coffee badly. "I ran into a problem last night."

"At the benefit?"

Frank nodded.

Dennis watched him with acute interest. "The way you're scowling, it looks like you ran into your worst enemy."

"I did," he muttered.

Angel. Frank's gut clenched as a mental image of Angel in the seductive blue gown that had hugged every one of her inviting curves wandered through his mind. Anger and hatred battled with stark desire as he remembered her in his arms so long ago.

"Dennis, my cover's blown. Someone there last night…Angel Tortina…knows me." Frank stared directly at Dennis. "She's a member of the mob."

Dennis slammed his fist on the desktop. "Christ! Did she see you?"

"I don't know, but if she did… She'd blow my partner's cover, too. We can't take any chances."

Hell, he thought he'd seen the last of Angel. Now she was wreaking havoc with his life all over again.

"What about your partner? Did you make contact?"

"No. I couldn't chance it."

Dennis glanced at his watch. "We've got that meeting with Hal Morris in five minutes. Let's go break the bad news." He rose and stepped out from behind the desk.

Frank stood and waved a hand. "Lead on."

After winding through hallways that all looked alike to Frank, they soon stood in front of an office bearing Hal Morris' name and the title Special Investigations. Dennis rapped on the door. At the acknowledgment from within, Dennis opened the door and gestured Frank to precede him.

This office was larger than Dennis' and the man behind the desk was broader than Dennis. Hal Morris could have been a linebacker for a professional football team at one time with his height and breadth. If he'd ever been a field agent, though, that had ended long ago judging from the beer belly that bulged over his belt. The man tried to hide a receding hairline by parting his hair on one side and combing it straight sideways.

Frank scanned the man's environment. Paintings of landscapes graced the walls and little gadgets, including a perpetual motion sculpture driven by magnets and a Rubik's cube, cluttered the desktop. Two comfortable-looking leather chairs sat in front of the large oak desk. A large window looked out over the city, but with the fog little could be seen except ghostly silhouettes of buildings.

"Frank, this is Hal Morris, head of Special Investigations."

Hal stood up and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, Frank. Dennis speaks very highly of your work."

"Thank you," Frank said, shaking Hal's hand.

The man's voice was deep and booming and his hand larger than Frank's. He also topped Frank's six foot four height by a good three inches. Aging or not, this man would be a formidable opponent. Frank hoped he'd never have to face him head on.

Hal's assessing gaze took in Frank's rumpled appearance, but he made no comment. Hell, did he know things had screwed up last night?

Hal gestured toward a round table surrounded by four chairs. "Sit down, gentlemen, please. Looks like you could use a coffee, Frank. Rough night?"

"I've had worse," he responded. But not many.

Frank sank into a chair, waiting impatiently for his cup, while Hal grabbed three plain black mugs from a plastic tray beside the coffee warmer on his credenza and started filling them.

"Hal, we've got a problem," Dennis said.

Hal nodded. "So I heard." He replaced the coffee pot and handed a mug to Frank, then Dennis.

The aroma of strong coffee stimulated Frank's senses. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and took a sip, letting the caffeine do its job.

Hal stood staring intently at Frank. "You didn't make contact with Cindy yesterday. Want to tell me why?"

Frank leaned back in his chair. This guy was good. He obviously made it a point to keep on top of things. "I saw someone there last night who knows I'm FBI. A mob member. I couldn't risk Cindy's cover."

"I see." Hal sat for a moment, still staring at Frank, apparently deep in thought.

Frank knew he'd done the right thing last night, but how would this bureaucrat look at it?

Finally, Hal took a sip of his black coffee and glanced at his watch. "Look, Cindy'll be here in a few minutes. Let's run the situation by her and see if we can do some damage control."

"You haven't told us much about Frank's partner, Hal. Can you fill us in a little?" Dennis asked.

Thank you, Dennis. Finally, the curiosity that had been prickling within him for days would be appeased. All Frank knew about his new partner was that she worked undercover for the mob.

Hal tossed some sugar packets to Dennis, then plunked his own cup on the table and settled into one of the empty chairs. He folded his large hands in front of him. "She's Carlos Vendetti's assistant."

Vendetti. Frank knew the name. One of the biggest in the New York underworld.

"This is a critical assignment. It's important we break the case as soon as possible." Hal leaned on his forearms and stared intently at Frank. "We needed an agent from another office to help us, someone who wouldn't be known here."

"So much for that," Dennis piped in, as he ripped open a sugar packet and emptied it into his cup.

"I chose you, Frank, because I'm told you're the best on the west coast." Hal sipped his coffee. "This is a tricky situation."

"Just what is the situation?" Dennis asked. He always had been one to get to the point, Frank thought wryly.

Hal extended the fingers of his hands in front of him in a dramatic gesture. "Gentlemen, there's a traitor among us. Someone in this department is selling secrets to the mob, specifically, to Carlos Vendetti."

Dennis whistled. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. We've had enough information go astray—and wind up in Vendetti's hands—to know what's happening. The only question now is: who? We can't count on the guy slipping up. We've got to sew this up, and fast."

A rap on the door grabbed their attention.

"That'll be Cindy."

Hal went to the door and pulled it open. Frank wondered what cover story this Cindy had in case anyone saw her coming into FBI headquarters and recognized her. A dangerous place for an FBI agent pretending to be a mob member. She had to protect her real identity not only from Vendetti's people, but from other FBI employees.

Frank took a sip from his coffee mug, glanced over and almost choked when he saw the sharply dressed woman step into the room. As his eyes made contact with hers, he felt his face flame into anger and his muscles tense into tight cords.

Angel!

In Too Deep: Chapter Two

"What the hell are you doing here?" Frank barked as he leaped to his feet.

Angel looked at him, her big, brown eyes devoid of emotion. Ignoring his outburst, she acknowledged him with a simple, "Mr. O'Connor," and a tip of her head, but he noticed her back straighten as she walked stiffly across the room.

Hell, had she infiltrated the Bureau? Convinced Hal she would sell him Vendetti's secrets? Did the woman understand the meaning of the word loyalty?

Frank's gaze shot to Hal. "Do you know who this is?"

"Yes, this is Cindy Janson. She's—"

Fury rose inside Frank. "Her name isn't Cindy anything," he interrupted. "It's—"

"Angela Tortina," Angel finished for him.

Incredulous at her brazen admission, Frank narrowed his eyes as he glared at her. What was her scheme and how would she try to twist this situation around to suit her now that he'd forced her into revealing her true identity?

"Mr. O'Connor and I met four years ago, when I was on the Cavaglione case," Angel explained. She darted a glance at Frank then back to Hal. "Is he supposed to be my new partner, Hal?"

"That's right, Cindy."

Frank watched Hal meet the defiant tilt of her chin with a cool stare, his grey eyes clashing with her brown ones and she stifled any protest she might have made.

Partner? A sick feeling gurgled through his stomach as the situation clarified in his mind. Cindy. Angel. The two women were one and the same. That meant trouble. Frank knew Hal trusted this Cindy Janson without question.

Hal turned back to Frank. "Cindy is the best field agent we have, a fact that you can attest to yourself since you obviously accepted her cover without question. She's been Angela Tortina for the past ten years and is accepted as one of the family. She's even done time."

"So, it looks like there's no problem after all." Dennis' relief was apparent in his voice.

No. Frank remembered the cold look of indifference in her eyes as she'd calmly destroyed his dreams, his cover, and—as far as she knew at the time—his life. That same coolness veiled her eyes now.

She couldn't be trusted. He'd lived with that fact for too long to stop believing it now. He turned to his superior.

"There's no way I can work with this woman."

"Well, you'd better find a way," Hal declared, the edge of anger in his voice tempered by cool authority. "Your skills match what we need on this case and we don't have time to find a replacement. Whatever your problem is, get over it. Fast."

"Or else…?" Frank demanded. Did this desk-bound administrator remember nothing about the trust required between partners?

"Frank," Dennis said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You're worked up because you thought she was someone she's not. You just need to put things in perspective."

"Perhaps Mr. O'Connor needs some time to think about this," Angel offered. She stood across the table from him. "It must be difficult to find someone you believe to be a mob bimbo thrust on you as your partner."

Frank jerked his head to look at her straight on. "You can't possibly want to work with me."

"No, I don't. But I'm a professional, Mr. O'Connor. I'll do whatever it takes to get the job done. Even if I find the situation…uncomfortable."

"Yes, I can believe that," he said, dropping his gaze then running it up her body, taking in the curves softly outlined in black. Even in a demure business suit, she oozed sensuality.

She hadn't used that sinfully sexy body to win him over during their last encounter. She hadn't needed to, he thought sourly. But he had no doubt she did when it suited her purpose.

She threw him a cool glance as she pulled out the chair in front of her and sat down. His eyes were drawn to the white satin blouse she wore, such a stark contrast to the black jacket, and a subtle reminder of the sweet innocence he'd associated with her so long ago. Before he'd come to know her true colour.

Angel felt Frank's gaze assault her body and when he focused on her chest she forced herself not to pull at the lapels of her jacket to try and cover herself. Instead, her fingers automatically jumped to her earring and twisted the back around. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand back into her lap.

Good Lord, how would she manage working with Frank for the next few weeks, maybe even months? Never in a million years had she expected Frank to be the agent they imported from California. Oh, she'd known he lived in Los Angeles and worked for the FBI, but she hadn't even considered such an outrageous possibility. Why hadn't she made the connection last night? But then, why should she have? She'd had other things on her mind.

"Hal, have you thought about the cover Frank'll use?"

The man speaking sat beside Frank. She didn't know him, but from what Hal had told her, he must be Frank's boss.

"We'll have to discuss it." Hal glanced at Angel. "I don't want you coming in here again—it's too dangerous—so we'll have Frank come by your place tonight to tell you what we decide."

"Hal…" Angel rose, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I should point out that Mr. O'Connor—I mean, Frank—and I," she corrected herself, realizing how foolish she was going to sound, "had a…romantic relationship a few years ago."

She knew the men would automatically assume she and Frank had slept together, but she wasn't about to set them straight on the details. With the life she led she'd come to accept long ago that she'd never meet a man she could respect and care about enough to fall in love with—and she could never make love with a man without those feelings. Though she had fallen in love with Frank, time and events had been against them and they'd never taken that step.

She raised her head and paced a few steps, noticing Frank's reaction in her peripheral vision. His scowl deepened and his hands clenched into fists. She could sense the rage coiling through him.

"Cindy, that was a long time ago," Hal said. "Will it affect your working together?"

She stopped herself from glancing over at Frank, not wanting to face his anger while thinking of the love they'd lost. "Nothing will start up between us again if that's what you mean." She'd make sure of that. She had too much at stake to allow Frank to endanger it again. "I just thought you should know."

"We can't have anyone knowing Frank is FBI. Would anyone in the New York family remember him?"

"No. There's no one here familiar with Cavaglione's operation."

"So there's really no one who would recognize him and connect him with the Bureau."

"No…but Hal, you know there's always a chance—"

"Cindy, it's a chance we'll have to take. From what you've said the odds are low there'll be any problems as a result of your previous relationship, so we'll proceed as planned."

She hazarded a glance toward Frank. His mouth compressed into a thin line and sparks flared in his eyes. His hands clenched into tight balls and she decided he'd dearly love to wring her neck for passing on that bit of information.

She turned away from him and plucked at the magnetic paper clip sculpture on Hal's desk. Hal had shaped it into a neat, symmetrical tower about five inches high. When she disturbed it, it collapsed in on itself, tumbling into a mass of shapes protruding at awkward angles. From order to disorder in the blink of an eye. It mirrored her life. After seeing Frank last night and again today, she felt like collapsing herself, but unlike the flimsy clips held together by an intangible magnetic field, she had strength of will. And never had she needed it more.

She would get through this.

Hal glanced at his watch then stood up. "Dennis, we've got to attend to a few things before our afternoon meeting. Cindy, I'll see you before you leave."

Angel swung around to see Hal and the other man, Dennis, heading out the door.

"But…" The last thing Angel wanted was to be left alone with Frank. Her emotions were still in chaos. Her gaze darted to Frank. He glared at her as though he'd like to strangle her. She leaned back against the desk for support.

They stared at each other in a silence strung tight by angry tension. Frank sat with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his ice blue eyes piercing her composure. She forced herself to continue breathing, one breath after another. Pull in, push out. Stay calm.

Morning stubble shadowed his angular jaw line, enhancing the hard set of his face. Strands of dark hair had fallen across his forehead and, despite everything, she longed to reach out and stroke them back.

When Frank finally spoke, it startled her.

"You seen Cavaglione lately?"

"Domenic's still in prison," she said, relieved her voice sounded calm and unaffected by Frank's hostile demeanour.

"And what about you?"

She glanced away from the hatred in his eyes, afraid her expression might reveal the pain she'd suffered. "I spent a year there." She gathered her courage and glanced back at his face. "Frank, about what happened—"

"What about it, Angel?" His tone was laced with bitterness.

"I know I hurt you… I know…"

He leaped up from his chair and leaned over her, danger emanating from his frigid blue gaze. "Hurt me? My God, woman. You turned me over to the mob. Worse, you endangered my partner. We could have both been killed."

"I knew you'd get out."

"You can never know something like that."

Her hope evaporated. Obviously, he wouldn't give her a chance. Ruthlessly, she squashed the appalling disappointment that rose up in her. Smoothing her face of tension, she set her emotionless mask in place and turned to meet his gaze.

"Of course, there were risks—"

"Risks." He snorted.

"…but I knew the bust was going down that night and I made sure Hal's team knew you were both there. I did everything I could to ensure your safety." She could tell by the unrelenting harshness of his expression that he didn't believe her. "You did get out, Frank."

"Yeah. Luck."

"For God's sake, Frank. I did what I had to do."

She flicked her hair behind her shoulder with a quick toss of her head. He still loomed over her so she ducked past him, desperately wanting to put some distance between them, to go somewhere she could release her pent up emotions.

"Did you have to make me believe you loved me? Did you have to let me fall in love with you?"

His words acted like a cold fist encircling her heart, squeezing, merciless, unrelenting. She turned back to face him.

"I didn't mean for that to happen."

The light glittered off his eyes like sparks of electricity. She could tell his anger had boiled up a notch.

"Damn you! Why didn't you steer clear of me? Were you worried I'd interfere with your case? Take credit? "

She turned away to hide the searing pain his words caused. "I didn't know you were an agent when I met you, Frank."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back around to face him. "Then why didn't you tell me what you were once you found out? We could have worked together… We could have—"

"No, Frank! Don't you understand? I couldn't tell anyone about my cover. You only know now because we've been assigned to work together."

"You didn't trust me."

The flat statement hinted at internal scars.

"I couldn't trust anyone!" She paced away from him. "Why can't you understand that? I'd spent six years working through the family, gaining a secure position, gaining their trust. I couldn't just throw it away for…" Her eyelids pinched together as she realized what she'd said.

"For love? But you never really loved me, did you?"

His bitter words cut through her. She spun back to face him.

"Frank, I…"

He watched her expectantly.

She wanted to tell him how much she had cared for him—but she wouldn't. Her job was everything to her and she couldn't give it up for…anything. These were waters too deep and bitter to disturb. Let him hate her. It would be better for both of them in the long run. She had a personal debt to settle with the mob and not even love would get in the way.

"Nothing. I…I'm sorry, that's all."

She knew her eyes showed too much as she stood staring up at him, but the range of emotions washing over his face mesmerized her. Pain was the strongest, followed by vulnerability. She felt tears welling up, tears she could barely suppress as she realized just how deeply she'd hurt him. He used his anger to protect himself, converting it to rage in a desperate attempt to keep her at a distance. But she could tell it wasn't working.

If she could read so much from him, what could he read from her right now?

"I can't forget you." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly as he spoke. "I can't forget what it was like to kiss you, to want you so badly I'd give up everything for you. I've been haunted by your face…your eyes…the feel of you in my arms." His gaze slashed across her face and he looked like a man tortured from within. "God, I still want you now."

Angel could see he hated himself for it. The conflicting emotions in his eyes told her of the internal battle he waged and, as he reached out with one trembling hand to stroke her cheek, Angel feared she wouldn't like the outcome.

His arms swept around her, his lips coming down on hers in a bruising, punishing kiss, transferring only anger and a desire to hurt, with nothing of what should pass between a man and a woman in love. Even so, the warmth of his body against hers and the scent of him in her nostrils pulled at her passions like the moon pulled the tides, tumultuous and pounding. She'd never felt this way with any other man. Ever.

He raised his lips from hers, his gaze fixed on her face. She remembered a time when his eyes, shining with tenderness, had filled with love as he gazed at her. This piercing glare was as far from tender as fire from water.

"Come on, Frank. You don't really believe you can punish someone with a kiss, do you?" She had to throw him off balance. She couldn't let him know his kisses devastated her.

He leered at her. "I know it's no punishment to you. You use love as a tool of the trade, don't you?"

If he had struck her it wouldn't have hurt as much. Despite his words, the dark desire flaring in his eyes told her he would take her lips again.

"Why are you doing this?" she appealed.

"I've wanted you ever since I first met you. Even hating you doesn't make it go away."

She jerked out of his grasp and tried to push past him but he snared her again, pressing her up against the wall. The tension in the room shimmered with violent potential.

"Frank, don't," she said in a strangled tone. "Don't do this." She hated the pleading in her voice.

He ignored her as he swept his gaze down to her breasts. She could feel her nipples swell under the delicate fabric of her blouse. How can they do that? How can my body respond to him when he's behaving like this? When I know it's so wrong?

And where had all her strength gone? She was not a weak person, yet she couldn't seem to pull away from him. Part of it was guilt, she knew that. Frank had been hurt. By her. But it was more than that. Feelings long suppressed tore through her thin barrier of control. She wanted to be with him, to love him and be loved by him. All the reasons she couldn't let this happen slipped away.

"We were good together," he said, his voice husky. He pulled her close to him and brushed his lips across her temple. "Don't you remember?"

Her blood rose in her veins and bubbled up into her face as though it would burn through the skin of her cheeks. How could he compare this angry possession to what they'd been to each other?

"No!" she cried.

Their gazes locked and burning anger flared between them. She saw the brief struggle in his eyes before his mouth captured hers again. His tongue darted out and forced her lips apart. Angel was disoriented by this sudden onslaught. Words she could handle, but this.… If he was anyone else he'd be flat on the floor by now. But this was Frank and—oh, Lord—how could he do this to her?

How could he believe what he did about her?

Her body, oblivious to her mental anguish, ordered her to surrender, to give herself over to the sweet longings she'd kept locked inside for so long. Her mind, somehow allowing reason to rule, ruthlessly pulled the reins back on her passion.

Yes, she wanted him, but he had no place in her life. Even if he did, clearly Frank would never forgive her for what she'd done.

His insistent tongue forced her mouth wide, plundering, devouring. A knock on the door startled them both.

Angel pulled back from Frank's burning lips. He blinked down at her, looking like a man who'd just awakened from a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Shock crept across his features.

Frank swung away from her and strode across the room. He stood leaning against the window, his hands gripping the edge, his knuckles white. Angel could see his tortured expression reflected in the glass, his eyelids scrunched tightly together, his features frozen in a mask of anguish.

She heard the clicking sound of the door latch releasing as the knob turned. By the time Hal stepped in Frank was composed once again.

"Frank, you and I are meeting with Dennis in an hour. Why don't you grab some lunch and meet us back here?"

Frank nodded then flicked a cool gaze in Angel's direction. "I'll see you later, Angel."

It sounded like a threat.

She glanced away toward the window, seeking the New York skyline but finding only obscuring mists of fog. The thump of the door signaled Frank's departure.

Angel held her back stiff and straight, her expression closed.

"Cindy, sit down before you fall down. You're as white as your shirt."

Slowly she sank into the nearest chair. "Maybe you should start calling me Angel, Hal. I get the impression O'Connor thinks I'm pulling one over on you every time you call me by my real name."

"If it'll make you more comfortable, I'll do that…Angel. Look, do you want to tell me what's going on between you two?"

She and Hal had known each other for a very long time. He'd recruited her almost eleven years ago and they'd worked together since then. Although they only saw each other a few times a year, she knew she could always rely on him. If she ever decided to pull out of her cover, she knew he'd back her up. Not that she ever would. Her work was the most important thing in her life. Actually, it was her life. If she didn't believe that, she couldn't work effectively undercover, she'd always reasoned.

Hal had become like a brother to her. An older, protective brother. And that meant he was the only family she had.

"You remember when Cavaglione dragged me to Hawaii."

"Of course. I'm still sore that I had to stay here."

"I met Frank on my off time, waiting for Cavaglione during his interminable meetings. We started dating and…" Her fists clenched as tight as her chest. "I didn't know he was an agent. I figured he was just a tourist and nothing would come of it." Oh, God, she would never have put him in such danger if she'd known. She clutched the armrests of the chair. "The night Cavaglione and I were busted, I…I had to turn Frank over to Cavaglione."

She batted at her cheeks with her fingers to dash away the tears that had slipped out. Hal pulled a tissue out of a box on the table and handed it to her. She grabbed one and dried her eyes.

"Ahh. That explains his reaction to you." He sighed heavily. "So, he's the one you tipped me off about? The one the Hawaiian team got out during the bust?"

She nodded.

"You took an awful chance doing that."

"I had no choice. I couldn't just—" She gulped back the sob forming in her throat. The echoes of Frank's pain-filled groans as Cavaglione's henchmen worked him over, reverberated through time.

Hal stepped out from behind his desk and sat in the chair beside Angel, taking her hand in his. "Look, Angel. Everything will work out okay. Once Frank has time to think about all this, he'll realize you were just doing your job. He's still fighting the belief that you're the enemy. By tomorrow, he'll accept the truth."

"Don't worry, Hal. I can weather it."

"I know you can but… Listen, I have to ask this. Are you sure you're going to be okay working with him?"

"I just told you—"

"I know what you told me but what I mean is… You two had something going before. Do you…care about each other?"

"You mean do we love each other, don't you? No way. We never really knew each other. We were both undercover."

She went to the window and stared out into the white mists, feeling the isolation, knowing how those buildings felt, each enshrouded in gauze, cut off from the others while standing among them. Her mind reached out to those lonely companions. It isn't so bad, she told them. If you stand alone you don't get hurt. Believe me, you only hurt when you let them see you. Hide inside your cover and no one can touch you. It's much easier that way.

She felt Hal's presence behind her. His huge hand gently rested on her shoulder and she turned to face him. He was a big man, towering above her, but she felt safe with him. He cared.

Funny that she should feel close to a man whom she only saw a handful of times a year and who had recruited her into the most dangerous career she could have chosen. But it was what she'd needed, still needed. She was doing something important and that gave her life meaning. If it hadn't been for Hal, she dreaded thinking about where she'd be now.

"Angel, you and I go back a long way and I know you better than anyone. If you can't be objective, I can't put you together on this case. No matter what I told O'Connor."

She slumped onto a chair again, thumping her elbows on the table and leaning her face on her palms. It was tempting, to take the out Hal offered. After a moment, she slid her fingers through her hair and leaned back. Allowing Hal to pull Frank from the case would mean a delay in finding the informant, endangering a lot of people. She couldn't put her own discomfort ahead of others. And she couldn't give Frank the satisfaction of knowing he rattled her. She scrubbed at her face and sighed, then got up and fixed herself a cup of coffee.

"Hal, believe me, there is no future for Mr. O'Connor and me. And even if I were attracted to him, I would never let anyone or anything endanger my job. You know how important my cover is, how long I've worked to establish it."

No one knew better than Hal.

"I know, Angel. Sometimes I think it means too much. You'll have to give it up eventually."

"No!" She paced away from him.

"Look, you don't have to keep paying for what happened when you were just a kid—"

She whirled around to face him again. "Hal, I'm not giving up my cover. I can make a difference. I have a chance of moving up higher in the organization and getting information that could really hurt them."

"You could also get caught…and killed…just like—"

She slammed her fist on the table with a resounding thud. "That's not why I'm doing this and you know it!" At Hal's blatant look of disbelief, her anger cooled enough to add, "All right, that's not the only reason. Look, Hal, what's wrong with wanting to make a difference, wanting to do something worthwhile with my life?"

"You already have, Angel."

"But it's not enough. I can—"

"Face it. It'll never be enough." He grabbed her hand and stopped her frantic pacing. "You'll keep on and on until life has passed you by. You deserve a life of your own. You deserve to be yourself, to respect yourself. Angel, I know what it costs you to work with those people day in and day out, to have people believe you're one of them. I know it's not easy."

"Life isn't meant to be easy," she snapped.

"But it's not meant to be hell, either. You know we could give you a position in the Bureau where you could still make a difference."

She glared at him. "I can't do a damn desk job, Hal!"

"It doesn't have to be a desk job. There's still field work you can do. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the syndicate you could do investigative work."

"Forget it, Hal. I'm not giving up my cover and that's final. I would think you'd be glad. It took a lot of time and effort on both our parts to get me where I am today and it's really paying off."

"I know, Angel. I just don't want to see you hurt."

"Don't worry about me, Hal. I've been taking care of myself since I was sixteen. I'm very good at it."

"Maybe too good."

She didn't want to have this discussion anymore. Staring at the chaotic form of the paper clip sculpture, she felt too close to that state herself. She glanced at her watch.

"I've got to get going, Hal," she said as she pulled a tissue and a small compact out of her purse and repaired the damage her tears had done. When she was finished, she stood up. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Then she left his office to go back to the life that wasn't really hers but was the only reality she knew.

* * *

"Are you going to be able to cope with this?"

Frank leaned against the wall beside the window, watching Angel leave the building. She shoved up the cuff of her jacket to glance at her watch as she hurried along. Her fitted black suit accentuated her slender waist, and the slit down the back of her straight, pencil-line skirt showed her alluring calves as she trotted down the steps. Her delightful bottom swayed seductively as she hurried down the street.

Could he cope? Of course he could cope. He'd have to cope. After all, how hard could it be to resist an angel? Especially when he knew for a fact that the angel was really a devil. Frank groaned as he raked his hand through his hair.

"Frank?"

He whirled around to see Dennis standing in the doorway frowning at him. It took a moment to realize it had been Dennis who had voiced the question and not his own fevered mind.

"Dennis. Sorry, I was distracted."

Dennis moved to the window and glanced past Frank in time to see Angel sliding into a cab. "So I see." His hawk-like gaze zeroed in on Frank. "What's all this about a relationship between you two? How did you get mixed up with someone you thought was a mob member?"

"I didn't know it when I met her…then when I did…" Frank hesitated. He didn't want Dennis to know what a fool he'd been. "I was undercover and she was close to Cavaglione. I thought I'd learn something."

The way Dennis' eyes narrowed made it clear he knew there was more to it than that. "Frank, we've got to play this thing carefully."

"I can do my job, Dennis," Frank flared.

Dennis' hand dropped onto Frank's shoulder. "I know you can. But admit it, you feel something for this woman."

"I feel something all right." Frank paced over to his desk and leaned on the edge, crossing his arms over his chest. "The woman turned me over to the mob."

"As part of her cover. You'll come to terms with that sooner or later and realize she's not the monster you've believed her to be all these years."

Frank's gaze jumped to Dennis' face.

"Look, Frank. I know this incident must have happened just before you came to work for me. The timing is right. I never knew what was eating you and it wasn't any of my business since you did your job, and did it well. If anything, the anger drove you to become the best. But I know that woman meant something to you, otherwise you wouldn't be in the state you are now. And when you get over the shock, I'm afraid you're going to fall—hard and fast."

"No way!" Frank slashed his hand through the air in emphasis.

"You really believe you can keep your objectivity?"

"We are here to nail the informant, aren't we? If it's Angel, it'll be my pleasure."

Dennis locked gazes with Frank. "And if it isn't?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to hang her before we have all the facts. She may be the prime suspect, but we haven't proven it yet. Remember that."

In Too Deep: Chapter Three

Frank remained silent as Dennis strode to the door.

"I'm going to grab some lunch. Meeting in half an hour. Don't forget."

Once the door closed behind him, Frank slumped down in a chair, wiping his hands across his face.

What had happened to him in Hal's office, when he'd been alone with Angel? What had happened to the cool professional who would never let another woman get to him? And yet, so close to Angel, his cool demeanor had boiled away, leaving his blood flowing like lava.

Still shocked and appalled by what his raging emotions had allowed, he admitted that he'd wanted her—no, needed her—desperately. He'd felt that if he couldn't bury himself in her warmth, he would die.

She was dangerous, that one. Maybe Dennis was right. Maybe Frank couldn't remain objective. But, hell, if he allowed Angel to drive him away from this assignment, she'd win. And he didn't intend to let her have the upper hand again.

Anyway, if she was the informant, he wanted to be the one to prove it. And she was. He was certain of it.

Working with Angel would be a challenge. And Frank never walked away from a challenge.

Angel. The image of her sweet loving face gazing up at him, her brown eyes filled with liquid passion, her lips still moist from their shared kiss, caused his heart to lurch.

Damn it! If his mind insisted on dredging up those memories, then he should at least remind himself where it had led. He thumped his feet up on the desk as his mind wandered back to the evening he had tried for so many years to forget. That he'd never be able to forget.

He and Angel had returned to her cabin after dinner and he had been enjoying the sweetness of her kisses and her soft warm body pressed against his. Then she'd turned serious and started probing him for information.

"Frank, are you really here on vacation?"

"Sure, why do you ask?"

He felt guilty lying to her about that, but he was undercover. He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back on them in a relaxed fashion, hoping she hadn't noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Just a feeling, I guess."

"Woman's intuition?" he asked dubiously, raising his eyebrows.

"Something like that. Whatever it is, it's served me well over the years."

He sat up straight and took her hands in his, wanting to reassure her. "Honey, I'm here and we're together. Isn't that enough?"

"For how long, Frank?" She pulled her hands away. "When does your vacation end? When will you be leaving?"

"Are you worried about the future?"

"Of course. Aren't you?"

"Yes." He sighed. "Look, I know I want you in it, Angel. Whatever that takes. I love you."

He'd never admitted that to a woman before. It had never been true before. As he watched Angel staring back at him with a quiet tension gripping her features, an uncertainty in her stance, he desperately wished she'd answer with the same three words. He needed to hear them. What held her silent? A myriad of emotions flickered across her face before her muscles relaxed into a resolute stance. Clearly, she'd made a decision.

He knew now what that decision had been, but back then… Then he'd been the proverbial 'fool in love'. Then he'd actually believed she loved him back.

She leaned toward him and met his gaze with her own. "Be honest with me. Why are you here?"

He stared into the depths of those innocent brown eyes—past the sheen of a hard, crystal veneer she'd erected between them—and saw needs he could not ignore. She needed him to trust her. She needed him to tell her the truth.

And he did trust her.

His love was that blind.

"Okay." He sighed heavily. "I know you work for Domenic Cavaglione."

She sprang to her feet and strode away, her fists clenching and unclenching. "Is that why you're with me? To get to him?"

He bounded after her. Gently grabbing her shoulders, he eased her around to face him.

"No, Angel. It's nothing like that. I didn't find the link until after we'd started dating. And by then I was convinced that you couldn't have anything to do with the dirty side of Cavaglione's business."

She turned and impaled him with her piercing glare. "So I was right. You are a Fed."

His breath caught deep in his lungs and his heart paused. He'd let his cover slip, something he'd never done before. Damn, but love could make a man crazy. Still, he was glad it was out. He wanted to tell her, wanted to convince her to leave her job and come back with him, to marry him.

"Yes, I'm a Federal agent."

She grabbed his arms, her expression fierce. "Frank, you've got to leave here, before someone else finds out. "

The vehemence of her reaction threw him off balance. For the first time, doubt cast a shadow across his rosy image of Angel. For the first time, he asked himself if she could be other than the innocent angel she appeared.

"Angel, what part do you play in Cavaglione's operation?"

"You have to trust me," she pleaded. "I know what Domenic's up to, but I can't tell you anything about it. It's too dangerous."

He wouldn't allow himself to believe anything negative about her. He stroked a curly lock of hair behind her ear, felt her tremble slightly. "Are you worried about retribution? Is that it? Come back with me. The Bureau will protect you. Give us something we can use to put Cavaglione away and we'll make sure you're safe."

She jerked away from him, as though his touch unsettled her. "Yeah, sure Frank."

As he stared at her back, longing to touch the cascade of black curls that failed to hide the stiffness of her spine, he knew she would never be completely safe after giving evidence against her boss. Suddenly, he knew he wouldn't allow her to take that chance.

"Then just walk away." He stepped forward and laid his hands on her shoulders, loving the feel of her soft hair caressing his fingers. "Tell him you want to quit, then come and marry me. If you don't testify against him, he won't bother you."

"I don't know, Frank. I've been a part of the family for a long time now."

Her voice had actually sounded doubtful, as though she were considering his proposal, as though she'd wanted to be convinced. My God, what an act she'd put on!

He brushed his lips across her temple. "You're not a criminal, Angel."

She turned to face him. "How do you know that?" Her voice, soft and desperate in its appeal, snagged at his heart. She looked like a starving kitten staring at a plate of food, afraid the offering would be snatched away at any moment.

He met her leery gaze with a steady reassurance. "Because I have faith in you."

Her defenses melted away and her wide doe eyes lost their crystal sheen. She took his hands in hers and squeezed them, emphasizing her words. "I want you to leave. Tonight. Now." She released his hands and turned away, her voice business-like as she continued. "In a week or so, I'll follow. I've…got some things I have to attend to before I can get away."

"Angel, tell me what's going to happen."

"No. You've got to trust my judgment on this."

"I'm not leaving."

He watched as she sucked in air through her teeth and clicked her tongue, considering her options.

"All right. At least tell me you've got backup."

"I…" He hesitated. "Yes, I do."

"Tell me how many and who they are." At his further hesitation she prodded. "If things get crazy, I want to know who to contact. We may need help." She stepped toward him. "I love you, Frank, and I don't want you to get hurt. I can make sure that doesn't happen, if I know who else is on your side."

She'd just told him she loved him, but at the same time asked the impossible. He held her firmly in front of him, staring directly into her eyes. "Angel, I trust you with my life, but…" He couldn't risk his partner. How could he tell her that?

"But what, Frank? You'll risk yourself to my questionable motives, but not your pals? What kind of trust is that?" She jerked out of his grasp and twirled away. "I don't believe in half and half! Good-bye, Frank."

"Wait!"

He couldn't let her go. He would have done anything to keep her. A weakness he still couldn't forgive.

She stopped and turned around to face him, her cheeks red and her mouth a straight, tense line.

"Angel, I didn't mean… It's just that… Oh, damn!"

He knew he had to go all the way with her. Either he believed in her or he didn't. She watched his face as though waiting for him to pass sentence.

He sighed. "All right."

He sat on the couch and told her the name of his partner and how to contact him.

She'd been a fabulous actress. Somehow the woman had insinuated herself into his heart and infiltrated the part of his brain that controlled common sense, cutting it off from the rest of his brain. He'd believed everything she'd told him. When Cavaglione's henchmen came storming in a few minutes after she'd gone, he'd worried about her safety more than his own. They'd questioned him with a persuasion that had left physical scars he still carried today. But none hurt as badly as the scars Angel had left—scars on his heart—and on his soul.

He glared out the window. The grey mists hung outside like a damp curtain. Damn the fog. It must be seeping into his brain.

* * *

Frank burst out of the office at five o'clock, unable to bear one more minute of reading dossiers and nosing through files. Dennis had wisely left him on his own, after piling heaps of reading material on his desk.

Now he needed to work the tension out of his system. He retrieved his exercise bag from his room and went to the hotel gym to put himself through a grueling workout designed to blank out his mind. Although his muscles ached with the strain, his thoughts still swirled around the raven-haired angel who was so ill-named.

Angel wasn't a member of the mob after all. Angel was an FBI agent. From everything he'd read, it seemed clear that she was a loyal agent. She'd brought too much damage to the family to doubt that. But was that still true? Or had she gone over to the mob for real now? Frank couldn't help but believe she had.

After showering and changing, he grabbed a quick dinner in a nearby deli, not savoring a bite since his stomach was still wrenched tight by his turbulent emotions. Damn. He couldn't even enjoy his dinner without thoughts of Angel interfering. He scowled and thumped his fist on the table, drawing a few stares from other diners.

A walk. That's what he needed. He'd explore some of the city and maybe clear his head in the process.

He stormed out onto the street and glanced around, then started walking, no particular destination in mind. Block after block slid by as his long-legged pace carried him through the city. The air hung damply around him and the buildings disappeared into the fog above, but Frank hardly noticed. Time slipped by and before he knew it, the business section had turned residential and small apartment blocks lined the street he traveled.

His fist clenched around a slip of paper he'd shoved into the pocket of his denim jacket. He tugged it out and examined the address he'd written earlier this afternoon.

Angel's address.

His focus flicked to the street sign and he saw a name he remembered from the map he'd reviewed earlier. Angel lived nearby. He flopped down onto a bench beside a bus stop, refusing to be drawn further into Angel's territory.

Ah, hell, he hadn't meant to walk over here. His subconscious must have been hard at work. He sighed, knowing he had to meet with her sometime. But it didn't have to be tonight.

The streetlights had already winked on and the city would soon be shrouded in darkness. He scanned the silhouettes of the buildings around him, their dark shapes blending with the grey sky behind.

This quiet interlude was having the effect he'd been seeking all day. The turmoil of his thoughts drained away, allowing him the nearest thing to peace he'd experienced since seeing that she-devil last night. He watched the people pass by, the foot traffic growing sparse with the onset of darkness.

His detective's senses went on alert when he saw a scruffy young fellow in torn jeans and a grubby denim jacket step out of an alley and skulk around. The hunch of his shoulders and the sly glance he shot at Frank, as though assessing him, made Frank suspicious. Criminals watched for people who looked like victims. Clearly deciding Frank would be trouble, the man shoved his hands in his pockets and plodded away.

Frank sighed. The guy didn't know how wise his decision had been. Frank's anger simmered below the surface like an active volcano. A confrontation would be just the catalyst to force a violent eruption.

He twisted his wrist to check his watch. It was getting late. He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up.

* * *

When Angel finally put aside her work that night, she was glad the day was over. After her meeting at FBI headquarters, she'd gone back to the office to find Carlos waiting for her with some last minute arrangements that needed quick action. At least the frantic phone calls had kept her mind off Frank and their nerve-wracking encounter this morning. She'd had no appetite so had nibbled some carrot and celery sticks for lunch. Going out for a run tonight would be a good idea. That would get her blood pumping and allow her to concentrate on how to handle her partnership with Frank.

Darkness had claimed the city by the time she left the office, but she knew the area well and could take care of herself. Her bus came along within a few moments and she slumped into a seat, allowing her thoughts to wander. Too soon they zeroed in on her problem.

Frank.

Whatever cover he assumed, they would have to keep their contact to a minimum. It was the only way. Judging by Frank's reaction to her this morning, he would feel the same way. True, he was a professional and would come to terms with the fact she'd done what she had to do, but that didn't mean he'd embrace the thought of working with her. She mulled that over, wondering if it would be possible to keep their contact to phone calls alone. After all, it wasn't like he'd actually go under cover with her.

The steady vibration of the bus lulled her and she found her thoughts drifting back to the first time she'd met Frank. In Hawaii, that beautiful island in the sun. The first vacation she'd ever had. It hadn't been a real vacation, but her boss had given her time to herself while he went to meetings. During that time she'd allowed herself to forget who and what she was and just enjoy herself. Frank had been staying a few cabins down from her and she'd seen him on the beach several times from her window.

That day she couldn't stop staring at him. She was sprawled on the beach sunbathing, watching him over the tops of her sunglasses as he came out of his cabin and sauntered down to the beach. He pulled off his loose white T-shirt to reveal broad shoulders and curly hair liberally sprinkled across his muscular chest and stomach. As he stood there, tall and tanned and nearly naked, wearing only a pair of black swimming trunks, her breath caught in her throat. Lord, she never realized a man could be so…spell binding…before.

She lost sight of him for a while when he raced into the surf for a swim, but soon he returned, an eye-catching sight, glittering in the sunlight with beads of water dripping down his sun-bronzed skin. She watched in awe as he patted dry every last inch of exposed skin. Strands of hair wisped down into his eyes and he shoved back the errant locks with a stroke of his towel. Water continued to drip from his hair, and she found herself watching one drop slide down his chest, over his stomach, and down into his bathing suit. She could feel her breasts tightening in response to the erotic thoughts that churned through her head. What would it be like to follow that droplet with her tongue? She licked lips suddenly gone dry.

As he started to move forward, she shifted her focus up to his face. She sucked in a breath as she realized he was moving toward her. Pushing her sunglasses tightly onto her face, she tried to act as if she hadn't just been gawking at him.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but did you know…" he started and just then she felt cold sea water lapping at her toes and jumped up, clutching the towel to her chest like a shield, afraid her swollen nipples would clearly show the affect he had on her.

Obviously, he'd come over to warn her that she was about to be caught by the tide. She stammered a thank you as she slipped on her sandals and grabbed her bag, then raced off towards her cabin, too embarrassed to stay and chat. Glancing around, she saw that he followed her at an easy gait, but she kept on going. When she stopped to unlock her cabin door, he caught up with her.

"Here, I think you forgot this," he said, holding up a bright red, under-wired bikini top that looked suspiciously like hers.

"I… Oh." Her top had been undone while she'd tanned so there'd be no strap mark. When she'd jumped up, it must have fallen to the ground. She pulled the towel more tightly to her body. What a great first impression. There she stood in front of a virtual stranger, wearing only a towel and a bikini bottom. She was sure her face turned as red as the top he held out to her.

He eyed the cups with a mischievous half grin, so she snatched the top away from him. She couldn't help it if she was a little top heavy. He made no comment but she hadn't failed to see the glint in his eye.

The next thing she knew, he'd asked her to dinner.

She was never quite sure why she'd accepted his invitation, but something had drawn her to him. During their three weeks together she'd found that not only was he gorgeous, but warm and sensitive, with a great sense of humour—a combination she found irresistible. She'd known by the way he smiled at her, by the tender looks he gave her, by his gentle touches and softly spoken words, that he was falling in love with her. And she'd done nothing to discourage him.

"Fool! You should have known better than to let him get to you," she murmured under her breath.

The bus pulled up to her stop and she stepped off, turning her collar against the drizzling rain. Her umbrella mushroomed over her head, blocking out the glare of the streetlights, while her boots splashed against the slick, shiny pavement as she trotted down the street and turned onto a quiet lane heading towards her home. The moon cast a vague light through the clouds, the only illumination on this lonely street.

Soon the splish splash of her footfalls were joined by the sound of a rhythmic clicking of heels against pavement. One pair. She stepped a little quicker, trying to shorten the distance between herself and her home. Her breath now came in short little puffs, straining her lungs. She chanced a quick glance around, cursing herself when she caught her heel in a grate, almost losing her balance. She had a vague impression of a man in a denim jacket and jeans less than a block behind her.

The sound of his footfalls came closer together. He was speeding up! Oh, God, this is real. This guy's after me! True, she was trained in self-defense, but these guys didn't play fair. Hand to hand combat didn't go far against an armed assailant.

The saplings that lined the street, rustling in the breeze, sounded like snickering witnesses to her silent ordeal. She forced her legs to move faster. She could barely catch her breath. The stranger was closing the distance between them. Despite the cool nip of the air, she felt perspiration forge a path between her breasts. Her duplex beckoned, the front light reaching out to her.

She fingered the keys in her pocket. That was a precaution she always took, putting her keys where she had quick access. Frantically, she calculated the time it would take to thrust the key in the lock, rip open the door, fling herself inside, and lock the door behind her. Too long! She had to put more distance between them. She snapped her umbrella snapped closed and sprinted the final distance.

Stumbling up the steps to the porch, she grasped blindly at the railing, pulling herself onward towards the safe haven. The keys were in her hand and she jabbed them towards her target in an arrow thrust of desperation. A hand grabbed her arm and she gasped. She heard his harsh breathing as he spun her around. Striking out blindly she sent him sprawling back onto the ground. The keys met their mark and turned. Victory was hers!

"Angel, wait!"

She froze, the door almost closed behind her.

"Frank?"

He got up and brushed off his jeans. Approaching her, cautiously now, an uncertain expression crossed his face.

"Frank! What the hell were you trying to do?"

"I saw you get off the bus alone. There are some pretty seedy characters around here, so I thought I'd follow along and make sure you got home all right. When you started to run I figured something must have frightened you."

"You thought…? Something must have…?"

Her fingers clenched in anger and she swung at him. He grabbed her wrist in mid-thrust, preventing her fist from connecting with his jaw.

"Damn you. Next time, think again!" She shook with anger as she tried to snatch her arm out of his grasp.

He glared at her. If looks could kill she was certain she'd be so many cinders on the ground right now.

"Excuse me, Miss High-and-Mighty. I thought I was doing you a favour."

"I don't need favours, from you or anyone else, Mr. O'Connor!"

He tugged her toward him by the wrist he still gripped tightly. She was closer than she wanted to be. Too close for comfort. The heat emanating from his body waged a war with the cool indifference she sought to maintain.

"Maybe not." His voice was a low growl. "But you're going to be my partner and I'll need you in one piece."

The words—or was it the way his breath whispered around her ears?—sent shivers down her back. He loosened his hold and she wrenched away from him.

"Ask me in, Angel."

She pulled back, concentrating on regaining her composure.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I need to talk to you. Dennis and Hal decided what my cover will be."

She hesitated for only a moment. She desperately wanted to close the door, to shut him out of her house and her life. But this was her job.

"I guess I have no choice."

"You're right there."

Why did he sound so damned smug? She didn't like it. Not one bit. Still, she led him into her home. She flipped on the light and propped her umbrella in the corner of the small entranceway. As she leaned over to tug off her boots, she was all too conscious of Frank standing behind her, slipping off his own shoes. When she stood, popping open the buttons of her coat, her elbow brushed against him. She spun around. He leaned against the wall, his eyes focused on her hands, watching each button release in turn.

"Why don't you go ahead in?" she suggested.

"Nervous?"

His lips revealed his teeth in a feral grin. He may be smiling, but it doesn't reach the frigid blue of his eyes.

"What do have I to be nervous about?"

"Absolutely nothing."

That amused grin stayed maddeningly in place. His hands came up and reached towards her. She flinched back, remembering the overpowering kisses he'd inflicted on her in Hal's office. One hand came to rest on her shoulder and he firmly turned her around, then slipped her coat off her shoulders.

"What kind of gentleman would I be not to help a lady off with her coat?"

Had she only imagined the slight emphasis on the word lady? She watched, eyes narrowed, wondering what he was up to, as he hung her coat in the closet.

"I didn't think chivalry was high on your priority list, Frank. At least around me."

"I'm just trying to set the mood. I've got an important question to ask you."

"What kind of question? I thought you were here to discuss your cover." She didn't like how this was going.

"You're getting nervous again."

He exerted pressure just above her shoulder blades, pressing her into the living room. As they stepped into the room, she breathed in the sweet fragrance of red roses. Her gaze brushed over the dozen red, long-stemmed beauties Carlos had sent her for her birthday. The blooms were fully open and a petal gently fluttered to the table as she watched, joining several that had dropped since this morning.

"Sit down, Angel."

She steered away from the couch he aimed her at to sit in one of the two armchairs, folding her hands tightly in her lap, glaring at him.

She watched as Frank's gaze settled on the vase of roses displayed prominently on the glass-top coffee table. He raised his eyebrows. "An admirer?"

"They're from a friend." She glanced at his sour expression. "For my birthday," she added as an afterthought, though it was really none of his business.

"A dozen red roses. An expensive gift from a friend."

His emphasis on the word friend annoyed her, but she said nothing.

"Actually, pink are my favourite."

Her gaze dropped to the table and the petals that had settled there. She would have to throw them out soon, she thought regretfully. Too bad. It wasn't often she received flowers.

"So, what is this important question you have to ask me?"

Instead of sitting down on the couch as she thought he'd do, he crouched down on his haunches in front of her, wearing an expression of supreme satisfaction that pricked at her self confidence. Frank leaned forward and took her hands firmly in his own. He captured her gaze and drew her forward, a wicked gleam in his eyes. She wondered if he meant to kiss her and felt her eyelids droop as she nibbled her lower lip. His gaze dropped to her lips, then raised to her eyes. Amusement glittered in the blue depths of his own.

"I just wanted to ask you this, Angel." His voice was a fluid murmur, like a brook rippling through quiet woods. "Will you marry me?"

In Too Deep: Chapter Four

"What?" Angel cried, her eyes widening. She snatched her hands out of his grasp. "Are you crazy?"

His smile broadened. "Don't worry, Angel. I'm just talking about our cover."

Our cover. Oh, God, how had she ever gotten into this mess?

"No… You can't really mean… Hal approved this?"

"Why not? It's the most logical course. This way, we'll be able to share information easily. The fact that you're already established will help me get in." He raised his eyebrows. "Unless Vendetti has some policy against couples working together."

"No, he doesn't care," she responded reluctantly.

"Good."

He stood up and went over to settle in the chair across from her, the denim of his jacket out of place on the deep rose velveteen.

"But marriage, Frank? You and I? No one will believe it."

"Why not? You're a very good actress, Angel. We've already established that."

His sarcastic words stung. She glanced up to see his grim stare fixed on her. Her chest tightened painfully as she remembered the old days when fiery sparks would infuse that frigid blue with melting heat. The days of joy they'd shared. The days of love. The most wonderful days of her life.

She took a deep breath, banishing the memories away into the dark recesses of her mind. Those days were gone. "I would think the problem is how you'll act the part of my lover."

"Your lover? I'm sure I could play that part very well." His voice was like cool silk caressing her skin.

She rubbed her arms to rid herself of the goose bumps. "I meant…. You know what I meant. You can't stand me."

He stepped forward, towering over her. She shifted in her chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He crouched down and put a hand on each arm of her chair, leaning toward her.

"But I can act, too, Angel. Do you want me to show you?" His voice was soft, persuasive.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering what game he was playing. "No." She shook her head in emphasis.

"But you've called my abilities into question. Now I'll have to prove myself."

Before she knew what was happening, he pulled her to her feet. His arms slid around her and he drew her body against his own.

Too many sensations hit her all at once. His hard chest pressed against her soft breasts. His arms firm and secure around her. The scent of his crisp aftershave reminding her of other times when he'd held her in his arms.

One of his hands slid up her back and his fingers entwined in her hair, cupping the back of her head. Slowly, he eased her face toward his, holding her entranced with his eyes—his melting hot, frigid blue eyes. He wanted her, but he didn't love her. He didn't even like her. He blamed her for his pain. And it was knowing that, knowing how much she'd hurt him, that stopped her from pushing him away. Guilt lay a heavy burden on her heart.

His lips met hers in a gentle caress, a mere brush of flesh on flesh. She wanted to moisten her lips, to dip her tongue out in search of his. The feel of his lips moving on hers made her heart thud. He dipped her back, her spine arching over his strong arm, her head spinning. His probing tongue nudged her lips apart and she felt consumed by the joy of sharing such an intimate pleasure with him.

Oh, God, it would be so easy to forget what had happened between them, to allow him to sweep her back to that loving time they'd shared. It would be so easy to forget a lot of things. Like the reason why she couldn't fall in love with Frank. Like the fact that she had an important job to do—and a cover to protect. Loving Frank would get in the way.

Not only that, Frank would be hurt. Again. Because in the end, she'd have to walk away.

Anyway, Frank wasn't kissing her out of love. He was trying to prove something to her. That he could do his job. That he could convince other people he was in love with her—even though it wasn't true. She'd better make darned sure she remembered that.

As though he sensed her withdrawal, he drew her upright and their lips parted. When she looked into his eyes, she saw that the ice had splintered into fragments of emotions. Pain. Anger. Confusion. Desire. Each one sharply felt.

"Still think I'll have a problem convincing people?" His voice, soft and sure, contrasted with the chaos in his eyes.

She pushed away from him. "There's more to loving than a kiss, Frank."

"I know."

His gaze slid down to her breasts, a wicked grin curling his mouth. Could he hear the frantic beating of her heart? She folded her arms across her chest and scowled. "I'm talking about love, not love-making."

His grin faded, transforming the mischievous rogue into a business-like professional. "It can work if it's handled properly," he assured her. "After all, I did fall in love with you…once." His voice was tinged with bitterness.

"You really think you can carry it off?" She wasn't so sure. He could drive her crazy with his kisses, but he could barely carry on a civil conversation with her for more than five minutes.

"I'm a professional, too, Angel. I can act the part required of me."

That's all it would be, she knew. An act. It shouldn't hurt this much to know she'd driven him away so successfully, she'd made him hate her so thoroughly, that he'd never even like her again, let alone love her. She needed to keep him at a distance, to ensure that he didn't endanger her way of life. She couldn't get involved with anyone who might interfere with her cover.

This was the best, for him as well as her. If he were to fall in love with her, to want her the way he had four years ago, then she'd only break his heart again—because she'd never give up being Angela Tortina. And that meant never being able to live a normal life, with a husband and a family. With a man she could love.

The best thing would be to keep the discussion on a business level.

She grabbed the flowered cushion beside her and distractedly wrung at the corner of it. "What's your background story?"

He tugged an envelope out of his jacket pocket and tossed it on the coffee table. "Read this over later. It provides the details, but basically my name is Frank Marino. You and I knew each other as children." He paced back and forth as he explained. "I arrived in town a few days ago, saw you on the street, recognized you. Our little rendez-vous last night would work for that. We'll go out a few times and fall in love." He shrugged. "Simple enough."

"You think they'll believe I'd fall in love with a man in a couple of weeks and be willing to get married? Just like that?"

"Why not? It can happen in real life." He stopped pacing. "It happened to me in Hawaii."

Their gazes connected, evoking the memory of his heartfelt proposal—after they'd known each other for only three weeks. He'd wanted to marry her even though he'd thought she was involved with the mob—because he'd fallen in love with her. He would have protected her and cared for her. Somehow, she knew he would have accepted her even if she'd been involved in the dirty side of the business. He would have found a way of converting her.

He would have forgiven her being a criminal. But he could not forgive her for putting her cover ahead of his safety. For putting her job ahead of him.

Angel glanced away. "What I don't understand is, why did they bring you onto this case?"

"You haven't been able to solve it on your own."

Resentment welled up in her. "I need more time!" She knew how important it was to solve this case, but at the same time, she had to be careful. She couldn't pry too much without drawing suspicion onto herself. Her cover had to be protected. She'd worked too long and too hard to blow it now.

"You've had enough time. You, of all people, should want this mess cleared up as soon as possible. Your cover is in danger. I can't believe it hasn't been blown yet."

"Hal is the only one in the office who knows about me. Some of the higher-ups know of my existence, but not who I am. Hal can refuse to divulge my identity to anyone, even under direct orders."

"And you trust this guy Hal?"

"With my life."

"That's what it might come down to," he muttered.

Frank had stirred up her deepest insecurities. Late at night when she lay alone in her bed, she often thought about the fact that her fate was so vulnerable to the actions of others. What if Hal ever let her name slip to the wrong person? What if policies changed in the Bureau and someone got access to her file who shouldn't? What if she ever ran into someone who recognized her from high school? Sweeping them aside, she concentrated on the more pressing question facing her. "So what do they think you can do that I can't?"

"We need someone who can get access to information you can't."

She planted her hands on her hips, frowning. "And just how do you think you can do that? I'm part of their operation. If I can't get it—"

"Because I'm going to become part of their operation, too. Through you. They trust you. If we're married—"

"Just because you marry me, doesn't mean they'll necessarily trust you."

"Once I talk to Vendetti, I'll be able to convince him to hire me. You work in the office, but I intend to get involved in some of the operations directly."

"Yeah. How?" She didn't even try to keep the skepticism from her voice.

"You don't need to know that."

She shot to her feet and glared at him. "What do you mean I don't need to know? We're partners, remember? This is my case, too. You may not like me or my methods, Frank, but I am an agent. Don't forget that."

"And don't you forget it! This information is on a need-to-know basis. And you don't need to know."

His sharp blue glare pierced her bubble of indignation. He was right. She was a professional and if their superiors decided she didn't need to know something, she had to accept that.

She sank back into her chair. There could be any number of reasons why they wouldn't tell her. It was always easier to be unaware of a fact than to act unaware.

"I see." Another disturbing thought wiggled its way through her consciousness. "And why…" She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed. "Why are you the one to decide?"

He had the decency to look apologetic. "Because, Angel," he responded, his voice quiet. "I'm the senior agent on this case."

"So you're in charge?" She sat still for a few moments, chewing the inside of her lip, letting that information sink in. She'd never had to answer to anyone on a day-to-day basis. Not in her real job, anyway. Carlos set her tasks in the office, but the more important work—her work uncovering and reporting information on mob activities—ran totally under her own discretion. Following orders from anyone would be difficult, but from Frank?

Too many things were changing too quickly. She gripped the armrests tightly. Her life seemed to be spinning out of control and she felt dizzy. She wanted life to slow down, to give her time to breathe.

"I need to know how quickly we can get married."

She glared at him resentfully. "You're the boss. Isn't that your decision?"

"You're the expert, Angel."

Immediately, she felt contrite. Where had her declared professionalism gone?

"I'm sorry, Frank. I'm just…not used to working with someone."

"You'd better get used to it."

She took a deep breath, holding back the sharp retort that leaped to mind. "We'll have to proceed carefully. It'll take time."

"We don't have much time."

"Then we'll have to make time!" she snapped.

He crossed his arms, impatience showing in the tight set of his jaw. "How long, Angel? Before the wedding can take place."

She directed her eyes to the philodendron reaching up over Frank, wishing it would reach down and strangle him.

Think about the answer to his question.

The plant blurred as her gaze drifted out of focus. She thought about other couples who'd gotten engaged, remembering the malicious gossip when one couple had acted too quickly. The family had old-fashioned ideas about love and courtship.

"Two months—"

"Two months before the wedding?" Frank demanded.

"No," she shifted her gaze and focused on him. "Two months of dating before we can announce an engagement, then—"

"We can't wait that long."

She released a burst of air from her lungs. "We'll have to. Anything sooner would draw too much attention. No one would believe—"

"Damn it." His fist connected with the arm of the love seat in a dull thump. "If it means we have to endanger your cover, so be it."

A raging anger blazed through her. Angel clenched her fingers around the cushion lying on her lap, tightening them until she thought they would snap. He might have seniority, but…. "Who are you to decide that?" she demanded.

"I'm the one they've brought in to make sure the job gets done."

His tight response acted like a slap across her face. She'd been working on this case for six months, ever since the Bureau first realized there was an informant—and she'd gotten nowhere. Did the powers-that-be think her incompetent? And did they really deem her cover expendable? Well, if the first was true…

She felt the anger seep out of her, replaced by a cold numbness. Her cover was her life. She'd been Angela Tortina for so long, she didn't know how to be anyone else. Her hands, suddenly weak, released the cushion and it slipped off her lap onto the floor.

Frank had matched her sharp retort in kind, but when he saw her face drain of colour he felt guilty. He went on more softly. "Hal feels we have to wrap this thing up as soon as possible. I'm sorry, Angel, but that means your cover isn't our prime concern."

She was already far too pale. Now her eyes glistened and her lip quivered slightly. That full bottom lip that felt so good against his own. Christ, he wanted to pull her into his arms and whisper soothing words. To stroke her hair and tell her everything would be all right.

What a fool! Nothing would be all right. If Angel was the informant, he'd have her put away.

And what if she isn't? a nagging voice in the back of his mind queried. What if she's innocent?

Innocent? He had once thought that—had once believed she was as sweet and vulnerable as she looked—but he had learned better. The hard way. He pushed away his doubts, along with his protective urges.

"Given that you're part of the family, they shouldn't suspect anything. Hal said you've proven yourself to them time and again. We just have to ensure they accept me long enough to get through the con."

"But, I've worked so long… My cover is…" She shook her head as though trying to clear it.

Try as he might, he couldn't remain indifferent to her. No matter what she'd done—what she was—right now she hurt and he couldn't help his response to her pain.

"When's the soonest we can do the wedding, Angel?" Frank asked gently, clutching the arms of his chair to stop himself from reaching out and touching her.

"What?" she asked, then snapped out of her stupor. "Oh. Well, I guess we could pull it off in about a month. But there'll be a lot of questions asked."

Neither spoke for a few moments, then she started speaking rapidly. "You know, the Bureau shouldn't have to pull me out. Once it's over, we could make it look like you duped me and then deserted me or, better yet, we could simulate your death so I'd be a widow. Then I could carry on in my role. I—"

Frank held his hands up to stop her verbal overflow. "Whoa, Angel. Slow down." He leaned forward and took her hand. "It's clear how you feel about your cover, but face it. It's time for you to move on, to get on with your own life."

"No. I can't." Pain quivered in her voice. "I've worked too hard to get in. I've worked for too many years to get where I am."

"Angel." Frank placed a hand on her shoulder and she glared at it, then at him, pure venom in her eyes. He knew she blamed him for this. "You know the department will help you get reoriented. You won't be alone." His voice softened. He couldn't help adding, "If I can do anything…"

She jumped to her feet, tossing his hand aside. "Don't worry, you'll be doing something, all right." Her words came out in a controlled roar. "You may accept that my cover will be dead, but I don't. I intend to work this so I stay exactly where I am."

His gaze narrowed on her flushed face. Her vehemence told him clearly she would not give up her cover without a fight, yet a trained field agent would accept the end of her undercover stint with grace. In fact, she should be happy to get out. After all, what honest person, especially one dedicated to stamping out crime, would want to live the kind of life she did. Associating with criminals and killers every day. Of course, that was the whole point. No honest person would.

She glared at him, clenched fists held tightly at her sides, as though she had to stop herself from punching him. "And once this is all over, you'll be the one paying."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean alimony. Don't you understand how I operate yet, O'Connor? I don't chance anything." She started pacing back and forth in front of him. "Like using a fake priest or filing a false marriage certificate. You'd be surprised where the family has people." She waved one hand at her side. "City hall is small potatoes and there'll be enough interest in our union to have people keeping their eyes open wide for any discrepancies." She stopped pacing and placed her fists on her hips. "If our cover says you and I get married, then we get married. For real." She started pacing again. "And then I'm going to continue in my cover. I'll make sure of that. You and I will get divorced, and when we do, they'll expect me to soak you for everything I can get!" She glared at him. "And believe me, that will be a real pleasure."

A small surge of excitement thrilled him as he watched her, both because of the blaze of angry passion in her words, making her glow with energy, and because of the thought of actually being married to her—and all that implied.

Seeing the glint in his eye, she stomped away. "Don't worry, O'Connor. It'll be a marriage in public only, I assure you!" With that she swung open the door to her entranceway. "Now, I suggest you leave."

* * *

"Yo, Angie."

As Angel descended the stairs from Vendetti's office building, she turned to see Dino Fontaine, one of Vendetti's most trusted men, watching her from the sidewalk.

"Dino. How are you?" She hurried over to greet him.

Dino put his hand on her elbow. "You wanna lift home?"

She sighed inwardly, much preferring to take the bus, but an undercover job went far beyond the nine-to-five office work she did for Vendetti. A good undercover agent takes advantage of every opportunity to gain information. Dino knew a lot of interesting things. "I'd love one, Dino. Thanks."

He placed his hand on the small of her back as he guided her to his car a half block down. She stopped her spine from stiffening in response. Dino unlocked the door of his black Corvette and helped her inside, then climbed in himself. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Glancing over his left shoulder, he watched for an opening to pull out into traffic. Soon they were on their way, moving along with the current of cars.

"Angie, I saw you coming out of the FBI office yesterday. What's up?"

He spoke evenly, with no implied threat, but her pulse leaped. She forced her breathing to remain steady and reminded herself of her cover story. She always had a cover story when she went into the FBI office—but this was the first time she'd had to use it.

"The Feds brought me in for routine questioning." She imbued her voice with indignation. "That's what they call it anyway. I call it harassment."

His finger flicked on the left signal and he peered intently in his side mirror, ready to change lanes.

"What was it all about?" His question came out matter-of-fact, but she noticed the tight set of his jaw.

"I don't know," she said, her voice sedate. "They asked a lot of questions about Carlos, but nothing specific, you know? I have no idea what they're on to."

His jaw relaxed. "I'll let Carlos know so he can be on guard."

"Do you think? I don't know what they know and—" She knew that playing the dumb broad around Dino was her best tactic. Dino was one of those macho guys who thought woman were only good for taking to bed. He acknowledged her basic usefulness for menial work around the office, but didn't really believe she owned a brain. She hated to fuel his skewed view of women, but it gave her an edge—and she'd take every advantage she could get.

"Angie, if the Feds suspect something, Carlos needs to be told. He might want to tighten up security on some of his operations, you know?"

"I guess you're right."

Had he seen Frank, too? No, that didn't make sense. She'd left the office alone and, from the looks of Frank in his wrinkled tuxedo pants and shirt, and the growth of beard on his face, she was certain he'd returned to the sanctity of FBI headquarters immediately after seeing her at the hotel—that's what she would have done had their positions been reversed—so Dino wouldn't have seen him enter the building. She stared at the traffic in front of them. Dino would be meeting Frank as her fiancé all too soon and she couldn't afford to have him recognize Frank as an FBI agent.

She glanced at Dino's profile. Thick black brows hovered over amber eyes that could fix on a victim and leave the strongest quaking. His wavy dark hair skimmed his collar and the arrogant set to his jaw added a level of intimidation to his tough-guy attitude.

His gaze flicked in her direction and he smiled when he caught her staring at him, the flash of even white teeth dazzling. He could turn on a powerful charisma when he sought to win a woman. Angel knew—he'd directed it at her far too many times. When he stalked a female, his eyes could dance with warmth and his beguiling charm could mesmerize his prey. The hot-blooded promise in those depths made a woman long to find out what it would be like to be warmed by his strong hands.

Whenever Angel felt the draw of those eyes, she reminded herself they were the eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

Dino turned the conversation to small talk, telling her about the latest movie he'd seen, a very popular film with lots of violence that she mentally noted on her not-to-see list. Soon they drove down her quiet street and pulled over to the curb outside her home.

Angel felt the skin on the back of her neck prickling. Someone was watching her. Scanning the area, she caught a glimpse of Frank leaning against a tree a couple of buildings down, arms crossed. Oh, no. Why was he here?

"So who's the guy?" Dino asked.

"What guy?"

"The guy watching us over by the tree. And what's the matter with you? You're all tied up in knots."

Realizing she'd been wringing her hands together, she dropped them to her lap. She glanced over at Frank then back to Dino.

"Him? He's an old friend. I hadn't seen him since I was a kid, then we ran into each other yesterday. Imagine, after fifteen years."

"So what's he doing here now?" Jealousy tinged his words.

She knew the best way to get away with a lie was to stay as close to the truth as possible.

"I don't know."

"So this guy shows up after fifteen years and now he's hanging around your place? Are you crazy, Angie? He could be anybody. I heard of these guys who find out about a woman's background and work their way into her life. He could be after something."

"Like what? I don't have any money."

His intense stare threatened her outward calm. "There are a lot of things he might want."

"You're being paranoid. Anyway, it's not like he's using some made-up name. And I do remember him."

"Fifteen years is a long time, Angie. What do you really know about him? Why don't I check him out for you?"

"Dino, what's up with you? Do you have a problem with me having friends?"

Dino slid his arms around her and pulled her toward him.

"Friends I don't mind. But I can tell this guy's gotten under your skin. And I don't want any competition."

Before she could act, his lips captured hers and he turned on a warm persuasion that most women would have found difficult to resist. If they were interested in a fling. Which she wasn't. Especially not with a cold-blooded killer. She struggled out of his grasp, painfully aware of Frank standing only a few yards away.

"Dino, please."

"Your old friend didn't like that a bit," he murmured, satisfaction lacing his words. He stroked her cheek with one finger then stared outside with a smug smile.

She followed his gaze and saw the stormy expression on Frank's face. He glared at them as though he'd like to murder someone. Angel—probably. Dino—definitely.

"I'll walk you to the door. In fact," Dino said as he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her toward him, "if you invite me in, he might get the idea I'll be hanging around for a while and get lost."

She disengaged herself. Dino constantly tried to push their relationship in a direction she didn't want it to go. Fending him off was becoming a problem. She couldn't afford to alienate him, but she wasn't prepared to go to bed with him, even if it would increase her chances of coaxing information from him that might further her case. She was an undercover agent, not a prostitute. Anyway, she would never be able to give herself to someone she didn't care for—and she could never care for a monster like Dino.

"Dino, you know I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, but you know I'd like to take care of you." He ran a finger down her arm. "How 'bout dinner tomorrow night? Just you and me."

"No, Dino."

"Come on, Angie. I'll pick you up about seven. What do you say?"

"Maybe some other time."

"You've been sayin' that for months now," he said as he thumped the steering wheel. "Another time never seems to roll around."

"You know I like you, Dino. It's just that—I consider you a friend."

He clenched his fists tightly. "God! Don't say that. It's the kiss of death."

Anger sparked in his eyes but she knew he'd behave himself. That was one thing about the family. The members knew the rules—and one rule was that the female members were treated with respect.

She climbed out of his car and, as she bade him good-bye, she noticed the look of resolve on his face. Before the door swung closed, she heard him say, "Angie, I'm not taking no for an answer this time. Seven tomorrow night. Dinner." She started to protest but it was too late. He'd gunned the engine and peeled away, leaving a streak of black rubber on the pavement.

At least a scam marriage to Frank would have the benefit of cooling Dino's ardour. She turned around, expecting to confront Frank's piercing blue eyes, but he was gone.

* * *

Frank didn't stay around to watch Angel being pawed at by that arrogant thug. He strode down the block, then turned right, heading toward a deli he'd seen on his way here. He needed to talk to Angel, but it could wait. He needed to cool down.

He swung into the restaurant and plunked down in a booth by the window. A waitress named Jennifer greeted him. After ordering a coffee, he stared out the window at the flow of people passing by.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Last night it had all seemed so clear. He had to find a way to get close to Angel. They'd never be able to convince people they were lovers with the current level of hostility sparking between them. And he had to get her to relax and open up so he could draw out her secrets.

The waitress brought his coffee. He added sugar and stirred, watching the black liquid swirl around as he tried to put everything in perspective.

If Angel was the informant, he'd prove it and send her to jail. Hell, he'd love to see her behind bars. Unfortunately, this damned attraction raging between them kept throwing him off balance. Anytime she got close, he thought of her in his arms, the sweet velvet of her lips under his, triggering a heated desire. For the Angel he'd met in Hawaii. He scowled. But that woman didn't exist. She'd only been playing a part.

He rolled the spoon between his fingers. What if she wasn't the informant? Damn, that was even worse. He'd fallen in love with her once before. She still haunted his dreams.

Hell, if he did get to know her, and found she was a loyal agent… Then he would have a serious problem. She put her job above all else. Her betrayal had proven that. Would she sacrifice him to her career again?

He knew the risks, but he had a job to do. Somehow, he'd have to draw her close, while keeping his own heart at a distance. Could he do that?

The jealousy he'd felt watching that guy kissing her gnawed at his gut. And every time he got close to her, he could hardly control his body's response. On top of that, he had to fight the urge to comfort her whenever he glimpsed that potent vulnerability in her eyes. This damned protectiveness would be his undoing.

He'd have to keep it under control. No way would he allow her to drag him down again. This time he knew where her loyalties lay—with herself.

So, once he finished this coffee, he'd march over to her house and charm her all to hell. He'd be smooth. So smooth she'd think he'd fallen for her again. If she believed that, her guard would come crashing down.

Last time, she'd been the one in control, because she'd known the hidden agenda. Now, their roles were reversed. And he'd make sure it stayed that way.

* * *

Angel fixed a quick dinner of pasta and sauce then took a long, hot bath to ease her tense muscles. Afterwards, as she combed her unruly curls into submission, she stopped long enough to stare at herself in the mirror. Thoughts of Frank and glorious memories of the time they'd spent together on Hawaii filled her waking hours. In her dreams, Frank held her as he had in those never-forgotten days.

She should have refused to go out with him right from the start. Then she would never have known the bliss of being wrapped in his arms, his lips coaxing hidden desires to life. She would not have dreamed of him for four long years, longing for him to find her, to take her in his arms and tell her he forgave her for hurting him. She wouldn't feel the excruciating pain of seeing hatred in his eyes—directed at her.

For a long time, she'd thought she was incapable of feeling anything. She'd erected enough barriers around herself to cushion any emotional trigger from piercing the surface of her soul. It was the only way she could survive dealing with heartless criminals day after day while keeping her sanity.

She'd worried about the numbness that had claimed her, the feeling of drifting through each day. Never feeling happiness or sadness. Never knowing true companionship. Every feeling drifting through an invisible buffer, reaching her as a neutral flow of nothingness.

Now she longed to return to that state.

The doorbell rang, pulling Angel out of her reverie. Shedding her towel, she raced into her bedroom and pulled on some comfortable clothes. She and her neighbour, Dawn, were going to a movie together. If it was Dawn at the door, she'd wait. If it was someone else, Angel didn't care. She didn't cater to uninvited guests.

On the third persistent ring, she swung open the door. "Dawn, you're early and…." She stopped when she saw Frank standing on her doorstep.

"Is Don your boyfriend?" Frank asked, eyes narrowed, watching her reaction.

"That's none of your business." She folded her arms across her chest. "What do you want?"

"To talk to you."

"No," she said and started to push the door closed.

He pushed back, but Angel, strong and determined, pressed it almost closed before Frank gave a sudden thrust, sending her sprawling back against the wall.

"Angel!" Frank raced in and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to her feet.

She pulled herself from his grasp—and the tingling awareness that shot through her.

"Go away, Frank."

"Angel…"

He reached for her again but she backed away. Fear lanced through her. Fear of the feelings he elicited in her. Feelings she didn't want to experience. Feelings she couldn't cope with.

"Don't touch me." Her voice was strained, on the edge of breaking.

Frank watched alarm flicker across Angel's delicate features. He had to put her at ease. Standing here towering over her wasn't going to help, so he went over to the couch and sat down. He could hear her tiny sigh of relief. He watched as she took a couple of steps toward the small sitting area.

Did she have a date with this Don guy? His gaze skimmed her outfit: snug fitting jeans and a clingy red sweater. They must be going somewhere casual. That meant they'd been dating for a while. On a first or second date, she'd dress up and try to impress. Was it a serious relationship? His gaze lingered on the sweater and the way it outlined her breasts. It was a great colour for her. He suppressed a grin as he remembered the crimson bikini she'd worn the first time he'd seen her—and how she had left part of it on the beach. A flare of desire sizzled through him at the memory of her trotting back to her cabin with nothing but a towel covering her luscious breasts, especially knowing she'd been totally unaware of the fact. At any moment, she might have lowered that towel and—

"Frank, I've got someone coming over. Would you please leave?" Angel demanded.

At her words, he glanced up to her face, but the heaving of her chest drew his focus back to her sweater. It showed off her full breasts in a way that could drive a man wild. Jealousy seared through him at the thought of her wearing it for another man. He ripped his gaze away.

Christ, jealousy! What kind of fool am I anyway? It's not like Angel and I have any kind of future together.

"I'm going to stay until I've said my piece, so why don't you sit down?" he said, indicating the armchair nearest him with his open hand.

She stared at him for a moment, assessing. Finally, she stepped over to the chair and sank into it.

"About the incident in Hal's office. I'm sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have manhandled you the way I did."

"You won't get any argument from me."

He raked his hand through his hair. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" He looked at her face and she averted her eyes. She wanted him to go. It was clear in the way she sat, the way her arms were folded across her chest, her legs pinched together from thigh to ankle.

She caught him staring at her and leaped to her feet to pace.

He ambled forward and put his hands on her upper arms, stilling her when she would have fled. Staring her straight in the eye, he steadied himself for the lie he needed to tell. To gain her trust. "Angel, now that I know you're an undercover agent, I understand why you turned me over to Cavaglione."

"Do you really? Does that mean you can accept what I did and forgive me? Just like that?"

Forgive her? Was she crazy? But that's what he wanted her to believe. What he had to make her believe. She stared at him, expectant and skeptical. He had to play this carefully—with just enough honesty so she'd believe the lies. "No, not just like that. I've hated you for a long time."

Her eyelids flickered in a barely perceptible flinch. She started to move away, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders.

"Frank, I don't want to go through this again. I know how you feel—and why. I—"

"I believed you'd say anything—do anything…" This part of the act was easy. He simply drew on the real anger that flowed through him. He shook her slightly. "Oh, God, Angel, you know what I thought you were."

"Frank, please." Her clipped words hinted at tightly held anguish. Was the glistening brightness in her eyes a trick of the light, or tears barely held back?

He knew she was a good actress but…her distress seemed so real. Emotion welled up in him—things he didn't want to feel, like sympathy and protectiveness—but instead of allowing it to affect him, he directed it into his voice to make his words more convincing.

He shook his head, squeezing her shoulders slightly. "But now I know I was wrong. I just don't know what to do about it."

He didn't like the sorrow that had rooted itself in the tiny lines of her face. Suddenly, the feel of her beneath his fingers unnerved him. He ran his hand down one of her arms and she shivered, staring up at him.

"Don't do anything, Frank. Just leave it alone."

Her quiet words settled into him. He captured her wary gaze, willing her to believe him, to open up to him. "Angel, you did what you had to do to protect your cover. How can I blame you for that?"

He could see pain flooding her chocolate brown eyes. Where had his anger gone? All he wanted to do at this moment was to pull her into his arms and reassure her. To chase away the agony in her eyes. Unable to think of anything but easing that pain, he pulled her close.

His wariness turned to confusion. Her teeth tugged on her lower lip, a gesture that reminded him of the sweet, innocent Angel he'd loved so long ago. He didn't have to reach as deep as he thought to fill his eyes with loving tenderness. And he was shocked when he saw the same thing reflected back through the chaos in her eyes. Damn, could he be setting a trap for himself with this hare-brained plan? It would be too easy to get wrapped up in the role of loving Angel. It would be too easy to forget it was all an act. But right now, he didn't care. And that scared the hell out of him.

"Angel," he murmured, "I want to start over with you. To get to know you again."

A voice in the back of his head bellowed at him to pull away, to put as much distance between himself and this woman as he could. But he was already in too deep. The all-encompassing need to kiss her muted all protests, forced away all reason. He drew her closer, lowering his mouth to hers, the longing to feel her lips against his too great to resist.

Suddenly, her eyes widened in panic. "Frank, no!" she gasped, breaking away before he fulfilled his intent. She turned her back to him.

He wasn't sure if the 'no' was a denial of her feelings or of his attempt to kiss her. Or both. He rested his hands on her shoulders. "Don't you see, Angel? We have a second chance now." He turned her to face him and tried to capture her gaze, but she averted her eyes. He filled his voice with sincerity, wondering at how easy it was. "Back in Hawaii, we had something special. Let's try to recapture that."

"No!" she cried, snatching his hand from her shoulder. "Frank, when you first saw me in Hal's office, you were ready to strangle me."

He clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, then caressed each fingertip with his lips. Each gentle touch sent shivers through her. "There were certainly things I wanted to do to you, but strangling wasn't one of them."

She knew he was remembering the passion that had flared between them, the need they had both felt. She snatched her hand from his grasp. "But you were driven by anger." She stepped back. "Frank, we've got a job to do. We can't afford to confuse things."

"This isn't about jobs, Angel. What we're talking about is you and me."

Angel knew she had to stop this before it started. She could not allow him to fall in love with her again. "You're wrong, Frank. This is about jobs. First of all, when we met four years ago, we were both on the job—undercover. We didn't get to know each other at all. Not really. We both played a part."

"But we can get to know each other now," he argued.

"And second," she continued, ignoring his comment, "we're working together. There's no way I'm going to jeopardize our mission by getting involved with my partner."

"So you won't even give us a chance?"

She summoned her hardest expression and locked gazes with him. "Frank, my job is everything to me. It will always come first. I turned you over to the mob once because it was the only way to preserve my cover—and I'll do it again if I have to. Do you really want a relationship with a woman who'll put her work ahead of your safety? Because that's what it boils down to." She stared at him, long and hard. "Think about it."

She marched out of the room, closing the door behind her.

In Too Deep: Chapter Five

Turning Frank away had been more difficult than Angel had ever imagined. The next day at work, the thought of this assignment with Frank swirled through her head like a tornado, laying to waste her usual concentration. His mere presence sent her common sense spiraling into a nose-dive. When he touched her, she lost touch with reality. How could she keep him at a distance while working with him day after day? While pretending to be in love with him? And, after the wedding, while pretending they were lovers?

The day slipped by and, too soon, it was time to go home. Too soon because at work, she was safe from Frank's physical presence, if not from rampant thoughts of him. Frank wouldn't come into her office—not until he'd established himself as her boyfriend—but he might drop by her townhouse. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to feel the things he made her feel, but she couldn't hide from him. She had a duty to perform and she'd never shirked her obligations before. She wouldn't start now.

When the doorbell rang at seven, she didn't want to answer it, worried Frank would be standing on her porch. She pulled open the door and peered outside.

"Dino! What are you doing here?"

"We have a date." He smiled smugly. "You really didn't think I'd show, did you?"

His gaze raked over her, making her suddenly conscious of how snug-fitting her black jeans were and how the lacy pattern of her turquoise knit sweater revealed the lace of her camisole. She folded her arms across her chest. "I said no, remember?"

"I've made reservations at Mama Theresa's, that great little restaurant on Jacob Street. Their Chicken Marsala is incredible." He caught her arm and tried to draw her out as he spoke. "And then I thought we'd hit that new comedy club that's just opened, you know the one over by—"

She tugged her arm out of his grasp. "Dino, I said no."

"Come on, Angie. We'd be great together. Give us a chance."

With that he slipped his hands around her waist and drew her towards him. She felt a moment of panic and had to resist her natural instinct to knock him to the ground. Instead, she ducked out of his grasp. "I'm not going out with you."

His expression grew hard and he planted his hands on her shoulders. "Why not?"

"Because she's going out with me. Get your hands off my woman."

Angel's pulse leaped as she glanced toward the source of that cutting voice.

"Frank!"

Dino's eyes narrowed and he scowled at Frank, who stood at the foot of the porch.

"I said get your hands off her." Frank spoke quietly but with a tone carrying the weight of authority. He took the three steps up the porch and smiled at Angel. He hooked his hand around her waist and tugged her gently away from Dino. "Are you ready to go?" His voice was casually intimate.

Dino directed his glare at Angel. He went to grab her wrist, but when Frank bristled, violent intent emanating from him like sparks from a savage blaze, Dino hesitated.

"Is this true, Angie? Are you going out with this guy? You only met him two days ago."

"I told you, Frank and I are old friends." She silently cursed Frank for putting her in this position. "We're going out for a coffee to renew our acquaintance."

"I been asking you out for ages and you don't give me the time of day. He asks you to coffee and, bang, you're gone like a shot. What do you see in this guy?"

She felt tension stiffen Frank's body and she knew any minute now something would blow. "Look, now's not the time to discuss this. I'll see you tomorrow."

Dino sent one last piercing glance at Frank, then turned to Angel, wagging his finger at her. "I'm not giving up on you."

With that he turned and strutted down the walk. A moment later his black muscle-machine tore down the lane, leaving a trail of rubber.

"Tomorrow?" Frank's eyebrows rose.

"I work with him."

"So, was that the infamous Don?" His tone was demanding and Angel bristled.

"Don who?"

"Your boyfriend, remember? The one you were expecting last night."

Angel couldn't believe it. Frank was jealous? As if he had a right to be. Automatically, she started to correct him, but then stopped herself. Maybe it would be better if he thought she had a boyfriend. "His name's Dino and he's none of your concern."

His mouth turned down in a frown, menace emanating from him in waves. "If you're involved with him, he's my concern. We're getting married, remember?"

How could she forget? It was all she'd been thinking about since he'd told her what their cover would be. She stomped to the door and spun around to glare at him. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Can I come in?"

"No!" She clutched the doorknob, her body blocking the entrance.

Frank must have considered his options and decided to change tactics. His ominous frown turned to a boyish grin—a devastating transformation that took her breath away. Angel instantly grew wary.

"Angel, is that any way to treat an old friend?" His voice was light, teasing.

She narrowed her eyes, remembering the days they'd spent frolicking in Hawaii. With the instant attraction that had sizzled between them right from the start, she could never categorize what they'd had as friendship. And then when she'd turned on him…

"We may have been many things, Frank, but never friends."

"Come on, Angel. Let me in. I want to talk to you."

She hesitated.

"What's the matter? Afraid of me?"

She scowled but stepped back, allowing him to enter. He sauntered across the room and sprawled on the couch, lining his hands behind his head. She closed the door and glared at him, crossing her arms. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable?"

He grinned.

"You put me in an awkward position out there, Frank."

"We'll face worse than that."

"Why are you here?"

"Because, sweetheart, we need to be seen around town by your…friends. The sooner I start dating you, the sooner I can marry you." He reached forward as she passed by the couch and pulled her down beside him, drawing her against his side, his arm around her waist. He nuzzled her ear. "And the sooner I marry you, the sooner we go on our honeymoon."

She pulled his hand from her waist and slid away.

"How clear do I have to make this, Frank? Our marriage will be in public only."

"Wouldn't it be easier to convince everyone of our cover if we did everything a real married couple does?" His teasing grin grated on her nerves at the same time as it toppled her heart. "After all, you're the one who's a stickler for details."

"I don't find this funny." Her back was so stiff she felt it might snap at the least pressure. He slid over beside her and put his arms around her before she could escape again. She silently cursed the tingles that started everywhere he touched her.

"Angel, relax. You're so stiff." He placed a hand on her shoulder, starting a tingling web of pleasure emanating from his touch. "You've got to loosen up around me or no one will believe we're falling in love." He started rubbing her neck with both hands, and her body shifted into a tension of a different kind. "What would happen if I tried to kiss you?" Sparks of amusement danced in his eyes like mischievous fireflies. "Maybe we ought to take this opportunity to practice."

The amusement turned to something else—something dangerous—and she felt herself drawn to him. He cradled her face in his hands, then brushed his lips on hers lightly, lowering her defenses with his gentleness. He shifted, mating his mouth to hers in a perfect union.

The feel of his lips on hers started an ache deep within her. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to pull him close, to let herself melt around him like warm honey.

He hadn't kissed her like this since the last day they'd been together four years ago. He'd been so loving and gentle, crumbling her carefully built barriers. But then, as now, she'd known she shouldn't let him get close. It wasn't safe to let anyone close. Ever. As a result of her recklessness, she had hurt herself and, worse, she had hurt Frank.

She remembered the look of betrayal on his face, when she'd returned to her cabin to find Frank in the clutches of Cavaglione and his henchmen. When she told Cavaglione about his partner, Frank's eyes had filled with hatred. When he'd confronted her in Hal's office, she'd glimpsed how deeply the pain had burrowed into his soul. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wouldn't allow him to be hurt by her again. Somehow, she found the strength to pull away.

"No, Frank. We can't do this."

"Angel…?"

Concern filled his eyes. He stroked his finger across her cheek and it was only then that she realized some tears had escaped.

"Sweetheart, I—"

She clenched her fists. "Please, Frank. Just go."

He cupped her face in his hands. "Not yet," he murmured. His lips caressed her cheeks as he kissed away her tears. Her eyelids dropped closed. Her heart ached being this close to him and being touched so lovingly. As though sensing her thoughts, he stroked away the last bit of moistness with his thumbs and stood up.

"So, Angel, where will we live once we're married?"

"What?" She blinked twice, wondering at his matter-of-fact tone. "Oh, well… I assumed here. Our marriage will only be temporary so… for me to move and all, I…"

"So you're inviting me to move in with you?" Amusement curled around his words and he grinned at her.

She took a deep breath. "Frank…"

He ignored the warning tone in her voice and shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing around with interest.

"What is this, a one bedroom?"

"Um, yes, it is." Good heavens. Frank living here? How could she stand being in such close proximity to him? It wasn't that her place was too small. In fact it was perfect—for one person. But with Frank here, filling every room with his indomitable presence, she knew it would diminish in size as their time together increased.

He swung the bedroom door open and walked inside. "Mmm. Nice. It reminds me of you, Angel. All soft and feminine."

"Frank." She didn't like him being in here.

He walked over to the bed and ran his hand along the soft, white eyelet duvet. "It's so…virginal."

She didn't know how to take that. Did he remember? Did he think she was still—

He grinned at her. "It suits you."

She felt her face flame. She stood in the doorway and watched him, a masculine invader in her frilly white haven. He reached up and ran a finger along the ruffle on the canopy over her bed. To her, the room suddenly looked far too young for her. She felt foolish.

"It's not a colour I would have chosen, but I like it." He turned to look at her as he sat down on the side of the bed and stroked the soft cotton cover. "I'll love sleeping under this comforter. With you." His hand moving back and forth across the soft, white fabric—slowly, purposefully—started a fire burning within her, as though he was caressing her flesh. "We'll be so warm and cozy together."

Imagining that warm coziness was all too easy with him here in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, his eyes inviting her to join him. If she stepped forward and opened her arms, she knew he'd welcome her. No matter what had happened in the past, this lingering attraction between them grew hotter every day. Dangerously hot. She knew they would both get burned if she didn't dampen the fire.

"You won't be sleeping in here," she said firmly.

His lips curled up in amusement. "Yes, I will."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

"I'm quite serious, Angel. Even if we don't…" He glanced at the ruffled pillows, then back at her. "…enjoy it, I'm going to sleep in this room. If I don't, someone's going to get suspicious."

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Like who? How would anyone find out?"

"You're the one who pays attention to details, sweetheart. All we need to cast doubt on our whole cover is one snoopy friend who sneaks in here while visiting and sees no evidence of a husband. As you pointed out, our marriage will be highly suspect, so we have to be very careful."

"I don't have friends over."

"Ever, Angel? And, where would you put me? On the couch? We'll have to be on our toes and I won't be at my best with a crick in my neck all the time. We don't even know how long this assignment will last. I can't imagine months of sleeping on your couch."

"The couch is very comfortable."

"How do you know that?" His mouth crimped into an amused grin. "Have you slept on it?" Then his mouth shrank into a tense line. "Or have you sent Don there after a fight? Did he assure you it was comfortable when you made up the next day?"

Ah, the imaginary boyfriend again. She decided to play it for all it was worth. "No. Believe me, I never made Dawn sleep on the couch."

Her voice had gone all sultry and suggestive. Frank felt his jaw clench at the thought of her with someone else. God damn it. He had been enjoying his perusal of her bedroom, with Angel's sweet scent lingering in the air, but now he imagined her here, under that innocent-looking comforter making love with another man. The image slammed into him, shocking in its intensity. His fingers curled and he imagined them wrapped around some slob's neck, someone who looked a lot like that Dino creep. He spun around and stormed out of the room.

"Finished your tour, Frank?"

He didn't answer. He heard Angel follow him into the living room, closing the door tightly behind her. He whirled around to face her. "And what about this Dino stud? Does your boyfriend know he's been putting the moves on you?"

She jabbed her hands on her hips and thrust her face towards him. "My personal life is none of your business!"

He scowled. "That's not entirely true. A husband has a right to ask about his wife's boyfriends."

"You can ask all you want, but I don't have to answer. What happens before we're married…" She froze, staring at him in horror. "Good Lord, it sounds like we're a real engaged couple discussing past affairs."

"We are a real engaged couple. Don't forget that." He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arms length, trying to pierce her self-confidence with his glare. "Let's get one thing straight, Angel. If we're going to make this cover work, we'll have to co-operate. We also have to make it look real. That means you'll have to cut good old Don loose."

She chewed on her lower lip, dropping her gaze. "Of course. I'm not stupid. No one would believe you and I are happy newlyweds while I'm dating another man."

Frank felt a sudden twinge of guilt at coming between Angel and someone she might care for very deeply. Memories of the pain of losing the woman he loved—Angel—seeped into his brain.

God damn it, what's the matter with me? Angel walked away from me. There was nothing I could have done about it.

And she'd do it again. He knew that.

What kind of fool am I, anyway? This woman doesn't care about anyone but herself. Didn't I learn that much four years ago?

Slamming away the thoughts, he knew he couldn't stay within the confines of this house, totally surrounded by the sights and smells of Angel, a moment longer. He had to get out. He grabbed her hand and tugged her along to the door. "Come on, Angel. Let's go."

"Go? Where?" she asked in surprised as he pulled open the closet door.

"Out for coffee. That's what you told your…friend…we were doing."

"But—"

"No buts. We've got to keep the story real, sweetheart."

Angel couldn't argue with that. She grabbed her jacket from the closet and Frank helped her slip it on. As they strolled down the street, Frank took her hand.

"Frank," Angel warned.

"Angel, we're supposed to be dating."

"We aren't dating yet." She snatched her hand away.

Frank led her into a little diner a couple blocks away and picked a relatively quiet booth in the corner, away from the main bustle and hum of the late dinner crowd. She settled into the cool vinyl of the bench seat and slipped off her coat, as she took in the decor. The lights were bright and the decor late-sixties style. A waitress hurried over with a cheerful greeting and placed an open menu on the table in front of each of them, then went to take the order from four denim-clad teenagers in the booth two down.

Frank rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. "Just what did you tell that guy about us?"

Angel plucked at the corner of her plastisized menu.

"Dino? I told him that I knew you a long time ago. That we ran into each other two nights ago."

"And he thinks I'm invading his territory."

"He's worried about me. The family is very protective of their members."

"He wants to get you into bed."

"And don't you?"

Angel directed her attention to the menu, shifting it so the reflection of the glaring lights didn't obscure the print. Needing to do something with her hands, she picked up a fork and started turning it end over end, bouncing first the tines on the table, then the handle.

The waitress came back and stood by the table, pen held ready. Frank ordered a coffee and, even though her stomach rumbled in complaint at missing dinner, Angel settled for the same. She didn't want to be here any longer than necessary.

"Frank, about our cover. Why do you think you can just drop into the middle of Carlos' operation? It's taken me years to gain their trust."

Didn't he realize this wasn't a one shot deal for her? Being deep undercover meant taking on the role totally, not just for the length of one case. The information she passed on often defined cases for people like Frank.

He plucked the fork out of her hand and laid it on the table. "Exactly, and I'm going to piggy-back on that. They trust you, they'll trust me. Enough to start with, anyway." He glanced around as though looking for eavesdroppers. "You know, we really shouldn't be talking about this here."

She was suddenly conscious of the people around them. She couldn't believe her sloppiness. Frank threw her so badly off balance, that working with him would be dangerous in more ways than one.

The waitress returned and placed a coffee in front of each of them, the cups clinking on their saucers as they hit the table, then she rushed away to take orders at the next table.

"So…what do we talk about now? We're essentially strangers, you know?" Angel asked.

"Not quite that." Frank's heated gaze threatened to penetrate the shell of ice Angel had erected around herself.

"What about the last four years? What have you been doing?"

"Missing you."

"Yeah, right. Missing the opportunity to ring my neck and drop me in the river, no doubt."

"My, my, Angel. You do have quite a violent streak, don't you?" His grin, and the resultant crinkles around his eyes, made him look incredibly sexy.

"Frank, get serious."

Frank resisted the urge to show her just how seriously he wanted her. Over the last four years, he'd been tormented by the memory of her. She'd haunted his dreams and crept through his waking thoughts. He'd forced himself to remember she'd been scamming information from him for the mob. Unfortunately, now he knew that wasn't true. Damn it, knowing she was an undercover FBI agent put a whole new slant on things.

"All right. What about you? What did you do after our last encounter?" Her mouth tightened into a fine line and he remembered she had gone to prison. That thought spiked through him. He couldn't help thinking how tough it must have been for her. He shoved away the thought that if he proved her guilty, she'd be back there. "I'm sorry, I…"

She jerked her hand away from his touch. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"It must have been…rough. Why did you do it? Is any job worth a year of your life?"

She turned her sharp, brown gaze on him. "I hurt them. Because of that operation, Cavaglione and a host of his most trusted men were put out of operation for years. Of course it was worth it."

"But why do you have to pay the price alone?"

"I don't. There are a lot of men and women out there working for the same cause."

"But not many who've given up as much as you have." He couldn't help a soaring admiration for her. She'd been honest once, and she must have believed in her cause. He felt a compelling curiosity to find out what drove this woman.

"Don't feel sorry for me. I love what I do."

"But, Angel, living with criminals…pretending to be a criminal… I don't know how you do it." He'd never been undercover for more than a few weeks at a time and he despised having to associate with the scum that lived their lives on the wrong side of the law. It took him weeks to wash off the stench of corruption.

"That's the main problem, isn't it Frank? You don't understand. And you never will."

* * *

Angel finished her coffee, suffering the stiff silence between them, then tugged on her coat, signaling her readiness to leave. Frank pushed his own cup aside and they left the diner. As they strolled back to her townhouse, Angel pace quickened in response to her anxious need to get away from Frank. As she stepped inside, he said, "I'll be back tomorrow night. Want to catch a movie?"

She turned to face him. "Frank, I…"

"Angel, remember our cover. We've got to be seen together on dates. We need a whirlwind romance that'll end in marriage." He smiled a devilish grin. "We want to be convincing. Make everyone believe that we've fallen madly in love."

"Yes, I know," she said quietly.

He looked deep into her eyes and she felt the pull of his sexual magnetism. Firm, warm lips found hers in a sweet, persuasive caress. When his lips finally released her, his blue gaze did not. "Are you going to ask me in?"

Her hand jumped up and rested on his chest in a defensive measure. "No." She pushed lightly to put some distance between them. "Frank, this is very hard on me. Please don't make it worse."

"It's hard on me too, Angel." He dragged his finger across her cheek. "You know how much I want you. I can't stop touching you."

"Frank…"

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, then turned it over to press his lips against her palm. She tried to pull away, but he shook his head and held firm. "I told you that I want us to start again. What I didn't tell you is that I'm still in love with you."

"No." She sagged against the door jamb, shaking her head in horror. "Oh, no, Frank. You can't be, you mustn't…"

"But I am."

He brushed a stray hair behind her ear and his vivid blue eyes gazed at her with a warmth that would thaw an ice queen. Why had she ever doubted people would believe he'd fallen in love with her? Right at this moment, she was thoroughly convinced.

Frank in love with her? Oh, God. She desperately needed his animosity. How could she hold him off when her own heart threatened to melt into a little puddle of warm honey? She had to keep him at a distance. She had to harden her heart against him. How she would do that she wasn't sure, since her heart was currently in the process of liquefying.

"Frank, I… You must know I don't love you."

"Don't you?"

She felt his hands slip onto her shoulders and draw her near. He nuzzled her temple.

"Ask me in, Angel."

The persuasion in his voice settled into her, coaxing her to say yes. The feel of his breath wisping against her skin sent shivers of pleasure through her and common sense temporarily abandoned her. "Yes, I…" She felt him smile and his hands skimmed her sides. "I mean, no." She planted both hands firmly on his chest and pushed.

"Do you know what you really want?"

"I want…." She sighed. "I want you to give me space. No more talk of love. And no more trying to seduce me. If you really care about me, you'll do as I ask."

He stared at her for a few moments and she saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a glimpse of conflicting thoughts waging a battle inside him.

She put her hand on his arm. "Please, Frank." He glanced at her fingers resting on his denim sleeve then back to her eyes. She stared at him with her most pleading expression.

He sighed. "You don't play fair, sweetheart."

"I play to win. Will you promise?"

He scowled and eased away from her, a heavy reluctance colouring every move. "Okay, I'll back off."

"Thank you."

Relief rippled through her. Then his gaze captured hers and he smiled.

"Until we're married. Then we'll talk."

* * *

Frank stepped up to Angel's front door and knocked. Tonight was the night he would propose. He'd even brought flowers along for the occasion.

Over the past two weeks, he had dated Angel, going to very public places. He'd had fun throwing Angel off balance. Holding to his agreement not to push a sexual relationship between them, he'd made no advances towards her, other than the natural ones expected in public, like holding hands or putting an arm around her in the movies. It took a great effort of will, however. Every time he touched her, he found it increasingly more difficult to hold back. The attraction between them was growing more intense.

Tonight he'd give her flowers, take her out to a fancy restaurant, and ask her to marry him. Just like he'd always imagined doing with the woman he loved. But he didn't love Angel. He may have thought he did once, but the lingering residue from their previous encounter was not love. You can't love someone you never really knew.

He scowled at the roses in his hand, painfully aware of the bitter gap between reality and fantasy. How the hell would he get out of this charade with his sanity intact? By reminding yourself that it is a charade, you fool.

But he'd been doing that constantly, and still he felt himself slipping into the fantasy a little more each day.

Angel swung open the door and he felt the breath catch in his throat at the sight of her. The red evening dress she wore was a simple cut with spaghetti straps, but the way it caressed the contours of her body was literally breath-taking. The hem fell short of her knees and her long legs appeared even longer with the black stiletto heels she wore. Some kind of barrette captured her hair at the side of her head, forming a cascade of flowing curls floating down one bare shoulder. The song "Lady in Red" immediately came to mind and he knew, just like in the song, he'd be the envy of every male in the restaurant.

"Come in, Frank. You look wonderful."

The way her gaze traveled the length of his body made Frank tug at the collar of his light grey shirt. He'd worn a charcoal suit with a matching tie, spiced with a swirling pattern of crimson and grey, hoping she'd be wearing red tonight. The colour set off her dark hair and eyes so well.

"So do you. Here." He held out the bouquet. "These are for you."

She took it in both hands and lifted the blossoms to her nose to breathe in the delicate fragrance. The look of rapture on her face made him think of floral sheets and Angel laying on them naked. In that scenario, he would be the one giving her that rapt expression and a bouquet of flowers would not be involved.

Damn, he had to get himself under control.

"They're lovely, Frank. And my favourite. Pink roses."

"I remembered."

She glanced up at him nervously. She probably didn't want him remembering things like that. It made their relationship too intimate.

"Why is it you like pink roses, Angel? I would have thought red more appropriate. I mean you wear it so often—and so well."

She laughed. "Yes, well—I don't look good in pink but I love it. And pink roses are more delicate than red. And a little more unusual."

She glanced up at him, as though wondering what his reaction would be. Could it be that she liked them exactly because it wasn't what others would expect? Was it one way she sought to maintain a personality separate from the cover she lived?

"I'll go put these in water, then we can leave. Unless you want a drink first?" Her query was hesitant.

He glanced at his watch. "The reservations are for eight. We don't really have time," he said regretfully.

It was the first time she'd allowed him into her house since the night he'd promised to keep his hands off her. She obviously didn't believe in tempting fate. He smiled to himself. Maybe he should have tried flowers sooner.

He pulled her black wool coat out of the closet and, when she returned, he held it up so she could slip it on. He couldn't help himself. He had to touch her. The expanse of creamy back exposed by that delicious dress cried out to him. As he pushed the coat up over her shoulders, he allowed his fingers to trail over her bare skin.

"Frank…" she warned.

"You feel wonderful." He lowered his head to her neck, a delightful wisp of perfume drawing him close. "And you smell wonderful, too." Once his nose touched her temple he couldn't seem to pull away. His lips caressed her hairline, then he nuzzled the base of her neck in the hollow of her collarbone. After a moment's hesitation she slowly turned to face him.

"Frank, you promised," she admonished.

But her voice was husky and her eyes dark. He pulled her against his body, his hands slipping inside her coat, sliding up and down her sides, the feel of her luscious curves driving him insane. The dress was silk—the curves pure woman.

"Angel, how can I resist you? Especially when you're wearing that incredibly sexy dress."

She backed away but there was nowhere to go. She stepped back, pressing against the wall. Frank followed. He pressed against her and brought his lips to hers in a tender, persuasive kiss. He couldn't help himself. He had to taste her. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, the rate increasing as their kiss deepened. She responded to him, but kept her mouth sealed against his tongue as though that barrier would keep the lines drawn between them. He respected that boundary, knowing if he pushed past it she would pull away and deprive him of her body against his, her nipples rising against his chest. To know he had this effect on her empowered him. He didn't need more. Not now. Even though his body swelled in response to all she was giving him. But sooner or later he knew he would have make her his. He would have to relieve this terrible ache inside him. Even though she had once betrayed him. Even though she might be the informant.

He pulled away and looked down at her startled eyes. "We'd better get going."

Her look of dismay at the brusque comment sent a pang of guilt through him. He pulled her coat together and started doing up the buttons, but she batted his hands away as she stepped out of his reach, resolutely keeping her eyes turned away.

He followed her out into the brisk night air. The restaurant they had chosen, called the Pianoforte, was a favourite haunt of many of her associates. It would be the perfect place to 'pop the question'. With luck, they might even run into Vendetti himself, since he often dined there.

Luck proved to be with them.

The mâitre d' seated them at a table right beside a decorative marble fountain, the delicate trickle lending a romantic mood. A pianist sat at a baby grand playing dinner music.

Angel leaned toward Frank and whispered, "Vendetti's here. By the fireplace."

Frank picked up his menu and glanced over as though to admire the large stone fireplace on the opposite wall, and in his peripheral vision, picked out the elderly man sitting with two other men. Vendetti had sharp hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce the composure of the man he was speaking to. He definitely had a natural aura of command. As Frank had noticed in the photographs he'd seen, his looks contrasted with what one would expect from a fierce underworld figure. His full head of grey hair, neatly combed sideways and back, along with his cleanly defined features, gave him a distinguished appearance that belied the dirty side of his operation.

Frank turned back to Angel as their waiter arrived and they ordered dinner and a bottle of champagne. Frank made a show of holding Angel's hand all through dinner. When dessert and coffee arrived, he held her hand in both of his and gazed straight into her eyes.

"This is it, Angel. The moment you've been waiting for." He glanced around to ensure no one was in hearing distance. "Will you marry me? Until the-end-of-our-assignment do us part?"

She giggled. "Oh, Frank. You're so romantic."

"Angel, do you really think it's appropriate to giggle when a man proposes to you?"

"Well, it is if I've had more than one glass of champagne. The stuff makes me a bit giddy."

He grinned. "Maybe I should feed you champagne more often." And bring you flowers. He rather liked her like this, a delicate flush to her cheeks, her mouth turned up at the sides in an effervescent smile, and her eyes shining brightly. He brought her hand to his lips and brushed across her knuckles. She giggled again.

"That tickles, Frank."

He turned her hand over to caress her palm with his thumb. "That, too, Angel?"

"No, that doesn't tickle, exactly."

He could see in the darkening of her eyes—from milk chocolate to semi-sweet—exactly what it did do to her. He pulled a solitaire diamond ring from his pocket and slipped it onto her finger.

She tugged her hand out of his grasp and held it up, wiggling her fingers. She seemed mesmerized by the diamond sparkling in the candlelight.

"Oh, Frank. It's lovely."

"So are you, Angel."

Her gaze found his, her eyes dark and compelling. He found himself wishing this were a real proposal. The way she looked at him, he was sure he could take her back to her place and start their honeymoon tonight with very little persuasion. It was clear she wanted him. And, dear Lord, he wanted her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he never heard the words she meant to say. Her eyes flicked up to a point over his right shoulder.

"Carlos. How are you?" she murmured, her voice thick and throaty. She coughed and took a gulp from her champagne glass.

Frank looked around as Carlos Vendetti came to stand by their table.

"Angela, how lovely you look tonight." His sharp gaze landed on Frank. "So, this must be the young man who's been taking so much of your time." He turned his gaze back to Angel. "And I had always rather hoped Dino would be the one to win your heart."

Hearing a grunt behind him, Frank swiveled around to see Dino standing a couple of feet behind Vendetti.

"Now, now, Dino. Don't be a sore loser," Vendetti said. His gaze shifted to the champagne then back to Angel. "It looks like you're celebrating something. Am I being too inquisitive if I ask what?"

Angel smiled prettily and shook her head, sending tendrils of hair spraying across her shoulder.

"No, it's quite all right, Carlos." She sent a loving look at Frank. A look that froze Frank in his spot.

Suddenly, a wild longing to have Angel look at him like that for real gripped him. He fervently wanted to believe she was as innocent as she appeared. Because then… then it might just be possible to have a future with an Angel.

"Frank just asked me to marry him. And I said yes."

Vendetti's eyebrows rose. "I offer my sincerest congratulations." He smiled broadly and shook Frank's hand. "So now you'll be stealing my girl's time planning her large wedding. Italian weddings are quite an affair, you know."

"Not really, Carlos," Angel replied, smoothing her napkin on her lap. "You see we plan on a wedding very soon and…well, there won't be time for anything very big."

His sharp gaze landed on Frank again. "I see." He glanced back at Angel. "I can't help wondering, why the hurry? Will you be requiring an extended leave…in seven or eight months?"

"Carlos! We've only been seeing each other for two weeks," Angel cried.

Frank's teeth clenched as he saw Angel's face flush darkly and he barely stopped himself from rising to his feet and clobbering the guy.

"Of course. Forgive my bluntness. But why the rush?"

Frank forced himself to relax. He stared at Angel's blushing face and smiled affectionately. "Because I can't wait. I've been in love with Angel forever." He glanced back at Vendetti, matching those keen eyes with his own directness. "We've known each other since we were kids."

"Yes, Angel told me." Vendetti turned affectionate eyes on Angel. "Well, I can certainly understand your impatience. I would not want to wait, either, were I in your place. Enjoy your evening." He leaned over to kiss Angel's cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

How could Angel allow the scumbag to touch her like that?

Vendetti turned and strode away. Dino sent them a scowl before turning to follow.

Frank ignored Dino and watched the silver-haired Vendetti as he crossed the restaurant. His bearing was that of a kindly older gentleman, elegant and schooled in old-world charm. Frank had to remind himself that Vendetti's charm was only a thin veneer. Knowing the business the man was involved in, and the violence he was responsible for, sent chills through Frank. Appearances certainly were deceptive.

As he glanced back to Angel, her innocent appearance no longer seemed so appealing. Had she started to fool him into believing she might be what she appeared? Fool being the operative word.

Anger flared within him like a flame igniting on kindling as he realized the damn woman had dragged him into the fantasy again.

"Finish your dessert, Angel. I think we should be going."

Angel's gaze darted to Frank. He knew she was wondering at the sudden change in him. They ate the rest of their meal in silence. After he paid the bill, Frank helped Angel into her coat and they stepped from the quiet ambiance of the restaurant to the hustle and bustle of the busy street, allowing him to further avoid conversation with Angel. Frank flagged down a cab. Once they'd slipped into the back seat, it was impossible to ignore the questions in her too-big eyes.

She reached out tentatively and touched his hand, as though she feared he might pull away, then slipped her hand under his fingers. He relented and curled his fingers around hers.

"It really bothered you meeting Carlos, didn't it, Frank?" she murmured, too low for the driver to hear.

Is that what she thought? That he'd been intimidated by her boss?

"I guess." His tone made it clear he didn't want to discuss it further.

She snuggled close to his body and rested her head against his arm.

What the hell was wrong with him? Here was a beautiful woman, one he was attracted to in a big way, close and warm against him. So she was an informant? Nothing had changed since yesterday. Just because he'd gone a bit soft headed over the past hour, didn't mean he had to be immune to her. He'd just make sure he kept the situation in perspective. He'd keep reminding himself that with Angel he'd be a hit-and-run victim, not a companion, during the long drive of life.

He had to keep the fact that he was here on a case firmly entrenched in his mind. Now that she'd started to thaw toward him, he had to grab the opportunity to gain her trust.

She'd been staring at their intertwined fingers but when she glanced up and saw him staring at her she smiled. He allowed his mouth to curl up in response and he slid his arm around her. She settled her body more closely against him. Feeling her breasts pressed against his side made his body swell in response. And that's all it was, he convinced himself, a physical response to a desirable woman.

"I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't mean to spoil our evening."

"You didn't spoil it," she said softly, then smiled sweetly. "It has been going well though, hasn't it?"

He slid his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek.

"Very."

Their gazes joined and Frank watched her tongue trail over her lips as though in anticipation of a kiss. Before he could act on his instincts, the cab pulled up to the curb and stopped.

"We're here, folks," the cabby informed them.

Frank pulled out his wallet and paid the fare, then went to open Angel's door and help her out. As they walked to her door, she entangled her hand with his once again. She fished her key out of her purse and unlocked the door. Then she turned back to him.

Leaning against the door, she gave him the most seductive smile he'd ever seen and asked, "Do you want to come in for a drink?"

Her throaty voice matched her smile in invitation.

In Too Deep: Chapter Six

She knew playing with fire could mean getting burned but she couldn't help herself. She didn't want the evening to end yet. Frank had been so warm and affectionate, reminding her of how it had been when they'd first met. The time had passed so easily between them. The way he'd touched her tonight, first when he'd picked her up, then during the meal, had kept her body in a heated state.

The problem was, she knew it wasn't just physical desire. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He said he loved her. The problem was, she was starting to believe him. She was starting to crave things she'd never craved before. Like a home and a man to share it with. But not just any man. Frank.

He reached out and stroked her hair. Then he released the barrette that held her wild curls secure. His fingers tangled in her hair and he arranged it around her face and shoulders.

"That's better. I love your hair down."

"I…" The slow burn of longing in his eyes frightened her a little. If she were to release the volcanic need between them, would she be consumed by the flame? "About that drink…"

"Having second thoughts, Angel?" His voice was a soft whisper. As he spoke, he trailed his hands down her arms. "Be very sure of what you want. If you invite me in, I'll take it that you're releasing me from that promise. You know what will happen then."

She hadn't meant to sound uncertain, had simply wanted to confirm the invitation, but now she hesitated.

"Having trouble deciding?"

He slipped his hand behind her head and brought his lips down on hers. At the gentleness of his touch, she melted against him. His arm curled around her waist. The light-headedness from the champagne, combined with the giddiness she felt from being in his arms, made her head spin. She slipped her arms around his neck and clung to him. He tightened his arms, telling her he wouldn't let her fall. His tongue pressed against her lips, invading, pushing them open, and the sweetness of that invasion made her moan into his mouth. He pulled her body more snugly against his and ran his hands up and down her back, as though he couldn't touch her enough. Could anything that felt this good be wrong?

When she felt his hand slip around to cup her breast, then squeeze, she gasped. Things were moving too fast, getting out of control. She struggled to put some distance between them and Frank released her.

"Too much, Angel?"

"I…" Her voice came out husky and raw. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Frank, I…"

"Never mind. Let's just say it's better for both of us if I go home right now."

His lips zoomed down on hers for one last kiss, then he walked away. Her hand fluttered to her mouth, covering her lips as if to hang on to that last burning touch. She watched him stride along her front path, then down the street, until he disappeared from view.

* * *

What the hell was that all about? She'd been there for the taking. If he'd moved slowly instead of grabbing her like an impatient kid, he'd probably be in her bed right now, her naked body writhing in pleasure beneath his own. But, damn it, something inside wouldn't allow him to take what she'd offered. She'd wanted him as much as he'd wanted her. So what the hell was the problem?

The problem, you fool, is that she believes you love her. And somehow he couldn't bring himself to make love to her under false pretenses. She may be a traitor, his conscious mind told him, but that doesn't make it right to use her. Of course that was the reason. With that he called himself noble and whistled as he tried to walk off his physical frustration, totally ignoring the smaller, subconscious voice that told him the real reason was that maybe he was starting to believe she really wasn't a traitor.

* * *

Frank picked Angel up from work the next day and took her to the little diner where they'd had coffee, deciding that being alone with her was not a good idea. Doubts about her guilt had curled through him all night, like smoke from a fire, clouding his judgment. While near Angel, he needed a strong shield around his heart to stop from getting hurt. Again. Unfortunately, the best one he'd had—a clear belief that she was a traitor—had started to crumble.

"Carlos wants to pay for our wedding," Angel informed him.

Frank stopped stirring his coffee and tapped his spoon on the side of the mug before putting it down. "Why?"

"He knows I don't have any family and," she shrugged, "you know us Italians. We like big weddings with lots of food and friends."

"So Vendetti is just going to hand us a huge sum of money to pay for it?"

"You've got to realize, Frank, that Carlos really does consider his people a big family."

Was this one way he kept his people loyal? Draw them into a feeling of community by having them attend the wedding. Make displays of generosity by treating his administrative assistant like a daughter?

Frank shook his head. "He doesn't exactly represent my idea of family values."

She put down her dessert fork and clenched her fist. "I'm not going to defend him, Frank. I'm merely telling you what he's offered. I told him we want to get married soon and he called a friend of his who owns a restaurant. They've set up the reception for a week from Saturday. He wanted to set up the church, too, but I told him you wanted the ceremony at city hall." She tapped her fingers on the table distractedly. "He kind of insisted."

"Do we have any say in this at all?"

She smoothed the napkin on her lap. "You can invite anyone you want—but I told him you're new in town and you don't have any family."

Why fight it? He didn't want to jeopardize his chances of working himself into Vendetti's operation. Turning down an offer like this would not endear him to the man. Frank shrugged. "As long as I'm invited—and you're the bride—that's all I care about. Anything else?"

She glanced down at the table and rolled her spoon over several times. "He…arranged for our honeymoon. He knows we're short of cash, with you out of work and all, so he asked a friend who has a resort to give us a good price. A week on St. Lucia in the West Indies."

"Really?" Frank raised his eyebrows. "Sounds romantic. I can just picture it—walks along the beach, midnight swims in a warm ocean, you in that red bikini I remember so well." Or less. He felt his breath lock inside his lungs and had to purposefully exhale. Slowly, trying to release the tightness that had gripped his body at the erotic images that shimmered through his mind. He tilted his head and grinned. "You do remember that bikini, don't you, Angel?"

She blushed so prettily he wondered why he didn't tease her more often.

"Yes, I remember," she grumbled. "Frank, about the honeymoon and—well, what happened last night—I don't want you to get the idea… I mean, I know what you probably thought…"

He shook his head and laughed. "Angel, what are you trying to say?" Was she going to deny her attraction to him?

"It's just that… I still don't think it's a good idea for us to… become involved."

"Involved?" He loved her euphemism. She didn't want him to drag her off to bed and make hot, passionate love to her, then leave her breathless and sated. Involved. "You mean other than the fact we're getting married?"

She glared at him, clearly knowing he was goading her. "You know what I mean. All the reasons I said we shouldn't start up a relationship still hold. I just forgot that last night—for a little while."

He rested his hand on her clenched fist and slowly unwrapped it, tenderly stroking with his fingers, trying to release her tension. "That's all right, Angel. You're only human." All too human. Unfortunately.

She slid her hand out from under his and picked up her fork. Frank watched her in silence as she ate her apple pie and wondered at the fact that he really knew very little about her. He finished his own pie and wiped his mouth with a napkin, deciding it was time to break the long silence between them—a silence that had lasted longer than the last few minutes—a silence that had been filled with empty words that told him nothing about her.

"So, Angel Tortina has no family. What about Cindy?"

She glanced up at him. "My parents died when I was a teenager." Ignoring the remains of her pie, she grabbed the napkin from her lap and crumpled it in her fist. "My dad was a member of the mob—for real."

"What?" Frank stared at her, as much in disbelief at what she'd said as the fact that she would tell him. If she were the informant, it wouldn't make sense to reveal such a thing—unless she thought he was on to her and had decided this would throw him off the trail.

"He decided to pull out—but found it wasn't that easy. He fell in with the FBI and agreed to give them enough information to put away some of the big names—in exchange for keeping him and his family safe."

When she didn't continue, he prodded. "And what happened?"

"It didn't work. The mob found out and killed him, and my mother. I was fifteen at the time."

She scrunched her eyelids together then opened them again, slowly. Her eyes glistened and he thought either she was an excellent actress—a thought that had occurred to him many times before—or she was fighting back tears.

"I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't know."

Before he could offer any more, she laughed, a hollow sound. "Sorry, Frank. I didn't mean to get maudlin." She pushed away her half finished pie. "I think I'd like to go home now."

He walked her home, intertwining his fingers with hers, swinging her hand to the rhythm of their steps. The magic of the night, clear and crisp, the stars twinkling in the black sky above, drew him into the role. Of loving Angel. When they got to the door, reluctant to give up the fantasy so soon, he gave her a single, lingering kiss.

* * *

The day of the wedding arrived and Angel woke up to a sense of unreality. She couldn't believe how quickly the weeks had gone by. She knew she'd picked out the invitations one lunch hour and printed them on the laser printer in her office, but the memory was vague at best. She clearly remembered the evenings she and Frank had spent together addressing and stuffing envelopes, then hand delivering them. She found it disconcerting to realize how much she'd enjoyed spending that domestic time with him. Then last Saturday, Frank had picked her up for lunch and gone with her to choose her wedding dress, though he'd spent more time trying to talk her into modeling the sheer, white lace body suit displayed on a mannequin than paying attention to the dresses.

She had picked a simple style with a full skirt and a sweetheart neckline. She pulled it on now, then smoothed it over her hips. Settling the veil in place, she eyed herself critically in the mirror.

She looked like a bride.

Oh, God. She was a bride!

No, that wasn't really true. She would be walking down the aisle today. And she would be saying wedding vows. But not for a forever-after marriage. It would end when the case did.

The doorbell rang. That would be Carlos—he'd insisted on coming to pick her up in his long, black, limousine. She reached for the flowers and saw her hand shaking. She clutched her fingers around the bouquet and hurried to the door, her dress rustling in the silence. How would she get through this day?

She entered the church on Carlos' arm and walked up the aisle to the tempo of the organ music. As she stared at all the faces of the people she worked with each day, but barely knew, she felt a hollowness inside.

Good heavens, this is really happening. I'm marrying a man I barely know in front of a crowd of people I barely know. What has my life become?

Carlos handed her arm to Frank, squeezing her hand before he stepped to the vacant spot awaiting him in the first pew.

"You look beautiful, Angel," Frank whispered to her.

"Thank you," she murmured.

She met his gaze for only a moment, but the impact of that look crushed her fragile hold on reality. Was the love she saw shining from his eyes real? Or just a figment of her imagination? Did she want it to be real?

She stared at the stained glass behind the priest for the duration of the ceremony, and withdrew her mind from the proceedings, responding to the words automatically.

When the time came for their kiss, Frank swept back her veil and pulled her into his arms. The heat of his lips on hers started to melt the deep freeze that had claimed her. Frank was real, even if their marriage wasn't, in truth. She could cling to him through this ordeal. And cling to him she did, prolonging their kiss when he would have pulled back. He was her shield. In his arms she could deny the emptiness of her life. In his arms she could make believe this marriage was real and that it would last beyond the end of this case.

The sound of the priest clearing his throat, along with the odd twitter from the guests, made Angel release her death grip on Frank's neck.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as her lips parted from his.

His eyes held amusement. "Any time, Angel."

She marched down the aisle on Frank's arm and the guests followed eagerly. After that, she was inundated with congratulations, then the photographer herded them over to the garden for picture-taking. Lots of picture-taking. Angel's face began to feel frozen in a smile.

At the reception, after dinner, people filled Angel's champagne glass continuously and made toast after toast. Frank kept close to her side all evening. When he swept her into his arms to dance, she couldn't help thinking about the night to come. Their honeymoon. Not that anything would happen between them—but she found herself wishing it could.

"Angel, it's time to go change. We'll be leaving soon."

She and Frank went up to the courtesy room the hotel had supplied. She sat on the bed for a few moments to steady her spinning head.

He slipped his jacket off and hung it up, then started unbuttoning his shirt. She couldn't help watching as each button released and more and more of his broad chest was revealed. The white silk provided a delightful contrast to the bronze of his skin. He seemed to move in slow motion, the V of his shirt deepening, the rate of her pulse increasing. She licked her lips and tried to catch her breath.

"Need help with your zipper, Angel?"

Her gaze darted to his face. "I, uh…"

His grin told her clearly that he'd seen her ogling him. He undid the last button with a flourish and slid the shirt off his shoulders. Slowly. Muscle rippled enticingly under satin flesh. Naked from the waist up, he stepped toward her. He pulled her to her feet, then turned her around by the shoulders. The zipper slid down the length of her back, cool air caressing her exposed skin. When she felt his warm fingers play along the side of the zipper, pulling the opening wider, her heart fluttered. The dress slid down her arms and onto the floor, the whispering rustle of taffeta its farewell address. Frank drew her back against him and the feel of his naked flesh pressed against hers sent a jolt of desire through her. A tiny voice inside screamed at her to move away, but she didn't want to. Along with her dress, he seemed to have divested her of rational thought. At least, so the voice insisted. She glanced nervously to the mirror over the dresser and was met with an erotic sight: she in a strapless, white lace basque and panties, pressed against the length of his half nude body.

She lurched forward, grabbing her overnight bag and dashing into the bathroom. She glared at herself in the mirror, noting the flush on her cheeks. What kind of fool was she? She had to keep him at a distance. Lord, how was she ever going to get through this evening? Especially now that he knew flashing a bit of naked skin could send her spiraling out of control. He'd take full advantage of that knowledge, she felt sure.

She splashed water on her face and repaired her makeup, taking time to compose herself before facing him again. When she came out dressed in her white fitted suit, Frank whistled. To her relief, he was fully dressed now.

"Why don't we take a few minutes before we go back to the throng." He held out a glass of champagne. "The hotel had a complimentary bottle waiting for us," he said, by way of explanation.

She sat down in the armchair beside him, sipping the bubbly liquid. It tingled on the way down her throat. She liked the feeling so she took another sip. Slumping back in the chair, she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of the flute. The smooth, hard glass beneath her skin felt deliciously sensual. She licked her finger then brought it back to the glass, deciding to make it sing.

"Angel…"

The warning note in Frank's voice snapped her attention to his face. A look of hunger simmered in his eyes.

Her fingers clenched around the crystal stem. Why did the sight of Frank looking at her like that alarm her? They'd just gotten married, hadn't they? Her thoughts stumbled through the foggy haze that clouded her brain. No. This marriage was a lie.

She focused on his intense expression. Frank had told her he loved her, and she wanted to believe that. But was it really true? Could he really have forgiven her for her betrayal when she hadn't even forgiven herself? And if he had, would he have asked her to marry him for real, if she hadn't held him off? The thought occurred to her that if the wedding had been genuine, she'd have met his family and friends by now. Would they have liked her?

"Frank, are you sorry your parents couldn't be here?"

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "No, of course not. It would be pretty difficult to maintain my cover with my real folks here, wouldn't it?"

"Of course, I…" What did she want to say? She couldn't tell him that she wished his parents and friends were here because she wished they had really gotten married.

She put a hand to her forehead. Where were these thoughts coming from? She'd been undercover her whole adult life. She was used to living a lie. Why was she suddenly finding it so hard to separate fantasy from reality?

This was just part of her job. She had to remember that.

But Frank said he loved her… and if she were honest with herself—

She felt Frank's hand on her shoulder. "What is it, Angel? Headache?"

She dropped her hand away from her face. "Just bridal nerves, I guess."

He didn't laugh as she'd expected. Instead, he looked at her with sympathy. "I know this evening's been rough on you."

The warmth in those understanding blue eyes threatened to melt what was left of her composure. She took a gulp of her champagne before answering. "I can manage, Frank." Why did her voice sound so shaky?

"I know you can." He picked up the champagne bottle and filled her glass. "Finish that and we'll go back down to the party. It's about time for the crowd to say good-bye to the happy couple."

Everyone applauded as they entered the ballroom. They mingled for a bit, had two more dances, then started doing a circuit of the crowd to say their farewells.

"It's time to go, Angel," Frank finally whispered in her ear.

He took her hand and led her out. As they strolled through the lobby to the entrance of the hotel, the huge crowd of wedding guests following on their heels. She looked at Frank walking along beside her and he smiled. They were married now, but that wasn't real. Well, it was real, but it was only a cover. Frank wanted it to be real, though. He'd made that perfectly clear. If only…

She put a hand to her head and swayed a little. That last glass of champagne had definitely been one too many. Glancing around, she wondered what she'd just been thinking about. Her head felt so fuzzy. Frank squeezed her hand.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

She looked into his eyes and saw concern. For her. She smiled, seeing in Frank not a partner in law, but a partner in love, and life. "Yes, I'm fine," she answered. They had just been married and she knew that, more than anything, she wanted it to be real—because her love for him was real.

A doorman, dressed in a burgundy tuxedo and top hat, swung the door open for them and Frank led her outside. A long, white limousine waited for them. Angel felt a little unsteady, but Frank put his arm around her and guided her out to the car.

"Throw the bouquet, Angel," Frank whispered in her ear.

She looked at the bundle of white roses and baby's breath wrapped in a spray of lace clutched in her hand and tossed it in the air over the crowd of hopeful women standing in breathless anticipation. Laughing and giggling broke out as one young woman jumped up to grab it while it was still high in the air.

Someone had opened the limousine door and Frank eased Angel into the seat, then she felt his fingers gliding up her leg and her eyes went wide. "Frank?" she gasped.

"The garter, sweetheart." Amusement tickled the corners of his mouth.

She remembered the blue satin garter she wore as her 'something blue'. As Frank's fingers slipped under the hem of her skirt, the tingling excitement shooting through to her lower abdomen made her head spin and she forgot about the crowd around them. She felt quivers travel down her leg as Frank's fingers moved past her knee and then slipped the garter over her foot. Suddenly, a roaring cheer broke out as Frank tossed the lacy item into the crowd of bachelors. One blond, blue-eyed giant, who had practically plucked it out of the air, twirled the scrap of fabric on his index finger in triumph.

Frank climbed into the car and sat beside Angel on the white leather seat, the door closing behind him.

"Here's one for the driver, Angel. We want to look like eager newlyweds." Frank pulled her close.

As Frank's lips touched hers, she forgot where she was and why she had ever resisted him. She couldn't quite breathe properly and wondered abstractly if he held her too tight. If so, it didn't matter, because she didn't want him to stop.

"Oh, Frank," she murmured against his lips. "I love you so much. I've wanted this for so long. Every night for the past four years I've dreamed of being in your arms."

It's true. She knew the champagne was affecting her, but only in dropping her self-imposed barriers. She really did love him. She couldn't fight it any longer.

He pulled back enough to look at her face. He couldn't stop his heart rate from increasing at her words, even though he knew she was acting for the benefit of the driver. Still, she sounded so sincere. What was wrong with imagining this was real, that she really meant these things, at least for as long as it lasted?

"I love you , too, Angel," he told her as he brought his lips back to hers.

She sighed deeply, a sound of complete contentment, and he felt a desperate craving for something he couldn't have. Angel. And a life together. The seeds of longing had blown into his soul by the winds of fate and now he was helpless to the flowering need.

Her tongue swept out and surprised his lips open, then she thrust deeply into his mouth. He could almost feel his blood accelerating through his veins. Why was she doing this? It had nothing to do with convincing the driver of their passion, since he couldn't see what was going on between them other than the fact that they were kissing. Had she forgotten herself to her role? Was she imagining herself in Don's arms? That thought made him stiffen in uncertainty and barely suppressed anger. He started to pull away, but she mewed a protest.

"Frank?" Her hands swept up to his cheeks and caressed him gently, her eyes looking at him with sweet, loving warmth. "What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing." Absolutely nothing. It was his name she'd murmured. She hadn't been thinking of anyone but him. He pulled her close and encouraged her tongue with his own, the two of them doing a sinuous, sensuous dance together.

She pressed her body closer to his, thrusting her breasts into his chest, inviting him to touch. When he didn't respond, she drew her hands from around his neck and started fumbling with his shirt buttons. She pulled her lips from his and followed the trail of her fingers with her mouth.

It was exquisite torture for Frank. He eased her back up and whispered into her ear. "Darling, we're still in the limo. Let's not get too carried away."

The car slowed down and turned.

"We've arrived, Mr. O'Connor," the driver's voice drifted back to them. "I'll get the door."

"Thank you, Jeffrey," Frank said, as he finished rebuttoning his shirt.

The door opened and Frank got out, then helped Angel out. A bellman waited beside the door. She took a step and her three inch heel tipped out from under her, sending her tumbling into Frank. He swept her into his arms and carried her.

Jeffrey was all brisk efficiency. "I took the liberty of calling ahead to arrange your check in, so you can go straight up to your suite. Jean-Claude has your key." He gestured toward the bellman.

"Jeffrey, you've thought of everything."

"Thank you, sir. I aim to please." With a grin he turned back to the car, pulled out the small overnight bag they'd brought with them, and handed it to Jean-Claude. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten to go to the airport. I'll have your other luggage with me."

"This way, Mr. O'Connor." Jean-Claude tipped his head, then turned smartly and led the way to the elevator.

Frank tried to follow, but Angel, who was still in his arms, pulled his face back to hers for a kiss.

"Angel, as much as I'm enjoying this, I can't see where I'm going. Just wait a few more minutes, okay, honey?" He couldn't believe he was discouraging what he'd been wanting for what seemed like forever.

She mumbled something unintelligible and dropped her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed. After they stepped into the elevator and the doors had closed, he eased her down until her feet touched the ground. She pressed herself against the front of his body and pushed herself up on tiptoe to reach his lips. A groan escaped his throat. He lost himself in her lips, in the softness of her body, in her delicious scent. This would only last a few more minutes and he wanted to enjoy every second of it. Good Lord, she was a good actress, and well into her role! He could almost believe she was an impatient bride eagerly anticipating being ravished by her husband—or rather, ravishing her husband. She was getting a little too carried away, as her lips found the base of his throat and toyed with his top button in an exquisite torture.

"Angel, we'll be there in just a few minutes," he whispered into her ear.

Jean-Claude kept his eyes steadily forward. All too soon—but not soon enough—the elevator stopped and the doors whooshed open. The most expedient thing to do would be to carry her. He scooped her up, intimately aware of her warm, deliciously fragrant body draped over his arms. Jean-Claude led them down the hall and opened the door to their suite.

"Your suite, monsieur. Would you like me to show you around?" He glanced uncertainly at Angel.

"No, that'll be fine. Thank you, Jean-Claude. Uh, just a minute, I'll…" Frank started to put Angel down, but the bellman waved his hands.

"The gratuity has already been taken care of, sir. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to call." At that, he left.

Angel placed a hand on each of Frank's cheeks and turned his head back to face her, then pulled him down to her eager lips. He shifted his arms and eased her down his body until her feet were on the floor and she pressed against the length of him. Her mouth trailed from his lips, down his jaw, to his neck. She ran her tongue around his Adam's apple then down to the pulse point below.

"Angel, I hate to tell you this, but he's gone. We're alone now."

He assumed she'd break off her act and go in search of a bed, one she'd insist on having to herself. He'd anticipated that when he'd booked the room, ensuring there would be only one bed available, even going so far as to request that they remove the couch from the sitting room and replace it with two armchairs. That had been tricky to explain, but he was determined not to spend his wedding night sleeping alone. Knowing Angel, though, she'd come up with some scheme to hang a sheet between them or put up some other kind of physical barrier. As if she needed any more than the barrier of ice she already maintained.

Instead, she murmured, "finally," then started undoing the front of her form-fitting suit jacket. It was apparent that she wore nothing underneath except skin and a frothy white undergarment—not the same as the sexy thing she'd had on under her wedding gown, but equally tempting. The bra held her breasts up as though offering them to him. He couldn't help trailing his fingers along the top of the cups and down into the valley between.

"Oh, God, Angel. You're so beautiful."

"Mmm. So are you." She nuzzled his neck. "Make love to me."

"Angel, I don't understand. All along you've said you don't want this."

Why the hell was he reminding her of that when she had obviously changed her mind? Something bothered him about her behavior, but he couldn't think straight with the way she was caressing him with her body. He tried to concentrate. Suddenly, his gaze froze on a silver ice bucket on the coffee table and the bottle of champagne peeking out the top. His gaze slid back to Angel's face and he noticed her flushed cheeks.

"Why, you're absolutely pie-eyed," he exclaimed in sudden understanding. He started to tally the number of times he'd filled her flute glass, but quickly lost count. Then they'd had champagne in the room, and another one—or two—while saying their good-byes.

Poor Angel! She'd probably been so nervous about today—and tonight—that she had been trying to ease her tension, and over-indulged.

She said nothing, just looked at him with her dark, sultry eyes and tried to pull his face back to hers. He resisted.

Was everything she'd said in the car—and here—an act? He doubted she could purposely put on an act of fantasy in her current state. Was this all a fabrication created by too much liquor?

Or… His heart tangled into a tight knot. Could she be telling him how she really felt? Had the alcohol simply removed the barriers she'd erected between them?

But… that would mean she really did love him.

And that totally belied the cold-hearted image he had of her.

Her gaze fixed on him and her eyes became dewy. "You… you look so serious. Are you remembering… I mean, do you really understand about what I did four years ago? Why I had to do what I did?"

"Angel…"

She clutched at his hand, holding it in a fierce grip. "Frank, I… I had to protect you. You don't know what it did to me to turn you over to those animals, but I knew it was the only way. And the way I acted… I had to make you hate me… I had to…"

"I know, sweetheart. Shhh. I know," he said, pulling her into his arms, caressing her back and crooning to her.

"I love you, Frank. I love you so much," she said, almost desperately.

She reached for his shirt, ignoring the fastenings and yanking the sides apart. White buttons scattered in every direction. When she pressed against him again, he felt her naked breasts against his skin. His gaze jerked to her arm, where her bra hung from one elbow like a long, white flag. She must have freed the front clasp after ripping his shirt open.

He wanted to reach out and take what she offered, to haul her off to bed, strip away the figure hugging skirt she wore, along with whatever delightful bit of lace she wore as panties, and make mad passionate love to her. She was so beautiful and she was openly expressing her love for him, telling him what he realized he'd been longing to hear. She loved him!

What could be more natural than making love to his bride on their wedding night?

But he knew he couldn't take advantage of her vulnerable state.

She squirmed out of her skirt, sliding it over her hips. As it dropped to the floor, she slid off her panty hose, letting them join the other debris near her feet. As his body hardened in readiness, some sane part of his mind was amazed at her agility and sense of purpose, especially in her befuddled state. She caressed his chest with delicate strokes of her fingers, at the same time nibbling his ear lobe. Her soft warm breath tickled and excited him at the same time. When she plucked at his nipples, he groaned.

This had to stop right now! He pulled her against his body and stopped the feverish movement of her hands. He picked her up and carried her to the armchair near the bed, sweeping the comforter up and around her before he sat down. Holding her on his lap, he stroked her hair back from her face, pushing strands up over her ears. He crooned to her, speaking soft, whispery words of love, and touched her face with his lips, over her cheeks and around her eyes, until her eyelids eased down and she sighed in contentment. Before long, she relaxed completely against him and when her breathing became slow and even, he knew she was asleep. Not so surprising when he considered how much alcohol she'd consumed. Actually, he was amazed at how long she had lasted. He dropped his head against the back of the chair and sighed. He still couldn't believe he'd refused to make love to his bride on their wedding night.

In Too Deep: Chapter Seven

A sharp, jarring pain severed Angel's tenuous hold on sleep. She shifted her head on the pillow and realized movement intensified the pain. Two things stumbled into her awareness: the discomfort stemmed from a severe pounding in her head, which could be lessened by staying very still; and the fact that her tongue seemed far too large for her uncomfortably dry mouth. By the flaring red on the inside of her eyelids, she knew it was broad daylight and she didn't want to open her eyes and let all that foul sunshine jolt her awake too fast. Waking up this morning was already well on its way to being the low point of the day.

Slowly, she let her senses inform her of other pertinent facts about her current situation. Like the fact that she was naked.

Correction, almost naked. She could feel the stretch of elastic around her hips. Her panties were still in place.

Odd. She always wore a nice, cozy, fleece nightie to bed—but she felt warm enough right now. Of course, that was because a large, warm body pressed against her side. In fact, she realized in alarm, it was a male body, totally naked. Judging from the weight across her waist, he had his arm around her. She forced her eyelids up…slowly… the light immediately sending her headache up a notch on the pain scale. Still, she forced her eyes to turn toward the man's face.

Frank!

Suddenly, it all came back to her. The wedding. The limousine ride to the hotel. Throwing herself at Frank! Oh, good heavens.

She remembered stripping off her clothes—and his—once they were alone in the hotel room.

According to what she could piece together of her fragmented memory, he'd been a perfect gentleman. Could she be missing something? What had happened after she'd divested herself of her suit? Foggily, she remembered Frank carrying her towards the bed. Most of what occurred before that was hazy, but she retained a sense of what had gone on. The events afterward, however, were totally lost to her. Although their current position left little doubt as to the outcome.

Her first impulse was to be angry with Frank and shove him off the bed. Better yet, get a bucket of ice and pour it over his naked, all-too-inviting body.

Despite the fact that her headache pounded harder with the adrenaline rush of her thoughts, she forced herself to face the fact that it hadn't been his fault. It had been hers. After all, how could Frank be expected to resist a half naked woman throwing herself at him? Especially when he'd made it clear time and again how he felt about her. And, she thought guiltily, on their wedding night.

One of her hands was flattened between their two bodies and she desperately wanted to tug it free, uneasy with the fact that his hair-roughened thigh pressed against the backs of her fingers. She resisted the wild temptation to wiggle them, afraid she'd wake him.

She lifted her free hand to cover her face—and almost jumped when she felt his lips press against her temple.

"What is it, Angel? The morning after blues…or undercover blues?" he asked as he dragged his fingers seductively across her skin, over her waist, heading for the swell of her breast.

She grabbed his hand and pushed it back down, then decided that had been a mistake when he rested it on her hip. "Frank, I…"

He pushed himself up on one elbow, gazing down at her with a half smile. Here it comes, he thought. The accusations. The anger. How much did she remember?

He sat up and grabbed a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here, sweetheart. I figured you might need these this morning."

She took the white caplets and swallowed them, chased down by the water. "Thanks." Setting the glass down, she started again. "About last night… the way I acted…"

To his surprise, she sounded apologetic. "What about it, sweetheart?"

"I shouldn't have… I didn't mean to…"

The tinge of pink that crept across her cheekbones charmed him so thoroughly, he couldn't bear to let her suffer. Too much.

"Look, Angel. You had a bit too much champagne. Understandable given the circumstances. You've been under a lot of pressure lately, and with the wedding and… everything else… you're entitled. No harm done."

"No harm done?" she sputtered.

Seeing her flushed face and the uncertainty in her eyes, he realized she had no idea what had—and had not—happened, last night. For one split second, he considered letting her believe they'd made love. If she accepted that, she might believe they had a real relationship—and a real marriage. That could only help his assignment.

But he found he wasn't as concerned about his assignment as he ought to be. He was becoming more concerned with Angel. Her uncertainty—her vulnerability—drew a powerful protective instinct from the depths of his soul. Doubts battered at the once all-consuming belief he'd had in her guilt. Her sweetness flowed like a honeyed wash of rain, seeping into the dry, cracked walls that protected his heart.

Damn, but he could feel himself falling for her. When he hit bottom would he land on jagged rocks or sweet clover?

What he needed now was to reestablish his objectivity. He couldn't have total honesty between them—not given the nature of his mission—but he could at least be honest in this. "Angel, don't worry. Nothing happened."

Her eyes widened. "You mean we didn't… I didn't…?"

"Didn't what, Angel?" he asked innocently, unable to resist teasing her.

"We didn't… make love?"

"Oh, you wanted to," he teased. "You attacked me, but I fought you off." He slid his hand over her hip and across her belly. "I'm feeling less resistant this morning, though. We could…"

She slammed her hand down on his, pinning it to her stomach. Ignoring his comment, she stared at him for a few minutes, considering.

"Frank, why…? I mean, you've made it clear often enough that you want me. Why…?"

He tugged his hand free and stroked her cheek with his index finger, suddenly serious. "It wouldn't have been right. I knew you didn't really want to. It was just the champagne."

"Thank you, Frank. I don't know what to say."

When Frank saw her eyes glisten with unshed tears, his heart lurched. At the same time, her face glowed with an ethereal radiance, toppling his already crumbling control. She looked like a woman in love—with him. Suddenly, he desperately wanted it to be true—and not because of the case. "Last night you said you loved me."

"I…" The protesting tone in her voice faded and her gaze dipped to the sheets. "Yes, I guess I did, but… that doesn't change anything."

He tipped her chin back up. "You're wrong. It changes everything." And it did. He realized the act was becoming reality. He should get away from her, give himself time to cool off, to put things in perspective—but he couldn't. The intensity of his need overwhelmed him with possibilities. Like consummating his marriage to an Angel.

Angel knew Frank was wrong about last night. She had wanted him. Desperately. The champagne had simply made her forget why she couldn't have him. She blinked back the threatening tears. She loved Frank more at this moment than she ever had before.

She felt his arms slip around her. His tongue traced the outline of her mouth, then he nipped on her full, bottom lip. Her headache slipped into the realm of unpleasant memories and she felt her body come alive with need. One hand traced its way around to her breast and he dabbed at her nipple while his lips traveled down her neck to the hollow above her collar bone.

Nervous quivers stalked the blood coursing through her veins. Her arms were pinned to her sides, so she wriggled a bit, trying to shift her breast out of reach. "Frank, after what you did last night, I thought…"

"Last night, you weren't sober. This morning you are," he murmured. His lips nuzzled lower. One of her nipples pressed into his chest, while the other rose to full arousal under the direction of his fingers.

She wriggled some more. "But, Frank, you know I don't want…"

"You love me, Angel. I don't believe you don't want this. In fact, after last night—and the way your body is responding now—I know you want this."

Yes, damn it, she did want this. "We can't." Frantically, she tried to tug her hand loose.

"Yes, we can."

"I can't." Her plea sounded desperate. Her hand broke free of his weight.

He stopped the delicious torment of her nipple and his eyes met hers. "Angel, if you want me to stop, tell me you don't want this."

"I don't want this." The quaver in her voice detracted from the conviction she'd tried to infuse in the words. And damn her chin for trembling.

He gripped the accursed chin gently between curled finger and thumb. "Now say it as if you mean it."

She closed her eyes, shutting out the knowing look in his eyes, along with the arousing heat of passion. "Frank, please."

"Please 'yes', or please 'no'?"

"You know what I want, Frank."

"Yes, I do—but do you?"

His hand moved away from her breast and she felt erotic tingles radiating from his fingertips as they ran across her shoulder, then down her arm. She opened her eyes and was overwhelmed by the determination she saw in his. "You said you wouldn't push our physical involvement."

"Until after the wedding. In case you forgot, we were married yesterday."

"But—"

He stopped adoring her body with his hands and looked into her eyes with such intensity that she swallowed hard. "Angel, if you tell me you don't want me, I'll stop." He waited, giving her every chance.

Tell him she didn't want him? Good heavens, she wasn't that good a liar. She had wanted him from the first moment she'd seen him. She'd dreamed of it over and over again, longed for him in a way she never had any other man. There'd been no other man, never could be another man. No, she couldn't tell him she didn't want him—because it wasn't true.

He smiled, a sexy half grin that sent her pulse racing like a cruiser in a high speed car chase. Damn. He could probably read the emotions crossing her face as easily as he could read a decoded message.

"Oh, Angel, this is right," he said as he gathered her against him. "So right."

"Frank, I don't know. I…"

He kissed her with an ardour that left her breathless. He was obviously fully aroused and she felt her body responding to that knowledge, preparing for him. Oh, heavens, she wanted him. She felt reason and logic melt away as the melting dampness between her thighs told her how much she needed him inside her.

"Frank, I… I've got to warn you that…"

He stroked a wayward curl from her face. "What is it, Angel?" The glint in his eyes shifted to a look of concern.

"I'm… not very… experienced."

A slow smile spread across his face. "That's okay. I promise I'll help you along."

His lips started to play along her collarbone. She pushed him away gently, determined to explain.

"What I mean is… I don't have… any experience."

He just stared at her for a moment.

"You mean you're… you're a virgin?"

His look of utter disbelief annoyed her. "It's not a disease, Frank."

"On the contrary. I just… I'm surprised, that's all. What with Don and Dino both pursuing you and… Well, Angel, you're a very beautiful woman."

She tried to suppress the delight she felt at his words. "Dawn is my female neighbour, Frank, and Dino… Well, I could never make love with a cold-blooded killer. Think about it. With the kind of life I lead, who do you think I could ever get close enough to? Everyone believes me to be someone I'm not. And the men I meet aren't exactly the type I'd like to settle down with." She gazed up at him with her brown eyes wide. "Frank, I couldn't make love with just anyone."

"I'm not just anyone, Angel," he whispered, nipping the curve of her ear.

He pressed his lips against her throat again then nuzzled, sending her pulse accelerating to well beyond the red zone. His hand eased slowly across her shoulder to her breast. At the warmth of his palm cupping her sensitive flesh—the exquisite delight of it—a moan erupted from her suddenly dry throat.

A sharp ringing cut through the haze in her mind, accompanied by Frank's muttered curse. The telephone. Glancing at the red digits on the clock she realized it was their wake up call. They had to be at the airport in an hour. She pushed away from him, glad for the interruption, already regretting giving so much of herself away.

* * *

Their plane took off half an hour late but soon they flew across the clear May sky towards paradise. Angel feared the trip would be strained but instead they sat in comfortable silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

Angel's swirled around the frightening realization that she truly loved Frank. What she had to decide was how that would affect their future. It would be nice if they had time to get to know each other and to choose when, and if, they should get married. But in their line of work things were often decided for them.

Frank and she had to work together to find the informant, but that liaison would end once their assignment was complete. What would happen then? Would he walk away when it was over? Or would he try to convince her to give up her undercover life? Could she do that, even to be with Frank? She shook her head, knowing she would never even consider it.

She glanced at him, sitting beside her with his eyes closed, the cheap airline headset covering his ears. Would he possibly consider continuing their current situation? Continuing to work undercover with her? Maybe. He said he loved her. On the other hand, that didn't mean he was prepared to commit himself to marriage and a major change in lifestyle, especially when that lifestyle meant living among criminals.

There had to be a solution. They had many things to discuss over the next week. Maybe—just maybe—if they worked them out, this could be a real honeymoon. Angel gazed out at the glittering sea below, then glanced at the diamond Frank had given her. Thinking about a real marriage to Frank thrilled her. Her desire for him had become an aching need within her.

Frank knew Angel was watching him. He'd felt the shifting of her arm as she'd turned her head to glance at him and he could feel her gaze as a gentle tingle on his skin. Her touch, no matter how casual, still aroused him. This morning he'd come so close to possessing her. If it hadn't been for that damned wake up call, they'd have consummated this marriage and she'd be his wife for real. And, Lord, he wanted that. But he reminded himself that things were not settled between them. He found it increasingly difficult to believe she was the informant but, either way, he couldn't prove anything. It wouldn't be wise to become irrevocably involved until the whole mess was sorted out. Or more importantly, until there could be total honesty between them.

Irrevocably! Damn. He'd not only come close to making love with her, he would have done it without protecting her. He'd known there was a chance they might make love on their wedding night, especially after that heated exchange between them a week ago, but he'd assumed she was on the pill. A virgin, for Christ's sake. This morning could have resulted in total disaster if they'd made a baby together. And yet, why was it that, instead of striking panic in his heart, visions of Angel, round with his child, her brown eyes glowing, awoke a feeling of possessiveness so strong he thought it had the power destroy him. And it would. If he couldn't find some way to keep her by his side after their assignment was finished.

* * *

After they landed, Angel clenched her teeth during the chaotic trip to their resort in a local taxi. Her first sight of their private cabin, nestled among hibiscus trees, with a spectacular view of the white, sandy beach and the vivid turquoise water beyond, sent her heart spinning. This was a wonderfully romantic place to start a marriage.

She sighed, wishing she could forget the concerns of real life and immerse herself in the fantasy. A real honeymoon with Frank. Followed by a real chance at happiness and love-ever-after.

She started to unpack, but Frank coaxed her into a walk around the resort, then they settled into the central dining room for a quiet candlelit dinner.

Angel watched the sun sink into the ocean, sending its final good-byes in the form of rippling streaks of colour across the golden-washed waters.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Frank's voice startled her. They'd hardly spoken since they arrived, each giving the other time to adjust to their new status as husband and wife.

"Yes, it is."

She twisted the sea green napkin in her hands. Everything felt so awkward. What should she say to a husband she hadn't chosen to marry, yet wanted desperately to be married to? She looked at him and one half of his mouth curled up in an utterly irresistible half grin. He sipped his wine and her attention drifted to his full lower lip and the faint sheen of moisture reflecting the candle light.

"Angel…"

Her gaze shot to his eyes. Their blue depths darkened, bathing her in a warm, sensuous glow. She licked lips suddenly gone dry.

"Angel," he repeated, "if you don't stop staring at me with that hungry look in your eyes, I'm going to drag you back to the cabin right now."

"I, uh…" she croaked, then grabbed her water goblet and took a quick gulp. "I'm sorry, Frank, I just…" She shook her head, knowing she had no defense.

"Don't be sorry. Just understand what you're doing to me." He reached for her hand—which splayed across the base of her goblet—and covered it with his own.

"Frank, we really need to talk."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle, sending trills of pleasure through her. She tugged lightly, but he refused to surrender her hand.

"Please, Frank. I can't think when you do that."

"Maybe that's the way I want it. We always seem to get in trouble when we think. Maybe we should feel our way along."

With those words, he stroked his index finger over her wrist along her sensitive inner arm. She couldn't help but shiver. "Frank, when you first said you loved me, I thought it was too soon—that you couldn't possibly without knowing me. And you didn't…know me that is."

"I think I understand."

"What I'm trying to ask is…" Her gaze settled on his. "Do you love me?"

He pulled her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her palm—gentle yet deeply stirring. "I told you I did." The words were a quiet murmur, like water flowing through a brook—sending her blood burbling through her veins in a most disquieting way.

"I… Frank, what does that mean to us? I mean, we're married and…"

His blue eyes darkened still. "What are you asking, Angel?"

"Well, you love me, and I love you, and here we are on our honeymoon…"

The burning flames of the candle flickered in the depths of his eyes.

"Angel, let's go back to the cabin," Frank murmured huskily.

"Frank, no, I… I mean, we're here on our honeymoon, but we didn't choose to get married. If we had met again under different circumstance—if we weren't forced to marry because we're working together…"

"Then I'd still believe you had betrayed me and would have wrung your neck," he teased. He nipped her fingertip. The feel of his teeth dragging across her flesh stole her breath away. She tugged her finger free of his mouth, but didn't pull away entirely, needing the physical contact.

"Frank, you know what I'm asking. What does this marriage really mean to you and I as a couple—not you and I as working partners?"

"You want to know if I want the marriage to be real—if I want it to continue after the case is closed?"

"That's right." She knew hope filled her eyes. It was impossible to hide her feelings, and she shouldn't even try, not when such an important question was posed.

"Angel, there's still so much that has to be worked out. I can't make any promises. Believe me, I want to. I just can't."

She drew her hand out of his grasp, fighting the tears that threatened. She knew her disappointment shouldn't be so complete. His honesty was admirable. And realistic. Neither of them could promise anything for the future.

The waiter came by to see if they wanted anything. Angel pushed away her half eaten plate of Chicken Marenga and told him there was nothing else she wanted. Except Frank and a lifetime together.

They walked back to the cabin under a full, tropical moon, hands joined. The hibiscus blossoms perfumed the air. It was a night designed for romance, she thought. Frank closed the cabin door behind them.

"Frank, under the circumstance, I don't think—"

Frank stopped her words with his lips, pressing her into a ravenous kiss. No sooner was she warmed by his hungry lips than he released her.

"Angel, I can't make promises about the future, but I will promise I won't push you into anything you're not ready for."

The huskiness of his voice and the look of raw desire in his eyes told her that promise cost him a great deal. Unable to stop herself, she stroked his face, reveling in the feel of the raspy whiskers shadowing his cheeks.

"Frank, I—"

He grabbed her wrists to still her caressing hands.

"Angel, I'm only human." He pointed to the bedroom door. "Go."

* * *

Angel pushed back a few spirals of hair, enjoying the feel of the warm sand under her bare feet. Over the past few days they had enjoyed tennis, scuba diving, and one sailing excursion that ended with Angel in the drink. Her muscles still ached. She loved spending this time with Frank. It reminded her of their happy days in Hawaii.

She smiled. What she enjoyed most was lazing on the beach. Especially watching Frank in his brief black trunks, muscles rippling with his movements. Seeing him nearly naked like that made her want him all the more. True to his word, however, Frank spent every night on the couch in the sitting room. And Angel spent every night needing a cold shower.

Gazing out over the ocean, she watched the fiery sheen of the water as the sun drifted below the horizon. This had become a ritual, taking a walk on the beach every evening at sunset. Frank stopped at their usual outcropping of rocks and sank down onto the sand. She dropped down beside him.

"Frank, I don't really know anything about you. Where are your family? What are they like?" Do you think they'd like me? Angel bit back that last question just in time.

"My family? They're in Denver." He hooked his arms around his knees. "My mom's as sweet as they come. Always has time for her family and friends, always makes a visitor feel at home." He leaned back against a rock, settling into his story. Angel could see the affection in his eyes as he spoke of his mother. "My dad, he's a bit crusty." Frank picked up a broken shell and twirled it absently between his fingers, his eyes unfocused, obviously picturing the man while he spoke. "But we always knew he cared about us. I guess being a cop, and seeing death close up on a regular basis, made him aware of how important it was to tell the ones closest to him how much he cared. He didn't do it with words—he wasn't comfortable with that—but he made sure we knew."

"He was a cop?" Angel hugged her knees close to her, envying him his close-knit family. She'd cared about her parents and she'd never doubted that they'd loved her, but there had always been a distance between them.

"Yeah, or at least he was until he retired two years ago. So were my uncle and my grandfather. It's sort of a family tradition."

She rested her chin on her knees. "I guess they wouldn't be too thrilled to know you're consorting with my type."

He shot her a questioning glance. "Your type? If anything, you'd fit right in. You're just what Dad would love in the family. Another crime fighter."

Angel picked up a stone and tossed it into the surf, irritation lancing through her. "Yeah, I can see it now. You take me home to dinner with the folks and say 'Mom. Dad. Meet Angel. She works for Carlos Vendetti and she's been a member of the New York syndicate for the past ten years.'"

"Angel—"

"What, Frank?" She glared at him. "No matter what our involvement, we wouldn't be able to tell them I'm working undercover. How do you think your dad would react to you being involved with a mob bimbo? Think about it."

"Angel." He slid over to sit beside her, his arm going around her waist. "My family is important to me. But so are you."

"Are you saying you'd turn your back on their wishes? Let them believe you'd gotten involved with a criminal? Or would you just keep us from ever meeting?" Like you were ashamed of me? She didn't voice that last question but he could probably read it in her eyes, in the slump of her shoulders. She threw her hands up. "I don't know why I'm even talking about this."

"I agree. You—"

"The fact is, you'll never be able to go see them while you're involved with me. We couldn't risk anyone making the link between Frank O'Connor and Frank Marino. Face it, Frank. The only way we can be together is if you come undercover with me. You'd have to change your whole life—everything. Do you really think you could do that?"

He raked his hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"I can't see you accepting a role where you'd be associating with criminals as friends. Not on a long term basis."

"You do it, Angel."

"Yes, but I was raised to it. Be truthful, Frank. Do you really think you could accept that kind of life?"

"It wouldn't be my first choice." He took her hand and sandwiched it between his own. "Look, Angel, wouldn't you even consider giving up your undercover life to be with me?"

She snatched her hand away. "Let me explain something to you. I told you that my father was a member of the mob and both my parents were killed when he tried to pull out. What I didn't tell you was…" She paused, then her eyelids fell closed as the sudden flare of anger faded and unwelcome memories flooded through her. "I… was there when it happened."

Frank watched Angel pull her legs closer to her chest and press her chin tightly to her knees. He felt a sudden chill in the pit of his stomach. What she was about to tell him would not be pleasant.

"I was lucky they didn't see me when they charged into our house," she continued, a deadly calm to her voice. "The thugs must have figured a punk kid like me, all of fifteen years old, was probably out on the streets making trouble." She clenched her fist around a small stone laying by her hand. "My mother had been helping me with my homework when we heard them come in." She raked her fingers through the sand, leaving deep grooves. "She pushed me into a closet and told me to stay there."

Angel's jaw quivered. "I was so afraid." Her voice had diminished to a hoarse whisper. Tears swelled from her eyes. "Oh, God! I was such a coward."

"No, Angel, you were just a scared kid." Frank slid beside her. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, trying to infuse some warmth into her frigid limbs.

"My mother started screaming and I heard my father pleading with them to stop." She shook her head, looking like a soul lost in time. "Her screams went on and on and on…" She covered her ears as though she could stop the sound that tortured her from the past. Tears flowed freely now, but she ignored them. Frank wanted to reach out to her, to pull her from her waking nightmare… a nightmare that was all the more horrific because it was real. "But you know… you know what was the worst?"

Frank's arm came around her and he pulled her to his side. He wanted to stop her, to tell her not to do this to herself… but he realized that would only help him. He didn't want to see her suffer like this. But Angel needed to tell someone. She'd come this far. He had to see her through the rest.

She gulped in a breath of air, then continued in little bursts. "It was… when the screams stopped. I… knew I shouldn't feel that way, but… it meant that…" She clutched Frank's sleeve, screwing the fabric into a spiral snake. "Oh, God, it meant her pain had stopped."

He pulled her against his body, stroking her hair. "It's all right, sweetheart. It's all right." Stupid words. Senseless words. He cursed himself. Of course, it wasn't all right. But there was nothing he could say—nothing he could do—to make it all right. To ease her pain.

"But, don't you see, Frank?"

He didn't like the glazed look in her eyes, the cold look of death.

"As long as she cried out, she was still alive and… and that meant there was still hope. As long as she was still alive, I could have done something, I—"

"No, Angel. You couldn't have done anything."

"Yes, I—"

He shook her slightly, desperate to draw her back to now, out of the past, out of her private hell.

"No," he said firmly. "If you had stepped out of that closet, you'd be dead now, right along with her. That's not what she would have wanted, Angel." He pushed back a few strands of her riotous curls. "Cindy," he corrected, remembering her real name, the name her mother would have called her. Angel's gaze shot to Frank's and for a moment they connected—really connected. For that brief time, Frank thought he could see into her soul—and what he saw troubled him. Too large a burden lay on such a small pair of shoulders.

"Frank?" she whispered.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about. Cindy, there was nothing you could have done."

Her head fell forward, resting against his chest and great wracking sobs shook her frame. He held her and crooned comforting words, stroking her hair, holding her close while she let out the grief that had darkened her soul far too long. She'd probably never told anyone what she'd told him tonight. She'd probably never had anyone she could tell. The authorities would have gotten the facts, but the anger and frustration, the guilt—she'd have hidden those away.

His heart throbbed knowing she'd chosen to tell him, that she trusted him enough. The need to be there for her burrowed into his soul, starting an ache that he knew would transcend time. God, he wanted to be the one she turned to. Always.

Slowly, she pulled away a couple of inches. Her voice quiet and calm, she started talking again. "After that, I heard my father sobbing. A gun went off, then… silence wrapped around me in that dark closet… a choking, chilling silence." She rubbed at her upper arms. "The police found me later—I don't know how long—still in the closet. I couldn't make myself come out. I couldn't…" She clutched at the fabric of his shirt. "…face the blood. Couldn't face—" Her knuckles whitened at her tightening grip. "Oh, God, Frank. I relived that night for years. I was afraid to go to sleep at night for fear of seeing them again… seeing… what those butchers had done to them."

Frank's stomach churned violently at the thought of the gruesome sight that held Angel in its grip. His hands clenched into fists as he longed to get his hands on the bastards who had caused Angel this kind of suffering. Feeling her shift against him, he thrust the thoughts aside, realizing he had to concentrate on Angel, on helping her through this. He tightened his arms around her, pressing her face against his chest and tenderly stroking her hair.

"Angel. Cindy, I wish… If I could only…"

"No. Don't worry about me, Frank. It was a long time ago."

When he looked at her, he was shocked to see his concern for her mirrored back in her warm, brown eyes. How could she be worried about him while still suffering from her own personal nightmare?

"Cindy…"

Her lips curled up in a tiny smile. "Frank. I think you should stick with Angel, okay?" She drew her finger down his cheek all the way to his chin. Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Thanks for listening."

"Anytime, Angel."

She sat back against the rock they shared and sighed. "You have a question you want to ask me, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."

"It may not be the right time."

"Go ahead, Frank. Right now, I think I could face anything."

He picked up a stone and flung it across the sand, watching the water turn blood red with the dying rays of the sun.

"Angel, how did you ever come to work undercover? How could you possibly bring yourself to work with the same kind of people who had killed you parents?"

She sat forward, examining his face. "Don't you see? It was the only thing I could do. After it happened, I withdrew into myself. Shut out the world. Hal was the agent assigned to my dad. After the hit, he knew the only thing that could give me a purpose was to hurt the people who had murdered my parents—and taken away my life. He gave me the opportunity to work undercover. He gave me the chance to avenge my parents' death. That's the only thing that's kept me going all these years."

"But surely you've done enough?"

Her gaze clashed with his, hard and purposeful.

"No. It'll never be enough, Frank. Never."

In Too Deep: Chapter Eight

As Frank finished bringing in their luggage, Angel perused the stack of mail her neighbour had piled on the kitchen table. A grey envelope with Carlos' return address on the upper left hand corner caught her attention. She sliced open the top flap and tugged out a folded sheet of matching grey parchment. Inside, printed in a bold black font, was an invitation to a party at Carlos' home the following Friday.

Peering over her shoulder, Frank scanned the invitation. "This will give me the perfect opportunity to hit old Carlos up for a job."

She glanced around, startled at how close Frank stood, his face mere inches from her own as he hovered behind her shoulder. She gulped and handed him the invitation, then strode to the counter to fill a glass with water, wanting to put more distance between them. As she sipped, she watched him sitting hunched forward on the chair, studying the invitation he held in his hands thoughtfully.

She took a gulp of water, then deposited the glass on the counter.

"You can't just waltz up and ask him for a job."

He glanced at her. "The trick is to get him to ask me."

Her gaze darted to his face. "Do you have any idea how to do that?"

He nodded, staring back at the invitation in his hands, his lips pressed together as he concentrated. "Yeah. I don't really think it'll be that hard." He turned to her again. "You go back to work on Monday. That gives you a whole week to drop hints about how annoying it is to have me lazing around the place while you get up and do the nine-to-five bit every day. You know, the old layabout husband letting his wife bring home the bacon."

His words and that lazy half grin of his made her laugh. "Is that any way for an adoring wife of one whole week to talk about her new husband?" she asked.

He dropped the invitation on the table and sauntered over to her, trapping her between his arms as he gripped the counter. "Is that what you are? An adoring wife?"

That grin up close was even more devastating than at a distance.

"No. Who could adore a mug like this?" She tweaked his cheek and laughed. "I'm just the world's greatest actress, that's all, with the world's most difficult role." She tried to duck under his arm but he was too fast for her, snagging her with one arm and tickling her side with the other hand.

"Is that right?"

Dreadfully ticklish, she crumpled over, giggling hysterically, his arm the only thing stopping her from falling to the floor in a heap. She raked at his wrist, firmly wrapped around her waist, desperate to stop him so she could breathe again. Laughing was all exhaling, no inhaling, and she was getting desperate for air. Finally, she pounded at him, still in the throes of laughter, tears flowing from her eyes.

"Stop it, Frank. Stop it," she finally squeaked in a burst of stolen breath.

The torturing fingers stopped for a moment. She gulped in a lung full of air—then they started again. She flung herself sideways, dropping them both to the floor. She tumbled onto her back, breasts heaving, and he rolled across her laughing as hard as she was.

Once they'd both caught their breath, she wiped moisture from her eyes, then found herself staring up into his face. One corner of his mouth was higher than the other, as it always was when he smiled, and his eyes crinkled to slits, but not narrow enough to hide the brilliant blue colour. Dancing with amusement, they mesmerized her. Her wide smile faded, suddenly out of place, as the thumping of her heart shifted in rhythm from frivolity to sexual awareness. Devilishly attractive in this mood, her husband was irresistible.

When had she started thinking of him as her husband? What an alarming thought.

Her focus sharpened, taking in his well-formed nose, the lightly whisker-shadowed angles of his jaw, his straight eyebrows. Strands of dark hair had fallen onto his forehead and she couldn't stop herself from pushing them back, letting her fingers glide through his hair as she stroked over the crown of his head, then down to his nape. The feel of his silky waves between her fingers sent erotic threads weaving through her. Of its own volition, her other hand slid to his neck and she pulled him down to meet her lips.

He came—willingly, eagerly—and passion flared between them. Bright and bold. All consuming. She wanted him. Now. Here. On the kitchen floor. She didn't care as long as she could feel his body against her. Inside her. She wanted to rip off the clothes that came between them, feel his bare skin on hers.

She felt him pull away and she groaned her objection. "Frank? What's wrong?"

Resting on one forearm, stroking tendrils of hair from her face, he stared down at her tenderly. "So all I have to do to seduce you is tickle? That's an approach I've never tried before."

His lips turned up in that heart-stopping grin she'd come to both long for and dread. Dread because it did frightening things to her equilibrium. Long for because no healthy, warm-blooded woman could stop herself from wanting to see that boyish, seductive smile. Her eyelids drooped as she stared longingly at the sheen of light reflecting off his full lower lip and she moistened her own as she anticipated the feel of his mouth against hers. She slid her hands onto his cheeks and drew him back to her.

Their lips grazed for an all-too-brief kiss and then he pulled back again.

"Angel," he murmured. "We both know where this will lead, but you're not ready. Nothing has changed since St. Lucia. We've got a lot of things to sort out before we can carry our personal relationship further, and that won't happen until one of us decides on a drastic change in lifestyle. Am I right?"

She stared at him. His words, spoken gently but with determination, cut through the haze that obscured the proper functioning of her brain. She sucked in a deep breath and slid a hand over her forehead, shoving wayward curls off her face..

"You're right. I'm sorry." Her cheeks burned. "I don't know what came over me."

"Besides me, you mean?" His lips brushed her cheek lightly and he pushed himself onto his knees with one powerful thrust of his arm. He grabbed her hand and pulled them both to their feet. "I don't think an apology is exactly appropriate. Not when I enjoyed that as much as you did."

He hooked his hands around her waist then slid up her sides, as though he didn't want to stop touching her. "Believe me, if things weren't so unsettled between us, I'd take you up on your invitation."

How could Frank be so sensible? And so wonderfully sensitive. How could she help but love him? And how could she stop from being hurt by him?

Not him, really. Their situation. Their differing needs. Never by Frank.

He leaned her against the counter and handed her the glass of water she'd filled earlier. "Here. Now back to business, you slouch. We were talking about setting Vendetti up to hire me."

He straddled one of the kitchen chairs, leaning his arms on the back, facing her, reminding her to drop hints to Carlos about Frank needing work. Carlos knew Angel had a strong work ethic and would be bothered by Frank's unemployment. Frank also pointed out that Carlos would be smart enough to see the benefit of having them both in his organization, allowing him to garner Frank's loyalty as well as Angel's. With both of them under his rule, he would have no worries about Angel inadvertently leaking information to a man who may feel free to pass it on to unscrupulous listeners.

* * *

On the night of the party, Angel chose a jazzy black knit dress to wear. Short and clingy, it had a gold thread twisted through the yarn to give it a glitter effect. Gold flowers and vines were embroidered around the scoop neckline, studded with large gems.

"You look dazzling, Angel," Frank said when she strolled into the living room. He had been reading a book while she got ready, having already changed in the bathroom.

"Thank you, Frank. You look pretty spiffy yourself."

She reached up and straightened his tie, knowing she did it more so she could touch him than any other reason. He looked fabulous in his black, light wool suit, his jade green and charcoal tie setting off his aqua shirt.

When they arrived at the party, several vehicles were already parked by the six car garage of Carlos' huge home. The butler took their coats and ushered them into the party. Carlos saw them arrive and excused himself from a small circle of guests.

"Angel! How wonderful you look tonight." Carlos grasped Angel's arms and kissed her cheek. "Married life agrees with you." He turned to Frank and pumped his hand. "Welcome to my home, Frank. You seem to be taking good care of my girl."

"I'm doing my best."

The adoring smile Frank gave her as he pulled her more firmly against his side made her heart beat faster.

Carlos led them to the bar and got them set up with drinks, then he left to greet some new arrivals. Angel sipped her wine spritzer and surveyed the room, pointing out various key figures to Frank. She caught sight of Dino leaning against the wall across the room watching her, scowling. Tipping her glass at him, she smiled. His scowl deepened, but he nodded in acknowledgment, then turned away.

Angel took Frank around and introduced him to most of the people she knew. Many had been at their wedding. Frank surreptitiously watched Vendetti all evening. When he saw the older man break away from a group of people to go to the bar, Frank excused himself from Angel's side.

* * *

"So, Angel tells me you're out of work."

Frank scratched his jawline. "Yeah, well, I'm relatively new in town and don't have many contacts yet."

"What line of work are you in, Frank?"

Frank glanced down at his drink and swirled it around, the ice cubes chinking against the sides of the glass. "You could say I work in security."

Vendetti's eyebrows went up. "You mean like a security guard?"

Frank smiled. "Not exactly. I worked for Victor Fantucci out in Vegas for a while, until he decided to retire. The stuff I did for him involved checking out the background of new people joining his organization, overseeing shipments of money from the casinos, and other operations he had going. Things like that."

"I know Victor. He has a good-sized operation. There'd be lots of opportunities for an ambitious man like yourself. Why did you leave?"

"I'd been with Victor for a few years and worked my way up in the organization. I'd been hoping for a promotion to head of security for his casinos, but when the time came, Victor promoted a guy named Giovanni Labentti. Now, I don't have anything against the guy, have never even met him, but I'd been hoping for that position for a long time. So, I decided it was time to move on. You know, try my luck somewhere else. I pulled up roots and came out here to New York. I understand there are lots of opportunities here." He glanced at Angel, chatting animatedly with an older woman in a royal blue, satin suit, and smiled broadly. "Best thing I ever did."

Vendetti followed Frank's gaze. "Yes, I imagine you were pleased to find Angel after all these years."

"You bet. I just hope I can make her happy." He swirled his glass again. "The first thing I need is a job. I'm not living off my wife."

Frank's cover had been carefully decided before the honeymoon. Victor Fantucci had been killed a few weeks ago so he could not deny Frank's story. There had been a Frank Marino whose position in the organization fit what Frank had described. The Bureau also had an undercover agent in Fantucci's operation who would intercept any communication and make sure queries were answered to confirm Frank's cover.

Vendetti placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "I think I might just have a solution to your problem, Frank.

* * *

Angel felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find Dino standing behind her.

"Dance with me, Angie."

She would have declined, but he'd already taken her hand and was pulling her onto the dance floor. A slow number was playing and couples drifted across the shiny hardwood slats. Dino's hand slid around her and he pulled her too close to his body.

"Dino, what are you doing? Frank—"

"Is busy with Carlos right now. I'm sure he can spare you." He glared down at her, his brown eyes smoldering. The pressure of his hands was almost painful. "Why, Angie? I've been trying to get you to take me seriously for months now, then this creep walks in and takes over. Within a month you two are hitched."

"Dino, I told you, Frank and I have known each other for years. When I—"

"Yeah, then how come I never heard anything about him before this? If you were so—close—how come you never mentioned him?"

She glanced at Frank, in deep conversation with Carlos. "We lost touch. I didn't think I'd ever see him again. There was never any reason to mention him to you."

"You lose touch, then he just shows up in your life? You pick up where you left off? Come on. It sounds fishy to me. If you two were so close—"

"Dino, we were young. It wouldn't have worked out then. Frank went off in search of excitement and—"

"And didn't even keep in touch with you?"

She glanced up at him. His eyes were burning embers of anger.

"Angie, something's going on here that I just don't buy. I don't like it and I intend to find out—"

"Excuse me. I'd like my wife back."

Angel felt Frank's hand on her shoulder and Dino let go of her, scowling at Frank. Dino spun around and marched away while Frank took Angel in his arms to continue the dance. "What did he want?"

"He suspects something, Frank. We'll have to be careful."

He pulled her close, pressing his lips to her temple. "Don't worry about it. He's just annoyed because he lost you to me."

He nuzzled her neck and his hand slid down to the small of her back, pulling her closer to his body. Heat surged through her and she longed to pull him into a passionate kiss. For the rest of the evening, Frank kept her body heated and longing for him with frequent stolen kisses, tender touches, and warm smiles. Everything a loving newlywed husband would do to show his bride, and the world, how much he wanted her.

More than ever, Angel longed for the illusion to be real. She longed for things she couldn't have. Like a life with Frank at her side. For real. For always.

* * *

Angel sank into the back seat of the cab Frank had flagged down. It felt good to be off her feet after all that dancing. Frank slid in beside her, curling his arm around her waist. She leaned against him, loving the feel of his hard, warm body against her.

"So it looks like your layabout husband will be working again soon."

"Carlos offered you a job?" Frank really knew how to get things done.

He smiled. "Did you ever doubt me?"

"Well…" She grinned, pursing her lips.

His eyebrows arched up in mock surprise. "Really? I guess I'll just have to remind you how capable I am."

He lowered his mouth to hers, his heated lips igniting a flame within her that had been smoldering all evening. He lifted his face from hers and smiled his ultra-sexy half grin. "Well? Still doubt me?"

"Never." She knew the breathy word left no doubt as to how much his kiss had affected her.

He nuzzled her ear. "So how capable are you?"

"Hmm?"

"Vendetti told me to have you schedule an appointment for me sometime Monday so we can discuss details." He nipped her lobe. "Will you remember that?"

"Mmm hmm."

The cab pulled up in front of the townhouse and Frank eased away from her. He helped her out of the car, keeping hold of her hand all the way to the door. He unlocked it, then gestured for Angel to proceed him inside.

Angel flicked off her shoes with her toes, thankful to be out of the high heels. Gingerly, she stepped down flat on the floor, the stretched muscles of her calves complaining. She unbuttoned her coat and felt Frank ease it off her shoulders, his fingertips causing a tingling sensation to dance down her back. She glanced in the stained glass hall mirror. She could only see part of his face below the large pink lilies bordering the top of the design. His gaze lingered on her bare shoulders and he probably saw the swell of her breasts, given his height and position behind her. He turned and hung up her coat and they both turned around to face each other.

Angel knew she should flee from the cramped entranceway. From Frank. From the desire that was building inside her. But there was nowhere to run. She was going to have to face her feelings, face what she knew she wanted.

She looked at him, expectant. They had been so close this evening. Every time he'd touched her, she'd felt another chink fall from her armour

She wanted him, she couldn't deny it… but she reminded herself she couldn't have him.

At least, not permanently.

But… not everything lasted forever. For the first time in her life, she felt herself considering something short term. Something that would make her happy.

Everything she'd ever done, at least as an adult, had been for long term goals. Her cover had been a long term commitment. It had taken years to infiltrate the mob, to work to a position where she could get information of any real use. Even then, the information she passed on was often held back, in recognition that putting a stop to individual activities was not as important as Angel working herself to a position where the Bureau could get a line on some of the high level workings of the organization.

So, Angel had never considered the possibility of short term gratification. But now, as she looked into Frank's heated blue eyes, she did just that. Thought of the possibility of making love with Frank because she wanted to, knowing it couldn't last, but knowing that more than anything else in the world, she wanted to be in his arms, to be loved by him.

Frank lowered his lips to hers and she tipped up her chin in anticipation. The kiss was sweet, sensual, drawing a rising tide of response that threatened to sweep her away. He stroked his hands down her back until they rested on the curve of her hips and he dragged her firmly against him. The swell of his arousal pressed against her stomach and she stiffened.

This was not the right time. She needed to think, to know if she was really ready. She eased away from him. "Frank, I…"

He put a finger to her lips, making a shushing sound, then tapped the tip of her nose. "I know, Angel. The evening was fun, but it ends here. I know the rules. And I know why they're important."

No bitterness tinged his words, only regret. She wished she could reach out to him, tell him she loved him… tell him she wanted him… but she knew now wasn't the time. When she made love to Frank, she wanted to be sure it was a logical decision, not based on too much wine and an overdose of hormones.

As he turned away, she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to face her. Her hands flew to his cheeks. She popped up on her tip toes and joined her lips to his in a short burst of a kiss. She slid her hands to his shoulders for support—and because she was reluctant to stop touching him.

"Frank, thank you, I… It was a lovely evening. You did a great job… acting the loving husband and all."

"An easy role with you as my co-star, Angel."

He smiled that half grin of his and she knew if she stayed any longer she'd be lost. She slid her hands off his shoulders, reveling in the feel of the soft, finely-spun wool of his suit jacket.

"Good night, Frank." She turned and marched to her room before she changed her mind. Closing the door snugly behind her, she leaned against it for a few moments while she caught her breath.

She took off her makeup with cold cream and brushed out her curls, then put on her favourite red plaid, flannel night shirt. Once she noticed the strip of light under her door darken, she slipped into the bathroom to complete her night time ritual.

I'm turning into a coward. Afraid to pass Frank in the hall for fear of falling into his arms. I definitely have a bad case of… Of what? Of love, yes. Of wanting Frank. Of a need she'd been nurturing subconsciously for years. She wanted… needed… everything with Frank. Marriage—a real one. Love. A home. Forever.

But she couldn't have forever.

Still, why did that mean she couldn't have now? They both knew they would have to part when the case ended. Frank wasn't about to stay in his cover role. No way. But they were together now, and they were husband and wife. Why not allow herself a little happiness—the happiness she could find in his arms? Frank had made it clear he wasn't averse to making love, even though theirs was a marriage destined to end.

It seemed so clear now that being with Frank—giving Frank all that she was capable of giving under the circumstances—was the best way to express her love. Maybe they didn't have forever, but they had now, and each other, and the memories they would make together would last a lifetime. And somehow Angel knew it would be her only chance at love.

* * *

Frank settled under the blue-flowered quilt that had been his only comfort since he'd been living with Angel. It smelled faintly of the sweet herbal fragrance she wore. Saying goodnight to her had been almost impossible tonight. He sensed something different in her. The way she'd looked into his eyes, as though she'd wanted to reach out to him. Maybe it was just the party and the drinks making her let down her guard, but he felt as though she were trying to make a decision. About him.

He heard her door open quietly and he feigned sleep, knowing she'd been waiting for him to turn out the light so she wouldn't have to face him. He watched her with lids barely lifted as she tiptoed into the bathroom. Even in a long flannel nightshirt, she managed to look deliciously sexy, her curls tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. He had a feeling that if he were to lift his covers and invite her to join him, she just might say yes. But he wouldn't. If they made love it had to be her decision, with no pressure from him. He couldn't live with anything else. So, he'd wait patiently. Forever, if he had to.

* * *

During the long hours of the night, with moonlight caressing her sheets, Angel came to her decision. She wanted Frank and she was going to let him know.

In the morning, when Frank told her he had a number of errands to run, she volunteered to do the grocery shopping. While at the mall to pick up the ingredients for her special Chicken Cacciatore with Caesar salad and fresh baked bread, she passed by the Naughty Lady lingerie store and decided to be a little naughty herself and indulge in something new.

Something special for tonight.

Because she was going to seduce her husband.

Tonight.

In Too Deep: Chapter Nine

At six-thirty, Angel heard the door open and Frank whistling a happy tune. She washed the last of the dishes used in preparing dinner and placed it in the second sink, then dried her hands on the kitchen towel hanging on the stove handle. Dinner was well in hand, the chicken simmering, the salad ingredients ready in the refrigerator. All she needed to do was make the spaghetti and assemble the salad once they were ready to eat. She turned off the oven, ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it up, then hurried into the living room to greet her husband.

"Hi, Frank," she said, smiling shyly, suddenly nervous about her plan and exactly how to carry it out.

Frank produced a bouquet of pink roses from behind his back. "For you, Angel."

She could see the warmth and tenderness in his eyes as he smiled at her. "Oh, Frank, they're lovely." She took them and breathed in their sweet fragrance.

"Not nearly as lovely as you," he said, taking in the soft lines of her floral sun dress. The wrap style bodice was cut low and outlined her generous curves. He pushed a strand of hair behind her ears and let his fingers trail down her neck. His gaze dipped below her face and followed the arrow of her deep neckline to the soft swell of her breasts, then slid back up to her lips.

Breathless in anticipation, she placed the flowers on the nearby coffee table then turned back to him. She stepped close and raised her face to gaze up at him, expectant. Tonight would be the night. Her first time. Could he read it in her eyes?

Frank knew something had changed. The way Angel was looking at him made his breath catch. Her eyes, the colour of dark chocolate, were simmering with heat. His fingers slid over her shoulder and under her hair, stroking up and down the nape of her neck. His hand opened to cradle her head as he brought his lips down to hers. He could hear her draw in a breath just before their lips touched, a sign of anticipation that accelerated his blood flow. He wanted her so much, and he'd been patient, because she'd needed time, but he didn't know how much longer he could wait, how many more sleepless nights he could spend tossing and turning, thinking of her only a few feet away. She was responding to him now, her tongue answering the dance of his with her own sweet, delicate movements. Her body pressed against him, her breasts crushed against his chest and he could feel the hardened nipples through the soft cotton of her dress. God, didn't she know what she was doing to him?

He pulled back from her gently, putting inches between them. She needed time and he couldn't give it to her if they kept this up. She whimpered as their bodies parted.

"Angel, I only have so much self control. If we keep doing this, I won't be able to stop."

"Then don't." She stared up at him, desire shining in her eyes.

He examined her expression, trying to gauge if she'd said it in the heat of passion or if the decision was premeditated. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Very sure."

She felt his arm tighten around her back and drag her against him. His lips landed on hers with a ferocity that frightened her, suddenly demanding. His arms were like steel around her. She started to struggle and the pressure of his lips immediately gentled, his hand sending shivers through her as it moved slowly up her spine in slow circles. His other hand stroked her neck, then cupped her chin in his palm while his fingers curled around her ear. She felt her zipper slide open, the slow, rasping sound intensely erotic. As the sides of her dress parted, it slipped off her shoulders. Frank eased it over her elbows and let it fall to the floor.

He pulled back to look at her and she watched him suck in a breath. His fingers trailed down the strap of her purple bra, an underwire push-up that she'd picked out because it accentuated her curves and gave her generous bosom a needed boost. The matching lace trimmed panties were sheer decadence. She'd bought them with exactly this in mind.

"Angel, you know how to drive me crazy."

His gaze traveled the long expanse of her legs, then roamed back to her breasts. His finger reached the lace-covered cup and traced along the top edge of the skimpy garment. She closed her eyes as he lowered his mouth to the overheated skin at the base of her neck. His lips felt cool and subtly erotic.

Frank felt the hot silk of her skin scorch his lips. His body ignited in response to Angel's quick indrawn breath and the quickening of her pulse. He forced himself to move slowly, not to rush her again. Frightening her was not what he wanted to do, and he'd already done it once tonight. His lips moved down from her neck until he reached the valley between her breasts. The cut of her sexy bra left it almost bare. Only a small satin bow crossed between. One of his hands slid over her right breast. His fingers dipped under the lace to discover the hardened nipple beneath.

"Darling, I love your choice of lingerie—and it looks stunning on you—but do you think we could take it off now?"

"Yes," she croaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes, you open it like this… Oh!"

She'd been reaching forward to show him the front closure, but he had already found it and released the clasp. In awe, he leaned forward and captured one nipple in his mouth and sought out the other with his hand.

The waves of sensations swept her away, into a sea of pleasure. His fingers circled and twirled and when he moved his head to the other nipple, the dampness on the first left it feeling erotically, almost uncomfortably, cool. His palm closed over it, warming and soothing, yet stirring. Somewhere along the way he'd slid the straps off her shoulders and discarded the scrap of purple lace.

This was ecstasy, being loved by Frank. She had dreamed of it so often, wanted it forever. Her legs felt rubbery and she didn't think she could stand much longer. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. She felt the cool sheets on her back and realized that he'd somehow pulled the covers back before he laid her down.

He pulled off his clothes quickly, then stood looking down at her.

"You are absolutely beautiful."

"So are you," she said timidly, not able to slide her gaze away from the strong, masculine lines of his body, thinking how it would be when, in just a few moments from now, his body would merge with hers.

She opened her arms to him and he lowered himself into her embrace. He kissed her lips, then her ear. He trailed kisses down her neck, then blazed a path between her breasts. He paused at her belly button to tickle and cajole with his tongue, then continued down until he reached the lace of her transparent panties. He lifted his head slightly and looked at her face, grinning.

"These are absolutely sinful."

She smiled back at him.

He ran his hands around her body until they were under her, following the lace edging the top of the filmy fabric, then pulled them over her bottom, and down her thighs. Soon they slipped off the edge of the bed and became a pleasant memory.

She stiffened a little, shy at being totally naked. Her uneasiness ebbed as he kissed his way back up her legs, starting at her ankles, lingering a while on her knees, while his hands caressed the backs of her calves, then continued up her inner thighs. He parted her legs as he moved so she hardly noticed it was happening. His lips were doing wonderful things to her, sending electric tingles throughout her entire body. His hands left her legs and she felt them flatten on her stomach, then one swept down to stroke the curly hair covering her most intimate part. She gasped a little in surprise and he glanced up at her, concern shadowing his features.

"Are you okay, Angel? Am I moving too fast?"

"No," she breathed and urged him on by arching up to his hand.

He stroked a few times, then trailed his fingers down between her thighs and around behind until his arms hugged up and around her hips. His mouth moved over her throbbing womanhood and she gasped in dismay as she felt him give her the most erotic kiss she'd ever experienced. Her whole body leapt into motion, arching and quivering. She couldn't seem to keep still. It was as though his mouth was a pulsing source of electric joy. Her hands found his head and she raked her fingers through his hair. He kept her hips still enough so he could continue his pleasurable plundering of her body. She felt an urgency rise within her, compressing her essence into a taut little ball, accelerating toward inevitable release. Suddenly, time stopped on a catch of her breath, then slowly, as a moan erupted from her depths, sensations cascaded over her in expanding waves of rapture. She fell back on the bed, still and exhausted.

He lifted his head and smiled up at her. She was so exquisitely beautiful and so beautifully responsive. He stroked his hands up her body, very slowly, from her thighs to her breasts. He gently caressed them, then crawled up to lay beside her. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them and smiled.

"Wow."

His finger wandered over to trail along her collarbone. "We can stop now, if you want, Angel."

Her eyebrows drew together and she looked confused. "Do you want to?"

He picked up her hand and guided it to the proof of his arousal. Her arm tensed, but she didn't pull back. "Absolutely not, but I don't want you to do more than you feel comfortable with."

She touched his erection with a single finger, trailing down his length and back up, then she curled her fingers around him and squeezed. His quickly indrawn breath made her smile in satisfaction. He was giving her a choice, and she loved him for it, but she wanted him inside her. She wanted to be his wife in the fullest sense of the word.

"I want more, Frank. Much more."

She tugged open the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a cellophane package. She handed it to him and he grinned as he ripped it open.

"You are prepared, aren't you?"

Yes, Frank saw that her decision certainly was premeditated. He rolled the condom into place. Kneeling beside her, he rested his hands on her shoulders and massaged for a moment, then stroked down her body to her knees. His fingers stroked back up her inner thighs, parting them as he went. Then he moved between them. He lowered his body to hers and started to press into her slowly.

She was so tight. He eased in gradually, letting her body adapt to him. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to have stopped breathing. He felt the resistance of her maidenhead, reminding him that he was the first man to ever love Angel so completely. That knowledge gave him more pleasure than he thought possible. He eased forward.

He felt her body stretching around him to conform to his unaccustomed entrance. Angel stiffened beneath him and he could tell she forced herself to continue breathing normally.

"You okay, honey?"

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "Yes. Better than okay." She seemed to relax a bit and in a moment he was fully inside her.

"Oh, Angel. You're incredibly soft."

The feel of her naked body beneath his, of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed erratically, of the soft mewing sound she made when he stopped moving, threatened to send him into a quick, pulsating explosion before he could carry her through to completion. He took a deep breath and forced his body under control. He wanted her with him all the way—to experience the climax of their loving together. Slowly, he started to move inside her, sliding within her warmth.

Angel rode a dizzying wave of pleasure. He moved slowly at first, then increased his pace, their breathing synchronized as they moved as one in their quest for bliss. This was what she'd always secretly hoped for. Ecstasy in the arms of a man who loved her. A man she loved. Her whole abdomen seemed to contract as she reached a mind shattering climax. She moaned his name at the peak and he echoed hers back as he followed her to overwhelming joy.

His head dropped down on the pillow beside hers, while he held the bulk of his weight on his elbows. She kissed his neck and stroked her hands up his back. She reveled in the feel of his strong shoulders under her fingers and then the silk of his dark hair. She gazed up into his eyes and saw such tenderness that it made her want to cry, awed that she could elicit such warmth.

Frank smiled, soaking in the sight of her all rumpled and rosy with her hair rippling over the pillow. He didn't want to move away from her, not yet. He wanted to savour the feel of her under him and around him.

His sweet Angel had taken him to heaven.

He felt her tighten newly found muscles around him and he groaned at the sweet agony. "Angel, sweetheart, don't do that. Not that I don't love it, but…" He pulled away from her and, at her unhappy sound, he kissed her soundly and murmured, "I'll be right back."

He discarded the condom and was back in seconds, laying down beside her, nestling her into the warmth of his arms. She snuggled against him and sighed happily. She fell asleep in the warmth of his embrace.

Frank woke up to a delicate harmony of sensual awareness. He gazed down at the woman sleeping in his arms, loving the feel of her warm body against his and the soft, feather-like wisps of hair tickling his cheek, breathing in the delicate scent of her herbal shampoo, hearing the gentle whisper of her breathing. Morning light drifted in the window and shone on her hair, sending dazzling highlights dancing across her curls.

Morning Angel.

He smiled, thinking of the sweet devil she'd been last night.

The honesty in her love-making, the fact that she'd given him the gift of her innocence, tore away the last threads of doubt he'd had about her. No way would he believe she was informant.

She'd given him her virginity. And she'd clearly deliberated over the decision ahead of time. To make this big a commitment to him surely meant she believed they had a future together. Since she knew he could never live the life she did, as part of the mob, she must have decided to give up her cover. Hal had told them her cover was considered dispensable. Maybe she'd finally come to terms with that.

He lay very still, not wanting to wake her, but she shifted slightly and with the feel of her breasts brushing across the top of his arm and her curved bottom settling more firmly against him, his body took some action of its own, swelling in response to her.

"Mmm," she mumbled and wiggled a little closer.

Frank tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer, and nuzzled the back of her neck, then stroked her hair sideways to plant tiny kisses on the side of her neck. She chuckled deep in her throat, a hoarse, sexy murmur, and tipped her head to offer more of herself, an offer he accepted gladly. Her eyelids flickered but she kept them closed, smiling broadly, as though she didn't want to lose the dream-like quality of the mood. She sighed contentedly and he moved his lips at a crawling pace over her jaw-line to her cheek. Turning her face to him, her eyelids fluttered open and she beamed at him and simply stared for a moment before offering her lips in a delicious, inviting pucker, pulling him down to meet her. Her hands came around his neck and stroked through his hair. His body, now fully aroused, urged him to claim her immediately, but he ignored that urge, luxuriating in her touch and her responsiveness, wanting to enjoy it as long as possible.

He knew Angel loved him and he couldn't believe how much that knowledge affected him. He wanted to live the rest of his life with this woman, to have her by his side always. She was his wife, had been for weeks, but now he knew that meant forever, not just until the assignment ended. Angel had decided she wanted him enough to give him her innocence. Everything he knew about her told him that meant she had committed herself to him. Knowing what she did about him that also meant she was ready to embrace his way of life. They had a future together.

He explored her body thoroughly, with his hands, his lips, his tongue, finding what tickled, what delighted, and what electrified her. When he lapped at her nipple and she gasped, moaning his name, pleading, he forced himself not to enter her in one forceful motion. Instead, he stroked down her stomach and across her silken curls, feeling the moistness between her thighs as she arched against his hand.

"Frank, now. Please. I want you to love me."

"I do love you, Angel," he murmured against her ear. "Now… and always."

He slid into her moist, welcoming body, his breath catching as she arched up against him and wrapped her legs around him. Holding tight to his control so their pleasure didn't come to an abrupt end, he eased into her, attempting to slow down the frantic pace she tried to set, but finally failing as she threw them both into an explosion of passion. They held each other tightly through the slow, spiraling descent back to the real world.

They lay wrapped in the warm afterglow of shared passion, breathing synchronized, heartbeats decreasing to a normal pace at the same rate.

"Frank, I…" Angel paused as though reluctant to continue.

"What is it, Angel?" He kissed the top of her head, finding it somehow below the cushion of curls. He tugged one stray lock off her face and wound it around his finger.

"About last night…"

Warning buzzers screamed inside his head. But surely she wasn't having second thoughts, not after this morning's repeat performance. He eased her back so he could see her face, examine the depths of feeling that would surely show in her eyes. He saw uncertainty, vulnerability. Her teeth tugged at her lower lip.

"You aren't going to ask me if I still respect you, are you?" he teased, fearing that was exactly what she was going to do, judging from the expression in her wide, brown eyes.

"No…"

"That's good." He pulled her back against him.

"Not exactly."

He eased her away again.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?" He scrutinized her expression, frowning slightly, and she averted her eyes. She looked so uncomfortable he wanted to tease her out of it. "Angel, how could I not respect you? Not only did you make me wait until after we were married, you held off another two weeks just to be sure." He flashed his most playful grin, trying to ease her obviously taut nerves.

"Frank, be serious," she said, but grinned back at him. "I really need to ask you something."

He stroked his hand across her cheek and allowed his face to lapse into a more serious expression. "All right, sweetheart. What is it?"

She glanced at him uncertainly, as though expecting him to drag her off track again at any moment. "I just… I mean, I'm feeling a bit vulnerable this morning. I thought and thought before I decided to… I mean before I thought it was okay to… I…" She dragged a hand over her face. "Oh, rats, I'm doing this all wrong."

"Just relax, sweetheart. I'm not going to bite…" He grinned again. "Not right now, anyway. And never hard." He nibbled at her shoulder with his lips.

She batted at him and giggled, but he could hear the nervous strain.

He pulled back. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm all ears."

"I just want to make sure you're okay with what happened last night. I mean… I probably should have talked to you about it first but… I was pretty sure… I mean, you said you loved me and you've given every indication that you wanted—"

He stroked some hair behind her ear as he stared at her incredulously. "Angel, how can you even ask? Of course, it was okay with me. Better than okay. It was marvelous. Fabulous. Stupendous. Break in anytime with superlatives of your own, honey."

She laughed and he was pleased to hear that the tension was gone. He kissed her forehead.

Angel climbed out of bed, relieved that Frank understood. She'd been worried that after the fact he might be unhappy, since they hadn't really solved anything. After her shower, they spent a lovely day together enjoying each other's company. They started with Sunday brunch at a quaint little restaurant just off Broadway. Then made love. They lit a cozy fire in the stone fireplace and curled up in each other's arms to enjoy the rainy afternoon together. Then made love. They prepared a simple spaghetti dinner and savoured it by candlelight. Then made love. When evening arrived, they decided the phrase 'early to bed' had some interesting connotations.

Angel yawned, opening her eyes to glance at Frank stretched out beside her, his breathing deep and even. Waking up in Frank's arms had to be the closest thing to heaven she would ever know. Pain stabbed through her at the thought of having to give him up, but she steeled herself against it. For now, she would allow herself only to feel the joy of his presence. She would deal with the pain once he was gone.

She slid her fingers through the sprinkling of curly hair on his chest. "Are you awake, Frank?"

"Hmm?"

She nipped his shoulder. "I asked if you're awake."

"No," he murmured. His eyes remained closed, but she could hear the smile in his voice.

She grinned and lowered her face to his skin, intent on tasting his firm male flesh. Her tongue traced the line of his collarbone, then dipped down to his hard male nipple. She licked the tip.

Both his eyes popped open. "I am now."

He smiled at her and she felt her insides melt.

"Don't tell me you're tired?" she teased.

"Heavens, no. Why would I be tired? We haven't done anything interesting today."

"No? Are you saying I'm boring?" Capturing his nipple in her teeth, she nibbled, satisfied at his moan of approval.

"No. Definitely not boring."

His hands stroked her hair over her shoulder, out of the way. She dragged her hands down his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles under her fingertips—until she felt her finger drawn along a diagonal line marring his smooth flesh. She blinked and stared at a long white scar extending from the bottom of his left rib cage to three inches over his navel. A sick feeling gurgled through her. She pulled back and stared at Frank's face.

"Frank, where did you get this scar?"

His sleepy smile drew tight, his face turning serious. "Angel…"

"Where, Frank?"

"In the line of duty."

Suddenly, she found it difficult to breathe. She pushed her hair back off her face, holding it there as she stared at him intently. "Which case?"

He hesitated and that told her more than she wanted to know.

This scar, he must have gotten it…

She remembered watching Cavaglione's men hold Frank tightly by the arms when she'd walked into her cabin in Hawaii. She'd forced her face to remain impassive, knowing it could mean both their lives if she'd shown her true emotions. She'd held her cool and calmly told Domenic all about Frank and his partner, watching Frank's love burn away, consumed by hatred. She'd left the room and steeled herself against the sound of fists hitting flesh—Frank's flesh, and his grunts of pain.

She'd managed to get Frank out of there alive, but she'd never allowed herself to think about the physical cost to him. Now, it stared her in the face.

"Angel, don't think about it. It doesn't matter." He reached out to stroke an errant lock of hair from her face, but she jerked back as though his touch would burn her. She spun away from him.

"Angel…"

She felt his hand gently rest on her shoulder and she bolted off the bed. She hurried into the living room, desperate to distance herself—from Frank and from the evidence of the pain she'd caused him.

She grabbed the curtains and stared into the darkness. The drapes billowed around her, allowing her to escape the confines of the room, but not quite giving her the freedom of the night. Rain drizzled down the window, blurring the lights of the city. She tried to blank her mind, but she couldn't block out the memories. And she couldn't block out the feel of Frank's presence in the room. He'd followed her. He stood behind her.

"Angel." He drew her into the room again, tugging the drapes from her numb fingers. They dropped back into place, hiding the night.

"No, Frank," she cried. "I put my job above your safety. I threw your love away to save my cover." Her fingers drifted to the angry scar and she traced the length of it. "I caused you immeasurable pain. How can you forgive me?"

He surrounded her fingers with his own and drew her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to her palm.

"I do forgive you, Angel." His solemn gaze held hers, somehow making her believe in forever. "Anyway, you've more than made up for it." He drew her into his arms. "You've given me your love." He nuzzled her cheek. "You've given me your innocence." He stroked his hand along her shoulder. "And once you've given up your cover and we're—"

She stiffened. "Given up my cover? What are you talking about?"

Frank's eyes narrowed. "I'm talking about you and me, married, having kids. I'm talking about leaving the deception behind and pursuing an honest relationship. Isn't that what you had in mind when you decided you'd make love with me?"

She stepped back, horrified. "Why would you think that?"

Pain lanced through Frank as he realized he had misunderstood her intentions, erupting into anger as he realized nothing had changed between them—except one physical barrier. Important as that was, he needed far more. He didn't want Angel for a couple of weeks or months. He wanted her for a lifetime.

"Because, Angel, you'd never been with a man before. I didn't think you'd have done what you did last night—that you'd give yourself to me—if you weren't ready for a commitment."

"Frank, this morning… I thought you said that you were okay with this?"

"That was before I knew this was a temporary arrangement." Blazing fury heated his face. His fists clenched at his sides. "How could you do it?"

Angel's bewilderment suddenly turned to anger. "Do what, Frank?" she asked in a tight voice. "What a million other women do every day? Show the man they love how much they care? Share a loving relationship with him?"

"You should have discussed it with me first."

"Why?"

He spoke between gritted teeth. "Because maybe I wanted to hold out for forever with you, not have some cheap affair."

Her gaze darted up to meet his, her eyes widening. She drew in a shaky breath. "Oh, Frank, I—"

He glared at her. "You made me believe in happily-ever-after, Angel. Just like you did four years ago." The words came out gruff, anguished. He crossed the room in three quick strides, slamming the bedroom door behind him. A few minutes later, he returned fully dressed and strode out the front door.

Oh, God, what had she done? She'd had no idea Frank would make the kind of assumptions he'd just revealed. Damn it! She had given him her love in the only way she could, and she had hurt him.

Again.

He'd said he'd believed in happily-ever-after. Didn't he know that only existed in fairy tales? A tear crept over her cheek.

Didn't she?

* * *

Angel didn't know what time Frank had come home last night. Which surprised her. She thought she'd be awake all night, frantically reliving their discussion, but she'd finally fallen asleep, exhausted by anguished sobs. This morning, she saw evidence that Frank had been home. An empty coffee mug in the sink. The sports section of the paper lying on the table. A note stuck on the fridge reminding her to make an appointment for him with Vendetti.

When she phoned home later, she got the answering machine and left a message, knowing he was probably there—avoiding her. He continued to avoid her that evening, staying out until late. Oh, God, how long could they go on like this? She heard him come in about an hour after she'd turned out her light and listened as he got ready for bed, disappointed when she saw the light streaming under her door go out. He must have settled in on the couch to sleep.

Her heart ached. She missed him. She longed for his arms around her, to hear his sweet words of love. The longing she'd felt for him before their love-making had been bad enough. Now it was sheer agony.

The following week Frank started working for Vendetti. Frank maintained a polite, professional attitude with Angel at home, as he would with any partner with whom he had no emotional attachments. Which is the way they should have left it, she realized. She had seriously overstepped the bounds of professionalism for the first time in her career, and with disastrous results, for both herself and Frank. At least he was maintaining a professional attitude. At least she could attempt to do the same. So, all the time they were together, she longed to reach out to him, to feel his arms around her, but she resisted her urges and filled him in on the workings of Vendetti's office and prepared him for his new role.

Vendetti intended to work Frank into the organization slowly, giving him a few odd jobs at first, like picking up shipments of money from a number of offices around the city. Frank didn't tell Angel the details of the jobs, but gave her a log of the businesses he picked up cash from, how much he received from each, and where he delivered it. They went through this each day and, in turn, she showed him logs of the calls she handled for Vendetti and the correspondence that passed by her, both paper and electronic.

Angel watched Frank across the table as he reviewed the day's logs, a bitter emptiness gnawing at her stomach. It didn't make sense. She and Frank loved each other. They should be making memories together while they had the chance. But no. She'd hurt him. Again. Her cover—her damned stupid cover—always came between them. Frank had embraced it for now—for the case—but all too soon he'd leave. And then she'd be left alone. Again.

Maybe she'd be better off.

Frank glanced up at her, the blueness of his eyes emphasizing their lack of warmth. A warmth that used to sizzle in their depths when he looked at her.

Better off? Without Frank. Who was she trying to kid?

* * *

Frank drove past the large sprawling warehouses that littered the industrial area. A full moon provided the only light besides the headlights of the pickup truck he drove. He pulled around the back of the building at the end of the lane to park out of sight of the road.

Closing the door behind him with a quiet click, he climbed the splintered, age-worn wooden steps leading to a steel security door. He pulled and it opened easily. The darkness inside felt like a smothering presence as the door drifted closed behind him. He stood still, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the blackness, listening for any sign of movement. He pointed his flashlight toward the ground and flicked it on. With slow, careful movements he made his way to the office that he knew was twenty paces forward and five to the left. A rustling sound alerted his senses and he snapped the flashlight towards the noise, but all he saw were a couple of mice scrabbling around some old boxes, then flickering out of sight. They'd been gnawing on the cardboard, judging from the ragged, torn edges of the cartons.

"Frank."

Frank jerked around, shooting the beam of the light towards the voice. "Dennis. I didn't think you were here yet. I didn't see your car."

"No. Our man left the bay door unlocked, so I pulled inside tonight. Come on. I've got those lists you asked for."

Dennis swung around and turned on his own flashlight, leading Frank the last few steps to the office. Dennis snapped open a briefcase lying on the table in the small, walled-off work space and handed Frank some computer printouts.

Frank scanned the headings and rows of data. "So you got lists for all of them?"

"That's right. Our guy in the phone company pulled up the data for the past six months. You've got the numbers and names associated with each, just like you asked. I've given you a full list of addresses and company names, where appropriate, to go along with them. If you need any more, let me know."

Frank nodded. He sat down and flipped through a few pages of the printout. He suspected that one of these companies was used as a front to make payoffs to the informant. If he could get a look at Vendetti's files, he might find the account number used and somehow link it back to Hal. Or Angel.

But he knew it couldn't be Angel. Just because she wouldn't give up her cover to be with Frank didn't make her a traitor. He'd seen her relive the horror of her parents death. No one could act that well.

Could they?

If anyone could, it would be a woman capable of living under cover for ten years. A woman capable of turning the man she claimed to love over to ruthless killers without a second thought—and making him believe she wasn't affected in the least. And then later making him believe she was.

Was there anything about Angel he could really believe?

Yes. He believed she wasn't the informant. Despite the anger that gnawed at his gut at her refusal to give up her cover. Maybe she couldn't leave her past behind, maybe she'd thrown away their chance at a future together, but an informant? He wouldn't believe it.

"And, Frank?"

Dennis' tone made Frank glance up sharply.

"I checked for call-forwarding on the numbers as you suggested. Take a look." Dennis handed Frank another sheet of paper with a list of phone numbers cross-referenced. Frank knew that if a number was call-forwarded to a second number in the same calling area, only the first number would show up on their regular lists.

He glanced at the list. Two lines had been highlighted with a blazing neon green. One frequent number called by Vendetti was call-forwarded to 555-6792 and one on the list of calls from Angel's home was call-forwarded to the same number.

"It looks like our girl might just be the one."

Frank's stomach clenched at the damning evidence in front of him. There had to be an explanation. "That doesn't make any sense, Dennis. If Angel were the informant—"

"Which is looking more and more likely."

"—then why would she need to call some number to leave the information? She could just give it to Vendetti in the office."

"I have a hunch that Vendetti doesn't know who the informant is, that all the information is passed on via a phone message system and payments made indirectly. It would make a lot of sense in her case. She was a clean agent for a long time, I'm pretty sure of that. So she's not going to waltz up to Vendetti and let him in on the fact that she's been working undercover for the FBI for years and now wants to sell him information. She'd be at the bottom of the Hudson River by now if she tried a stupid trick like that."

Dennis sat down in the wooden swivel chair, clasping his hands on the armrests, eyes narrowed as he watched Frank. "So how's it going with you and the little woman?"

Uneasiness prickled through him under Dennis' watchful eye.

"We're managing." Dennis was his closest friend, but Frank didn't want to tell him he'd fallen in love with his undercover wife. Not yet.

Frank stood up. "Dennis, it isn't Angel."

It couldn't be. Dennis could show him a file full of evidence, but he just wouldn't believe it.

Dennis stood up too and planted his palm on Frank's shoulder. "Are you sure of that, Frank? Could you be a little biased?"

Frank jerked back, knocking over the chair behind him. "It's not her!"

"Damn it, Frank. If you've lost your objectivity, I should pull you out."

"It's too late for that and you know it. We've come too far." He paced across the small office space then glared at Dennis. "I'll find a way to prove it."

Dennis leaned against the desk placing his hands on his knees, staring intently at Frank. "Just make sure that while you're trying to prove her innocence, you don't miss the proof of her guilt."

"Dennis, I'm a professional."

"I know, but lust can do strange things to a man. Look, I've got one more thing." He lifted the top of his briefcase again and pulled out a small tape recorder. "It's a safe bet she won't leave any incriminating messages while you're around. She usually makes her calls to that number while you're here. Right after her report to Hal. After I found out about this," he pointed at the list of call-forwarded numbers, "I put a tap on the line."

"I thought you weren't going to touch Angel's line." Dennis had vetoed the idea of tapping Angel's line right from the start, suggesting it could endanger Angel's cover. A tap might be discovered by someone else in the Bureau and questions would be asked.

"I didn't. I mean the destination number. I didn't expect to get anything until this evening, but I checked before coming here and this came in yesterday."

Pressing the 'Play' button, he watched Frank's expression. The caller's voice was disguised electronically.

"Beware. One of the latest additions to your staff is a Fed. Be careful what you say and to whom. Will provide identity with regular report."

"Christ. There goes my cover."

Dennis snapped the 'Off' button. "She's going to finger you, Frank. Think about that when your hormones get in the way."

"Dennis, there's no way you can know it was Angel."

"The call traces back to her phone. Face it, Frank. Your girl made this call."

"She's not that stupid. If she turns me over to them, she endangers herself. I'd tell them all about her."

"If you got the chance. They might shoot you before asking questions. And even if you were able to talk, it would be your word against hers."

Frank stared grimly at Dennis, his mouth compressed into a thin line. Frank knew Angel wasn't the informant. He knew it. And he'd find a way to prove it. He'd find evidence to clear her.

But what if your evidence proves she is the one? a tiny voice asked. What will you do then?

Frank glanced at his watch. If Dennis was right, based on the message he'd just heard, Angel should be making the call to betray him—again—in about an hour.

In Too Deep: Chapter Ten

Frank had left about three hours ago, muttering something about not waiting up for him. Not that she would. She'd rather be asleep when he came in rather than face the uncomfortable silence that fell around them every time they were alone in the same room.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost nine o'clock. Time to make her weekly status report to Hal. She would dial the long distance number and after two rings would hear the cheery female voice recorded on the answering machine telling her brightly that Susan Jelenik wasn't available right now but to leave a message after the beep.

Frank had been curious how she kept in touch with Hal without calling FBI headquarters and thus endangering her cover. She told him about the special phone number they had set up as a cover, supposedly a friend of hers who lived in North Carolina, but which was really a phone line connected to a voice messaging system. Angel called once a week, on Sunday evening around nine. Anyone checking her phone bill would assume she picked the same time each week because rates were low.

From the top drawer of her writing desk, she grabbed a small, black box that looked like a Dictaphone. Three weeks ago, Hal had explained his concern that the informant, knowing of Angel's existence, might find a way to tap into their information exchange. Disguising her voice would give one more level of protection. Not that Angel thought it would make any difference. If the informant got that far, he'd be able to trace the call back to her phone number. But Hal had insisted she use it.

As she picked up the receiver and started dialing, the front door opened. Frank's voice jolted her.

"Hang up the phone, Angel."

She glanced at him and the grim expression on his face made her obey his command instantly.

"Finished your report?" Frank asked, his voice flat.

"No, I was just making the call."

"Really?" He strolled toward her. A stiffness in his gait tipped her off that he wasn't as relaxed as he otherwise appeared.

He took the box from her nerveless fingers, examining it with mild interest. His gaze darted from the device to her. "You use this when you make your report?" His raised eyebrows told her he was as dubious about the effectiveness of such a maneuver as she was. But there was something else in his expression, too. Something that chilled her.

"Hal insisted on it. Says it'll help protect me from the informant."

"Really?" He shoved it back into her hand, his expression frankly disbelieving. "What were you going to report this week?"

Her fingers clenched around the plastic casing. "Not much. We're playing a waiting game at this point, aren't we?"

"You could say that."

He stepped towards her. She nearly recoiled from his dark expression, barely able to maintain her composure. The air virtually crackled between them. His frigid gaze captured hers, holding her prisoner, unable to move, unable to breath. She felt his essence slide into her soul, searching, drawing out her deepest secrets. Her pulse accelerated. Uncertainty flooded through her, surging into a torrent of turbulent emotions. Painful, unpleasant emotions.

Suddenly, he released her from his penetrating stare. She grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself.

"Maybe tonight our wait will be over."

Something was terribly wrong. "Why? What's happened, Frank?"

"I've got a lead, but I need more information. I want you to go into Vendetti's office and grab some files." He stepped away and air came more easily into her lungs. "I'll give you a list."

A lead? That was great, but it didn't explain the fierce tension emanating from him. "Okay. He's got a meeting tomorrow morning so I should be able to photocopy what you need then."

"No." Their gazes connected again. "I need you to get it tonight. Now."

"But Frank, I can't just go into his office. It's locked and—"

He pulled open the closet door and grabbed her coat. "I'm sure a locked door won't stop you. If you haven't managed to snag a key, I'd be surprised."

"I do have one but—it should only be used in emergencies. If I'm caught in there—"

"This is an emergency." He held her coat open, ready to help her slip it on.

"I see. I'll make my call to Hal first."

She reached for the phone and started to pick up the receiver but Frank grabbed her hand. His fingers, cold and hard over hers, sent a shiver of apprehension through her.

"That can wait." He held her coat up again and she shoved her arms in.

"Are you going to let me in on this clue?" she demanded.

"Not until I have more information."

She flung her hair over the collar and fastened the buttons. "Frank, if I'm going to risk—"

"Angel," he grated between clenched teeth. "Do as you're told. I'm the senior agent and I don't have to explain every detail to you."

She felt her face drain of colour. "Yes, sir."

Clearly, there was no point arguing. The fact that he'd pulled rank on her, that he didn't trust her enough—or respect her enough—to share the information, hurt. He tugged a list out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

"I want files on all of those." He watched intently as she scanned the list of six company names, as though waiting for some reaction.

"All right. I should be back in about two hours." She turned and marched to the front entrance.

"I'm going to drive you."

"I can go myself, Frank. I don't need—"

His fingers clenched around her wrist. "I said I'm going to drive you."

* * *

As soon as Frank stepped into the house and saw Angel with the voice scrambler, he knew he'd been wrong to trust her.

His wife, the woman he loved, had been about to betray him. Again.

He had to make sure he kept her away from a phone until he could figure out what to do with her. At least, a phone she'd be willing to use to make her traitorous call. The idea of taking her to Vendetti's building seemed the ideal solution. He would get the files he needed to continue working on the case and he knew she wouldn't chance making her call from any of the phones there because the chances were too high that Vendetti had them monitored. She wouldn't chance giving herself away to Vendetti.

As he drove the dark city streets, ignoring Angel sitting less than a foot away, he wondered what he'd do with her afterward. If he took her back to FBI headquarters, which seemed the only solution, there'd be some difficult issues to work out. They'd have to find a good explanation for Angel's disappearance. Dennis wouldn't pull him out of Vendetti's operation until they'd proved in court that Angel was the informant. Once charges were laid against her, they'd have to find a way of stopping information about her cover from spreading through the Bureau like a grass fire, because if Angel wasn't the one—which seemed pretty unlikely—the real informant would find out about Frank's cover and he be would be in grave danger.

He glanced at her, sitting stiffly beside him. Headlights from a passing car illuminated her hair, setting it ablaze like a halo, lighting up her face. The light faded and her angelic features returned to darkness—but the image was emblazoned in his mind.

His heart compacted against the wall of his chest. How could he have been so wrong about her? The first time, he hadn't really known her. She'd taken him completely by surprise. But this time he'd walked into the situation with his eyes wide open. How had she managed to deceive him again?

He clutched the steering wheel tightly.

Right at this moment, he wished he could inflict as much pain on her as she'd caused him—in the past, and over the weeks, months, maybe years, ahead while he tried to recover from loving Angel all over again.

* * *

Angel stepped into the large office complex and signed in at reception.

"Must be pretty dedicated," the guard said, smiling as he checked her employee identification. "You wouldn't catch me in here on a Sunday night if I had a choice."

She returned the smile, quelling the nervous flutters in her abdomen. He's just being friendly, she told herself, not trying to dig for information. "I've got to set up for a meeting first thing in the morning and I'm terrible at getting in early. I'll sleep better knowing everything's ready to go."

He shook his head. "Dedicated. That's what I call it."

He signed his name beside hers and wrote down the time under the 'In' column. She didn't like the fact there'd be a record of her time here, but there was no way around it. If all went well, there was no reason anyone should suspect a thing. The guard switched on the elevator for her.

"The hall lights'll be on up there, but not the office lights. You know where the switches are?"

"Yes, just inside the door. Thanks."

"Okay. Don't work too hard," he advised as he turned away and sauntered back to the reception desk.

She did some deep breathing exercises as the elevator crawled to her destination. Well, if she had to skulk around the office, at least late on a Sunday was the perfect time, giving very little chance of anyone catching her.

The elevator doors finally slid open and she wandered down the dimly lit corridor to Carlos' offices. Her key opened the outer door, giving her access to the main offices. All were cubicles except her own office, which had a door but no lock. She closed the door behind her, then flicked the lights on and hurried down the hall to Carlos' door, scanning the cubicles for any sign of human presence. No light spilled out from under his door, so she slid her copy of his key into the lock. Pushing the door open slowly, she peered inside cautiously, then swiftly stepped inside and switched his brass desk light on before returning to close the door.

She walked over to the credenza, which she knew Carlos didn't lock. The files kept here held nothing hinting at the type of illegal activities that went on. Why Frank wanted these files, she didn't know. Probably to do some cross-checking with other information he'd gleaned along the way, such as dates of deliveries or contact names. It wouldn't be suspicious for her to be scanning these files. The problem was being in his office after hours without a good reason.

She opened her purse and snatched out the list Frank had given her, then yanked the corresponding files out of the large drawer. With manila folders in hand, she hurried to the door and pulled it open a crack. No one was in sight so she slipped out and headed for the photocopy machine in the far corner of the office, in a cubicle set aside for the purpose. She plucked out the staple in the first document with a staple remover and fed it into the document tray. She jabbed the green 'Start' button, then tapped her foot impatiently as letters lit up telling her the machine had to warm up and to 'Please wait'.

It's okay for you, you stupid machine. You're not the one with a raging current of adrenaline flooding through your veins.

She heard a click and stifled a gasp as she realized someone had just opened the main office door. She stood unmoving, careful not to make a sound, praying the darn machine wouldn't start up before whoever it was went away.

"Miss Tortina? It's Ernie from security. You in here?"

She let out the breath she'd been holding. Fixing a pleasant smile on her face, she popped her head around the blue cubicle divider to see him walking slowly down the aisle, peering into the empty work areas as he went.

"Hi, there," she said brightly. "I was just doing some copying. You know how these meeting are. Everyone needs a copy. So much paper wasted at these things. Probably half of them wind up in the recycle bin." She knew she was nattering, but couldn't help herself.

"Sure. Say, you okay? You look kinda flushed."

Her hand fluttered to her cheek. "Yes, I…" She laughed nervously. "You startled me is all. You know, being in the office when it's so quiet and all… sort of spooked me."

Why had he come to check on her? Usually the guards could care less as long as she had the proper identification. The building housed offices for a dozen or more different companies and building security's main concern was that only appropriate employees got into the building. Any security beyond that was the responsibility of each company.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to. Anyway, I was just wondering if you'd be much longer? I'm about to go off duty and I thought we could grab a coffee or something. Or maybe I could give you a lift somewhere?"

She almost laughed out loud in relief. The man wasn't interested in anything beyond picking her up. The copy machine started and she heard the hum and sputter of the document being processed through it.

"No, thanks anyway. My husband is waiting for me and…"

"Oh. I didn't realize. Your security card doesn't list a husband as an emergency contact so… Well, you can't blame a guy for trying."

"My card? Oh, yes. I got married a few weeks ago and I guess I forgot to update it."

"Okay, well. Good night, ma'am. I probably won't see you on the way out."

"Good night, Ernie." She smiled as he went out the door. Once the door closed, she sighed in relief, then hurried back to the photocopier. Grabbing the copy out of the hopper and stuffing it on the table beside the file folders, she switched the original with the next to be copied. Performing the repetitive steps of copying lulled her into a calmer state. The green light flashed as the machine copied each page and the systematic humming and whooshing of paper traveling through the mechanism soothed her frazzled nerves.

This wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, she decided as she closed the fourth folder and reached for the fifth. She had just finished loading the second document from the stack when she heard the click of the door again.

She pressed the square green button and stepped out of the cubicle as she said, "Ernie, you back again?"

But the threatening figure facing her in the hall was not Ernie.

"Dino? What… what are you doing here?" She felt her pulse accelerate and her knees go weak.

"I think a better question is what you're doing here, Angie. What's the matter? Hubby not keeping you busy enough at home?" He strode toward her.

"I… I had some work to do before tomorrow, I—"

He pushed past her and snatched the top page from the copy bin. His gaze flicked over it, then he glanced at the stack of folders on the table. Fanning them out on the table top, he read the file headers on the index flaps, then glared at her. "You shouldn't be here, Angie. And you shouldn't be going through Carlos' files."

"Dino, you don't know—"

His hand sliced through the air. "Don't gimme that. I told you I knew something was going on and I intended to find out what it was. You didn't really think you could waltz in here unnoticed on a Sunday night, did you? The guard called me as soon as you climbed onto the elevator."

So good old Ernie hadn't really been after a date, just ensuring she was here… and would stay here until Dino arrived.

"Dino, I told you, I have some work—"

"Shut up," he snapped. "If you haven't done anything wrong, then you won't mind waiting while I call Carlos. If he knows about this," he tapped the stack of copies, "then you're off the hook. Right, Angie?"

He flung his hand out to grab her. Knowing if he called Carlos she'd be a dead woman, she snatched her arm away before he could close his hand around it. She lunged for the cubicle opening.

She got three quarters of the way down the aisle before he tackled her, sending her slamming into the door. His momentum crushed her against the wood. The breath puffed out of her, leaving her winded for a moment.

When he twisted her around to face him, she brought her knee up sharply, connecting with his groin. He doubled over and she lurched past him. He managed to grab her foot, sending her off balance. As she fell, she saw the surface of the receptionist's desk rising to meet her, then felt a sharp, cracking pain in her head.

* * *

From deep within the darkness she heard a tapping sound. It became a beacon in the black night that engulfed her. She focused on it and reached toward it through the fog.

"Frank?" she murmured weakly.

"He's not going to help you now."

The voice was masculine, and familiar, but it wasn't Frank's. She opened her eyes and tried to lift her head, but the action cost her too much in pain. It slashed through her head like a sharp knife. She slumped back, groaning. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. Through the haze of agony, she saw a face and tried to focus on it. The features crystallized just enough so she could identify him.

"Dino, what are you doing here?"

He stared at her. As the scene before her slowly clarified, she realized he held a gun. His eyes, fixed on her, were no longer the charming brown eyes meant to win a woman's heart. They were the eyes of a killer.

The evening's events jolted through her brain and her eyes widened.

"So, Angie, you're awake," he said, then leaned toward her. "Or should I say, Cindy?"

She forced down the panic that threatened to consume her, and responded in carefully controlled confusion. "Cindy? What are you talking about?" Gingerly, she touched the side of her head where she'd connected with the desk, wincing at the feel of dried blood in her hair. "I thought I was the one who got hit on the head, not you."

"Can it!" he snapped. "I know all about you. You've never been part of the family. You've been working against us all along." His tone crackled with dark menace. Hazily, she realized she was back at her own townhouse, lying on her own couch and Dino sat in the armchair across from her. Why had Dino brought her here? Ignoring the blistering complaints blazing through her head, she jerked upright to a sitting position.

My God, she thought. Where was Frank? Was he okay? Somehow she had to warn him. If it wasn't too late. The thought sent a shiver of terror through her.

How much did they know?

As though in answer to her unspoken question, a voice dragged her attention to the door.

Frank's voice.

"They know all about us, Angel," he said, his expression grim.

Why didn't she feel relief seeing him there holding a gun? He had the superior position with Dino turned away from him and no one else in the room. Dino didn't lower his own gun and seemed totally unsurprised by Frank's arrival. What was going on?

Frank continued talking in a monotone.

"They know you've always worked for the Feds and have been under deep cover for the past ten years. They know I married you to set up a cover to break the Vendetti case."

"Frank! How did they find out?"

Dino started to chuckle and Frank laughed along with him. The sound sent chills through her, right to the hollow of her bones.

"I told them, baby," Frank answered, his face drawn into a cruel smile.

"What?" No, this couldn't be true. What was Frank up to? "Why would you do that?" Her voice was a mere whisper.

He turned and paced across the room. "I'm tired of working as an undercover cop, taking all kinds of chances and making peanuts. It's as simple as that. I'm in as much danger as these guys," he said, waving a hand in Dino's direction, "but with a fraction of the payoff. I figured if I gave them something they wanted I could get a piece of the action." He stared at her, his eyes glinting coldly in the lamplight. "So I gave them you." His face went dead serious. "Vendetti's offered me a huge bonus, and with some of the other skills I can put to use for him…" He shrugged. "It was worth taking a few losses," he said as his gaze slid over her.

Dino cocked his gun at her, looking down the sights. "And with you out of the way, he can continue to pretend he's working for the Feds. He'll be able to provide us with some very useful inside information."

She dragged her attention away from Dino's gun and back to Frank. The coldness of his expression added to the growing coldness in her gut.

Could the appeal of money be so strong? No, she couldn't believe that about Frank. She knew his sense of ethics and family loyalties were stronger than that. And… and she really couldn't believe he'd do this to her. He'd told her he loved her. And she'd believed him.

Of course, neither of those things made it true.

He'd worked undercover before. In fact, how did she know any of what he'd told her was true? All she knew about his family and background was what he'd told her. When an agent was undercover, he had to be able to manufacture a background, and he had to be a good actor. What did she really know about him? He'd told her a completely different story four years ago and she had believed him then as easily as now.

Even if he had loved her as much as she believed, without meaning to she had dealt him a terrible blow. He thought she'd turned her back on him and… it must have been as if she'd betrayed him all over again. Over these past couple of weeks, he'd acted as if he couldn't stand the sight of her. Could his love have turned to hate?

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, watching him, trying to judge his expression.

"Grow up, Angel. What do you think?" Frank muttered.

No, he couldn't really mean to kill her. She focused on Dino's gun, which was pointed at her. She took a deep breath, preparing herself. Good Lord, this couldn't really be happening.

"Don't worry, baby. We're not going to do it now. Dino, put that down. You're making our… guest nervous."

Reluctantly, Dino lowered the weapon.

"Frank. How can you do this? After all we've…"

He strode over to her and clamped his hand around her jaw. She searched his eyes for any sign of caring, or softness… any sign that this was just a scam for Dino's benefit. That's what it had to be, she knew. For some reason, he felt this was necessary. But both his expression and his grip were hard and uncompromising.

"You were just a means to an end, sweetheart. I've wanted to get into the mob for a long time now. This opportunity just fell into my lap." His gaze raked over her in an insulting manner. "You were just an unexpected fringe benefit."

"But you told me… Didn't it mean anything—" She stopped and sucked in a deep breath, trying to get control of her roiling emotions. "How can you turn your back on me after—"

He raised his eyebrows. "After all we've been through? You mean because we slept together?" He chuckled. "Come on, baby. The sex was good—but no sex is that good."

He moved his hand down her shoulder, which pulled the neckline of her shirt open, straining against the buttons, exposing part of her right breast. She slapped his hand, then grabbed his wrist and tried to push it away, but her efforts merely exposed more flesh. Frank laughed.

"Did you think because you gave me your virginity, I'd stay by your side forever, like some bloody knight in shining armour. It was a challenge, that's all. You were ripe for the picking and you fell into my arms with a little persistence and a few well chosen words." He stroked his fingers along her cheek and she jerked away from him as though stung. "I did enjoy it, though. You'd be pretty good in the sack with a bit more experience." He brought his lips down on hers, hard. She struggled against him, but he took his time finishing the kiss, if it could be called that. When he finally pulled back, he looked at her in amusement. "I'd love to be the one to teach you, sweetheart," he said, "but I've got more important things to attend to right now." She felt the colour drain from her face.

He shoved her towards Dino, who caught her by the arms and pushed her down onto the couch. Frank's cruel eyes mocked her. She huddled into the couch as he snapped orders to Dino.

"Keep her here until you hear from me."

"How long, Frank?" Dino asked.

"About an hour." With that he left, closing the door firmly behind him.

Angel sat staring at the door, still in shock. He couldn't say those things to her, do those things, if he really loved her. Bleakly, she forced herself to accept that this was really happening. Remembering what the mob had done to her parents, terror quivered through her. But could any physical pain compare with the pain of Frank's betrayal?

Slowly, she became aware of Dino sitting beside her, his gun out of sight. He reached out his hand and stroked up and down her arm.

"You slept with him at the drop of a hat, but me you pushed away for months." His voice was deadly quiet.

She twisted her head to stare at him. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest. She was no longer under the protection of the family and a new fear ripped through her.

"I always followed all the rules with you. Well, now there are no rules."

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pressed her down onto the sofa. His cold eyes darkened with a mixture of hostility and desire. "Tell you what. Give me what I want and I'll make sure the end is relatively neat and painless." Planting his lips firmly on hers, he started to assault her with his tongue. She allowed him to slide it between her teeth, then she clamped down, tasting blood. Italian words she had never heard before tore from his mouth, then her face stung with the force of his slap.

"You little bitch." He ripped her shirt open and grabbed the soft flesh of her breast, bruising, punishing.

"No," she whimpered, raking at him, pushing him away. Tears streamed down her face, but she barely noticed. A terrible sorrow drained her strength, leaving her weak and vulnerable. She'd lost everything that mattered to her. She wasn't sure she could feel anything else.

Frank's angry voice shouted at Dino from the door. How long had he been there? Suddenly, Dino was dragged from the couch and Angel heard the crack of a fist meeting jawbone.

"Stay away from her."

Dino, now sprawled on the floor, wiped his wrist across his mouth, blood smearing the sleeve of his shirt. "Why, Frank? What does it matter to you if I have a little fun?"

"Because, you fool, we may need you. If you're… preoccupied with her then you won't be thinking straight, will you?" Frank's gaze raked across Angel's partially bared breasts. A nerve twitched in his jaw as his glittering eyes stared at her. "Cover yourself."

He watched her grab the afghan off the back of the couch and wrap it around herself, then glared back at Dino. "You'd better come with me. I can't trust you to think with your head."

He stalked to the door and called someone named Endo. A tall, gaunt man stepped into the room and Frank gave him instructions to watch Angel as he dragged Dino out the door.

Endo sat at the table and played solitaire for the next quarter hour, ignoring her and her anxiety. Angel sat in silence, numb, hardly believing the turn of events. Finally, her sense of duty started to tip the scales against the sense of desolation that had held her in stasis. She couldn't just sit here, letting events unfold around her without any resistance. She clutched the afghan and stood up.

The click of a gun being cocked stopped her cold.

"What do you think you're doing?" Endo grunted.

"I want to get a sweater."

"Okay." He stood up to follow her.

She shuffled across the room and down the hall to the bedroom. When he stepped into the room behind her, she stuttered, "I'm not really decent under this. Couldn't you…"

"You ain't got nothing I haven't seen before, lady."

Resignedly, she snatched a black pullover sweater out of a dresser drawer and turned her back on him. She discarded the blouse and quickly dragged the sweater over her head.

How could she get rid of this thug? She stepped into the hall and stopped. He almost bowled over her.

"Sorry, I… I have to go to the bathroom." She prayed he wouldn't insist on following her in there.

"All right. You go in and leave the door partially open so I can hear you. If you're not out in two minutes, I come in after you."

She really did have to go and finished in record time. She washed and dried her hands, then reached for her hand cream, but the familiar white and aqua dispenser was missing. Pulling open the door of the vanity, she peered underneath, searching for the new one she'd bought last week. Odd, two bottles stood side by side under the counter: one unopened, the other about half full. Frowning, she grabbed the open one and, to her shock, revealed a revolver behind it. Her eyes widened and she snatched it up.

Could it be…? Could Frank have planted this here for her to find? So she could escape? She checked that the safety was on and stuffed it in the waistband of her jeans, glad the sweater she'd chosen was bulky enough to hide it.

The door swung open and Endo glared at her. "If you're finished, get out here."

She proceeded him down the hall back to the living room. Sitting on the couch, she waited for him to continue his game. As soon as he placed his gun down on the table, she snatched the gun from beneath her sweater and fired, shooting his out of reach.

"What the…?"

His expression was one of stunned amazement as he glanced up and saw the barrel of her gun pointed at his face. Silently, she thanked the Bureau for her training in handling weapons, and God for her natural ability to shoot straight and on target.

She ordered him into the closet and barricaded the door with a dining room chair. It wouldn't hold him long, but it should give her enough time to get back to FBI headquarters, and safety… for now.

She snatched up the phone and dialed her emergency number, telling the operator her ID number and location. He told her a car would pick her up at a specific intersection five blocks away in fifteen minutes.

As she raced out the door and down the street, she realized her cover was truly blown. There'd be no going back. The Bureau would give her a new identity and set her up in some obscure location. It would be a long time before she could return to active duty, if ever.

She turned a corner and raced down the alleyway. Her heart pumped erratically. One thought bounced within her brain.

She could run.

She could hide.

But never would she be able to forget Frank and what they'd shared.

Never.

In Too Deep: Chapter Eleven

Angel wandered down the quiet street leading to her little brick bungalow carrying a net bag full of fresh fruit. The town she lived in was called Tambrook Falls, in Vermont. It was a small, friendly place where the townsfolk knew everyone else by name. No one was a stranger for long.

When Angel had first come here a month ago, she'd hidden away in her little house. In New York, she could enjoy anonymity in the middle of a crowd. Here, that was impossible. She'd shied away from the welcoming faces, erecting a barrier against everyone. Soon her neighbours had stopped calling on her. Her cover story was that she'd suffered from a hard divorce.

The people were a sympathetic lot and she felt sure she'd be able to make a place for herself in the community once she was ready to seek company. For now, though, she needed time alone. She was still reeling from the blow of losing her job. Her identity. Her life.

And what hurt the most.

Losing Frank.

She sighed, filling her lungs with crisp autumn air. One good thing about Vermont was the fresh air and open spaces. She had time to think. To evaluate her losses and what she wanted from life. At one time, all she had wanted was revenge. For her parents' death. For her lonely teenage years. For her loss of a normal life. But she'd spent her whole adult life trying to wreak that vengeance. It was time to let go.

Every time she walked into town and saw the children in the playground, saw couples walking through the park holding hands, families in the grocery store shopping together, she realized that most of the worthwhile things in life that had nothing to do with the mob or law enforcement. She could choose other ways to live her life.

If only she could live hers with Frank. Her life was so empty without him.

Angel knew Frank hadn't really gone over to the mob. The belief had burrowed so deeply within her that she didn't even question it any more. Hal wouldn't tell her anything about the case, or Frank, but she knew. If she'd had any doubts at all, finding that gun in the bathroom had squelched them. Frank had planted it there for her to find so she could escape. He'd needed to blow her cover to keep his own intact so he could continue the case—and to keep them both alive. Given that she'd been caught snooping in Carlos' office, she'd already blown her own. It had been a calculated risk on Frank's part, but the professional in her admired him for it. And the woman in her understood the necessity. Now she hoped and prayed that once he finished the case, he'd find her. Until then, all she could do was wait.

Angel grabbed her mail from the mailbox at the end of her driveway, then strolled up her front walk with a wide smile, leaves crunching under her feet. She opened the front door and kicked off her shoes. Her mail and purse landed on the dining room table with a thunk. She went into the kitchen and laid her sack on the counter, then filled the kettle with water to make a pot of tea. After putting away her groceries, she tossed an Earl Grey tea bag into the white china pot graced with blue flowers. The kettle whistled cheerily and she filled the pot, then covered it with a thick wool tea cozy she'd knit herself.

The doorbell rang and she turned, startled. She wasn't used to getting visitors, at least not since that first week. She was getting out more now, but people still respected her desire for privacy. She padded over to the door and tugged it open.

The sight of a tall man wearing a well-cut wool suit startled her. Then her gaze settled on his face.

"Frank! What are you doing here?" She was flabbergasted. Both elation and caution trilled through her as she noted his taut expression.

"Are you going to ask me in?" His voice was subdued.

This wasn't how she'd imagined this meeting between them. In all her dreams of this moment, he held his arms open and she threw herself into his embrace, then their lips met and…

"Well?" His gaze swept along the street. He seemed edgy.

"Uh, of course." She stepped aside and he strode into the room, glancing around. She closed the door and spun back to see him staring at her, his expression unreadable.

"Frank?" Why wasn't he throwing his arms around her, explaining to her, kissing her? "Are you finished the case? Did you catch the informant?" she hazarded.

"Angel, I can't talk about that. Not yet."

"Then why—" It came out a croak so she tried again. "Why are you here?"

Frank glanced sharply at the window. Angel thought she heard a car pull up. It sounded like her driveway, but it must have been the neighbour's.

Frank slid a gun out of a chest holster. "There's a little problem I have to take care of." He stared at her, the gun angled toward the floor.

She backed away. Good Lord, he meant to kill her. "No." Her voice came out a hoarse whisper. Could she have been wrong about him? Had her certainty that he loved her, that he'd never betray her, been just wishful thinking on her part? She spun around and bolted for the door.

Frank tackled her, throwing them both toward the wall beside the door. Her hands shot up to take the impact, then Frank collided with her back.

"Angel, for God's sake!"

She twisted around. Face to face, the length of their bodies pressed together, they both gulped air in great gasps. The look in his eyes confused her. Dark and dangerous and yet surging with emotion. Not the dead calm of a killer. He shifted slightly and her body, vividly aware of his heat, responded with an intense stirring of desire.

Oh, God. She must be insane. Too many nights dreaming of him, of being in his arms, had thrown her over the edge.

His arm slid around her. "Angel—" Her name came out a low, ragged murmur. With two fingers, he pushed a loose strand of hair off her face. How could such a gentle touch send violent shock waves raging through her? "Oh, God, Angel." Suddenly, his fingers hooked around her nape and he dragged her into an explosive kiss.

She wanted to give herself over to the burning desire, wanted to kiss him back as she had every night in her dreams—but she couldn't. She had to find out why he was here. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed. He eased away slightly, releasing her lips, but holding her with his intent gaze. As he searched her face, she saw his expression tighten. Had he thought the kiss would erase all her doubts?

"Don't you understand? You're in danger."

"From you, Frank?"

"What?" He looked incredulous. "You can't really believe… My God, you think I came here to kill you." He turned away from her, raking his hand through his hair. "Christ, who am I kidding? Why should you think anything else? The last time we were together—"

A knock at the door caused Frank to spin back around, his gaze shooting to the door. He strode toward it and peered out the peephole. He swung back to face her, his expression tense.

"It's Hal." He spoke in a low, purposeful voice. "Look, Angel. I know this is asking a lot, but…" He grasped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. "I need you to trust me."

Frank dragged her into his arms. Cradled against his hard chest, she could barely breathe. She couldn't think. Couldn't feel. Nothing made sense. Unless…

The knock sounded again.

"Answer it. I'll be in the other room." He grabbed the gun from the table where he had tossed it before going after her.

Shaken, Angel watched as Frank slipped into the hall. He wanted her to trust him? Could she do that? The memory of his cold words and even colder eyes the night he'd blown her cover haunted her. She'd believed in his kisses before. How could she possibly believe in them again?

Frank stood against the wall, holding his gun poised. He gestured toward the door, nodding, then stepped out of sight. My God, if it was Hal at the door, why was Frank hiding? A queasy sensation wriggled through her stomach. Had Frank gone renegade after all? She walked on teetering legs to the front door and pulled it open.

"Hal. What are you doing here?"

She wanted to shove him back and fly out after him, then race for freedom, but she knew Frank had them in the sights of his gun. She couldn't risk Hal getting hurt.

"We need to talk," Hal said, staring past her as though checking if she had company.

She hesitated, wondering if she could talk him into leaving, suggesting they meet somewhere later. At least that would keep Hal out of danger.

"Um, it's not really a good time. Why don't I meet you over at—"

"Nonsense. We're old friends, aren't we?" He pushed past her. "Come on, you haven't seen me in a dog's age and you don't even invite me in. What's the matter with you, Cindy?"

"Nothing." She closed the door behind him. He was here now. All she could do was try and act as natural as possible and hope he left before Frank got antsy. "I just didn't want you to see the mess."

It wasn't a very good excuse, since she'd done a thorough cleaning this morning, but, being a man, maybe Hal wouldn't notice.

"I don't care about that." He marched into the living room. Angel flicked a quick glance at the hall, but didn't see Frank. She knew he wouldn't let her out of his sight, though. She tried to intercept Hal before he settled into the chair that faced the hallway, but she was too late. Angel had wanted that position. This way, Hal might catch sight of Frank, forcing Frank to take some kind of action.

"The new name's Jacqueline, remember?"

"Yeah, right."

"Do you want some tea or something?" she asked weakly, forcing herself to act as normal as possible. He shook his head and nodded toward the love seat opposite him.

"Sit down. This won't take long."

She licked her lips nervously, feeling a drop of perspiration trickle down between her breasts. "You said you wanted to talk to me. Is it something about the case?" If he'd come here to update her, she'd have to make sure he didn't give anything important away.

"Yes, you could say that."

"Do you… do you know who the informant is?"

He stared at her grimly. "As a matter of fact I do."

Her gaze, which had been straying nervously, settled on his face. "Who is it?"

"You, Cindy. Or should I say, Angel?"

She almost corrected him with Jacqueline again, but what he'd said started to sink in. Her brows pulled together in confusion.

"What do you mean, me?" As she returned his intent stare, her jaw crept open in disbelief. "Do you really think I'm the one?"

He raised a hand and ticked points off on his fingers. "Since you've been gone, there haven't been any leaks. No one else even comes close to having the opportunity. And we have a recording of you spilling secrets to a voice messaging system that Vendetti is known to call on a regular basis. Your voice is disguised with that electronic gizmo, but the call traces back to your house in New York—and we've been able to match your voice print with the message by using computers to delete the effect of the scrambler."

Her eyes widened. "But—"

"I'd say there's enough evidence to hang you."

She clasped her hand to her chest. "Hal, it's not me. Someone's pinning it on me. I don't know how or why but—" She bit her lip. "God, Hal. You've got to believe me. You've known me forever. You can't possibly believe—"

"I don't."

She stared at him, trying to focus through the haze of anger and fear engulfing her. "But you just said—"

"Yes, I said it was you. Because I'm going to make sure that's what everyone believes."

Angel jumped to her feet. "What?" I've been betrayed by the only two men I've ever trusted. This can't be happening. But it was. As she'd always known deep down inside, the only person she could ever really trust was herself.

"So it's been you all along, Hal." Her voice sounded cool, composed, in control to her own ears and she marveled at how easily she slipped into her act. "Why did you do it?"

"About a year ago I realized retirement was looming ahead of me and I had little in the bank. I've never been much of a saver and, let's face it, we don't make that much to start with. I see these guys we put away living in luxury and I figure, why shouldn't I have a piece of that?"

"But, Hal, you've spent your whole life fighting organized crime. How could you—"

He sighed heavily and dragged his hand across his thinning hairline. "Look, Cindy, for me it was just a job. Not all of us build our lives around it like you did."

For the first time since his confession, he looked her straight in the eye. "I didn't mean it to end like this, Cindy. I really do like you. I figured I'd drop a few pieces of information, nothing that would really hurt anyone. But then they wanted more and the payoffs got bigger."

"More addictive you mean."

"Something like that."

"But why pin it on me?"

"Because it was so easy. You only had access to information I gave you and I only told them things you'd been told. No one but me knew you were the mob operative, but any information I gave you was on the record."

A sharp pain twisted through her stomach as she realized he'd been using her as a decoy for a long time, setting her up to take the fall. This couldn't really be happening.

"If you've got me so neatly tied up, why the gun?"

"I don't believe in taking chances. These west coast guys have screwed me up in a big way. I brought in a computer hacker a while back to track what information they were requesting and to tie your phone to Vendetti's voice message box. Dennis is pretty well convinced and he'll be coming here any day to drag you off, but I can't take the chance you'll convince them you're innocent. Especially Frank. I know that guy's hung up on you."

She ignored his speculations about Frank, ignored the flicker of hope it ignited. Her professional instincts kicked in and she knew she had to stall him long enough to reach the gun inside her purse.

"So you're just going to shoot me now? That's it. After all we've been through together?" She continued to back away slowly towards the dining room table, arms hanging at her sides, hands stiffly clenched.

"I really am sorry about this."

She felt the table behind her and discreetly slid one hand behind her back and tried to snap open the purse. "Is that supposed to make me feel better, Hal?" Her hand slid inside, but Hal darted past her in a blur of motion and grabbed her wrist, twisting it around in front of her. He wrenched the purse from her grasp and riffled around inside until he found the small revolver.

He held it up in front of her. "Looking for this, Cindy?"

He stuffed it in his pocket. She struggled out of his grip and lunged away. Hal snatched a gun from under his coat and pointed it at her. She kicked her foot high, aiming for the gun in his hand.

* * *

As soon as Frank heard Hal's confession, he smiled in relief. They had what they needed. Now he had to get Angel out of here. Dennis and his men would be here any minute, having heard everything over the wire Frank wore, but he didn't want to take any chances. He wanted Angel unscathed.

When he saw Angel backing away from Hal, he glanced to the table and saw her purse lying there. She must be going for her gun. Damn it all, was she trying to get herself killed? She kept talking to divert Hal's attention, but as soon as she reached her goal, Hal snatched her wrist forward and grabbed the purse. He pocketed her gun and Angel started to twist sharply, struggling to free herself. Frank tried to set his sights on Hal but with Angel's fierce movements he couldn't fire without the risk of hitting her.

A risk he wouldn't take.

Angel lurched free, then spun around and kicked up her leg. Frank heard the blast of a revolver and, in shock, watched Angel crumple into a heap on the floor. He catapulted into the room and lunged at Hal, knocking the gun out of his hand and across the floor. His hands fastened around the man's neck, squeezing as Hal grasped his wrists, in a futile effort to release himself from the death grip.

Dennis and his two backups flew into the house.

"Frank!" Dennis and another agent dragged him off his victim. "He's not worth it."

Hal stood up sputtering, and Dennis' two men handcuffed him and escorted him from the room.

Frank gathered Angel in his arms and held her against his chest. A ragged crimson stain spread on her white sweatshirt and he pressed his hand to the base of her neck, finding a faintly beating pulse. He buried his face in her hair.

"Oh, God, Angel. Please be all right."

She lay limp and fragile-looking, her face deathly pale. Fear settled into the pit of his stomach like a lump of dry ice. So cold it burned.

Dennis crouched down beside him. "An ambulance will be here in a few moments, Frank."

An ambulance? Cold fire spread through his veins, anger following in its wake. The last half hour had been hell. As soon as he'd walked in here, he'd wanted to drag her into his arms, to kiss her senseless and tell her how much he loved her. And now, he might never get that chance.

Frank glared at Dennis. "Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes. We got every word on tape… thanks to you. Because of you, she's in the clear."

Frank laughed bitterly. "Great. How much good's that going to do if she's dead?"

Dennis placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "She'll be okay."

Frank brushed a loose hair off Angel's face. Her skin felt cold. Unnaturally cold. He cradled her close to his body, trying to infuse her with warmth, but his own heat seemed to be ebbing rapidly.

"If she isn't, I'll hold you to blame." His words came out angry and unforgiving.

He stroked her hair, haunted by the fear in her eyes when she thought he was going to kill her. For the second time. "If I could have explained to her…" The thought that she believed him capable of hurting her corkscrewed through his gut.

"Explained what? That she and Hal were both suspects. That Hal would be arriving soon and we were desperately hoping he'd let something drop in the conversation?" Dennis stood up, thrusting his hands in his pockets. "Frank, we had to do it this way. I couldn't let you hand confidential information over to a suspect. You know that."

"Confidential information? Like the fact that I wasn't here to kill her?"

"She jumped to that conclusion on her own, Frank."

"What else could she believe?"

"Frank, if you hadn't come in here wired and gotten Hal's confession on tape, Angel would have been convicted. It was the only way to save her."

Frank looked down at her blood-drenched top. "You call this saving her?"

Dennis' fingers tightened on Frank's shoulder. "I told you, she's going to be okay. She's got you in her corner."

* * *

From deep within the darkness she heard his voice and it became a beacon in the black night that engulfed her. She focused on it and reached toward it through the fog. "Frank?" she murmured weakly.

"Yes, darling, I'm here."

She opened her eyes and tried to focus. The blurred image of a face wavered before her and she worked hard to clear it. "Frank?" She reached for him and he took her hand. She couldn't remember where she was or what she'd been doing. His features sharpened as her vision cleared.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern etching lines across his face.

"I don't know. Kind of hazy and…" She realized there was a dull throbbing in her left shoulder. "I hurt." She tried to push herself up on the pillows, but the movement cost her too much, in pain and disorientation. Scanning the room, she realized she was in a hospital.

Suddenly, memory fragments poured into her like ice filling a cup. Her pulse accelerated. Frank had come to her house. Then Hal. Frank had pulled a gun. She squeezed her eyelids tight. What had happened after that? Damn this fog around her brain.

"Angel?"

She opened her eyes and stared at him. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice a tight whisper. There was no one around. She was totally helpless. "When you came to my house I… You pulled a gun and… Oh, God, Frank, are you going to…?" Tears trickled from her eyes.

He dragged her hand to his lips, brushing them lightly across her knuckles. To her astonishment, she could feel him shaking. "No, Angel." His finger followed the trail of a tear down her face with heart-wrenching tenderness. "I could never hurt you. Never." His voice was a fierce whisper.

"Then why… the way you acted."

He intertwined his fingers with hers. "I couldn't tell you why I'd come. Dennis suspected from the beginning that the informant was either Hal or… or…" He dropped his gaze to their joined hands.

A sick feeling wiggled its way through her stomach. "Or me?"

He exhaled sharply. "Yeah. When we found out Hal was on his way to see you, I went in wired, hoping he'd confess."

"So that whole thing was a trap for Hal?"

"Not just that, Angel. I hoped he'd let the story spill, then you'd be cleared, but more I was afraid… Afraid he'd kill you. Afraid I'd lose you again."

She ignored his last few words—couldn't really comprehend them—because one thought spiked through her brain, fragmenting coherent thought. "You believed I was the informant?" She stared at him, pain lancing her heart. "You believed it all along, didn't you? Just as Hal intended. That's why you married me. That's why you…" Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she glanced away. "Oh, God. That's why you pretended to love me." It had all been an act. That much was clear. Of course, he'd pretended to love her. What better way to gain her trust?

"Angel, I wasn't pretending."

She glanced back at him. "No?"

"How can you not know how I feel?" The agonized words tore softly from his throat.

Angel gazed into his eyes and saw love clearly scrawled across the canvas of his soul. Love. He really loves me. New tears pooled in her eyes before starting a slow descent down her cheeks. At her tears, Frank's expression turned grim. Slowly, he started to pull away from her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back, her hand firmly planted on his forearm.

"Frank…" She hesitated, still feeling a little too vulnerable to be the first to speak the words.

Frank saw the moisture swell in her eyes and felt his heart breaking. Those tears told him clearly how she felt. She wouldn't forgive him. His betrayal had severed their last chance at love. He wanted to pull her into his arms to comfort her… but he couldn't. Right now, it hurt too much knowing he was losing her.

"I'm sorry, Angel. I had to come and explain… and ask you to forgive me. I know it's asking a lot… after what I did. I… I don't know of any way to make it up to you. I can only hope that you find it in your heart to understand."

Angel felt Frank withdrawing, pulling into himself. Why was he putting barriers between them?

"Frank, I knew…" She bit her lip, remembering her doubts. "I mean, deep down inside, I didn't believe you'd gone over to the mob. And…" She licked her dry lips, knowing she had to tell him what was in her heart. "And I love you."

"Oh, God, Angel." Gently, he pulled her into his arms, careful of her injured shoulder. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"You had to do what you did. It was part of the assignment."

He nodded, stroking her hair. "I never wanted to hurt you. When you were found snooping in Vendetti's office, I had to pretend to turn you in to gain their confidence. Blowing your cover was the only way I could ensure your safety. I hoped you'd have faith in me…" His voice trailed off. Her head pressed against his chest and his lips caressed her temple. "And you did," he whispered roughly. "Oh, God, Angel, you don't know how much that means to me."

She gazed up at him, her eyes still brimming with tears. "Frank, I couldn't stop loving you. I had to believe in you, in us. It's all that kept me going."

"Angel." His voice was soft, tender, and so was the pressure of his arms as they tightened around her.

He put a finger under her chin and raised her face to look at him. His mouth slowly descended and captured her lips in a gentle caress. She found it difficult to breathe. The weight of her emotions settled heavily on her chest. He broke the kiss and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away her tears, but new ones kept coming.

As he gazed at her, he felt his heart pulsing with overwhelming emotion. He couldn't believe she was here in his arms, telling him she loved him, after what he'd put her through.

"I hope these are happy tears."

She nodded and spoke in broken sobs. "Yes. I was afraid we'd never be together, but I held onto the dream. Now the dream has come true."

"I love you. I have for such a very long time."

She took the handkerchief from his hand and wiped her eyes, then she let the soft cloth fall as she wrapped her uninjured arm around his neck and pulled his face to hers for another kiss. Her breathing was still laboured, but this time because of growing passion. When their lips parted, he smiled and in that smile she saw all the warmth and love she remembered. It filled her heart, thawing the terrible deep freeze she'd been in for the past month.

He stared down at her, his eyes shimmering with heat. "Angel, we're still married, you know. That was for our cover, but I… Well, I…"

He pulled her against him, her head tucked against his chest. "Good grief, how do you propose to your own wife?"

Angel's heart swelled with joy. She grinned and stroked her fingers through his hair. "That works just fine, Frank."

"So you'll be my wife for real?"

"Let's just say that I absolutely refuse to give you a divorce, and as I recall, annulment is out of the question."

His hands cupped her cheeks and he kissed her exuberantly. When he pulled back he stared lovingly into her eyes.

"Angel," he whispered, "I'm sorry about your cover… your life as Angela Tortina. I know how much it meant to you."

She smiled and shook her head. "Don't be, Frank. For a long time, all I had in my life was a desire to get back at the mob for what they did to my parents." She glanced down. "And to me."

He stroked her cheek tenderly.

"But that was because I didn't have anything, or anyone, else in my life." She cupped his cheek and whispered, "But now I have you. It's time to replace that empty life with one full of love and trust. Only you can give me that."

He took her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. "I love you, Angel. And…" He patted his pants pockets, then, obviously not finding what he wanted, reached behind him to pull his jacket across his lap. She watched as he tugged a blue velvet box out of his pocket and snapped it open. She reached out and touched the tiny angel charm threaded on a delicate gold chain that lay cushioned inside.

"It's beautiful, Frank."

He lifted the necklace and fastened it around her neck.

"I know your name is no longer Angel, but no matter what you're called, you'll always be the sweet Angel I first fell in love with."

—The End—

About the Author

Amber Carew

Amber Carew is the pseudonym of Opal Carew, under which Opal writes steamy romance.

As a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of erotic contemporary romance, Opal Carew writes about passion, love, and taking risks. Her heroines follow their hearts and push past the fear that stops them from realizing their dreams… to the excitement and love of happily-ever-after.

Opal loves crystals, dragons, feathers, cats, pink hair, the occult, Manga artwork, Zentangle, and all that glitters. She earned a degree in Mathematics from the University of Waterloo, and spent 15 years as a software analyst before turning to her passion as a writer. She grew up in Toronto, and now lives in Ottawa with her husband, and three cats. One of her sons just finished a Masters degree at Sussex University in the UK and is now pursuing a second Masters at Carleton University in Ottawa. The other son has just completed his undergraduate degree at Carleton University. Yes, mom is proud!

To hear about Opal Carew latest releases, you can sign up for her newsletter at OpalCarew.com/newsletter

Website: www.OpaCarew.com

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Additional Books by Opal Carew

PLAYED BY THE MASTER

RIDING STEELE

BLACKOUT

by Denise A. Agnew

Dedication

To my husband, Terry, who has always believed in me and supported me every step of the way.

You’re my hero.

Author’s Note and Acknowledgements

The science of EMP (Electromagnetic Pulse) and solar flare is complex, and there is controversy on the full effects of EMP. Acknowledgments must go to the following people for their assistance with the science and for locating people who could help me with the technical points:

Jason Efken

Meredith Efken

Piper from Weapons_Info Yahoo Group

Marianna Jameson

Blackout: Chapter One

Sun Coast Hotel

Phuket, Thailand

December 26, 2004

The waves came for Cassie, rushing and swirling. Bright sun lit the water and turned it to glass, prisms of light almost painfully bright. She stood like a mannequin, unable to move, her mind frozen in a dawning horror that swallowed her breath and paralyzed her limbs. As the water grew frothy and white at the top, drawing closer, her mind screamed for her to abandon the chaise and paperback, to find wings and fly to safety. She did, leaping up, arms and legs pumping as she put everything she had into a few seconds where terror nipped at her heels and threatened to swallow her. She ran. And ran. But she couldn’t escape. Water slammed her with brutal force. It covered her head, choking, strangling her—

“No!”

Cassie Kovac jerked awake, unsure if she’d spoken out loud. Her heart pounded, her mouth was dry and her limbs shook. She glanced around the dark room and tried to get her bearings and remembered where she was. Second floor of the Sun Coast Hotel. Sitting on the love seat with her back to the sliding glass door that looked out upon the devastation two floors below. She was safe in this moment, but if she went to sleep the dreams would come. This dream would come again, and she’d be running. Running as the water hit her.

Bile rose in her throat, but she held it back. She’d already upchucked twice since this had all started. The granola bar she’d consumed earlier sat in her stomach like wood. The room was stuffy, but she didn’t dare open the sliding glass door. No, she didn’t want to hear the ocean, to acknowledge it was out there. A huge killer with lethal teeth, a monster so large no one could escape it. But she had escaped, and the miracle stunned and humbled her. Tears gathered in her eyes and for the first time since the tsunami, she cried. She was silent as tears trickled down her cheeks, the irrational thought that she must keep quiet. The ocean outside was listening, trying to find her, waiting to finish the job it had started and kill her.

Darkness grew until it surged at her like a monster. It was thick, a suffocating band around her throat as the day’s stress pounded her into submission. It felt as if eyes watched her, and she feared for her sanity. She heard her own breathing growing louder, and grabbed for the flashlight on the coffee table. She switched it on and blessed light flooded the immediate area.

“You’re safe,” she said out loud, her throat tight, her breath short.

She rubbed her arms and a huge shiver rocked her frame. She’d dressed earlier in dry jeans and the t-shirt recently purchased at the nearby market that declared with bright colors that she’d visited Phuket.

All gone.

The market had floated away hours ago in the tsunami that had rushed into the area this morning.

Everything she’d worried about, the reason she’d come to Thailand, suddenly seemed incredibly unimportant in the face of so much tragedy. She thought back to her other travels, how good she’d felt stretching her independence and proving to herself that she was whole and capable. Today had been filled with surviving, helping others, then dragging herself to this room for the little bit of rest she could find. She was so damned tired she ached with it.

Don’t sleep.

Her mind had fought slumber for hours, afraid the dream would come. Even when she wasn’t dreaming, images bombarded her. Men floating away. Children screaming. Women calling for loved ones they couldn’t find. Might never find. Another vicious chill racked her body and she rubbed her arms again. Maybe she’d lived because she had a purpose, and maybe her purpose was to help people as best she could tomorrow. Rescue had come and more help would arrive, but in the meantime she relied mostly on herself.

Sleep was out of the question, so she fought it by singing a song and pretending she was back in the United States in her cozy apartment. Tomorrow when the sun rose, she would face whatever might come. If she’d learned anything from today it was that life could change in one minute. In one second. And there was nothing she could do about it. No way to be safe.

* * *

Bowmount, Colorado

Present Day

September

Sunday

This place looks haunted.

Cassie had walked past the scraggly ranch-style house the last couple of days. Two miles up a dirt road past large homes in an area called the Point. This house, though, had been built way before the mini-mansions that populated the hillsides now. The house just didn’t fit the surrounding properties with their two stories southwest stucco designs.

She didn’t stop as she passed by the ranch house, but a weird apprehension kept her imaging eyes staring out of the hollow, dark windows. A shiver rolled through her. She hadn’t felt this way since Thailand.

No, that wasn’t true. This day was nothing like the day the tsunami came. There was no water looming in the background and no darkness she couldn’t escape. Mountains were solid, not surging and changing like the ocean.

She pushed onward but noticed the long, twisting drive that led up to the dark blue home with its studious two car garage and the plethora of weeds sneaking between the pine needles and rocks. Soon a cold snap would take care of that and even the hardy roses would be skeletons.

Red eyes stared from between two window blinds.

At least that’s what she thought she glanced from the corner of her right eye as she took the hill.

She jerked to a stop and centered her gaze on the windows. “What the hell?”

Her gaze darted from window to window. Sunlight must have reflected off something and created what she saw. No, what she thought she saw. The lock box on the double front doors assured her no one lived there now. The place had a long-unused appearance. She realized her breath had halted, caught in her throat. She took a gulp of fresh air as a breeze brushed over her body. With a smile and a shake of the head, she moved on.

Leafy Aspens swayed, their tall bodies reaching into the sky. Pinon pines dominated the aspens, sentinels next to the smaller trees. Pine needles carpeted the area and made it almost impossible to grow much. The owners of the ranch house had apparently planted hearty rosebushes that thrived even in this semi-arid climate. Pink, white and red blooms grew large and plentiful. The white blossoms had red veins through the petals.

Fall had moved into the area with crispness threatening in the air and the hint that winter could arrive any time. She shivered in the fifty-degree weather but welcomed the light breeze coming down the road and threatening to lift the hood of her long blue coat off her head. It was fresh air, and just what she needed. She took the chance and flipped back the hood, letting the wind toss her hair about her shoulders and whip it into her face. A thick cable sweater, jeans and hiking boots kept her warm. A small backpack slung over her left shoulder held water, a bag of trail mix, and her sketch pad.

She heard a strange noise behind her, a crunching as if someone followed her.

Or maybe it’s a bear.

She swung around, coming to a stop for a second as her pursuer came into view. Not a bear or an evil ghost, but a man she’d met this last week.

Neal Griffin, or Griff as he’d asked her to call him, trudged up the hillside road at a fast pace, a big backpack in a tell-tale army green camo strapped to his back. He walked far faster than she could have even without the pack—she wasn’t in that great a shape. At forty years old, she had no illusion about her looks for the average man. Especially for one as young as Griff, who couldn’t be any older than thirty. Still, as he walked up the hill toward her, grim expression assuring her that he meant some sort of business, she couldn’t help but admire him. She might not be a spring chicken anymore, but she wasn’t dead yet.

Handsome was too anemic a word for him. No, he had more than that. When she’d first seen him a week ago, he’d come into the retreat hotel with the same backpack and not much else. Like he did now, he’d worn jeans that lovingly fit his body without being too tight, his t-shirt gray cotton. Hiking boots fit his large feet. He’d worn a navy baseball cap that first day, but this morning his head was uncovered. From this distance his over six feet of bristling male energy and broad shoulders made her halt forward progress and take a half breath. She’d hated that he did that to her—made her acknowledge that her hormones hadn’t retreated forever, and men still had the power to tweak her interest.

Griff caught up to her, and a genuine smile broke over his craggy features. His nose was a little big, his cheeks high-boned. His black hair was cut close to his head in a military style. She couldn’t believe he wore only a t-shirt in this weather, but if he was a badass or aspired to be one, perhaps he didn’t need a coat. He hooked his thumbs in the straps of the large backpack and adjusted his burden. She caught appreciative looks at his biceps as they bunched and contracted. Griff didn’t have a tattoo, at least none that she could see, yet there was a roughness about him that said he should. Tattoos on a man had never blown her skirt up, but on this guy they just might. Perhaps he owned tattoos she couldn’t see.

“Hey,” he said. “Cassie, right?”

“That’s me. What brings you up here?”

“Probably the same thing as you.” He came a little closer. “It’s part of my morning work out.”

Well, he did a fantastic job with the workout, no doubting that. The man was ripped.

Dark brows slashed over his penetrating green eyes. A couple days growth of beard covered his jaw.

“You come up here often?” he asked.

If they’d been in a bar Cassie would have sworn it was a bad line, but his face was serious. “Every day since I got here last Wednesday.”

He didn’t speak, his gaze intense and observant. He was a wild card, and yet she sensed strength that went beyond the physical in his makeup, and a deeper significance. She guessed by the cut of his hair and something in his bearing that he’d been in the military or he still was. As he took the lead and maintained a regular pace, she came up alongside him. Thankfully he didn’t walk too fast.

She was almost ashamed to say she’d never gone all the way to the top. “I’m not too fond of heights. I usually stop in the small park before the top.”

“Don’t worry. They’ve got the edge fenced off.”

“That’s different. When I was a kid they didn’t. There used to be at least one suicide every ten years.” She shivered at the thought. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“You’re afraid of heights?”

“I just have a healthy respect for it.”

“Don’t blame you. Is this your first time in Colorado?”

“No. I live in Aspen right now, and I’ve been to Bowmount a few times in the past, just not up to this point.”

They trudged on in silence until they reached the top. Huffing and puffing a little, Cassie admired the way he wasn’t even winded. She retrieved a bottle of water from her pack and undid the top. She took a long swallow to bathe her dusty throat. Cassie took in the view as far from the edge as she could get. He stood at the fence line, no trace of fear on his face or in his stance.

The breeze kicked up again, and she marveled at the beauty. Below the cliff the pines reached high, their dark green mixed with the lighter St. Patrick’s green grass below in the valley. Rain dowsed them this last summer and even the fall hadn’t diminished the moisture. She loved Colorado mountain scenery almost more than she loved anything else. Drawing in a deep breath, she enjoyed being in the peace and quiet, even if there was another human nearby. She pulled out her sketch pad and sat on a concrete bench near the trail.

She allowed instinct to guide her, to dictate her pencil’s movements. Time shrank down to a pinpoint as the pencil glided, her fingers smudged. A light breeze tossed her hair. She shook it out of the way. Being in flow didn’t happen often for her, and now that it had in this unexpected place and time, she wouldn’t waste it. Faster and faster her pencil flew across the page, creating a landscape that sang to her soul. The man nearby could have been a tree for all her muse cared.

She concentrated on the trees, the rocks, the sharp blue so clear it almost hurt the eyes. She lifted her sunglasses up and propped them on the top of her head. She wanted to see the sharpness of everything and commit it to memory. And just like that, the momentum fizzled and creativity petered to a stop. She almost whispered an expletive.

“What brings you to Bowmount?” he asked.

“Guess I could ask you the same.”

She held her pencil lightly and made a few strokes over the paper. This motion was almost sensual, a first foreplay before deeper lovemaking.

“You first,” she said.

He lowered himself onto the bench next to her and crossed his arms, still keeping his gaze pinned on the scenery. “Zombies.”

“What?” Her incredulous voice came out sharp as she stopped drawing and looked over at him.

His smile was pure mischief mixed with a darker gleam in his eyes. A wild little thrill danced around inside her.

“I’ve had some leave and just finished attending a comic convention in Denver with a friend. He’s a serious zombie collector,” he said.

“Ah.” She almost laughed to cover the nervous flutter dancing around in her body. She felt like a damned teenager around this guy. “If there’s one thing I’m tired of, it is zombies. And horror movies with the same stupid theme. Five gorgeous friends go into the woods on a hiking trip and do the horizontal mambo in tents and the next day they’re chased around the woods by the serial killer that can’t be killed. I’m also tired of vampires.”

“Are you against violence in the movies?”

“I’m against plots being used in totally unoriginal, marginal ways over and over again until I’m nauseated.”

She threw him a cautious gaze, wondering if she was talking to someone she shouldn’t be while alone. In the woods. Maybe she wasn’t any smarter than the five gorgeous friends.

As if she’d telegraphed her thoughts, he held up both hands. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m safe. I don’t hurt women.”

“What about men?”

“Only when I have to.”

“I sense a story in there somewhere,” she said.

“One of those long ones.”

Okay, so she wouldn’t get immediate answers from the man. She supposed if she outright asked what he did for a living he’d comply and tell her.

A smile slashed across his face. “I don’t watch that stuff.”

“Horror?”

“Only when it’s psychological. Deeper.”

“Let me guess what you do watch. PBS?”

A rusty laugh came from his throat. “Sometimes I do. I know, hard to believe.”

“That is interesting.”

She rarely looked into people’s eyes. Maybe if she had, she would have seen her rat bastard husband’s intentions long ago. This man, though, wasn’t anything like her ex. She understood that on a deep level. No, her ex had had all the bravery of…she didn’t know what. She knew Griff had an edge. Griff’s eyes reminded her of the forests in and around Bowmount, mysterious and unpredictable. Something primal burned in him, and the combination of calmness and banked heat made her nervous.

“They say there’s a vortex here,” he said.

She hadn’t expected a man like him to speak of paranormal things. A man like him? What do I know? I know nothing about this guy. “A vortex as in Sedona-type vortex?”

“Yep.”

“That’s the first time I heard it. Do you believe in vortexes?”

“I believe in a lot of things.”

She threw a quick look at him, wondering if he meant it. She could hear her mother’s spritely very English voice in her head, “He’s having you on, my dear.” He went quiet, and they fell into silence for a long time. All she could hear was the call of a bird she couldn’t identify.

“Have you ever been here before? I mean in Bowmount?” she asked.

“Nope.” He glanced over at her. “Always wanted to visit, though. I knew a guy few years back who used to live here. He said it was a great place to relax and unwind.”

Low and husky, his voice promised pleasures beyond pretty scenery. She glanced up, a little startled by the curl of arousal that coiled in her lower stomach. But he was looking at the mountains nearby, many of them tipped with snow.

“You draw a lot?” he asked.

“Every chance I get.”

“Are you a full-time artist?”

She snorted softly. “Full time administrative assistant.”

“Doesn’t sound like you enjoy the work.”

“Actually I do. I left my father’s real estate business last year. I work in my mother‘s art gallery in Aspen now.”

“Hated being a realtor for him?”

“Hated being a realtor in Sonoma where he lives at all.”

He chuckled. “Why is that?”

“The broker and I didn’t see eye to eye. She worked behind my back to get me fired.”

He grunted. “Did it work?”

She glanced up from her sketch pad. “No. She got fired for trying to start trouble. But I didn’t like anything about the job and wanted to leave it for a long time. Then she tried to sue my father.”

His eyebrows popped up. “Why?”

“Said he played favorites because I am his daughter.”

“Did he?”

“Yes and no. He told me he wanted to fire me, too.”

He laughed again. “Weren’t you a good real estate agent?”

“Yes. But he could tell I hated it, so he thought he should fire me so I’d find something else.”

He grunted. “Interesting family.”

“You have no idea.”

“Did the woman who was fired win her suit?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” she said, giving him more of a once over.

“One of my many faults, no doubt.”

This close she saw smile lines around his eyes. Perhaps he wasn’t as hardass and stoic as she’d imagined. Or as young. His gaze met hers only for a second before darting back to the view. It was a face with character. Moments ago she’d seen only youth in his expression. Now she saw a readiness his demeanour she couldn’t slap a label on. A moment ago, when talking about her sucky real estate job, he’d appeared the epitome of calm. Now he had an edge that ran deep. With him here, she wouldn’t accomplish any drawing.

“So, since we’re being personal, what are you doing up here?” she asked.

“Recuperating.”

“From what?”

Those wide shoulders lifted and fell. “One of those long stories we mentioned. With a nod, he said, “Storm coming.”

She glanced around and saw puffy thunderheads rearing over the mountains to the west.

“Weird for this time of year. Should be snow clouds. Watch out. The Mayans might be right and the end of the world is coming,” she said lightly.

He looked at her sharply. “You don’t believe that kind of stuff, do you?”

“No, but my mother does. She’s a histrionic and a hypochondriac. Everything is an extreme with her. When 2012 came around she asked me what would happen if the Mayans were right.”

“People misinterpreted what the Mayans said. And they were wrong to worry.”

Quiet surrounded them for a long time. As the breeze rustled around her, she sank into a fantasy world. Time seemed to crawl but her need to draw was fierce upon her. Griff stayed where he was, unmoving as a statue. To her surprise his presence didn’t intrude on her creativity. Her fingers flew over the page as she drew. Lines and circles and smudging, darker strokes and light. Her right hand started to cramp, and she transferred her pencil to her left hand and shook out her fingers. She looked up, and Griff was sitting under a huge pine, his body shaded from the sun. She returned to her sketching until time stretched.

“Tired?” His voice made her jump.

She glanced at her wristwatch. “We’ve been up here for two hours.”

He stood and strode her way. “Can I see what you sketched?”

“No. I—” But he was there, gazing at what she’d created.

His eyes narrowed, face clearly reflecting his surprise. And chagrin. “Why did you draw that?”

“I just imagined it.”

He gently removed the pad from her hand and perused the details of her pencil drawing as if he wanted to commit it to lifelong memory. “How could you imagine it? You don’t know me.”

A gust threatened her hat, and she used her free hand to keep it from flying off. “Were you a soldier?”

He handed the pad back to her, and she looked at her own creation. It showed him in a military uniform, the type worn in battle. She had no idea what they were called. He carried a gun, a big military rifle. Though it was a raw sketch at best, it still spoke volumes.

When his gaze rose to hers, Cassie rushed to explain. “Something about you told me you were in the military. Or you still are.”

He went back to his tree and lifted the backpack and slung it over his left shoulder. “You know anything about the military?”

“Not much.”

His expression went grim. “Could have fooled me from that drawing.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.”

He lied. She knew it and he knew it. Maybe offended wasn’t the correct word, but she understood that her drawing had hit a raw nerve, a bleeding patch of skin exposed to elements.

Sure. So why was his mouth so tight and why were his eyes so filled with suspicion? “Were you in a…war?”

“Yeah. Afghanistan. Iraq. The works.”

She wondered if he were damaged. So many women and men had come back more than physically impaired. Sometimes the mental damage was as bad as physical. She’d battled her own demons and felt proud to have conquered them. Not everyone was so fortunate.

“That must have been…” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you had to go there.”

“I’m not.”

Not sure how to take his statement, she decided it was better to cut and run before the weather hit. She reached for her backpack at her feet and stuffed the sketch pad and pencil inside. Thunder rolled nearby, and she lifted her attention to the mottled dark blue clouds that boiled over the mountains. She knew how to cut off this awkward turn of events.

“I should get back. See you later, Griff.”

She took off down the hillside with quick steps. At this rate she’d get wet far before she reached the hotel. She’d barely reached the creepy house before the clouds almost directly overhead spit a bolt of lightning. She flinched and the rumble came hot on its heels. Rain hit her hat. Lightning flashed again, and she flinched even though the thunder hadn’t come yet. When it did, it was a far away, low sound that promised worse. She hurried and the scent of rain carried on the wind. A breeze stirred, this one fresh with moisture. When she reached the ruined house, she glanced over and caught a light moving across one of the front windows. She stopped and stared. The light went by again. Curiosity drew her closer to the driveway and so did complete surprise.

“No way,” she whispered.

The red, pink, and white rosebushes in front of the house had turned into gnarled, dead plants.

Impossible.

She closed her eyes for a full five seconds and opened them. The roses remained dead with an oddly monstrous appearance. A cold breeze danced over her skin.

A creepy, undeniable sense of the unreal danced over her body, and she took the rest of the hill at a run.

* * *

Griff wanted to eat her.

His cock hardened as he thought about Cassie Kovac, and he didn’t know whether to be alarmed as hell or happy. The stirring in his groin gave him a sick sort of hope. He hadn’t experienced this kind of undiluted lust in so long he couldn’t remember when it last happened. His body tightened and readied for action, but not the fight for his life he’d experienced too many times in the last few years. No, this was nothing more than his body wanting and needing the way any normal man would. He’d gone too many months deep into his job and no sex life.

Fuck me. This is good.

He rubbed one hand over his chin. He glanced at the dark clouds as they boiled above the mountains and trees, warning with another sinister flash of electricity. Raindrops hit him square in the face, but he stayed put. The storm had moved in swiftly, as if chased by a devil bent on havoc. Thunder growled, and he welcomed the threat. He’d fought off suspicion when Cassie had shown him the sketch, but hadn’t succeeded. Maybe he’d always be this way—worried about where the next round would land, feeling as if the war had followed him to the United States and right to Bowmount itself.

I thought I was over that shit.

He was. And he wasn’t. Less than a year had passed since he’d left the rugged, inhospitable lands where war had once raged. Where unstable elements threatened every day to bring the war back to life. Danger lurked nearby, and he’d felt it when he’d walked by that damned house lower down the hill. A stupid way to feel, but he’d learned his instincts were rarely wrong. Failing to heed them could get a man killed. At least those instincts had saved his ass in war, but could he trust them now? The clouds rumbled and a breeze stirred the huge trees. There was nothing here to fear but nature.

He waited until the boiling storm came completely overhead, and then he started back down the hill. He’d shown the storm, and himself, that he might feel fear but it could never destroy him. When bigger drops pelted him, he lifted his arms into the air, tilted his head back, and let the rain beat him. Fat drops plopped against his forehead, splattered his nose and lips, and drowned his eyes. He didn’t give a shit. Instead he shook off the rain and started a slow trek down the hill.

That’s what you’ve been doing all these months since you came back from the desert. He heard one of his friend’s voices in his head, telling him he’d lived on the edge for so long he now looked for danger even when it didn’t exist. Right. Time to come back to reality and take life at a pace that didn’t amount to a hundred miles and hour with his hair on fire. He’d seen some fellow military compatriots lose their fuckin’ minds drinking to dull the buzz, the frenetic jumpiness that would never go away. He wasn’t drowning his twitchiness in drugs or booze. Not if he could help it. He turned his mind to getting back to the hotel.

Cassie had long disappeared down the road back the resort, but he couldn’t push her out of his mind. Not because she’d drawn him in military attire. Weird as hell. No, he couldn’t wipe her from his mind because from the moment he’d seen her at the hotel he’d been drawn to her. Which didn’t make a damn bit of sense, because a good chunk of his life he’d favored shallow women and meaningless relationships. Easy-going women who knew the score and didn’t care if he called them again. They’d all been blonds with big tits, which he’d thought fit his type of easy lovin’ woman. He’d stereotyped, but so had they, giving and taking what they wanted. Cassie…well…she didn’t fit at all.

She was tall, graceful and slim. Probably around five feet, six inches and with a small bust. Her shiny, jet black hair lay thick and straight about her shoulders. Her white bucket hat shaded her from sunburn. Her small nose was sprinkled with freckles and her eyes a stunning brown that cut through him like a whip. He was a bad judge of age, but he figured she might be over thirty. He certainly hoped she was, because he didn’t sport erections over twenty-somethings no matter how good they might look in a centerfold.

Who are you kidding sport? You haven’t screwed in so long your balls have to be useless by now.

But Cassie hadn’t flirted and hadn’t turned on his bullshit meter. She was an enigma. A mystery had always challenged and turned him on, and he would figure her out one way or another.

The rain opened up on his head, but he didn’t quicken his steps. No point. He couldn’t run fast enough to avoid the downpour. As he came alongside the weird house, he glanced over at the weeds growing in the yard and the dead rosebushes and continued on his way. He’d taken only a few steps before he stopped and turned around to examine the house again. Had he seen movement? He stared at the half-derelict structure, perusing the peeling outer shell. The house didn’t look that old, yet it had a weird flavor to it, as if time had nibbled and chewed on the structure until it appeared far older than it was. Out of sheer instinct he gazed around the property. He didn’t see a damned thing out of order and continued on his way.

Blackout: Chapter Two

Monday

A light breeze lifted the man’s hair as he stood and stared at the house down the winding driveway. He dragged his fingers through the strands and grimaced. How long had it been since the military had shorn him clean? A few months had passed since he’d left the regimental lifestyle, and he was damn glad for it. He planned to let his hair continue to grow even longer. The military had stripped his ability to play outside the rules. Their rules anyway. He followed a bigger set of parameters ruled by a higher power. Now that he’d arrived in Bowmount, he knew he’d found the right place to fulfill his destiny. His job in the military had kept him from completing his mission. One by one his goals were completed, but it took too long when he’d needed to negotiate the military lifestyle. Too many people, especially women, had blocked every chance for him to slake his needs and wants. All of them would pay when the house ate them.

He sighed as the house called. Walking down the long driveway leading to the front door, he waited for the house to explain why it wanted him. In his journey to this Podunk town, he’d expected something else to call him. The trees perhaps. Deep in a forest, in the night, evil would slip out of its confines and look for him. Evil knew his heart. Understood the consistency, the flavor and taste of greed, want, and endless suffering. Not suffering for him. No. He savored the pain, ate it and it gave him succor. He thrived on the taste of torment. In the forest he’d slaked his thirst a few times, and he’d grown comfortable with the way trees covered his deeds. They made a canopy, a roof for his kitchen. Yet even as he came nearer the house, and even though he’d been to the house once yesterday, he wasn’t prepared for what he felt this time. Yesterday the house had tickled him. Today…well, today the message was clearer.

Hate.

It punched him in the gut, a knife-like twist that sucked away the air in his lungs and sharpened the pain slicing through his innards. He put a hand to his stomach, feeling almost as if he’d been stabbed. He sucked in a breath and stared at the house. He smiled in utter happiness, and loved the nasty urges that came upon him. His craving was stout, filled to the brim with a sodden stench that demanded fulfillment. He’d have to walk into town to take care of the need. It ran thick in his blood, and he licked his lips, eager to run back down the hill and satisfy himself. A violent urge made him drop his backpack to the earth and hold his hands out in supplication. If anyone saw him now they’d think him crazy. He could run down the hill, search the town for—

No.

He drew in one deep breath and then another. No, he must be practical. As his grandfather always said, there was a time and place for everything.

That wasn’t true. His grandfather didn’t say anything anymore. He was dead.

He returned his attention to the house. The house had an ambiance he couldn’t put his finger on or explain adequately to himself. And that thrilled him down to the bones and sinew.

How did one describe it? It was organic. Not wood or brick or metal, but living and breathing. The wood was a jacket for the life within the structure, and the only ornamentation in an otherwise drab exterior. He looked at the eyes—the slats that shuttered all within from the brightness outside. He feared if the windows were thrown open to light, the evil would shrink and perhaps disappear. He closed his eyes and hoped the house would accept him. He knew that if it swallowed him, his life would forever be complete. He would flourish here where evil knew its own kind and embraced him.

The front door had a lock box, and he took the bold step to touch the lock. Cold metal greeted his fingers. Maybe if he went around the side he’d find what he looked for. He tromped through weeds along the left side of the house past more shuttered windows. He came to the backyard and stopped. There was no swimming pool drained and lonely or a rusted swing set creaking in the wind. He laughed, the sound harsh to his own ears.

Place isn’t fuckin’ haunted.

At least not the way a trick-or-treater or a stupid-assed horror aficionado would expect. This place had more to offer.

The unfenced backyard had nothing in it but the forest stretching out, thick and tangled as far as he could see. He turned to face the back of the house and smiled at what he saw. Ah, yes. The door yawned wide open and beckoned, a dark and welcoming hole. He drew a deep breath and groaned in satisfaction.

Yes. Yes.

The ecstasy welled within him as he absorbed the blackness flowing from the structure’s open maw.

There are teeth in there. Ready to devour. To snack on any who are foolish enough to enter.

But, ah, he was immune to the hate that promised delicious death to normal human beings. He closed his eyes against the powerful evil that spilled from the mouth of the house, and he imagined how the blackness inside the house would lick him. The tongue would be furry perhaps, or maybe even have sharp protrusions. He shivered with the horrible pleasure the idea gave him. He opened his eyes and walked toward the door.

* * *

Cassie strode down the cracked sidewalk along storefronts of Bowmount’s hilly main street appropriately named…Main Street. She wished she’d worn the long-sleeved sweater rather than this thin and good-for-nothing old favorite navy t-shirt. Jeans kept her legs warm, but she’d left her coat in the car. Yesterday, after the thunderstorm, the weather had turned cooler. The storm had lasted a good chunk of the day and didn’t stop until evening. Water had rushed down the streets and passed the resort tucked one block to the west off Main Street. At eighty-two hundred feet elevation, this town smelled fresh and crisp. The sky had washed clean, a brilliant blue so startling it almost looked airbrushed.

Her encounter with Griff and the house on the hill had thrown her off kilter. She still wasn’t sure what she’d seen at the house. Maybe she hadn’t seen the eyes in the window or the beautiful roses that had then been dead not long after. No. Maybe she hadn’t.

“There you are!” Dougray McPhee’s voice, distinctly Scottish, came from behind her.

As her mother would no doubt say, bloody hell.

She turned toward the tourist, her smile fake. “Dougray.”

Dougray was six-foot-two of good-looking, dark-haired male with a body that most women would say qualified as to die for and an accent all women loved. He’d been in the military, too, she’d heard from a lady at the pool Saturday. A few years in the Royal Air Force and his ego was as large as the sun. When he’d met Cassie in the lobby Saturday, he’d immediately struck up a conversation. Unfortunately, his personality grated on her big time. She couldn’t pinpoint anything other than he seemed too in your face and too extroverted. Dougray’s straight hair fell in unruly long waves about his shoulders. The breeze tossed his hair around. In many respects he appeared good enough to eat.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

She really wished he hadn’t. “Oh?”

“Kit at the front desk said you planned to do some shopping. All the tourist stuff is down here. I thought if I was lucky I’d find you.”

“Well, I’m almost done with my shopping, so I think I’ll head back.”

“Come to lunch with me.” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. He snagged her elbow and hauled her along.

She didn’t protest at first, a little overtaken by his presumptuous attitude. She wasn’t used to being handled like she didn’t know her own mind. Well, no. That wasn’t exactly true. He ex had always treated her this way, and she hated it. Before she knew it they’d arrived in front of Mama’s Trattoria, and she wanted escape big time.

“Come on,” he said again, still hanging on to her elbow.

“No.” She pulled out of his grasp.

He turned and clasped her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Don’t you eat?”

“I didn’t appreciate the manhandling. You didn’t ask, you assumed. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

She started back south and up the hill, ready to head to her car. He clasped her right arm, and the movement caused her shoulder bag to slide and land with a thud on the sidewalk.

“Damn,” she whispered as she leaned down to retrieve it.

That’s when she glanced up and caught sight of a familiar person coming down the hill toward them. Griff. She kept her gaze on Griff, and his laser-sharp gaze caught hers and held. His white t-shirt, jeans, backpack and boony cap made him appear the casual tourist.

Dougray took hold of her forearm. “Come on. You know you want to spend time with me.”

She yanked her arm from his grip again. “Leave me alone, Dougray.”

She marched up the sidewalk until she met Griff.

Griff’s gaze snagged on Dougray. “He giving you trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

In a move she didn’t expect, Griff slung his arm around her shoulder and brought her flush against his side. Unfortunately Dougray caught up to them.

“Who are you?” Dougray’s smile was crooked as he scanned Griff.

Griff’s arm around her shoulder drew her closer. “Her date.”

“She wasn’t coming to meet you.”

Cassie made an indignant noise, beyond amazed at both of the men and their audacity. Who were they? Cavemen? “It’s none of your business who I date.”

Dougray grunted. “You’re bloody right. I’m being a sod.”

She half expected Griff to come back with a put down, a scathing word or two to put the Scot in his place. Griff said nothing, but his stare remained on the other man with a dark intensity that gave Cassie a cool chill.

Before she could think of a good comeback for Dougray, Griff’s palm slid possessively to the back of her neck and held her there. The intimacy of that touch rocked through her. A tingle coiled in her stomach. Something in the gesture was far more naked and personal than his arm around her shoulders. She hated that she liked his hand there.

“Come on, Cassie. Let’s eat.” Griff’s touch on her neck retreated, and she headed back down the hill and into the restaurant. Griff followed her.

She found a two person table—she’d learned Saturday that it was a self-seating restaurant. Several people were already eating lunch, and the crowd should have made her feel secure after the bizarre encounter with Dougray. It didn’t. When Griff sat down across from her, though, the air seemed to change. She glanced at Griff’s stern expression and saw a darkness in his eyes. She sensed secrets hiding inside him just as she had Sunday.

“That wasn’t necessary back there. I was handling it. I don’t need rescuing,” she said.

He looked back at the windows. “Jesus. That guy is friggin’ creepy.”

Dougray stood outside staring into the large glass windows at them. She thought she could feel his eyes boring a hole in her.

“Did you hear what I said, Griff? I don’t need protecting.”

Griff pushed his silver to the side and laid the red paper napkin in his lap. “Most women don’t mind a little protection.”

She glared. “I’m not most women.”

He smiled, the twinkle in his eyes surprising her a little. Was he mocking her? Not taking her seriously?

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said. “As for that guy, he’s just an egotistical flyboy.”

She looked out the window across the restaurant and Dougray was gone. Instantly the sun coming into the windows seemed brighter.

Odd.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Of course.” No way would she let on that Dougray had frightened her the slightest bit. “So you’ve met Dougray before today.”

“Yeah. He was checking into the hotel right before me. I was in line behind him. Had a shitload of luggage. Oily son-of-a-bitch. He had the clerk ready to have his babies before he finished telling her he used to be in the Royal Air Force.”

She rubbed her arms. “Ugh.”

He ran one hand over his jawline. “Sorry about the cursing. I just…” He cleared his throat. “I hate seeing women abused in any way.”

Begrudging respect filled her center at his words. “It’s okay. My mother always threatened to wash my mouth out with soap when I was a kid. I have a real potty mouth when no one is listening.”

Griff’s lopsided grin sent renewed warmth into her loins. She was glad the bra she wore was lined because her nipples actually tightened. God, the way this man turned her on should be illegal, and she wished she didn’t find him so attractive. Her body was screaming out primal mating urges while her mind was telling her she didn’t want or a need a man. Not even for sexual fulfillment.

“I was coming out of an antique store up the hill and saw him with you. When he grabbed your arm you didn’t look happy about it. That’s when I came back down the hill,” he said.

She managed a smile, because she couldn’t genuinely fault him for coming to her aid. “Thanks again.”

A waitress came to their table, and the tall, older woman said, “Well hello, young man. Weren’t you just in here?”

“You’ve already eaten?” Cassie asked Griff.

“Yeah. Not to worry. I’ll just have some water while you eat.”

After the waitress took Cassie’s salad and tea order, Cassie couldn’t keep silent. “So how did you happen to be in the right place at the right time to rescue me, Sir Galahad?”

“Dumb luck.”

“Don’t tell me you were window shopping. Most men hate to shop.”

“I ate an early lunch here, and Penny Cribbs at the resort had told me Main Street had a bow hunting shop. I was in there before I was in the antique store.”

Intrigued, she said, “That’s interesting. I tried archery several years back and loved it.”

“Yeah? What kind of bow did you use?”

“Traditional. I’d like to try a compound bow, though.”

“I use a compound.”

They chatted about their interest in archery before the waitress brought their drinks and paused the conversation. After the waitress left, his gaze caught hers and held it—she couldn’t escape the intensity she saw there. God, the guy had thick, dark lashes.

“Do you hunt?” she asked. “I mean, with the compound bow?”

“Nah.” He fiddled with the paper napkin, worrying one corner. “I just like to 3-D and target shoot. I learned to hunt a long time ago with a gun and a bow, but that isn’t…” He hesitated. “I don’t care for it anymore.”

Something in his expression told her his past securely guarded. She didn’t like that. After all, not knowing a man’s past could be a dangerous thing.

He gazed at her for several moments without answering, then finally said, “I got out of the marines a year ago. Retired.”

That surprised the hell out of her. “As in twenty years in the service then retired?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Thought you didn’t know anything about the military.”

“I don’t know much. Just a few things here and there. You don’t look old enough to have been in the military that long.”

His smile returned, the sparkle in his green eyes warmer. “I’m thirty-eight. I got in when I was eighteen.”

Now she was surprised. “Holy cow. I thought you couldn’t be any older than thirty.”

He tore another piece of napkin. “I don’t know whether to be flattered by that or not. I’m a Federal marshal now.”

Federal marshal indeed. She liked the sound of it, the solidity and safety. At the same time it confirmed for her what she’d sensed from the moment she’d met him. He defined danger. First as a marine and now in another job specifically designed to serve and protect. No wonder he’d thought he needed to rescue her.

Curiosity kept her going. “What did you do in the marines?”

“Airborne reconnaissance officer.”

She threw him a quick grin. “Means diddly to me, but that’s okay. Why did you retire?”

He answered with an easy voice. “Was tired of it, plain and simple. It wasn’t fun anymore. I was in Iraq and Afghanistan a few times and that was the end of the road for me. I wanted something different.”

After sipping her coffee she said, “I know it sounds like a worn out platitude but…thank you for your service.”

His eyes grew warm. “Thanks is always appreciated.”

Whoa. She hadn’t expected to feel this attraction grow to Griff this quickly and strongly, and she shoved it down where it belonged. She didn’t know if she’d ever be interested in another relationship with a man. In that direction led complications, and she liked the way her life was now. Convenient. Happy and content. Liar. Content proved boring on occasion, but then maybe calm and uncomplicated was good.

Her meal came, and suddenly she was ravenous. She scarfed down her chicken salad, and when she glanced up, his eyes pinpointed her precisely, as if watching her fascinated him somehow. Busy restaurant chatter filled the background. He finished his glass of water, and she sipped the last of her tea.

“Want to go hiking with me tomorrow morning?” he asked out of the blue.

She glanced up from her plate. “Hiking? Where?”

“Back to the top of the hill. Where we met on Sunday.”

Caution battled inside her with genuine enjoyment of the idea. “This is going to sound crazy as hell, but…”

“What?”

“Can I see some I.D.?”

His eyebrows went up. “Something tells me there’s another story behind that, too.”

She waved one hand in dismissal. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He slid it across the table toward her. “Just don’t nick my credit cards.”

She grinned. “Your ex spend too much money?”

He grunted and shredded the last of his napkin. He’d made a pile on his empty plate. “I’ve had one steady girlfriend and that was before I joined the marines. She had her own credit card.”

She threw him a smile that she knew held plenty of doubt. “I don’t believe it.”

“That she had her own credit card?”

“That you haven’t had other girlfriends.”

“My job for twenty years was my mistress.”

She thought she understood. “So you had women here and there, just no one steady.”

“You got it. I’ve never had a long term relationship, and I don’t see one in my future.”

“I don’t either. Once bitten, twice shy and no interest in revisiting that again.”

There. They’d given each other parameters. All of which worked very well for her. She hadn’t come to Bowmount for a hook up.

His wallet revealed he told the truth—about who he was, that is. His military identification card showed he was retired, and a driver’s license in his wallet came from Montana and gave his birthdate as October 31, and that he was thirty-eight years old. A badge showed he was a Federal marshal.

A small photo of a young, beautiful woman with dark hair caught her eye, and she held his wallet out to him. “She’s not your girlfriend?”

He reached across and took the wallet, his face serious. “That’s my mother a very long time ago.”

When he didn’t say another word about it, she decided to let it go. She hadn’t known him long enough to hear all his secrets, and she might never know him that well. She only had a week here. Hardly enough time for a man to reveal all his past, and not enough to show him all hers even if she’d wanted to.

The waitress brought the check, and Griff took money out of his wallet.

“Wait,” Cassie said. “You’re not paying.”

“My treat.”

“Why? You’ve already paid for your lunch.”

“I’m trying to bribe you to hike back to the Point with me tomorrow,” he said with deadpan certainty. “Or maybe meet me at the indoor pool for a swim.”

She shook her head. “I don’t swim.”

He frowned, lines between his brows. “You can’t swim?”

“I can, but I choose not to.”

She half expected him to question her on why, and she could see him cogitating on the reason. But instead of asking, he nodded. “Okay. Hiking then?”

A slow smile came over her mouth. “All right. Now I think I’ll finish my shopping.”

“Want company?”

“Sure, but don’t you have anything else better to do? I thought most men hated to shop.”

“I’m not most men.”

No, he wasn’t. At least he wasn’t like most of the men she’d encountered in her life. Her attraction to him beat at her, growing against her will. Heat filled her cheeks as an image of him lying on top of her, thrusting inside her, filled her mind. She dismissed the idea. She couldn’t go that direction. No way.

When they left the restaurant shortly after, she discovered more facets of him. He followed her into a women’s clothing store without flinching. He didn’t pick clothes off the rack and tell her what would look good on her, something her ex would have done. The young female clerk, who couldn’t be more than her mid-twenties, hit on Griff. The girl stood close to him, made flirtatious comments to him, and ignored Cassie. Cassie left the store without buying anything. Before long they’d checked out a tourist store where she bought a navy sweatshirt with a white wolf on the front. Her mind flashed back to that day in Phuket when she’d bought the t-shirt, but she immediately shoved the thought away.

When they departed she glanced to her right and south, back up the hill. Dougray McPhee stood a good hundred yards up the hill, just watching them.

When she didn’t follow him, Griff turned back to her. “What’s up?”

“Dougray’s following us.” A tingle raced up her back, and it wasn’t a good one. “Unless he’s shopping, too, and he’s not really looking down here at us.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s looking at us. Damn. He doesn’t get the message, does he?” He sighed and his arm slipped around her waist. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

Before she could do more than blink, he’d turned her full against his chest. Pressed into hard, hot body, she savored the heat and muscles all along her curves. He tilted her face up with his fingers, gentle and sure.

“Don’t hit me,” he said softly.

She saw the intent in his eyes before his mouth found hers. Instead of balking, she slid her hands up to the solidness of his shoulders and took in his gentle kiss. And yes, it was tender. Perhaps the most tender kiss a man had ever given her. Warm, lingering, not asking for too much intimacy. A mere meeting of lips. She barely had a moment to respond before he pulled away and released her entirely.

Her heartbeat thumped in her chest wildly. “What was that for?”

He glanced back up the hill. “He’s gone. Guess it did the trick.”

Her face still flamed, and her body tingled in places it hadn’t tingled in years. Whoa. Her body responded with full force interest, even as her mind rebelled. So what? Just because she didn’t want a relationship didn’t mean her hormones couldn’t react to a man’s embrace.

“You’re right. Creepy dude is gone,” she said with satisfaction and a way to distract herself from her physical interest in Griff.

“If you’re done shopping, I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

“I don’t need a guardian, Griff. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like the guy. Something isn’t right about him. Humor me. I’d feel better if I could walk you back.”

“Are you done shopping for the day?”

“There’s a music shop I want to look in.”

“Then go ahead. I’m beat already. I’ll head back to the hotel.” On impulse she patted her cross-body bag. “I’ve got a personal can of mace in here. And we aren’t attached to at the hip. You can’t be with me everywhere.”

For a moment he looked like he might argue, but then he said, “You’re right. I can’t.” He drew in a deep breath. “Be careful.” She started to walked away, but he said, “Wait. What about that hike?”

“What time?”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby at eight in the morning if that isn’t too early.”

They exchanged cell phone numbers; she put his right into her smartphone, and he tapped her phone number into his.

“Technology,” she said. “Gotta love it.”

“Yeah, how did we survive before cell phones?”

She turned away and headed toward the resort. “See you later.”

As she put steps between her and Griff, she stayed alert to who was around her and shrugged off the creepy feeling that Dougray might be somewhere watching her.

Blackout: Chapter Three

Tuesday

Griff’s cell phone rang at seven a.m as he got out of the shower. He left the bathroom naked and dripping and grabbed the phone when he saw it was his sister calling. Worry punched him. She never called him this early.

“Hey, Diane. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Hey, big brother, did I get you out of bed?” Her voice was cheerful.

Relief made him swallow hard. He had to stop imagining the bogeyman around every corner when it came to his sister. Even though she was a year older than he was, he’d always felt like the responsible one.

“I was hoping you’d stop by Montana on the way back home,” she said.

“Montana isn’t on the way back home.”

“Aw, come on. We haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Work’s been a bear, and I’m fairly new at this federal marshal stuff. They keep me on a short string.”

Her sigh was colored with a hint of impatience. “Sorry. I know you hate spontaneity.”

“Yeah, well you’re always spontaneous. If you’d invited me before the trip started I could have fit Montana into the picture.”

He glanced at the clock. At this rate he’d be late to go hiking with Cassie.

“How much vacation do you have left?” she asked.

He heard pots and pans clanking in the background. He went back into the bathroom and grabbed his towel. “Until Sunday. Then it’s back to work.”

“Fine.” Resignation and irritation edged her voice.

He didn’t want to argue with her. “How’s Deke?”

“He gets his cast off in a week. He says it itches like crazy and it’s driving him batty.”

He put the phone on speaker and dried off. “Sorry to hear that. I told him—”

“Yeah, yeah. He heard you the first time, Griff. He was wearing the helmet and the knee and elbow pads.”

A muscle in his jaw panged, and he rubbed the tightness away with his fingers. He had to stop clenching his damned jaw when he was irritated. He knew he had a tendency to overprotect anyone the way he had Cassie yesterday when Dougray followed them. Last night he’d awakened in a cold sweat, his heart pounding. He didn’t have the PTSD so many of his comrades did from the war. No, he suffered dreams about his sister and the awful things that had been done to her all those years ago when she was fifteen and Griff only fourteen. For some reason that experience had made grooves in his psyche far more indelible and permanent.

“I get it.” Griff cleared his throat. “Everything else at home good?”

“Everything is wonderful for a change. Pete got a promotion to sergeant.”

Griff smiled, the tension easing a little. “Good deal. Tell him congratulations.”

“Will do.”

His brother-in-law had turned his life around from teenaged thug to upstanding citizen and sheriff’s deputy. Diane’s life, though, always seemed on the edge to Griff. A strong wind was all it would take to blow it over.

“Tell Deke his uncle will show him the right way to skateboard when I do visit.”

“Deke is fifteen, not four,” Diane said, her voice tinged with that slight whine that told him he’d nagged too well. “Things happen. You can’t control everything.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

He loved his sister but she also drove him to the edge of insanity sometimes. “Hey, I’d love to talk longer but I have to be somewhere by eight, and I forgot to set my alarm last night and got up late.”

“That must have screwed with your planning.”

“Yeah.” The word came out with a hint of sarcasm.

“Okay, okay. Don’t have a cow. Call me later?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you tonight.”

They signed off, and in record time he finished dressing. He grabbed a breakfast bar. No time for a more elaborate breakfast. He went into the bathroom and looked at his scruffy jaw. He hadn’t shaved since Saturday, and his beard had gotten bristly as hell. What did he care? He was on vacation. He stared into the mirror at his disreputable appearance and wondered if he’d given Cassie beard burn. Nah, not likely. He’d taken care to kiss her softly so he wouldn’t scare her. When he’d kissed her, he knew Dougray would see them and hopefully get the message. At the same time, Griff had loved kissing Cassie. Damn, she’d tasted good, and he’d wanted to take her back to his room and have a nice long bout of sweaty sex. He knew their relationship wouldn’t go that far, fairly certain Cassie Kovac didn’t engage in nasty, hot sex. She’d responded to his kiss, but just barely. When she’d refused to allow him to walk her back to the resort, he’d been torn between worry and admiration. Curiosity ate at him, though. He guessed she’d probably been hurt in the past by a man, and that chip on her shoulder wouldn’t allow him to get any closer. Which was too bad. He hadn’t had sex in what seemed like forever, and even if he didn’t want a long-term relationship with her, he had a feeling sex between them would feel pretty amazing.

He shrugged. It didn’t matter. He could spend time with a woman and not feel like he needed to protect her or get involved. It was obvious Cassie was doing fine on her own.

With a sigh he took out his shaving kit.

* * *

In the lobby, Penny Cribbs stood behind the reception counter and smiled at Cassie like she had a secret. Penny’s short frame moved quickly for a lady who carried significant weight. Her smile always welcomed, and her voice carried far and wide. Despite the friendliness, Cassie found Penny a bit abrasive at times.

Cassie glanced around the lobby and soaked in the atmosphere. Warmth crackled from the nearby fireplace. Cassie was glad she’d stayed here—the small resort hotel had a lot of amenities in its old Victorian facade. It was three floors, thirty rooms. Not a large resort, but the pool, tennis courts and small spa gave a luxury ambiance to the shabby elegance. Burgundy velvet draped windows allowed in sparkling light. Matching overstuffed Victorian couches and chairs beckoned a body to sit. After she’d had the interesting encounter with Griff in town yesterday, she’d returned to the resort without seeing Dougray. She’d enjoyed time in her room reading, sleeping and watching some useless television. Relaxing felt wonderful.

“Morning, Cassie. Can I help you?” Penny asked.

Cassie crossed to the fireplace and held her hands out to the flame. The lobby was deserted except for the two of them.

“No, it’s fine. I’m waiting for Griff.”

Penny patted her short salt and pepper hair as she leaned on the counter. “Well, well. What are you guys doing today?”

Cassie couldn’t be mad at the woman’s nosiness. “Hiking back to the Point.”

“Aha. Well, do you have a lunch all packed?”

“I don’t think we’ll be up there that late.”

“Are you sketching again?”

“Probably.”

In fact, Cassie hoped to stay up there a good part of the morning so she could draw.

“Now be careful up at the Point,” Penny said. “You never can tell what will happen up there. Don’t ever go alone.”

Cassie blinked. She hadn’t expected the woman to say that.

Before Cassie could speak, Griff came down the stairs. Today he wore a rain jacket over a red flannel shirt, jeans and boots. She’d also worn a sweater and her coat and hat, ready to brave a cold breeze that had formed overnight.

“Ta-ta.” Penny waved goodbye and turned to her computer.

“Hey, good morning,” Griff said. “Ready?”

“Morning. I’m barely awake. Stayed up too late last night. Too much laziness I guess.”

“I didn’t set my alarm and almost woke up too late. Then my sister called…” He shrugged.

They headed out the door and started east on the short road that lead to Main Street. Out of caution she looked around, half certain she’d see Dougray lurking in every corner. There was no sign of Dougray, and the sunny, crisp morning removed apprehension. She’d placed the mace in her backpack, deciding she didn’t plan to go anywhere without it.

As they headed up Main Street and toward the dirt road that would lead to their destination, she threw a look at Griff. His expression showed concentration and a shadow of worry.

“Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet,” she said.

His attention snapped toward her a moment, then turned back to walking. “I’m great.”

“Everything all right with your family? Your sister is fine?”

He didn’t look at her, but a smile touched his mouth. “As fine as she’ll ever be. With her it’s a day-to-day thing.”

“Uh-huh. Why is that?”

“She can be a drama queen. For a while there every time she turned around life threw some new obstacle in her path.”

Ah. She understood that. “Everything is always and never and the worst ever.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. That’s Diane.”

“I’m sure that’s part of why my father divorced my mother.”

“It wasn’t a mutual thing?” he asked.

“Of course it was. They both have their irritating habits, believe me.”

“Don’t we all? My parents—”

When he stopped and didn’t continue, she glanced over at him. “They had a bad marriage?”

“The worst.”

Curiosity rung a question from her. “Do you believe in marriage?”

“Nah.” He threw a glance her way. “I just believe in sex.”

She snorted a laugh, and he joined her with a hearty laugh of his own. Heat filled her face as her libido went into overdrive. She shook off an image of him kissing her again, only this time with full on passion.

The dirt road came up on their left, and they crossed the road to join it.

They hadn’t gone far before the urge to discover more about her hiking companion made her ask, “What do you do when your sister is a drama queen?”

“Most of the time I hose up. I try to dig her ass out of the mess.” He shifted his backpack. “Always been that way. She married a scumbag when she was twenty. She’s on husband number two, and he’s a sheriff’s deputy. It’s his job now to keep her out of trouble.”

“Does he?”

“Most of the time.”

“Is she your little sister?”

“One year older.”

“Wow. You’d think it would be the other way around. She’d have to dig your ass out of the mess.”

“Nope. We’ve got a major case of co-dependence going on.”

She sighed. “I understand that, too. I did that with my ex husband for too long.”

“Did he drink?”

“No. He was just mean, ruthless and violent.”

Griff stopped in his tracks. She halted along with him.

“Physically abusive?” he asked, worry on his strong features.

She drew in a deep breath, surprised she’d started this discussion with him. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have started this conversation.”

“But you did start it. So let’s finish it.”

“All right. But let’s keep walking.”

They continued, and she bit the bullet. “It’s a long story.”

“We’ve got a lot of long stories between us. Might as well continue.”

Obviously he wasn’t going to let her off the hook now she’d started something. “I married Harold when I was nineteen. I only knew him for two months before he proposed. I thought I loved him. He was controlling. Emotionally at first.” She sighed. “I mean, he was like that before I married him, and my parents objected to the marriage in the first place. My dad blamed himself because Harold worked with my father in real estate and they had business dealings together. Anyway, Harold accumulated wealth before I married him and I knew he was filthy rich just like my parents. But at that time I was all about the lifestyle and wanted to keep it.” When Griff didn’t say anything she continued. “I was a shallow twit.”

“I have a hard time believing you were ever shallow.”

She smiled, liking his compliment. “Thanks, but I really was.”

“Was your husband older than you?”

“Twenty years older,” she said.

“And that twenty year gap didn’t work for you guys, I take it?”

“We had little to nothing in common. Pretty quickly I figured out he’d married me as a trophy wife.”

“You were his second wife?”

“No. He’d just waited until he found someone he could manipulate and put on display. I wore all the right clothes, said the right things, volunteered for the right charities.”

“I get the picture.”

“The picture is so damned big, I’m not sure anyone can get the whole thing.”

“Try me.”

She met his gaze head on and saw the sincerity there. Maybe confessing to him was like unloading on a stranger.

“Did he hit you?” he asked.

“No. Not until…” She swallowed hard as a lump formed where her throat should be. “He was the master of the backhanded compliment. He put me down in about every conceivable way he could. I never did anything right. My friends weren’t the right kind of people, and even if they were I didn’t speak to them the right way. Honestly, I wasn’t even physically attracted to him. So for most of our marriage we didn’t have sex, and I found out he’d been going to high-class call girls and having mistresses along the way. Anyway, I put up with that garbage for about ten years. I told him I wanted a divorce on the same day he lost a wad speculating on the stock market.”

They’d reached the area where the desolate ranch house stood. She drew her pack off her shoulders and rummaged inside for water. She took a long cool drink, half stalling and not wanting to finish this story. Griff slipped his pack of his shoulders and retrieved his own water bottle.

“What happened next?” he asked after taking a swig of water.

Now that she’d reached this magical point in the story, she didn’t know if she could finish. “The last person who had to listen to this was my therapist.”

“I’m listening now.”

Damn Griff for knowing what to say and when.

Cassie adjusted her hat so the brim did a better job of covering her eyes. She rummaged in her backpack and came up with her sunglasses and plopped them on her nose. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to wear them in the first place.

“He came home that night with a gun and started shooting up the house. I tried to leave but he grabbed me by the hair and tied me to a chair. We stayed that way for a couple hours before he decided to call the police himself. After three hours of negotiating with a SWAT team, he put a bullet through his skull. I was tied to that damned kitchen chair and couldn’t get loose. The SWAT team broke in and that was the end of it.”

She’d kept the words matter of fact and unemotional, knowing if she didn’t tears would come.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” His voice held warmth, as if he had first hand understanding of the type of damage that could do to a person. “How long ago did all that happen?”

“Ten years.” She dared look at him, happy the sunglasses hid her moist eyes. His gaze was hard, filled with a pent up anger. She drew off her gloves and stuffed them in her coat pockets. “There was a benefit to the experience.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m a better person for it. It changed me forever.”

His silence on the subject comforted her in a strange way. He didn’t pontificate or judge or give her advice, and she found that refreshing. Sometimes letting what happened just be made the memory less painful.

“What the hell?” he suddenly said, looking toward the house.

She turned her attention to the house, and her stomach lurched. “The roses are blooming again.”

He threw a sharp glance at her. “What?”

“When I came up her the other day, the roses were blooming. When I came down the hill before you the roses were dead. I thought maybe I was just crazy. I didn’t even think much about it until now.”

A chill ran over Cassie, and she rubbed her arms.

“There’s got to be a logical explanation for it,” he said.

“You noticed it too the other day?”

“Yeah, but my experience was that the roses were dead both times I paid attention.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“No. I wouldn’t kid about something like that.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Well at least we see the same thing this time.”

He took a step forward.

She grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Someone must be living there now. There was a lock box on the front door and there isn’t now.”

“You’re right.” He gently pulled out of her hold, but he didn’t take another step toward the house.

Apprehension she didn’t understand gripped her. Instinct told her to leave and leave now, but she couldn’t force the words up her throat.

“Weird as hell,” he said quietly.

“Let’s go. Maybe we just imagined it all.”

“Yeah.”

They started back up the hill, and as they left Cassie felt the strange fear abate. She couldn’t form the words to describe why she’d felt such intimidation from the place. A niggling disquiet lingered. It made no sense that they’d both seen something different. They reached the Point not long after. She took her pack off and laid it down near the flat rock where she’d sat the last time she was here. He did the same just as she settled on the rock and started digging her pencils out of the pack.

“So now it’s your turn to tell me more about you,” she said.

He stood walked to the fence line. As he had the last time they’d been here, he considered the beautiful view.

“You don’t want to hear about it,” he said.

Surprised, she said, “What?”

“It’s too bloody. Too ugly.”

“More bloody than watching a man shoot himself in the head? I know war is hell.”

“There’s that.” He didn’t look at her—he kept his gaze on the beyond. “And then there was my life before the military. When I was a kid.”

God, what secret is he hiding?

“I’ve been told I’m an excellent listener. It’s a skill I learned after my husband shot himself.”

“I’m sure you are. You might be ready to divulge your past, but I’m not ready to tell mine.”

More than disappointment came over her. She felt, even in the smallest way, as if she’d been screwed over. She’d revealed more of herself than she had with any other man in ten years. She drew in a deep breath.

Guess I should have known better. She swallowed sharp words. “That’s your right.”

He turned, and his eyes told her he didn’t like what she’d said. “You’re pissed,” he said.

“Okay, I’m pissed. At myself, actually. I shouldn’t have revealed that much about myself to a man I don’t know all that well.”

He wiped one hand over his jaw line, and for the first time she noticed he’d shaved. Yesterday his bristly beard growth had given him a harder-looking edge.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “You can trust me. I’m just not ready to regurgitate all my past right here and right now.”

She couldn’t think of a thing to say in response. Anger simmered inside her, twisting like a flag in the breeze and threatening to fly away.

“I guess we’re even,” she said. “Because you haven’t heard all of my past either.”

A real breeze tried to snatch her hat, so she tightened the chin strap. Griff did the same with his boony cap.

“Hey, I’m going to walk back down the hill a short way. I’ll be back,” he said.

His feet crunched over the dirt road and before she knew it, he was gone.

So he didn’t want to tell her his dirtiest secrets. She’d made a mistake telling him too much, expecting a little of the same. She wouldn’t do it again.

She poured her feelings into sketching. Perhaps her confessional loosened her creativity. Her pencil flew over the page. Today she didn’t draw Griff in a military uniform. She sketched the landscape before her and imbedded it with a strange, monstrous quality. Vines grew where none truly did, mountain ridges stabbed sharply into the air, jagged and higher. Snow covered more of the peaks, and iron-rich soil was closer to blood red than rust. Green grass took on a shade it couldn’t reach this time of year. She was glad she’d brought her colored pencils. Time had no meaning. She blinked as she looked down at the sketch. Her pencils had flown over the page in such quick succession. When she looked at her watch, it had taken her less than six minutes to slam together the violent, ugly images. Compelled beyond anything she’d done in a long time, she began to draw rose bushes. She didn’t understand why and didn’t care. Once more she worked swiftly, first with black, then gray than blood red. When she quit drawing a very few minutes later, the rosebush she’d drawn resembled one of those she’d seen in front of the ranch house down the hill. White roses with red lines running through them, and razor sharp thorns. Disturbed, she stopped and stared at the picture. More than once in her life she’d drawn pictures that moved her, had created a vision of her imagination without stifling herself. This time she wished she had stopped herself.

She put her pencils away and shook her hand out.

A shadow fell on her page. Surprised Griff had made it back without her hearing him, she wondered if his ability to sneak up on people was a military skill.

She smiled. “You’re blockin’ my sun.”

“Well, I’d hate to do that now, wouldn’t I?” Dougray’s Scottish accent asked.

Blackout: Chapter Four

“Son of a bitch.”

Griff couldn’t believe his eyes. He took one step and then another down the driveway of the ranch house with the weird-as-hell rose bushes. Now the roses looked trampled and shredded, as if they’d been run over by a mower or a car. A cold tingle darted over his skin and caused goose bumps. He tried to look at things rationally. How could he? Unless a car had come through her or a mower since they’d gone up to the Point, there was no way these roses would be in such bad shape. A niggling sense of unreality made him want to ignore the evidence in front of him. He could rush back up the hill and tell her what he’d found. On the other hand, she’d think he’d lost every marble he had.

He took his sunglasses off and hooked them into the neckline of his t-shirt, as if the dark shades obscured what really had happened to the rosebushes. No. They still lay mangled on the driveway.

When he’d refused to tell Cassie anything else about his past after she’d spilled her guts…well, cowardice had talked for him. He’d walked down the hill to cover two things. His conflicted thoughts about telling her what he’d experienced years ago, and to satisfy his curiosity about the house.

“Fucking nuts,” he said under his breath.

This house was strange, and no doubt about it. Not any stranger than him standing here in someone’s driveway eyeballing the house. He’d be lucky if someone didn’t call the cops, although he didn’t see any sign that people were out and about anywhere nearby. The neighbors on either side of the dirt road had up to five acres or more each. Driveways on the left side of the road, across from this property, were so long he couldn’t see homes from here.

He could have turned away, but the house called him. Without another thought he started down the driveway. Griff didn’t question why he was compelled to walk toward the house and what he’d do when he arrived at the door. The driveway meandered around the strange rosebushes and curved left and then right. As a trained observer he looked for signs that someone had run over the bushes. No recent tire tracks marred the dirt. Yet the bushes lay broken. He squatted by one rosebush and noted the blackened, dried petals. All of the flowers looked as if they’d been dead for days, dry and crumply even with the recent rain. Check that. One bloom on one bush was white with red veins running through the petals. Weird.

Shaking his head, he stood and examined he house as he continued walking. The driveway ended at the garage, which looked big enough for two cars. Had the house ever been updated? Paint peeled, cracks showed, and dirt crusted the facade here and there. As he walked along the dirt driveway, his heart picked up speed. His skin prickled as he took one step after another, every instinct telling him to get the hell out.

Maintain, marine. It’s not like you’re taking point into an ambush.

His body argued differently. He craved a weapon, but he’d left his gun back in his room locked in the safe. It never occurred to him he might need it on a hike. As he reached the door everything within him screamed that he did need a weapon. Logic tangled with instinct until panic made his breath come short. In his twenty years as a marine, he’d been award medals but now his bravery was shredded. Shame mixed with determination. He swallowed hard as he arrived at the entrance. The lock box was no longer on the door. He could knock, but if someone answered what the hell would he say? Your freakin’ house drew me here? The air felt thick, as if he’d taken a swim through molasses. A compelling urge to open the door made him grab the doorknob. Ice cold metal touched his palm.

A word stuck in his throat. No.

Another instinct kicked into gear. Leave. Leave now. With effort he released the door knob, turned on his heel and hurried off the porch. It took everything he had, but Griff managed the path back to the road. When he stepped onto the dirt road, the strange miasma that had gripped him dropped away. A new instinct struck him, this one more powerful than his encounter with the house. He needed to return to Cassie. He had to find a way to mend the chasm he’d created after she’d revealed her history. More than that, something pushed him up the hill to the Point. He didn’t like leaving her there alone.

* * *

Cassie jerked in surprise at Dougray’s voice. Was this guy for real? Was it simply coincidence he continued to turn up wherever she was? Today the Scot looked as rugged as the military man he’d claimed to once be. Dressed in a flannel shirt, black cargo pants, hiking boots and with a huge backpack, he looked ready to climb Mount Everest.

“Dougray, I didn’t hear you walk up.”

“My military buddies always called me the ghost.” Arrogance dripped from his words.

“What are you doing up here?”

His smile disappeared. “It’s a free country last time I heard. What are you doing here?”

The man was a twit. “Sketching.”

Dougray sat on the rock next to her, and she shifted away from him. He looked at the sketch before she could close the book.

“Weird,” he said. “Why all the odd colors on the mountains?”

“Why not?”

“Surely you had a plan when you did this. A reason for taking the real colors and making them slightly off.”

She looked him in the eye. She heard criticism in his tone, and she didn’t like it one damned bit. “With art there doesn’t have to be a why. It’s what you feel and what you want to show.”

He grunted softly. “I don’t like modern art.”

She shrugged. “I prefer realistic landscapes, but when I draw I create whatever appeals to me at the moment. I’m not creating world peace with this drawing.”

Dougray didn’t answer but he reached over and flipped a page to the roses.

“Do you mind?” she said, angry that he was manhandling her sketch book. She slammed it shut.

His expression went from cocky to shocked. “Where did you see those roses? This one with the white and red?”

“In front of the house on the west side of the road. Back down the hill.”

He swallowed hard, looking disconcerted. He didn’t explain his reaction, but took a deep breath. For once his cockiness had disappeared, and she saw a hint of vulnerability.

To her surprise he snatched the sketch book from her hand and flipped more pages. She was so surprised she couldn’t think what to say for a moment.

He reached the picture of Griff in the military uniform. “You like the military, darling? Who is this? A boyfriend?”

Darling? She didn’t like the endearment or the questions. “Give that back.” She snatched the book out of his hands and stood up. “Are you always this rude?”

His eyes narrowed, their blue icy and intent. “Why isn’t that boyfriend here with you?” Dougray threw a smart-ass grin at her. “If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t leave you sitting up here alone.”

Pissed, she stuffed the sketch pad in her pack and started back down the hill. “I’ve really got to go.”

“I’ll walk with you. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

He started down the path after her, and she didn’t like him behind her. No, she wanted to hightail it. To run like hell. She was halfway to the old ranch house when she saw Griff heading back to her. Relief made her walk faster.

“Here comes the hero,” Dougray said loud enough for her to hear him.

When Griff reached them, the Scot continued his obnoxiousness.

“Hey, Griffin,” the Scot said. “You shouldn’t leave your lady alone up at the Point. It’s not safe there.”

Tension rippled in Griff’s body and in his hard expression.

Griff said, “Thanks for the advice, but I think she can take care of herself.”

A part of Cassie warmed to Griff’s acknowledgment.

“Maybe.” The Scot said, his accent a tad thicker. “But there’s something weird as hell going on up here at the Point.”

Cassie’s curiosity pushed her to ask, “Such as?”

“She knows something is wrong here.”

Griff looked at her. “What the hell is he talking about?”

“Beats me,” she said.

Dougray pointed down the hill. “That house. It has those damn rose bushes, and she sketched one that I’ve seen there. One that comes and goes all on its own from one minute to the next. That is seriously screwed up.”

“Dude, what is this all supposed to mean? So she sketched some flowers. Who cares?” Griff said.

The Scot’s eyes turned sad, an emotion inside them she wouldn’t have expected to see from him. “My sister went missing at that house a year ago. Walked right in and never came back out.”

Shocked by this news, Cassie asked, “What happened to her?”

Dougray’s frown appeared sincere. “Wish to hell I knew. She was hiking here with some other friends from Scotland. She went into the house; they followed her. They had this story about what happened but…”

When he trailed off Cassie found she wanted to know more. “But?”

“Never mind.” Dougray shrugged and started away from them. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Wait.” She followed Dougray a few steps. She couldn’t let it go. “What did they say?”

Dougray looked from her to Griff and back again as if gauging whether he could trust them. “They said when they went in the house to look for Sally she simply wasn’t there. She bloody well disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s awful,” she said, feeling the bite of his grief.

“That house swallowed her whole.” Dougray punched the air with his index finger. “Get away from this place and don’t come back. Or you might disappear, too.”

Griff reached for her hand. “Come on. Let’s take his advice.”

Surprised both by what Dougray had said and Griff’s compliance, she allowed Griff to lead her away. Once they were far enough down the hill and Dougray hadn’t followed them, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“What was all that about?” she asked, pulling her hand out of his.

“He’s a nutcase.”

She closed her eyes a moment and let out an impatient sound. She stopped right in front of the house they’d all been talking about. She pointed at the building. “If he’s a nutcase than I must be, too. Something isn’t…” She hesitated, unsure and fumbling for the right explanation and the right words. “Something isn’t right with that place.”

Griff put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Okay, so maybe the guy is unhinged because of what happened to his sister. We shouldn’t be anywhere around that guy.”

Conflicting emotions danced around inside her. “You are two of the screwiest men I’ve met in ten years. At least with my ex I understood what he was and who he was. With Dougray and you there’s always this mystery that never gets explained.”

She took one deep breath, or at least she tried to. Granted it was high altitude in the area, but this felt as if the air had thickened, clogging the lungs and the senses. When she glanced over at the house, what she saw there was the final straw. The roses bushes lay strewn apart and destroyed. Obliterated by something…she didn’t know what. “What happened to the rose bushes?”

“Beats the hell out of me. They were like that when I came down here, too. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for all of it.”

“Maybe Dougray is right.” She couldn’t believe she gave credence to the idea. “What if there is something off about the house?”

At first he stared at her blankly, his sunglasses shielding her from knowing exactly what he thought. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to think this McPhee character is an okay guy.”

She shook her head, more confused than she could remember in a long time. “No. But he reacted strangely when he saw my sketch of the rosebushes. Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know.”

She tossed an exasperated look his way that must have given him incentive to change his mind.

“Fine. Let’s go back to the resort and have a drink. Maybe we can work out what the hell is happening,” he said.

So she followed him, deliberately avoiding looking at the house again.

* * *

The hassock by the huge pine tree looked like it could hold both of them.

That odd thought popped into Cassie’s head as they took their bottles of lemon flavored water out to the recreational area behind the resort. No one else was in the area, which included a playground, picnic tables under trees, a horse shoe pitch, volleyball, and a fenced off heated pool. She could look at the water in the pool without reacting in a panic. She was proud of that much.

They settled at a big round table with an umbrella near the back entrance to the resort. Since the umbrella shielded them from direct intense sunlight, she took her hat off and shook her hair out. She felt Griff staring at her, but his sunglasses were so dark she couldn’t see the expression in his eyes. Eager to talk, she unzipped the backpack at her feet and retrieved her sketch pad.

She opened it to the roses, and shoved the pad across the table toward him. “McPhee had a strong reaction to these roses. He asked me where I’d seen them, and I explained that I saw them at the house.”

He drew his sunglasses off and lay them on the table. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

He looked up at her. “When I went down the hill I was curious about the house. I wanted to understand why the roses are blooming one day, dead the next, then alive again.”

She gave him a sardonic smile. “You didn’t just leave because you didn’t want to answer my questions about your past?”

“That too.” He tapped the sketch of the rose with his index finger. “But the roses…the house pulled me there. I went there because I was curious.”

“Not because you feel there’s anything…well, weird about the place?”

“Weird?”

“You know.” How could she say this? She decided coming out with the bald truth would work best. “Haunted?”

“You believe in the paranormal?” His tone was laced with disbelief and maybe a tad scorn.

“I’m a skeptic for the most part, but there are things have happened to me that aren’t easy to brush off.”

He stared at her a long time before ducking his gaze to the sketch of the rose bushes. “What makes you think the house is haunted?”

“Why did you want to go back there?” She persisted. “Was it just because you were curious about what we both saw? Or was it because you didn’t want to argue with me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Cripes, Cassie, you are a bulldog on the questions.”

She snorted a laugh. “Yeah, well, so are you.”

He puffed air out between his lips. “Like I already said. I was curious. And before you can ask, no, I don’t believe in the paranormal.”

“Because you’ve never experienced anything you couldn’t explain?”

“I didn’t say that. I figure there’s a logical explanation for everything. Just because we can’t come up with one right now doesn’t mean it’s all woo-woo.”

She shifted in her chair, sinking down farther to get more comfortable. Unfortunately the hard wood didn’t give an inch. “Okay, do you have any theories?”

“Yeah. Someone moved in there since Sunday.”

She sensed he was hiding something again, leaving her in the dark. “What happened when you went down to the house by yourself?”

He kept his gaze on the sketch pad, flipping to the picture of the Point she’d drawn on Sunday and the one she’d drawn today. “Like I said before, I walked down the driveway and checked out the rosebushes. I didn’t see tire tracks, but it looked like they’d been run over.”

“Do you think Dougray did it?”

“I didn’t see him with a car, did you?”

“No.” She drew her hands through her hair, wishing she’d tied it into a ponytail this morning. “Did you see anyone else at the house?”

“Not a soul. I went up to the front door. I didn’t knock.”

When his gaze met hers, she saw confusion within him. “You could have cleared up the mystery of the possessed roses if you talked to the people who’ve moved in.”

“I don’t think anyone was home. The house felt empty. But not.”

That statement threw her. “Okay, now you’re freaking me out. What do you mean by it was empty but it wasn’t?”

He made a sound of contempt down in his throat, a sort of growl. “I don’t know.”

She smiled to take the sting out of her next words. “Sounds woo-woo to me.”

“When I was in the sandbox my instincts kept me from getting my ass shot off on more than one occasion.”

“Sandbox?”

“Iraq and Afghanistan. I believe in instinct. Nothing paranormal about that.”

She almost refuted his statement, but decided if she wanted him to reveal more of his thoughts and past, she couldn’t antagonize him repeatedly. They went quiet for a short time while she sipped at her water.

He closed her sketch pad and tapped the cover with his finger again. “I suggest we just forget McPhee’s problems and weird-assed roses at that house. But I think he’s right. You shouldn’t go back to the Point. Especially not alone.”

A chill rippled just under her skin. “I have no plans to go up there alone, especially when Dougray keeps turning up everywhere I am.”

Satisfaction filled his face, and for the first time in a while, he looked relaxed. “Good.”

Once more the quiet enveloped them. Only the whispers of a light breeze and birds chirping interrupted their quiet.

He stood slowly. “I have an idea. Penny seems like an A-number-one gossip. Maybe she can tell us something about the house.”

She grabbed her pack and water bottle, enthusiastic about his idea. “Now that makes sense. Hey, I think I’m starting to like this little mystery.”

He came around the table and stood close to her. “Don’t get too excited. Little towns like Bowmount are good at keeping secrets when it’s dirty laundry.”

He left her long enough to toss his empty water bottle and hers into the recycle bin nearby, then crossed the short distance to return. As he walked, his powerful male body called to her libido in a way no man had in years. Maybe ever. He was a mystery she might not solve, but that didn’t mean he didn’t continue to intrigue her on several levels. She didn’t like that at all, but she could control sexual urges as well as the next woman.

He stood close again, looking down on her. His gaze was interested, a melting heat that warmed her from the inside out. With him so close and what had happened yet today, her emotions responded. She couldn’t deny the constant tug and retreat within her when this man got close, or when he spoke to her in that low, sexy voice.

“Thank you for coming back from the house. Back to the Point,” she said.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “You thought I wouldn’t come back?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“I may be a rude bastard, but I’m not that much of a jerk.”

She laughed, genuinely amused by his assessment of himself. “I don’t think you’re that rude.”

His smile faded, his mouth compressed in a stern line. “I should have taken you with me. I wanted to give us both time.”

“I know. But you’re still not going to tell me anything about your past, are you?”

He bit his lower lip for a moment, and her attention caught on his well-cut, masculine mouth. “It’s a complicated past.”

“What do you think will happen if you tell me?”

She watched his face change from certain to uncertain, maybe confusion. “You’ll hate my guts.”

Surprised, she didn’t know what to say at first. Did she want to probe into his past, to keep digging for his truth if it meant something horrible?

“You’d care if I hated you?” she asked.

His eyes met hers. “Yes.”

She liked that, but she didn’t want to like it. Alarm bells went off inside her. She would not get involved with this guy any further than she already had, and if he wanted to keep secrets it was no sweat off her nose.

“Don’t look at me like that, Cassie.”

Her gaze flew to his. “Like what?”

“As if I’m going to hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid of you. Should I be?”

“No, but I see suspicion in your eyes.”

He frowned and cupped her cheek. The heat of his touch sent a wild thrill straight down to her stomach.

She placed her hand over his and kept her voice soft. “My ex kept a lot of stuff from me, including our financial situation. I’m not into men who can’t be straight with me no matter their past.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and his skin brushed hers, but then he jammed his hands in his coat pockets. “God, you’re beautiful.” His voice went lower, deeper. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re gutsy?”

A low tingling throbbed in her loins in response to his compliment. “Hardly. But don’t think I’m fishing for a compliment because I’m not. I used to look for approval from men when I was much younger. I don’t do that anymore.”

“My sister Diane had issues like that. She got pregnant when she was sixteen because she gave in to her rat bastard boyfriend.”

“Thank goodness I never did that.”

“Diane decided to keep the baby, and my father…well, let’s just say she had to move out.”

“Why?”

“Dad was pissed and called her some unforgiveable things.” His face tightened, anger surfacing. “She moved to Colorado for a while and stayed with Aunt Delia, my Mom’s sister. But then Diane lost the baby two months into the pregnancy. She moved back home.”

He shook his head quickly, as if he wanted to shake loose the memories.

“The whole thing must have been horrible for her.”

He sighed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

She could give up on him right now if he wouldn’t be straight with her, but she reined in her impatience. Most people didn’t spill their guts to someone on short acquaintance. She’d chosen to reveal part of her past to him. There was no rule saying he must reciprocate.

Feeling a little as if she’d bullied him, she offered the proverbial olive branch. “I’m sorry I pushed you for information. We’ve only known each other…what? Less than a week? We only started really talking on Sunday. Why don’t we have dinner tonight and just talk. As new friends.”

Tension eased in his face and a crooked tilt to his mouth made him so handsome she ached.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said.

“I’ve learned a lot in the last ten years to ask for what I want.”

“And you want dinner with me. I like that.”

She shifted gears, trying to slow down the crazy attraction she felt for him. “Is your sister okay now? Or does she still let men push her around?”

“Huh. You kidding? Even her husband can’t get her to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

She enjoyed the chagrined expression on his face and chuckled. “I like her already.”

“I think she’d like you, too.”

“What about the rest of your family? Are they anything like you?”

His mouth tightened, and that’s when she knew she’d lost him. What she didn’t expect was when he cupped her face between with both hands and urged her closer. On instinct she gripped his biceps. God, he was so hard. So muscular. And obviously, he wanted to distract her. It worked.

“Let’s stop talking for one minute,” he said. “Forget our pasts and feel right now.”

Breathless, she managed a question. “Why?”

“There you go again, talking.”

His mouth touched hers, and she fell into his kiss. He didn’t urge her closer, but his mouth was intimate and searching. When he’d kissed her before, he’d held something back. This time there was genuine sexual heat. She swept her palms over his chest and moaned softly. His tongue sank into her mouth, caressing her with searching strokes that started a fire in her belly. God, he was delicious. She met his tongue, allowed it to flirt and caress hers. Sensual heat burned low and smoldered in her stomach. She’d never experienced the total rush of hot need this man’s kiss brought to life inside her.

His chest heaved with a deep breath as he released her. Their gazes clashed, and the tension between them singed her.

“Why did you kiss me?” she asked.

“I’ve never had a woman ask me that before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Griffin.”

He smoothed her hair away from her face again. “Because I think you’re beautiful, and I couldn’t wait to kiss you again.”

If he could be honest this time, she could be candid right back. “I forgot how good a kiss could feel. It’s been so long.”

“Are you saying you’d like this to happen again?”

She smiled. “Hell yeah.

He laughed, and his eyes continued to smolder in a way that promised the next kiss would be even better.

“That’s a yes to dinner?” she asked.

“Dinner it is,” he said. “Let’s talk with Penny.”

Once inside the resort and back at the front desk, they found Penny and a young man who worked at the desk on occasion. He had a clean cut look with sandy blond hair, striking blue eyes, and a friendly smile. His name tag said Benson. Cassie thought he looked around twenty-five. They waited until Penny and the young man weren’t busy to approach the desk. Benson turned his attention to a computer at the far side of the counter.

“We have a mystery we need solving,” Cassie said to the older woman.

Penny rubbed her hands together. “I love a good mystery. Lay it on me.”

“You know anything about that house up on the hill that’s vacant?” Cassie asked.

“The lock box is off of it now. So maybe it’s occupied,” Griff said.

Penny’s expression went dark, her eyes serious. “Oh, that place.” She leaned her elbows on the counter and leaned toward them. She lowered her voice and glanced around the room. “It’s a dump.”

Cassie exchanged amused glances with Griff, and leaned on the counter to match Mrs. Cribb’s body position.

“We noticed,” Griff said. “What’s the history on the house?”

Mrs. Cribb’s mouth came open, but then she stopped and frowned. “Why do you want to know? You don’t want to buy the place and move in do you?”

“Hell no,” Griff said with a smile.

“We’re just curious since we…” Cassie drifted, fumbling for an excuse. “The roses out front were blooming the other day like someone took care of them, and now it looks like someone’s taken a buzz saw to them. The lock box is off the front door. We thought maybe someone moved in. If not, maybe we need to call the cops and tell them the place is vandalized.”

Penny frowned. “I suppose someone could have bought the place without me hearing about it. I’ll admit it. I hear everything that’s going on in town, and that’s even without reading the newspaper.” She rambled on. “I hate reading the local paper. Nothing but politics and controversy. Really gets people all worked up.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, the history is fascinating. The house was built in about sixty-five, I think. I remember when it was new-looking. The guy who had it built was a lawyer, and he had a wife and two little girls. Anyway, there were all these rumors about the family and the house. Kids that lived higher up the hill toward the Point used to run by it because they were scared.”

“Scared of a new house?” Cassie asked.

Penny almost whispered. “Yep. The lawyer had a couple of mistresses on the side. Not local girls. The wife used to hang out with this guy who everyone thought might be a homosexual, but turned out she’d had an affair with him.”

“Sounds like they both were screwed up,” Cassie said, referring to the affair and mistresses.

“Don’t you know it.” Mrs. Cribb’s eyes sparkled as enthusiasm marked her voice. “Kids in grade school were scared of the little girls. I was ten when they moved into the house.”

“Were you afraid of them?” Griff asked.

Penny tucked her hair behind her ears. “Sort of. They were so white with the blackest hair I’d ever seen. They had these thin lips and cold green eyes. About a year after they moved in they were just gone.”

“Moved out?” Cassie asked.

“Disappeared.” Mrs. Cribb’s eyes were scared now. “One day they were there, the next they weren’t. The police investigated because all their stuff was still in the house. All of it. Lunch was on the table with bites out of the sandwiches.” She rubbed her arms. “When I heard about that, it scared the crap out of me.”

A chill raced over Cassie’s skin. “That’s creepy.”

“What happened with the house after that?” Griff asked.

Penny picked up a pen and started to doodle on the pad in front of her. “I guess the bank took over the house and they sold it to another family. They lived there two years. A young couple. The woman committed suicide and the husband wasn’t anywhere to be found. But his stuff was left there, too. The authorities considered him a suspect for a long time—maybe he’d made it look like a suicide. After that the place had renters off and on and nothing bad happened so far as I know. No one stayed in the place more than a couple of years it seemed. Finally this old codger bought it in the eighties.” The woman rolled her gaze to the ceiling. “He lived there until five years ago and they found him dead in the front yard with a pair of shears.”

“Cutting roses?” Cassie asked on a whim.

Penny narrowed her eyes. “Yep. Exactly. He complained to a neighbor the day before that the damn roses wouldn’t behave.” Her gaze went back and forth between them. “He said he kept cutting them down and they’d grow right back. Place has been abandoned for four years now. I guess no one wants two acres and a ranch house. Those newer houses on the other side of the street are more appealing.”

Cassie’s mind whirled from what the hotel manager had told them. “Dougray McPhee said his sister disappeared up there.”

Penny look startled. “That was his sister? There was this young woman that went missing but she didn’t live here.” She put one hand to her face. “God, I forgot all about that.”

“Do you think the old man killed her?” Cassie asked.

Penny looked horrified. “She went missing after the old man died.” She rubbed her arms again. “God, that place is so awful. I don’t like even talking about it.”

Griff’s expression went totally serious. “Any of the neighbors notice anything unusual about the place?”

Mrs. Cribb’s eyes narrowed, as if she suspected something fishy going on. “Nothing that I’ve heard, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

The phone rang and Penny reached for it. After she answered a hotel guest’s question, she returned to them. “That’s the sordid story. I’d stay away from the place if I was you. It’s just…odd.”

Cassie had no argument with that.

* * *

Night fell and the man approached the house again. Street lights faded, and as he walked up the dirt road, he turned on his flashlight. Houses on the way to the Point didn’t have street lights. So when the pine trees closed around, hugging the road like tall monsters from a horror movie, even a star studded sky and the approach of a full moon couldn’t erase the edgy sensation.

A memory returned from when he was a kid and lived in this area. His stupid friends would run up to the front door of the haunted house and knock on it. When the door would open a crack, they’d run screaming. He’d stayed out on the road, shaking with a fear so freezing and sharp he couldn’t ignore it. When they’d returned to him, they’d giggled and slapped him on the back. Stupid boys hadn’t understood he knew something lived in the house. For when the door had cracked open that tiny bit, he’d seen the eyes. Red. Glowing. Like the sort of monster eyes every kid feared existed under the bed at night. He hadn’t said a damn thing to them. Maybe one day they’d step into the house and all disappear. He wouldn’t fear their taunts, their hatred and the torment he’d suffered day after day as they bullied him. He’d heard some years ago, after he’d left to join the military, that one of the meanest boys had disappeared from Bowmount when he was twenty. Just up and vanished.

He grinned. Maybe the bastard had stumbled too close to the house’s open door and it had swallowed him.

The large flashlight beam gave him plenty of light as he quickened his steps up the hill. He almost tripped, eager to make it back to the house and feel the stark, thrilling pleasure he’d discovered when he’d stepped inside that one time. While the military had taken him away from Bowmount and this house, his return had been bittersweet. He’d left his car downtown, not wanting to park in the ranch house driveway and alert anyone he was there. The walk cleared his head, and after a long day working he relished the exercise. He hated his job, and the sooner he could leave it, the better. His boss was nice enough, and he didn’t want to kill her as he had some others along the way. She didn’t know how lucky she was. She talked too much, but in his experience most women did, so he tolerated her personality. He needed the money.

He knew this road by heart even in the semi-darkness barely illuminated by his flashlight. When he reached the driveway of the ranch house, he noticed a difference. He sucked in a breath and turned toward the house. A breeze ruffled the trees and he drank in the healthy scent of pine and earth. One more step, onto the driveway, and the wind increased. It blew against him, carrying a few pine needles over his feet. Between prickling excitement and terrible fear, he looked directly at the house.

It was alive. Alive and calling to him once more. He walked down the driveway and felt the burning start in his legs. Strange things happened to him physically when he came here. One day a headache. Another day his vision had faded in and out. He hurried up the driveway, his desire to enter the house so strong, the ecstasy of it seared him. The house wanted him again. It wouldn’t harm him. Here he belonged, and he would make anyone who dared to invade his sanctuary suffer. Just as he’d been made to suffer all his life. At the front door he reached for the doorknob, but the door opened on its own. Like a mouth it opened wide, a black pit that devoured and held. With a feeling close to ecstasy, he entered his home. His home.

Blackout: Chapter Five

“This is a cute place,” Cassie said as she settled into the small chair at the two person table. “And I’m starving.”

Griff smiled as he settled across from her and took the menu the hostess handed him. Cassie thought he looked good enough to eat. Wearing a dark green sweater, jeans, and athletic shoes, he wasn’t dressed for fancy cuisine. Neither was she. She’d worn a blue sweater and jeans as well. Not like she’d come to Bowmount expecting cuisine. It didn’t matter—the restaurant was casual. Cassie’s physical reactions to this man weren’t so casual. Since the second kiss they’d shared, her body seemed hyper-aware of him, ready and willing to discover what would happen if they brought their bodies together.

No. That’s going too far.

They ordered a half bottle of Chianti and the special for each of them—a penne pasta with vodka sauce.

He pinpointed her with a serious expression. “What did you think of what Penny told us?”

“I’m not sure. It sounds like a whole pile of urban legends piled on one place.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. The only way we could verify some of it would be official records.”

“Why would we do that?”

“I don’t want to. It’s just an observation.”

He reached for his napkin and placed it on his lap. At least he wasn’t tearing it to pieces like the paper napkin.

When the wine came and the waiter left, he lifted his glass. “First, a toast.” Their wine glasses clinked together. “To the rest of our vacation being peaceful.”

“A peaceful vacation.” She didn’t know why he thought it wouldn’t be, but didn’t question him on it. “How long are you in town?”

“Until Sunday.”

“I’m here until Saturday.”

“Let’s make the most of it then.” He looked at her over the rim of his glass as he took another sip. “What plans did you have for the rest of the week?”

“Laziness. Sketching.” A wild idea came to her, and without another thought she blurted it. “I want to draw the ranch house.”

“What?” his tone was sharp, as if the idea was preposterous.

“When I’m inspired to sketch something I go for it.”

She couldn’t miss the trepidation on his face.

“Another thing I like about you.” His gaze caught hers and held, and the intensity in that look sent a million messages. “You’re very brave.”

She made a sound of disagreement. “Mostly I just push forward and do what has to be done. It’s that or admit failure.”

“That’s one definition of bravery.”

“There’s more than one?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked down at the table, his expression far away. “On the battlefield I saw bravery from the people you’d least expect. And men who everyone thought would have balls of steel sometimes lost it.”

“What about the women you served with?” she asked.

He made a short laugh, humorless. “Female marines are some of the toughest people I know. Sometimes they top the men for bravery when the shit hits the fan.”

She looked down at her wineglass and into the ruby liquid as if an answer might jump out at her if she used it like a crystal ball.

“I guess sketching the house isn’t staying away from it, is it?” she asked.

“You don’t think it’s really haunted, I hope.”

She reached for the basket of rolls the waiter had placed on their table not long ago. “After all Penny told us, I’m beginning to wonder. After the way the roses just…I don’t know.”

“Make me a promise.”

Unsure, she hesitated before saying, “What?”

“Don’t go to the house without me.”

She thought about telling him she’d do whatever she damned well pleased, but instinct told her going alone to the house might not be the smartest thing. “I hadn’t planned to.”

Once more a clearly pleased expression covered his face, and one part of her rebelled. A man telling her what to do just didn’t sit well with her. She’d learned hard core independence after her life with her ex husband, and giving in to any man’s request always made her think twice. She shoved aside the residual resentment. All she was doing in this case was being smart, not giving in to an unreasonable request.

Before their entrees arrived and while they ate, they settled into gentler conversation. Topics ranged from the weather predictions for snow tonight to politics. Both were moderates and independents, so they found a big middle ground there. He liked to read westerns and sci-fi novels, while she enjoyed sci-fi, romance, and thrillers. Both of them shied from literary novels. As for movies, he liked the shoot-’em-ups, and so did she.

“You’re kidding me?” he asked as he poured more wine for her and for himself. “You like action movies?”

She took a sizable gulp of wine. “Always have.”

“Damn. You’re the first woman I’ve run into who does. But I’ll bet you still like chick flicks.”

“Yeah. Sue me.”

He laughed, and the deep, masculine sound brushed along her senses and started a spark. God, the man turned her own like nobody’s business. A radical thought came to mind. If and when he kissed her again…she’d take this to the next level. Making love with him would scratch a long, ten-year itch. But she couldn’t give into doubt or cravings like this if she didn’t trust a man down deep where it mattered.

They shared a piece of apple pie, and she let him eat most of it. One time she licked her lips and caught him staring at her mouth. Heat flared in her body, tingling in her nipples and the tug and pull low in her loins. The man had her tied up in knots.

Chill. You can withstand it.

Yeah, that’s what she told herself, but was it true?

After the waiter brought their check, he pulled out his wallet and extracted cash.

“No, I didn’t mean for you to pay it all,” she said and reached for her purse.

“Not to worry. This one is on me. You can get the next one.”

She couldn’t deny the idea of their being another time appealed to her. “Deal.”

They’d taken his old black Dodge Charger to the restaurant and when they piled into it, he said, “Let’s drive by the ranch house.”

Surprised, she only thought of one word. “What?”

“I’m curious about something.”

“I thought we planned to stay away from there.”

“Just a drive by. I want to see if someone has moved into the house and Penny just didn’t know. It’s a hunch I have.”

She shrugged and went along with it. “All right. But we aren’t stopping. Just a drive by.”

“Deal.”

As he left the restaurant parking lot and returned to the outskirts of the town, she wondered why they both obsessed over the abandoned house so much. It didn’t make sense. Yet they’d both seen something…those damn roses and their ability to grow and die and grow again. At least she thought they’d seen an extraordinary thing. Perhaps they imagined it all.

Traffic was light, and a small town like this rolled up the streets early in the fall. When they reached the dirt turn off towards the Point, she tensed.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” She almost asked him to turn around.

“Why?”

“Not exactly a great way to end a date, is it?”

“Was that a date?”

“God, you’re such a man.” She said it with a deadpan voice, only half kidding.

He’s low chuckle vibrated through her. “You know how to flatter a guy’s ego.”

Snowflakes suddenly flew into the headlight streams, dusting the road in front of them until the ditch and the road all looked the same.

“Damn.” His voice as a little gruff. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“Weatherman did say we might a light dusting.”

“This is a hell of a lot more than a dusting.”

Soon the white stuff came down at an angle that made it hard to see where they were going. Not much longer and they pulled up in front of the ranch house. They looked through the darkness at the dark hulk of the building.

“Son of a bitch,” he said.

Light streamed from the windows, and from what she could see, the dark stalks of roses stood unblemished.

“Oh, my God. Am I really seeing that?” she asked. “The roses are—”

“Yeah, you’re seeing it.”

The car died.

“What are you doing?” A tiny panic welled inside her. “You said a drive-by only.”

“It stopped on its own.” He tried the ignition but the car didn’t turn over, the click, click sound showing the damn thing had no intention of starting soon. “Wait here.”

She almost reached for his arm and told him not to go out in the biting weather. He was out before she could say a peep. He slammed the door. Soon he was peeking under the hood. If he knew how to correct the problem they’d be out of here in no time. While he tinkered, she concentrated on keeping her suddenly jumpy nerves in line. The windows of the house stayed lit, and those rose bushes appeared intact. She blinked. Blinked again. It just couldn’t be. One second later a dark figure passed by one of the windows. Stunned, she pressed her hand against the cold window as snow raced by the window. Okay, so someone had moved in there, but maybe it was a squatter.

Griff jerked open the car door, and she started. He sank into the seat and tried the ignition again. It sputtered, almost caught, died again.

He slapped one hand against the steering wheel. “Damn.”

“You can’t fix it?”

“What I’ve tried isn’t working. I can’t tell what’s wrong with it.”

She reached into her purse for her cell phone. “I have access to an auto club.”

“Great.” He reached into the glove compartment and they found the number provided to call a tow. A few moments later it was evident they wouldn’t be calling anyone. Her cell phone was dead and so was his.

“This can’t be.” Frustration filled his voice. “Both our cell phones can’t be dead at the same time.”

“Well, they are.”

She could blame him for the predicament. If he hadn’t insisted they come up to creepy central they’d be in a warm hotel right now.

“We’ll have to go to the house and see if we can use their phone. The nearest house is about a half mile away. We can’t walk in this snow.”

Without thinking, she touched his forearm…gripped it, actually. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I did see someone pass by the window while you were outside. But…”

“It’ll be all right. Obviously someone’s renting the place or bought it. I’ll check it out.”

“No. I don’t think it’s safe.”

“It isn’t safe sitting out here all night.”

With one more look, he held her gaze. Then he leaned forward and cupped the back of her neck. He kissed her lightly, the quick brushing of his lips against hers not even giving her a chance to respond. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He reached across and opened the glove compartment. Inside lay a big handgun.

She said the first thing she thought of, even though the information was obvious as hell. “You’ve got a gun.”

In the dark she couldn’t see his expression, but she heard amusement in his voice. “Yeah, I left it back in the room earlier today in the safe. After that little encounter with McPhee”—he hefted the gun in his right hand— “insurance.”

The fact he owned a weapon didn’t surprise or disturb her, and she didn’t ask what he planned to do with it. He grabbed a flashlight out of the back seat.

As she watched Griff walking down the driveway, the snow danced across the windshield. Apprehension prickled her skin. Her breathing came faster. For a few seconds helplessness strangled her. Claustrophobia cut off her air as snow surrounded the car and carpeted the earth. She’d only felt claustrophobic in her life one other time, in that hotel room in Thailand so long ago. The lights in the house blinked out, and she stiffened. She’d allowed the darkness to keep her in place in Thailand that night, the ocean a big bad monster ready to devour. No one had needed her right then, but that wasn’t the case now.

Instinct kicked in, and she reached for the door handle.

* * *

The lights cut out in the house and Griff stopped in surprise. Okay. Perhaps the new owners didn’t want anyone to know they were here. Didn’t matter. He needed a tow, and the only way he’d get it was to make a call.

He made his way onto the porch, flashlight in his right hand and weapon tucked into the back waistband of his jeans. Last thing he expected was to need the weapon, but after the weird feelings he’d experienced at this house before, he didn’t want to take chances. He’d hated leaving Cassie in the car, but he wanted her safe. Of the two places, he was damned sure the car would prove safest. Before he could knock on the door, it opened on its own. Hinges didn’t creak, and the welcome was wide as the door swung all the way open and touched the wall with a delicate thud. Wind. The weather must have moved the door—it couldn’t have been latched well.

He shone the flashlight inside. “Hello? Anyone in here? Our car broke down in front of your house. We need to use a phone. Our cells aren’t working.”

Silence.

His flashlight poured through the doorway, and he thought he’d see old furniture. Lamps. Maybe pictures on the wall. Or perhaps the place lay empty. The flashlight beam hit a wall of darkness it couldn’t penetrate.

“What the—”

A twig snapped behind him, and he jerked around, reaching into his back waistband for his weapon.

“Jesus!” He gasped as his flashlight showed him the culprit. “I told you to stay in the car.”

Cassie blinked in the flashlight’s glare. “I’m not a marine. I don’t take orders well.”

“I could have shot you.”

She arrived beside him on the porch as he turned back to the doorway. “Something told me not to let you go into the house alone.”

He drew in a deep breath and left irritation behind.

“The door was open?” she asked.

“Looks like it.”

“I saw someone in there before. The lights were on.”

“I know.” He turned the flashlight onto the door again. Darkness swallowed up the light.

“That isn’t…” Her voice hitched. He heard fear in the sound, in her inability to complete the sentence.

Snow blew into his face, wind pushing the flakes faster and faster. Curiosity mixed with fear settling in his stomach like a lead ball.

“Stay behind me,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t leave him and return to the car, even if he begged.

Cassie did as he asked, and he walked into the blackness. The perception of solid darkness retreated as he crossed the threshold. He found a light switch to his right by the front door. He flipped the switch and nothing happened. Damn.

With one step and then two, he conquered the night. The flashlight cut through, showing him solid objects. A couch, two easy chairs, and a roll top desk sat in the living room. A big dark rug under the couch and the chairs looked as if rats had chewed on the ends. Old bookshelves held a few hardbacks and a small stack of magazines and newspapers. A must and dust smell hit his nose. The hardwood floor creaked underfoot. An old sliding glass door led out to the backyard. To the right was also a long hallway with three open doors. Beyond that lay a dead end. He saw an attic door, more a small square, in the ceiling at the end of the hall. He turned his light back to the living area and noticed the kitchen off the living room, which looked like it hadn’t been updated since the1970s.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anyone here.” Cassie’s voice came out of the darkness.

“You saw someone here.”

“I did.”

She sounded confused, and he couldn’t blame her. “Could be someone needs help. Let’s keep going.”

She followed as he made his way through the small kitchen to an equally small dining room. The long wood table had a place setting on it, the flashlight revealing a filled glass of water.

“There is someone here, Griff.”

“Maybe.” They passed through the dining room to yet another living room. It was empty. He went to the single door against the wall. It was locked. “This must be the garage.”

“Hello?” Cassie asked as they stood in the entrance to the hallway. “Is anyone home?”

Silence.

“I haven’t seen one phone in here anywhere,” he said in frustration. “Did you?”

“No. Maybe they’re just using a cell. A lot of people do that now.”

He walked ahead and before he reached the end of the hallway, a huge crack sounded under his feet and he went straight down into darkness. He didn’t have time to cry out or curse as he fell into a dark hole and landed on his back in hard packed earth.

“Griff!” Cassie called after him.

He gasped and coughed and sat up. “I’m okay. Its only about a ten foot drop.”

“Only a ten foot drop!” She sounded angry as hell. “How are you going to get out of there?”

He shone the flashlight this way and that. “There’s probably a drop-down ladder or something. Hold on while I look.”

Dust motes floated in the flashlight beam. Stygian darkness made it difficult to see far, even with the powerful light. The space looked about forty to fifty feet wide and approximately as many feet long. The fold down ladder with a crawl space door which would lead up to the far end of the hallway. “There’s a door in the floor. Can you see the end of the hallway?”

“Not very well.”

“Okay, I’m going to toss this flashlight up so you can see to get around that hole. Unless you can’t get around it.” He tossed the flashlight and hoped to hell she caught it.

“Got it.” Her voice sounded triumphant.

He heard her walking along the hallway, and in some places the wood creaked and groaned.

Jesus, this entire thing is a clusterfuck.

Fear rose and he said, “Be careful.”

He moved slowly toward the far north side of the room where the door in the flooring should be. She grunted and then a squeak split the air as she opened the crawl space door. Light came through and a ladder swung down.

“Who in their right mind builds a door like this into a basement?” she asked as he looked up.

“Damned if I know. Most crawl spaces aren’t this deep.”

Without taking another moment to survey the basement area, he took the ladder. Once up top, he closed the door and looked down the hallway at the hole in the floor. It wasn’t as wide as he thought. Barely enough for a body to fall through.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “I don’t care if we have to sit in the car all night.”

“I’m checking these rooms first to make sure there’s no one in here.”

Her weary sigh followed him, but she didn’t speak. He opened one door and swung it wide. A chest of drawers, double bed, trunk, and desk filled the room. Dust motes floated in the light beam.

“Weird.” She said, voice so quiet he almost couldn’t hear her. “There’s a bedspread. Papers and other junk on the desk. Why would someone leave all this?”

“Good question,” he said as he went to the next door.

The door opened with a haunted house squeak that almost hurt his ears. Inside more ordinary objects littered the room. Chest of drawers—two in fact. A table with sewing machine. Another double bed. They left that room and went to a third bedroom. This room was much smaller. The double bed left only room for a tiny chest of drawers and a small desk.

Last but not least was a bathroom that looked like it had last been updated in the eighties. Maybe.

“This is crazy.” Her voice came again, soft on his ears and a little afraid.

“You’re right. There isn’t anyone here.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I wasn’t imagining that I saw someone.”

He believed her, though he shouldn’t. If anyone had been here they should have seen them by now.

“There’s the attic.” He pointed the flashlight up at the door in the ceiling. “But I’m not sure I want to look for anyone. Come on.”

He led the way, and they picked their way around the hole in the floor with cautious steps. Once down the hall and out the front door, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, my God.” Cassie’s voice was breathless.

Dumbstruck, he looked at the roses once more. Though covered in snowflakes, the roses now stood erect and undisturbed. He didn’t have one damned word for the evidence in front of his eyes. Because his eyes had betrayed him or he’d gone crazy. He stared at the blooms in the flashlight beam.

Cassie touched his arm, and rather than understand their hallucination, he grabbed her hand and hurried down the driveway. They hopped into the car. On instinct, he turned the ignition, and the car roared to life.

“Wonderful.” Her vocal relief echoed the one inside him.

Without questioning, he put the car in gear and eased away from the house. He made a U-turn and headed back to the resort.

As they moved away, she craned around to look at the house. “No.”

He slowed and glanced back at the house. “What is it?”

“Lights are on in the house again. We tried those light switches, Griff.”

“I know. Let’s get back to the resort and out of this snow.”

* * *

Cassie’s mind was blown. As she sat in her hotel room in one of the stick chairs, she watched Griff pace the center of the room from the small couch and coffee table to the king-sized bed. The adobe style fireplace in the other corner warmed her blood. Since they’d returned to the hotel a short time ago, they hadn’t discussed what happened at the house on the hill. His face had turned to rock before they reached the hotel and hadn’t changed.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

He stopped and sat on the bed. “That someone slipped us a hallucinogen at dinner. There’s no damn logical explanation for what we’ve seen. If you didn’t see the same things—hell, I’d check myself into a loony farm right now.”

Weary, she leaned over and untied her boots. “I can’t even think anymore.”

His gaze softened. “You need sleep.”

He’d left his coat on, but he unzipped it and tossed it on the couch. She’d planned on kicking him out of her room, but maybe she wouldn’t yet. She pulled her boots all the way off and headed to the mini bar.

“I need a drink after that.” She didn’t care if he thought she solved all her problems with liquor. Which she didn’t. “Maybe we should forget we ever saw it.” She opened the mini bar. “Want something?”

“No. Thanks.”

She opened a small plastic whiskey bottle and took a tentative sip. After closing the door and taking another sip, she settled on the bed next to him.

“Are you certain you’re all right?” She touched his forearm.

“Yeah. I’m fine. You?”

“Tired.” She shivered. “What happened to the car, Griff? Why did it start?”

“Beats the hell out of me.” He sounded almost angry.

“Okay, I’ll admit I’m spooked.” She didn’t want this. It made her feel stupid and perplexed beyond anything she’d experienced. “Do you…I hate to even admit this…maybe the place is haunted.”

He shook his head and looked her dead in the eyes. “Like I said before, I don’t believe in paranormal stuff. If I can’t see it, touch it, or feel it, it isn’t there.”

Impatience made her say, “Yeah, well, there are a lot of things you can’t see, touch or smell, and you know they exist. So that isn’t good criteria for disbelief.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Touché. But I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Okay then, if it isn’t a ghost, then what happened to the person I saw in the house and the lights? And the car? All those rumors about the house, and Dougray saying his sister went missing. There’s something seriously wrong with that house.” Doubt continued to fill his eyes, and she wondered what the hell it would take for him to admit the house was freaky. “I guess we can just forget it then.”

His gaze latched onto hers. “What?”

“The house. Let’s just forget it and never go back.”

She half expected him to argue, to say they must learn what was happening there.

Instead he said, “I’ll take the car to a garage in town tomorrow morning. It’s probably a short. As for what you saw…” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You saw it, too. As we were driving away.”

“Right.”

She threw up her hands. “So we’re going to blow off this experience and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I need to sleep on it.”

She yawned and glanced at the clock. “It’s only seven but I’m beat.”

Her dismissal wasn’t explicit but Griff got it. He stood and started for his coat. When he slipped into the coat and turned to her, attraction sideswiped her. Even bundled in a winter coat, his masculinity and aura of protector didn’t fail to impress her. Attraction filled her, even though she didn’t want it. The man still had secrets, and she admitted to herself it continued to bother her. Just because he’d been a marine and was a federal marshal didn’t mean he was squeaky clean.

She stood and met him halfway across the room. “Thank you for keeping me safe tonight.”

He snorted softly. “Huh. If I’d been doing my job, I wouldn’t have allowed you into that house in the first place.”

“Your job?” Half insulted, she placed her hands on her hips. “I’m not a child, Griff.”

Now he looked a little perturbed. “I know that. But you ran after me. Why?”

“I was worried.”

“You were trying to protect me.”

“I guess you could say that.”

Stalemate.

“Then we’re even, right?” he asked.

“If I fall down and scrape my knees, I don’t need you to kiss my boo-boo and tell me it’ll be all right.”

The ghost of a smile touched his mouth, and he slipped a hand into her hair and drew her toward him. “You sure? I think I might like kissing your boo-boos, as you call them.”

Heat flashed through her face, and a desire coiled in loins as she allowed him to draw her against his hard body.

She laughed softly. “You know what I mean.”

He leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers. She returned the embrace, unable to resist, her hands bunching his coat as she held on. His kiss was gentle and warm, yet she felt a hot, banked need in his touch. His arms slipped around her back, warming and caressing. Big and gentle, his hands made her forget what they’d experienced in the weird house. All Cassie could feel was his mouth on hers, his tongue stroking deep and caressing. A man’s touch had never consumed her this way before, never made her long for more, for his body deep inside hers.

And God, she did want that. She ached with it, and the throb between her legs made her shift and moan softly against his mouth. She stuffed her fingers into his silky hair, loving the sensation against her skin. She arched into his strength, glorying in the way his body supported and protected. She couldn’t stop her curiosity, and smoothed her hands over his stomach before circling his back with her arms. God, his stomach was like rock, his waist slim, his back muscular. He cupped her face in both hands and tasted her the way no man had ever done before.

He drew back, taking one step and then another away from her. Her arms felt empty, and her body aching with unfulfilled desires.

“I’m not trying to be controlling,” he said.

“What are you trying to do then?”

He cleared his throat. “I care about you, okay? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Her body still hot with need, she tried to ignore the feeling that if she reached out, if she made a move, he’d stay with her. Would she want that? How could she when she couldn’t trust him one hundred percent?

“Let’s sleep on this. Tomorrow we’ll find out what happened.” His voice stayed easy and low as made to leave her room. He opened the door and glanced back at her. “Goodnight.”

After he left and she locked the door, loneliness greeted her. She went to the bathroom to retrieve a glass. She poured the rest of the small whiskey into the glass and slipped. She doubted she’d sleep tonight.

* * *

He’d watched the couple leave the house and satisfaction warmed the ice inside him. Cold always ate away at him when he stepped into the home. Yet when they’d arrived, he’d mourned powerlessness. They would walk in the door, and he couldn’t stop them. At least he didn’t think he could. When they’d entered, though, he felt their caution. Her fear radiated toward him a moment before she thought she saw something. He stood still, expecting them to shout, to see him and ask who he was. He heard their conversation about needing a phone, their calls of hello. They’d looked right through him.

They can’t see you.

Terrified and elated all at once, he’d considered speaking. His voice had caught in his throat. He had no voice, and they obviously didn’t know he was there. He grinned as power flowed inside him and grew moment by moment. Oh, yes. He did have power. He realized he could harm whoever he wanted now. When he’d hunted before, the women he’d taken and used to his satisfaction had never given him enough fight. They’d always tried, of course. There was that one that whimpered and basically gave in, her heart stopping even before he’d finished with her. Her blank, staring eyes had mocked him. Damn her little bitch eyes, blank and cold, her soul gone. He couldn’t hurt her then, and he’d known it. She’d fled the torture that fueled his need, that made him long for one more woman and one more, until his need was incurable and insatiable. The woman who walked in with the tall man had dark hair and a slightly foreign look he couldn’t pinpoint. It intrigued him.

This…this new development gave him bigger delight. More payoffs. He loved it. The couple couldn’t see him, and he laughed. He’d froze, wondering if they’d heard him. The foreign-looking woman had stopped moving, and he guessed she heard something even if she didn’t know what. He waited, but the woman had followed the man and gave no other indication that she knew someone lurked in the house. He’d trailed them until the man’s weight cracked the floor, and the guy fell through. Distress hit the woman, and he experienced her fear. He savored it, longed for it and drank it. The nourishment was sweet, burning ecstasy more potent than orgasm. His happiness was sidelined by the other man’s emotions. A wave of anger had rushed through the guy who’d fallen down the hole. When the man had climbed from the hole and they explored the rest of the rooms, he found himself wishing they’d stay.

Since he’d entered the house at night, a strange desire to become one with the structure overran every other need. But he’d be lonely if he stayed here forever. He must have other like-minded people surrounding him. When they’d left the house, his strength danced and wavered and weathered a bouncing, crackling wave. He strained to materialize, to return to his body in full form. As their car drove away, he knew his body had started to become visible again. He could see his own limbs in the semi-darkness. He reached for a light switch and discovered he’d come back to full form as lights came on in the house. Breathing deeply, he enjoyed the sensation of forming into full human form. He couldn’t decide, as the people drove away, if he enjoyed being real. Perhaps staying light and airy would prove better than existing in a real, touchable world. He’d never fit in. Why should he start now? But, if he wished to continue visiting the house and soaking in its delicious evil, he must return in full force to his solid form. So he did. Reluctantly.

Blackout: Chapter Six

Wednesday

A knock on Cassie’s door woke her the next morning. She groaned and rolled over. She opened one eye and spotted the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. Ten o’clock in the morning.

She blinked and blinked again and tried to orient herself. Faint light trickled in from a small part in the drapes. With a another groan she sat up, half sure she’d imagined the knock on the door. It came again.

She slipped out of bed and put on her flannel robe. She hadn’t brought slippers with her, so she drew on tube socks to keep her feet warm. The room was chilled like a meat locker. More pounding came on the door, but this time a voice came with it.

“Cassie?”

Griff?

She hurried to the door and peered through the security peep hole. Griff stood at her door, his eyes clearly worried and frowning.

She opened the door and swung it wide. Instantly relief filled his face, and she wondered what the hell would alter him like this.

“Cassie. God, what took you so long to answer?” His gaze danced over her robe. “Are you sick?”

“No…I…come in.”

She gestured for him to enter, and after he did she closed the door and locked it.

He cupped her face in both hands. “You don’t look all right. Were you sleeping?”

Warmed by the heat in his touch, she forgot the freezing room. She placed her hands over his. “I was dead to the world until you knocked.”

He cupped her forehead a second. “No fever.”

She smiled, touched by his concern. “Thanks for checking on me, but I’m all right. I guess I just needed the rest.”

“Could be more than that.” He moved farther into the room.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t wake up until an hour ago. Barely dragged my ass into the shower. After I left your room last night I was so tired I fell on the bed. Woke up still dressed.”

As inappropriate as it was, an image of him totally naked flashed into her mind. She licked her lips and tried to quell the reaction. She was practically drooling on him. Where had her objectivity gone? He wore a sweater of deep ruby red which hugged his broad shoulders, and her libido noticed his muscular ass in his well-fitted and worn jeans.

She shoved down the lust. “I don’t know why I slept so late. It was only seven o’clock when we came back here last night.”

His frown said he wanted to understand what had happened but didn’t have a clue. “Up to having breakfast?”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl loud enough to wake the dead. She grinned and he laughed.

“I guess you have your answer. Coffee sounds wonderful right now,” she said.

“I’ll meet you down at the restaurant.”

After he left Cassie turned up the thermostat and peeked between the drapes. Snow from last night had already melted. Groaning, she headed to the shower. While drying her hair, she looked in the mirror and made a face. God, she looked like hell. She’d never seen circles under her eyes that dark.

Liar. She remembered the day after the tsunami, when she’d dared to look in the mirror and saw her hair in a tangled mess, her face smudged with all matter of dirt.

She’d given up on being a made up Barbie doll after that. This morning she wouldn’t bother with more than a little powder, eye shadow, liner and blush.

Downstairs in the restaurant she saw Griff settled at a booth. The restaurant had one other couple at a table eating omelettes. After she sat down across from Griff, the waitress served them both coffee. Cassie added cream and sipped the strong liquid.

“Ahh,” she said. “Java.”

He laughed and took a drink of his black coffee. “Yeah, I could practically live on coffee. I have before.”

“When you were in the marines?”

“And as a marshal.”

Instead of discussing last night, she turned toward understanding Neal Griffin. “Do you thrive on action?”

He glanced out the window at the fresh, bright day. “You might say that.”

“Why?”

“Good question. I haven’t thought about it much.”

She wondered if he didn’t scrutinize his own motivations at all. She didn’t plan to push him on that, certain he wouldn’t answer.

“And you’re a bit conservative,” he said.

She made a small noise of disagreement. “You don’t know me as well as you think. I’ve had a few adventures.”

“Such as?”

She took another long drink of coffee. “Zip line. Some rock climbing.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Good deal.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. I was terrified both times and wouldn’t do either again. It’s not in me to put life and limb out there. Someone like you…it seems like it’s a part of your personality.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not. I’ve always thought men and women like you were special. There have to be warriors.”

“You’re not a pacifist?”

“In an ideal world I would be.”

I’d rather make love with you than war. Her face heated as that thought ran through her head. She looked into her coffee cup. She wasn’t even sure she understood making love. She’d read about it, imagined it. But all she’d really had was sex and not very good sex at that.

“The only people I make war on these days are criminals,” he said.

Cassie decided to steer clear of asking him work-related questions. She had a feeling he’d stonewall her. “Thanks for coming to check up on me this morning. I don’t know why I was so tired.”

“Maybe we both caught something and that’s why we’re feeling out of it.”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

The waitress brought their breakfasts. They’d almost finished eating when Griff looked behind her.

“Oh, boy,” he said as he looked past her. “Incoming.”

She glanced around and saw Dougray coming their way. “Damn.”

“I could tell him to get lost.”

“Let’s keep it cordial.”

Dougray sauntered up to them, an easy smile on his face. “How are you guys today?”

She smiled, hoping if she kept this friendly he’d go away. “We’re great. How about you?”

He nodded. “I saw a car at that house on the hill last night when I drove by. Was that your car?”

Cassie glanced quickly at Griff and caught his wary expression. “Yeah.”

“Why were you there?” Dougray asked.

She took a closer look at the Scot and noted the dark circles under his eyes. “We could ask you the same question.”

Dougray sighed. “You know why. My sister.”

Wariness remained in Griff’s eyes, but he answered with, “My car broke down and our cell phones wouldn’t work. We saw someone in the house and hoped they had a phone.”

Dougray’s eyes widened. “What? You saw someone in there?”

Griff leaned forward. “What else do you know about this house that you aren’t telling us?”

Dougray slid into the booth next to Cassie. “I did my research here in town. Not town records but people who live around here.”

“Penny Cribbs told us the history of the house and all the rumors,” Griff said.

Dougray nodded. “I’ll bet she didn’t tell you what I found out.”

“So tell us.” Griff didn’t sound too happy or interested.

Cassie’s gaze bounced from Dougray to Griff, not liking the tension between them. She’d lost her appetite but ate anyway. Griff didn’t hesitate to continue his meal.

Dougray leaned his elbows on the table. “People who live on the other side of the road up the hill a ways say the place freaks them out.”

“They talked to you about it?” She didn’t believe it.

Dougray’s long blond hair swayed as he nodded. He brushed it out of his face. “They’d heard about my sister, and they met me many times before. They wanted to help me.”

“I can verify that.” Griff sounded no nonsense.

The Scot’s dubious expression grew deeper. “How?”

Griff reached into his back pocket and flipped out a wallet and laid it on the table with his badge showing. “That’s how I can find out.”

Griff didn’t show any bravado in his gesture, just reality.

Dougray peered at the badge. “Bloody hell. You’re a cop?”

“Federal marshal.” Griff gathered up the wallet and returned it to his pocket. “Tell us what you discovered.”

Dougray messed with the pepper shaker, twirling it around in his hands. “The Bennets and Jorgenson’s live on the east side of the street. They each have two acres.”

“They can see the other property easily when they’re that spread out?” Cassie asked.

Dougray met her gaze. “No. When they’ve driven by their they’ve seen a lot of strange things over the years.”

“How long have they lived there?” Griff asked.

“Both families have lived there over twenty years.” Dougray pushed the pepper shaker aside and started messing with the salt shaker.

“And?” Impatience laced Griff’s voice.

Dougray hesitated, his attention wavering from Cassie to Griff. “Both families said the day my sister disappeared the roses out front bloomed. In the middle of winter. They were too damned scared to go over there and see how or why the plants bloomed.”

Cassie swallowed hard. “Has anyone investigated how or why the plants are that way?”

Dougray grunted. “I tried to ask the sheriff just outside of Bowmount and he laughed his ass off. Said he’d never heard of such a thing and that I was mental. Said I had a lot of cheek coming into the area and telling him how to do his job. This was after I blew up at him. Told him he’d bungled my sister’s disappearance case.”

“I’m sure that helped.” Cassie couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her tone.

Dougray didn’t seem deterred by what she’d said. “The people across the street went to the cops when they saw strange things going on over at the house, and they even had a paranormal investigation team come over last year.”

Griff snorted. “Waste of time.”

She threw him an irritated look, then turned back to Dougray. “Did they find anything?”

“We couldn’t get permission for them to enter the property. No one can even find out who owns the place now.”

Skepticism reared its head inside Cassie. She sipped her coffee and said, “That doesn’t make sense. Someone must know who owns the property now.”

“If this was such a big deal, how come it hasn’t made the news?” Griff asked after taking a bite of his food.

Dougray’s expression remained etched with determination. “I know. It sounds like a load of rubbish.”

“Then maybe it is. People like to create these urban legends to scare the shit out of themselves around a campfire.” Griff’s voice held a hard edge, as if he didn’t want to hear anymore of the paranormal angle.

Irritated, Cassie asked, “I thought you wanted to hear what he found out.”

Dougray barrelled onward. “The paranormal investigation was in the newspapers for about a day. The media, in its infinite wisdom, decided it was somehow a hoax. They didn’t come out here to see for themselves. I tried contacting scientists I thought might be interested. People with an open mind. They ignored me.” Dougray’s voice, though kept low, had a desperate tone to it. “I’ve tried everything to find out what happened to my sister. I’m taking it into my own hands because no one gives a rot.”

Disconcerted, Cassie glanced at Griff. His eyes were hard and unforgiving.

“If all that’s true, what have you found out since you started investigating on your own?” Griff asked.

Dougray started to answer, but the waitress interrupted and took away their plates. She left a bill, and Cassie snatched it since she didn’t plan to allow Griff to pay for this meal, too.

Dougray gave them both a penetrating look, as if he expected them to have answers to a serious matter. “I haven’t found out a thing.”

“There you have it then,” Griff said. “Maybe there isn’t anything to find.”

No trace of the smarmy Dougray remained. “How can you say that? You were in the house, right?”

“Yes,” Cassie said.

“What did you see in there?” Dougray glared at her. “What did you see?”

Griff jumped in. “A piece of junk house. Dust. Decay.”

“Nothing else?” Dougray’s eyes were piercing, challenging.

“Nothing.” Griff’s single word sounded final.

Cassie threw Griff a glare. “That’s not entirely true. We saw someone walking around in the house. But when we went in we couldn’t find anyone. And it’s not that big of a place. We’ve seen the roses bloom and then die. It’s a weird house.”

Dougray watched them both. “Why did he say nothing happened? Why are you lying, Griffin?”

Griff took a deep breath. “I’m not lying. I just believe there’s an explanation for it all.”

Dougray stood slowly. “The explanation is the place is evil.”

He turned away and left.

After the man was out of earshot, Cassie asked, “Why did you say nothing happened?”

“I didn’t say nothing happened. I said that it wasn’t paranormal.”

Cassie couldn’t stop the frustration. “And where do you think the person in the house hid? What’s your logical explanation for that?”

“Maybe the attic. I should have looked up there.” Griff’s expression softened.

Disappointed, she decided she’d had enough for the day. She threw money on the table, her fatigue still bothering here. “Breakfast is on me. I need to take another nap. Later.”

“Cassie, wait.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything immediately, just looked at her as if he wanted to understand.

“You’re angry,” he said.

“I’m tired and confused. I need sleep.”

She walked away, low in spirits and angry at herself for caring.

* * *

“There ain’t a thing wrong with your car, sir,” the mechanic said as he wiped his hands on a cloth.

Griff stared at the Charger’s open hood, and then the grizzled old mechanic as they stood in the man’s car repair business. “You’re sure?”

The man tucked the greasy rag in a back pocket of his overalls and scratched the gray stubble on his chin. “Son I’ve been fixing cars like this for over forty-five years. And this ain’t one of those new hopped up things with a lot of computerized junk in it. I can even fix those. Had to take a lot of extra training and it cost me a mint. But I knew if I wanted to keep up with things I had to. I prefer to work on these older cars, though. Come apocalypse, these are the only damn things that’ll be running.”

Griff almost rolled his eyes, but instead resorted to a tight smile. “Thanks, Mr. Tracy. I appreciate you doing this for me. I couldn’t find anything, but I’m not a full-fledged mechanic. I thought maybe I’d missed something.”

“The way the car was acting, I can’t believe there isn’t something wrong with it.”

“Well, maybe you got some water in the gas or something,” the older man said, his tone dismissive.

“Huh. Maybe.”

Mr. Tracy lifted one thick eyebrow and tilted his baseball cap back on his head. He glanced around the ramshackle garage. “I run an honest business here Mr. Griffin. And I ain’t just saying that because you’re a cop.”

“I’m a marshal.”

“Same difference. I just don’t want nobody thinking I’m running a jip joint.”

Griff frowned, not sure how he’d gone from thanking Mr. Tracy to the man thinking he was accusing him of ill deeds. “Everyone assured me you’re the best mechanic in town. Penny said you’ve been fixing her cars her entire life.”

“That’s right.” Pride entered the man’s voice. “Taught my son the same skills. He’s a mechanic in Estes Park. Don’t know why he’d want to move there, though. I’ve got plenty of work here to do.”

“I’m sure you have.” Griff smoothed over hard feelings. “What do I owe you?”

Mr. Tracy waved his hands in dismissal. “You don’t owe me nothing. Ain’t anything wrong with the car.”

“I need to pay you for checking the car.”

“Nah. Even if you wasn’t a cop I don’t charge customers if there ain’t anything wrong.”

Puzzled, Griff said, “Even if I wasn’t a cop? What does being law enforcement have to do with it?”

The man’s gray eyes went misty, his mouth suddenly wobbling with emotion. Griff frowned, worried the old guy would break down.

“My son was a cop out in Oregon. My other son that wasn’t the mechanic. Danny was my eldest. He uh…he was a cop in Seattle. Got shot and killed four years ago.”

Regret smacked Griff square in the gut. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Tracy.”

The mechanic nodded and cleared his throat. “I’ve always respected the police, even before my boy became one. And I’ve got the biggest bullshit meter of anyone I know. I can see you’re an honorable man.”

Griff smiled. “Thanks. But really, I’d like to pay you something for your trouble.”

Once more the old man waved a hand. “No.”

Inspiration hit Griff. “I have another question.”

Mr. Tracy adjusted his baseball cap. “Yeah? What would that be?”

“I’ve got a few questions about that old ranch-style house up on the hill…near the Point. You know which one I’m talking about?”

Mr. Tracy huffed. “Who doesn’t? Place is bad news. Why you asking?”

Griff was glad the old man didn’t have any other customers around. “A friend of mine…” Griff decided midstream to come clean with the man in case the old coot’s bullshit meter did work as well as he claimed. “I’ve been by there several times with a friend. The damned roses up there bloom and die and bloom again. Sometimes all within one day. One time they were smashed into the ground like they were run over by a vehicle. Have you ever heard of that?”

The mechanic didn’t look the least surprised. “Haven’t witnessed it myself. Never had a want to go up there. Lots of rich people built their damn houses up that way over the years.”

Griff ignored the rich people statement. “So you don’t believe the roses change like that?”

The old man shrugged. “My boys saw it happen once when they were teenagers. They took their car up to the Point. You know there’s that area where boys and girls can…well…park?”

Griff zipped up his coat against the chilly wind that blew past the garage door. “I saw that.”

“Well, the boys took their girlfriends up there one night. When they got home at midnight…that were their curfew, they were white as sheets and telling my wife and I that the ranch house was haunted. Normally I would have thought they were full of shit and playing me for a fool. But I never saw those boys that afraid before or since. They said they wouldn’t go up there again.”

“They didn’t say what they saw?”

Griff swallowed hard and pursed his lips. He rubbed at his bristly chin again. “They stopped their car in front of the house. The girls dared them to pull into the driveway, so they did. Nobody was living there at the time. Leastways there weren’t supposed to be anybody living there. My boy, the one that became a cop, he was the skeptical one. He went along with the dare and knocked on the door.” Mr. Tracy rubbed the back of his neck. “Now here’s where the story gets dicey, and I wouldn’t blame anyone for not believing it.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, the boys say the door opened wide and there was this old man there…a guy a damned sight older than me. They said he looked about a hundred. Wrinkled. Smelly. With black teeth. Anyway, this old guy invited them in. But they said they were so afraid, that there was something inside them that said if they stepped in there they’d never get out. One of the girls thought it would be funny to take the old guy up on his offer and stepped inside. The old guy grabbed her arm and she started screaming. My boys and the other girl latched onto her and they played hell to get that old bastard to let go of that girl. They ran back to the car. The girl had these weird burns on her arm…well, I’m getting ahead of myself. They could hardly get the car started and this old guy was laughing at them. A cackle, they said. It was around Halloween, so they’re thinking maybe this bastard that grabbed the girl is playing a trick on them.”

Caught up in the man’s story, Griff asked, “They got the car started?”

“Yeah, they got it started and drove outta there fast. The girl who the old guy grabbed was losing her dinner by that time and her arm looked like it had second degree burns. They drove her straight to the hospital in town. She had burns on her arms in the shape of that creep’s fingers if you can believe that crap. She was so messed up they kept her in the hospital for a night and then had to send her to the mental institution in Pueblo for a stay.”

Griff put his hands on his hips. “Did the police check out the house?”

“Yep. Said my boys must of done it to the girl because there wasn’t nobody in the house. Not a damned soul. The girls defended my boys but the police didn’t believe them. The girls refused to press charges even though their parents wanted them to. My boys were damned lucky they weren’t sent up to jail for that. Can’t say I blame the cops for thinking ill of the boys…but my sons never would hurt a girl. They’d sooner cut their own arms off.”

Not long ago Griff would have thought Mr. Tracy’s story was an utter fantasy. Now he wasn’t sure. “That’s some story, Mr. Tracy.”

“Did your car stop in front of that damned hell house?”

Surprised the old man had picked up on the truth, Griff acknowledged it. “How did you guess?”

The older man shrugged. “Good guess. Or you wouldn’t have asked about the place. Especially since you’re from out of town. My advice is stay away from the place. Stay away.”

Griff shook hands with Mr. Tracy. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Griff left Tracy’s Auto Repair with the Charger purring under him, driving as smoothly as it had when he’d first arrived in Bowmount. Tires hissed over the damp road. The temperature had reached into the mid fifties and melted any hint of snow except for the higher mountain points around the town. Puddles of water remained, and he flicked on the wipers as cars drove by on the opposite side of the road and splashed the vehicle with dirty water.

Confusion rattled Griff, and his mind raced. Too many thoughts bartered for his attention. He wanted to take the old man’s advice to stay away from the freaky house on the hill. Another part of him had never been good at taking orders. He’d needed the marines to bring him into line, give him a discipline he didn’t have before. His father’s relentless attempts to bring him into line hadn’t worked.

You’re a fool boy. You’ll never amount to a fucking thing.

His father’s words, uttered when Griff was only six, had cemented Griff’s determination to prove his father wrong. He supposed it was a damned good thing he hadn’t listened to his father on that point, even when he’d listened to him on far too many other things.

Other thoughts tossed around in Griff’s head. Chief among them was Cassie Kovac. When he’d come to Bowmount for vacation, he hadn’t expected to meet a woman that turned his libido upside down. Sure, he like the way she thought, the way she spoke, so many things in her personality.

One thing stood in his way of taking their relationship to another level. Her insistence on knowing his past unnerved him. She would hate his guts if she knew what he’d done and even telling her that she would hate him hadn’t deterred her. At the very least, she’d fear him. He never told a woman, no matter how many times he’d slept with her, about his past. He also knew what would happen when he didn’t reveal all to Cassie. Eventually she’d dump his ass straight into the crapper—women didn’t take kindly to being left out of a man’s past. They had to probe and ask questions until he broke it off, or they got tired of waiting for him. As it was, he couldn’t see why a woman would want much to do with him. Some got off on sleeping with a marine or law enforcement, and he figured that might have a little to do with it. Cassie didn’t impress him as the type of woman who slept around. He knew she had a sexual side—he yearned to discover what she’d be like with her legs wrapped around him and her pussy around his cock. He could almost imagine how wet and tight she’d feel. Last time he’d kissed her, he’d wanted her with a sharp intensity.

Caught up in his thoughts, he missed the road to the resort. He could have turned around, but he continued. Up the hill. On towards the Point.

I’ve lost my mind. Why am I going there? That stupid house.

The highly irritated tone of his thoughts shocked him. Irritation welled inside, along with an agitation he hadn’t experienced in a long while. He took one deep breath and then another. His insides were gelatin, and he recognized he’d never experienced this compelling desire to return over and over to a place with this sharp pull. Before he knew it, he sat in front of the ranch house. He was almost afraid to glance to the right. He did and his breath caught. The roses had died again, but they stood upright. In the illumination of day the house didn’t appear as intimidating, and Griff decided he needed closure on what he’d experienced last night. The house’s secrets plagued him, and until he defeated this sense of mystery and put it to bed, he’d lay awake at night wondering. He’d imagine that he had turned into a coward who couldn’t face the music. He turned the engine off and left the car, emboldened by desire to show himself there was nothing supernatural about his damned place. He strode with sure steps around the roses, glad for daylight. He’d almost reached the door when it click open. Griff came to a dead stop, and instinct told him to draw his weapon. He retrieved it from the back of his waistband, wishing to hell he’d strapped on his shoulder holster. He kept the weapon down along his thigh, but approached the door without hesitation.

“Hello? Federal Marshal Neal Griffin. Is anyone in there?”

His voice carried through the forest, and he noticed birds didn’t chirp. The light breeze stopped. He hesitated and halted. Listened. Nothing. Then he heard his heartbeat—it was the only sound save his breathing.

A creak made him start, attention riveted on the doorway. He drew in a sharp breath as the door swung wide open. If he’d ever had willpower it seemed to melt away. The house whispered. It spoke to him, the speech seductive. Sibilant. In one part of his mind he screamed. He begged himself to ignore his urges. It did no good.

He walked inside, caution guiding each decisive but slow step. “Federal marshal! Is anyone in here?”

He stood in the threshold and took in the interior. Everything had changed. The furniture looked dust free, unlike the other night. Then again, at night things would look different and with the limited light from flashlights they could have missed a lot. He squinted and took in the house. He walked to one of the shuttered windows and noted the thick dust. If anyone had messed with the shutters it hadn’t been in a long time. There were no floor lamps, and when he reached for the light switch by the front door it didn’t illuminate the old-style sixties era ceiling lights. The juice was cut off. Maybe whoever had played hide and seek with them the other night had a flashlight as well. But where the hell had they gone? He wandered through the silent house, his heartbeat keeping a quicker rhythm as he prowled from room to room. Wild thoughts flickered through his head, swirling like clouds, feeling as if they’d been designed to obscure.

The shock came when he stepped into the hallway and saw the hole he’d fallen through was no longer there.

“What the fuck?” he asked to no one.

A whisper echoed behind him, and he whirled. His gaze darted around as he looked for an intruder. Instead the quiet stayed profound. Heavy and thick. Something told him to listen. To wait. If he waited long enough, he’d understand. He’d learn why this house asked him to come back.

But the house never spoke. He felt it tickling at the edge, tempting his mind, driving him near to an indefinable conclusion. Goosebumps ran up and down his arms yet under his winter coat he felt hot. Confusion battled with curiosity in his mind. He wanted to understand this place, but he also wanted it to stay closed. If this house opened its secrets to him would he survive? He wasn’t sure, and that scared the shit out of him. Urgency filled his body, a prickling and uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t define. He didn’t like this. Not one damned bit.

“Who are you?” he asked the house. “What are you?”

When no one answered him, when the whisper didn’t return, he exited the hall. As he left, he closed the front door and kept his pace quick down the driveway. It wasn’t until he stepped into the Charger that he looked down at his right hand and the white knuckle grip he had on the gun. He placed the weapon the seat next to him and flexed his fingers. When he looked up at the house the front door was open again. Beyond the open door he thought he saw a figure. Tall. Skinny. A dark shape. Light seemed to be swallowed into the blackness. With trembling fingers he started the car. He slammed the vehicle into gear and swung it into a u-turn down the hill. He roared away from the crazy house with his mind scattered and his self-confidence bitten around the edges.

What the fuck had he just seen and felt?

* * *

“Where the hell is that boy?” Penny mumbled the question as Cassie arrived at the front desk that afternoon.

Cassie lifted one eyebrow. “Hey there. Everything okay?”

Penny sighed. “Benson was supposed to work today but he hasn’t shown up, and he isn’t answering his phone.”

“That’s not good. Isn’t he reliable?”

Penny frowned and lifted the receiver on her desk phone. “That’s just it. He’s always been reliable. He’s worked here for over a year, and he’s never been late or sick.” Penny sighed. “Sorry. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I was wondering if you’d seen Griff today.”

“No.” Penny’s frown grew bigger. “Is something wrong?”

Cassie didn’t know, but she wouldn’t draw Penny into it. “Not at all. Weather looks good today. I think I’ll take a walk.”

“Okay, see you later.” Penny waved.

Cassie headed outside and curiosity overcame her. She hadn’t tried to call Griff after breakfast, and she hadn’t knocked on his door. She’d returned to her room and lay on the bed cogitating about the house. She walked around the side of the resort to the parking area. No sign of the Charger. She sighed, and then berated the hell out of herself for caring. She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulders and started walking. A strange unease had bothered her all afternoon, but she couldn’t say it had anything to do with Griff and their strange experiences at the house. She didn’t know why she felt this way, but her mind seemed jumbled, a strange sense of discombobulation making her indecisive. She hated being indecisive, and knew that if she didn’t walk it off, she’d drive herself to within an inch of batty. She never liked stewing in misery or blaming the world for her problems, and she wouldn’t start now.

Before she knew it she’d gone down the street and then onto the main drag where she could head toward the ranch house and its mysteries. Her feet were compelled even as her mind protested. Before she reached the dirt road Griff’s Charger came down the hill. He must have gone to the house again. She couldn’t believe it.

She waved as he came toward her, and he screeched to a halt at the side of the road. She hurried to the driver’s side.

He rolled down the window, his face a mask of seriousness, his eyes hard. “What are you doing? You’re not going up to the house.”

His tone surprised her and made her bristle. “I was just walking. Were you at the house?”

“Yeah. But I shouldn’t have been. Did you wake up this morning feeling like you had to go there?”

His question was strange, but on the other hand, she understood it. “No…but…wait, are you saying you were drawn to go up there?”

“Yeah. Look, I have some things to tell you. Get in.”

Half perturbed, she said, “Ask nicely and I might.”

Tension eased slightly from his face.. “Sorry. Some things happened at the house. I need your opinion. I need to know if I’m crazy.”

Worried, she nodded. “All right. But if you’re crazy then I must be, too.”

“Jump in.”

She did, and he drove back to the resort. Curiosity burned her up, but she didn’t ask him questions. She had a feeling he didn’t want to discuss things in bits and pieces. Whatever he wished to talk about must be weighty.

When he parked, she had to ask an important question. “Where should we go to talk?”

“There’s the picnic area out back.”

They trekked back through the hotel lobby. Penny stood at the front desk talking to an unhappy patron. Cassie and Griff continued down the hallway leading to the back. Cassie was glad when she saw no one in the area, and this left them privacy at the picnic table. A soft breeze rustled the pine trees, and the morning was cloudy with a hint of crispness.

“Wonder if more snow is coming?” she asked, not caring for the silence as they arrived at the picnic table.

“Good question. I didn’t check the news or weather.”

The rustic table sat under a large stand of old pines, and the whole area had a peaceful aura. She settled on one side and he on the other.

“Okay, spill it.” She gave her demand with a smile to soften the urgency.

Griff’s handsome face held a seriousness she hadn’t seen with this intensity before.

“I’ll admit it.” His arms sprawled on the picnic table. “There’s something freaky going on in that house on the hill but I have no idea what it is.”

Speechless at his turn around, she measured her words. “Okay. What made you change your mind about the house?”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Start at the beginning.”

He told her, bit by bit, what he’d learned at the garage.

“I’ve had cars act up like that before.” She shrugged. “Usually the male mechanic looks at me like I’m making it all up.”

He didn’t look amused. “There’s more, and I think it’s significant. More significant than my car suddenly working right.”

She didn’t interject as he explained the old man’s description of his son’s girlfriend encountering the old man in the house. Her skin prickled with goose bumps. “That’s seriously creepy.”

“Yeah.”

“You believe now that there’s something wrong with the house? I thought you didn’t believe in the paranormal.”

“I don’t.” He rapped his fingers against the wood table. “But unless everyone, including you and I, are totally crazy…hell, we can’t be having a mass hallucination.”

Silence enveloped them as she allowed what he’d said to sink into her. “Okay, so maybe this is the weirdest thing either one of us has encountered. Doesn’t mean we have to freak.”

His gaze lifted from the table to her. “I’m freaking right now.”

“What do we do about it? Anything?”

“Don’t know that we can. We can stay away from the house, number one.”

“That should be easy.” As soon as she said it, she wondered. “On the other hand…”

One of his eyebrows quirked upward. “What?”

“When you saw me I was ready to walk up to the house again.”

He put his hand over hers. “What were you thinking?”

She frowned, more disturbed than she had been in a long, long time. “I don’t think I had a thought in my head. Just to do it.”

He squeezed her cold hand, and when he withdrew his touch, she wanted to tell him to hold her hand again, to make the connection that told her all this weirdness was real. “Both of us are drawn there, and we have a hard time resisting it.”

“Yes.”

“We need a plan. We’ll do things together until our vacation is over. We won’t get near the place because we’ll be too busy.”

A sense of purpose and relief made her smile. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Even though you’re mad at me?”

Cassie admitted it. “I was a little pissed you wouldn’t acknowledge something was going on up at the house.”

“Now that I have?”

“You’re outta the dog house. At least temporarily.”

He grinned. “Good. I have an idea for the first thing we should do.”

“Oh?”

“There’s another place like the Point that I heard about. It’s one town over. If you’d like something new to sketch, we could go there.”

She liked the idea immensely, and maybe it would get rid of this prickly sense she had in the back of her mind. “Sounds good. Let’s do it.”

As the returned inside that prickling sense of unease overtook her again. She thought she heard a lot of people talking, and an alarm went off inside her. She started toward the front desk.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Something’s happening.”

When they arrived at the front desk, around thirty people were gathered and quite a few of them sounded worried. Some raised their voices. Penny was behind the front desk, and she sounded as if she was trying to reassure them.

“What the hell’s going on?” Cassie asked Griff as they stopped a ways from the group.

Before he could answer, Cassie saw the closed captioning on the flat screen TV over the fireplace in the lobby. She grabbed Griff’s forearm in reaction.

As they read the words she suddenly understood the reason for the prickling unease she’d felt earlier.

“Son of a bitch,” Griff said under his breath.

Blackout: Chapter Seven

“That’s all we’ve got?” the man standing near Griff said in an angry tone, as if Griff could change the truth. “Three days?”

Cassie saw Griff’s reaction, the subtle impatience in his eyes. Griff restrained himself and kept his tone even. “Could be less.”

“Jesus,” another man said, this guy older. He put his arm around his wife. “End times.”

Cassie winced, wanting to berate the man for going that far. But she didn’t want an argument and it wouldn’t help anything. Besides the fact her heart hadn’t stopped banging against her ribcage since they’d read the closed captioning. Penny had quickly taken the television off mute and closed captioning.

Cassie’s mind kept flashing back to the tsunami all those years ago, and a horrible sense of déjà vu threatened to unhinge her hard-won stability.

The reporter, looking scared shitless, had given the breaking news. The gasps that had gone up around the room had evaporated into weeping among a couple of the younger women. Several couples had rushed off, not saying where they were going to or why. That left Penny, Griff, Cassie and the much smaller group of ten.

“One to three days is a hell of a lot better than nothing.” Griff’s voice sounded brusque but calm. “There are things we can do to mitigate this situation.”

The reporting went on, and it didn’t matter which channel Penny checked. They all said the same thing. Another reporter already had a so-called expert sitting in the studio with him.

“Dr. Abrams, thank you so much for being with us here today. I’m sure there are going to be a lot of very frightened people out there. But first can you explain to them exactly what is happening?” the reporter asked.

Dr. Abrams, a middle-aged man with a dark beard and glasses, looked very calm. “Henry, this is indeed a serious situation. The NOAA Prediction Center in Boulder has given notice that a geomagnetic storm could put us in extreme danger.” The roughness in his voice didn’t betray nervousness. “We have about one to three days before the electromagnetic pulse occurs as a result of a coronal mass ejection from the sun. What is called an X-class event.”

“And what does that mean, doctor?” the reporter asked.

Dr. Abrams looked grim. “There is more than one stage to this. First stage is the actual solar flare, second is the radiation storm, and the second is the coronal mass ejection. The ACE satellite launched in ninety-seven by NASA monitors the parameters of solar events and solar winds, the polarity.”

“In layman’s terms what does that mean for us?” the reporter asked.

“Without some immediate preparation such as a controlled shut down of the grid to minimize damage, we’ll have a hell of a mess on our hands. Radio and electricity may be gone through the destruction of electrical circuits. Microchips will fry. Power lines will overload. Cars, computers, subways, cell phones, and airplanes may or may not work…with the exception of special military planes designed to withstand EMP.”

“There goes that new iPhone I bought last week,” a middle-aged man in a suit said just before he rushed out of the front door of the hotel.

“When it gets here we can expect power outages,” the expert on television said. “My guess is that several grids will be shut down in advance of the EMP to make sure there is less damage to the infrastructure. That in itself is good news. But there are large transformers that could be totally destroyed. High voltage transmission would build up, and when that happens it goes into the transformers and destroys whole grids. And it takes eighteen months minimum to make one of these transformers.”

“Eighteen months,” a woman near Cassie whispered, her voice struck with horror.

“Dr. Abrams, aren’t there quite a few of our electronics which can survive this stuff?” the reported asked.

Dr. Abrams stroked his beard for a moment. “People already prepared for this sort of thing will fare the best. Survivalists and preppers who’ve built Faraday cages to protect electronic devices. They have enough food, water, and supplies to take them into the next few years or more. Those are the only people prepared for what will happen.”

“What about transportation?” the reporter asked.

“Transportation will be a nightmare. There’s controversy about which cars would work and which ones won’t. Commercial airlines should shut down operations to make certain their communications aren’t compromised and that no planes fall out of the sky. “

“What’s a Faraday cage, doctor?” the reporter asked.

“It absorbs or reflects electrical charge and preserves the electronics within whatever device its protecting,” the doctor said.

“How long could it take us to recover from something like this?” the reporter asked.

“Full recovery of infrastructure could take up to ten years.”

Now the reporter looked disconcerted, his calm facade cracking a bit as his voice went husky. “Shouldn’t we have been better prepared for this?”

“Shit,” Griff said in a disgusted tone so low Cassie figured only she could hear him. “Here it comes. The finger pointing.”

Dr. Abrams said, “We can never be fully prepared for this. Perfection isn’t possible.”

“What happens from here now?” the reporter asked.

“Bend over and kiss your ass goodbye,” another man said as he led away his sobbing wife.

Dr. Abrams was responding, “National Guard will be on standby in case there’s social chaos. The aurora, when it gets here, will be visible everywhere, even on the dark side of the earth. That’s going to freak out a lot of people who’ve never seen Northern Lights.”

The man’s voice faded and Cassie realized her own thoughts raced. She couldn’t listen to another announcement about the horrors they’d face when the EMP took out the grid. She took one deep breath and then another.

You’ve done this before Cassie. You survived a disaster before. You can damn well do it again.

She turned to Griff and touched his arm. He tore his gaze from the television and looked at her and, to her surprise, he placed his fingers over hers.

“You okay?” His voice turned soft and concerned, eyes no longer cold.

“Yes. No. You said we can mitigate things. What do we need to do now?”

“First make sure these people understand not to panic.”

“That’s not going to be easy. Some of them already are.”

“Yes, but we have to try.”

She understood. Prepare first, panic later. Or at least she couldn’t allow herself to panic or feel helpless. Freaking wouldn’t help, and she knew that from experience dealing with her ex-husband and then the tsunami. Griff’s fingers tightened over hers, and she entertained the wild idea that for the end of civilization as they knew it, she couldn’t be in better hands.

“Okay, people, we’re wasting time standing around here. There are things we can and should do right now,” Griff said.

The five people remaining in the lobby included Penny, and she looked scared spitless. Cassie couldn’t blame her.

“We’re leaving and driving as far as we can get,” a man said as he took hold of his teenage son’s arm. “We have to get back to my wife in Cheyenne.”

Penny ran from around the side of the counter. “At least take food and water. Free of charge. You don’t know how far you’ll get.”

“You won’t be any better off leaving here. You should ride it out here where things are simpler. It could be worse in a bigger city,” Griff said.

A younger man Cassie hadn’t seen before asked, “How do you know so much about this?”

Cassie wondered the exact same thing.

“I’m a Fed. We learn about these things,” Griff said.

Cassie didn’t believe him and apparently no one else in the room did either.

“We’ll take our chances on our own,” the man with his son said.

Penny grabbed the man’s arm. “No. Take some food and water. Please.”

The man sighed. “All right.”

“I’m getting the hell out of here, too,” another young man said. “I’ll take some of that food.”

Penny led them toward the kitchens.

“Damn,” Griff said when the lobby was empty save for Cassie and him and the babbling television. “So much for not panicking.”

Cassie’s insides rumbled around, gelatin-like. She put one hand to her stomach. “We can’t control what anyone else does, Griff. Only ourselves.”

When he looked down at her, she realized her arm was now linked through the crook of his elbow as if he were her only lifeline. She didn’t want to let go.

“You’re right again.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Then lets save ourselves.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Her mouth was so dry, she licked her lips. She caught him staring at her mouth, and suddenly she wanted him to kiss her. To reassure her everything would be fine and this was all a bad dream. Instead she decided reality came first, as much as she hated it. “How do you know about this EMP? Do you read a lot of science programs or did they really teach you about this stuff?”

“They didn’t teach anything about this type of event in particular.”

She waited for him to explain, to give up some of the secrets he obviously held close to his vest. “And?”

“I read a lot.”

She puffed air out in exasperation. “Uh-huh.” She gave up for the time being. “Never mind, Griff. I’m not going to probe into your vast well of Secret Squirrel past. I just want to know what we should do next.”

He looked relieved, and she wondered what in the hell could be so horrible in his past he couldn’t even tell her in a crisis. But if it was that bad, maybe she didn’t want to know.

“First thing we need is some food and water supplies.” A thoughtful look entered his eyes. “There’s also something I need to do with the Charger. We’ll have to go to Mr. Tracy’s garage for that.”

“I take it you don’t mean the grocery store. It’ll be a zoo already.”

“We’ll get some from Penny. We’ll pay her for it. She definitely might need the money later. Right now I’d go to the ATM over there and see how much you can get out of your accounts.” He took his wallet out and gave her his ATM card and told her his pin number. “Take as much out of mine as you can, too.”

She made a soft noise of surprise. “You’re trusting me with this?”

“Yeah. Don’t spend it all in one place, okay?”

The touch of humor in his eyes pulled her up from a sinking depth.

“I’m going outside and take something out of my car to keep any bastards from stealing it,” he said. “Get what you can from Linda in the way of food and water and take it up to my room.”

“Why your room?” she asked as he started to walk away. When he kept walking, she snagged his arm. “Wait. The world may be coming apart at the seams but I’m not automatically moving into your room because you think it’s a good idea.”

His eyes flashed, and she saw a little anger in them. “Don’t you trust me?”

Did she? Maybe not. He’d certainly given her no reason not to trust him other than not revealing his past. “I’ve known you less than a week. I’ve spent ten years getting back my independence. I’m not giving it up all in one night.”

“All right, Cassie. You’ll do want you want no matter what I say.” The anger stayed in his eyes. “Do you want to come with me to Mr. Tracy’s garage and see if he can help us with my plan?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. See you in a bit.”

She stifled a snort and went for the ATM while he left to take care of his car.

A short time later she’d taken out four hundred dollars from her account and the same from his—noting how much money was in his account blew her away. A lot of cash. But what did she know about federal pay? She stuffed the money and the cards in her wallet and hurried through the restaurant and back toward the kitchens. She half expected to see Penny with the father and son, but she found Penny standing in the kitchen with two cooks, a woman somewhere in her thirties and an older man who looked about sixty. Two waitresses also stood by.

“Everything all right?” Cassie asked.

“I’m letting them go home to their families and get ready for the…” Penny held her hands out, apparently unable to think of the right words. “Whatever comes.”

Both the man and the woman hugged Penny and soon they’d abandoned the kitchen. Cassie watched as the waitresses gave Penny a tearful goodbye and also departed. Penny and Cassie stared at each other, and Cassie felt as dumbstruck as the manager. No one knew how to react to this situation, except maybe Griff.

“Where’s Griff?” Penny asked.

“Making sure no one steals his car. He’s got an older model that might not give out if an EMP hits.”

“If?”

Cassie sighed. “It might not be as bad as they say.”

Penny rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. “Everyone’s leaving as if they think they can outrun this thing.”

Cassie’s insides still felt wobbly, as if the strength and endurance she held on to this moment could bottom out. She closed her eyes for a moment, and in a split second saw the ocean rising up at her. The monster was coming. Coming.

No.

Cassie forced her eyes open. “There isn’t anywhere they can run to get away.”

“I know.” Penny’s eyes teared up.

Cassie couldn’t restrain her own tears as two escaped. Penny rushed up to hug her, and then released her just as quickly.

“It’ll be all right,” Penny said.

“Have most of the people staying here left already?”

“A good chunk. There were some out at tourist stops nearby. I’m sure they’ll come by to pick their things up.” Penny suddenly looked scared. “I’ll be alone in this place.”

Alone. Oh, yeah. Cassie had faced a night alone after the tsunami. She knew how that felt.

“You don’t have family?” Cassie asked.

Penny drew her bottom lip between her lips. “No. Well, there’s my son. But I just now found him.”

“Oh?”

“He was adopted out when I was sixteen. Benson. He’s my son.”

“Oh.” Cassie felt like an idiot with her half-baked responses. “Has he turned up yet today?”

“No.” Worry creased Penny’s brow. “I’m considering going to the police. I looked in his room…he’s living in the area on the third floor that I converted into a two bedroom apartment. He’s…all his stuff is there except for his wallet and cell phone.”

“You don’t have anyone who can watch the front desk while you go to the police?”

“No. Like I said, I let them all go home. They need to be with their family and friends and make preparations for this event.”

“Good thinking,” a male voice came from behind them.

Cassie swung around, startled. McPhee stood there, his expression grim and resigned. “Dougray. Do you know—”

“Yeah, I heard. It’s the only thing on the telly. On every channel. I think it’s the last newscast any of us will see. No more Andy Griffith, but at least there’s one good thing that’ll come from all of this. No more bloody reality television.”

The sadness in his eyes made Cassie wonder if she’d misjudged this man all along. Maybe he was far more harmless than she’d ever believed.

She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “I’ll miss Andy Griffith.”

Dougray chuckled softly. “I wasn’t supposed to fly home for another two weeks. I just tried calling my family in Scotland. My old dad and my brother. Couldn’t get through. Too many calls being made now.”

Cassie couldn’t argue with his pessimism. She remembered her family, her father and mother. Would she get to talk with them again? The lump floating around in her throat grew larger until she heaved a huge breath.

Before she could speak, Dougray continued with, “Where’s your hero?”

Although she had an idea who he meant, Cassie didn’t like his sarcasm. “Who?”

Dougray leaned against the door jam and crossed his arms. “The marine. Smart ass and know-it-all.”

Griff appeared around the corner not far from the Scot.

Smiling, Penny chuckled. “Right behind you, sport.”

Dougray’s eyes popped with surprise as he swung around and met Griff head on. Griff’s expression said he’d heard a good part of the discussion.

“I suppose you heard that,” McPhee said.

“I did. And I don’t give a rat’s ass, McPhee. What I want to know is if you can stick around and be of any help.”

McPhee’s eyes narrowed as he stood taller. “Help with what?”

“You know anything about surviving in the wilderness? If and when the grid goes down, we’ll be in a world of hurt.”

Dougray snapped a nod. “Yeah. But I’m not staying here.”

“You can’t get back to Scotland now. The airlines will shut down. Nothing’s going to be moving much even before the EMP hits,” Griff said.

“I’m not trying to return to Scotland. I’m going to the house on the hill.” Dougray lowered his voice. “You know. The one you keep going to because you’re curious.”

“That place we were talking about the other day?” Penny asked, her gaze swinging to Griff and Cassie. “You’ve all visited it?”

Cassie confirmed for the woman. “Yes.”

Alarmed entered Penny’s eyes. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Initially we didn’t.” Griff moved farther into the room and came to stand by Cassie. “But we’ve started to.”

“I’ve heard all the stories. It’s not a concern to me because I will find out what happened to my sister.” Dougray didn’t look worried.

As much as she didn’t like Dougray, she had to admire his loyalty to finding his sister. “We’ve got some new information you’ll want.” In quick fashion she told Penny and Dougray what the mechanic had told Griff and the other things that had happened to them in the house.

“Stay away, Dougray.” Cassie made an emphatic gesture. “It isn’t safe. We aren’t going there again.”

“Everything she say true?” Dougray asked Griff in a gruff voice.

Cassie wanted to punch him in the mouth for asking Griff.

“Yes.” Griff glanced at Cassie. “Every damn bit of it.”

“Wow.” Penny’s mouth dropped open, the dazed look on her face signaling her shock.

Dougray didn’t seem surprised. “Thanks for letting me know. But it isn’t going to deter me from my goal.”

Griff said, “You didn’t answer my earlier question. Do you have survival training, or was that all bullshit you used to get laid?”

Dougray planted his hands on his hips. “A little of both. I was in the Royal Marines. So yeah. I learned survival. I’m still not staying.”

Cassie was caught between exasperation and amazement. “Penny will need help. We can’t leave her alone to face this.”

Tears shimmered in Penny’s eyes. “Don’t you all worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

McPhee moved toward the back door where everyone else had left. “I’ve gotta go. Hope to see you all later. But I have things to do.”

“Putz.” Griff grunted the insult after the other man was out of earshot.

Cassie laughed, knowing there wasn’t really any humor to find in the situation.

“Come on,” Griff said. “We’ve got plans to make.”

“What do we do first?” Penny asked.

“Unplug everything electronic we can find. Is anyone left in the hotel?”

Penny leaned against a stainless steel counter, her face filled with apprehension and exhaustion. “Other than the ones who haven’t come back to the hotel yet, no. That’s only three individuals.”

“Okay. Let’s get cracking then. We have a hell of a lot to do. After that we’ll head to Mr. Tracy’s for a visit.”

Penny’s face eased into resolve. “I’ll start by going room to room and unplugging everything.”

After Penny left, Griff reached for the cell phone in his pocket. “We need to try and call our families. Right now before we can’t get through.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” Her voice rushed out, suddenly breathless as she took off her backpack laid it on the counter. She rummaged and found her cell phone.

She tried but couldn’t get through to her parents. The numbers always busy. Disappointment and fear strangled her words. She couldn’t even speak for the moment, afraid she’d cry.

“It’s okay.” Griff rubbed her back again, his own phone held up to his ear. His expression eased into relief as he made contact with someone. “Diane. Hey. Yeah I’ve heard. You guys okay? He’s there? Good. You guys already know what to do to stay safe, don’t you?” Griff’s often stern face softened. His eyes closed. “Yeah. I know. Hey, it’s all right. It’s going to be all right. No, I’m staying here. I won’t be able to make it out there in time. Yeah, my car could make it but there’s the danger that everything will go to shit and being out on the road right now isn’t a good idea. We’ll be safe here.” He opened his eyes and caught Cassie’s gaze. “Yeah. There’s some people here that might need my help.” He listened for a moment and then snorted a soft laugh. “I guess not everything Dad taught us was shit, eh? I’d better go.” His voice went rougher, deeper with emotion. “Yeah. Love you, too, sis. I’ll talk to you again as soon as I can. If the cell phone service and land lines go down and I can’t contact you for a while, there’s something I want you to know. I’ll get to you guys eventually. When I think it’s safe. Yeah. Okay. Bye.”

When his eyes caught hers again, Cassie saw the deep concern there. That he’d admitted concern and love to his sister and family touched her deeply. Maybe there was more emotional possibility to Neal Griffin than she’d guessed.

“Is your family all right?” she asked.

“Yeah. They’re holding it together. Diane knows what she needs to do. Her husband will work to try and keep the peace and that’s worrying her more than anything.”

“So your sister knows about survival? Just like you do?”

“Yeah.”

She tried her cell again but no luck. “Lines are busy. Everyone in California and Aspen has a cell phone. They’re probably all making appointments with their therapists.” He grinned but she continued. “As for survival techniques, I don’t think my parents will be any better at this than I am.” Her stomach felt tight with nausea and fear. “I’m a babe in the woods and the vultures are circling.”

“Bull,” he said sharply. “The woman I know has a lot of guts. Where is this doubt coming from?”

A little pissed at herself for showing vulnerability, she gestured with both hands. “In case you haven’t heard, the world is going to hell.”

“Nah.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “It’s going to be a friggin’ mess for a long time if this all flushes into the toilet. But it isn’t the end of the world.” Griff cupped her face in one hand. “Listen to me. We’re going to be all right. From this point forward, we’re stuck like glue to each other.”

She twisted her fingers in his shirt. She flooded with a safe feeling, momentarily forgetting the danger that lurked outside in the world.

The other part of her needed to know why he wanted her this close. “Why?”

“People do weird assed things when disasters strike, and this one has the potential to go south fast. Every woman will be vulnerable to predator types. I want you safe.” Before she could agree to his assertion, he pressed a quick, hard kiss on her lips and released her. “Come on. We have a lot of work to do.”

Cassie wondered if his sister Diane’s knowledge of surviving when the world threatened to come to an end had something to do with the past he wouldn’t reveal. Although curiosity ate her alive, he was right. Before shit hit the fan, they had more preparations to make.

* * *

Cassie wasn’t surprised by Mr. Tracy’s automobile business—it looked like others she’d known growing up. It was old-fashioned and greasy but from the conversation Mr. Tracy was having with Griff, it was plain the older man knew his stuff. They stood in the actual garage area where Mr. Tracy had an old station wagon with the hood up. They’d driven through town and already seen the edge of panic in the way people moved through the streets. Grocery stores already packed to overflowing. It looked like that was where most people had gone first when they heard about the solar event. Dozens of cars had parked in front of the usually calm and quiet sheriff’s department building. Nothing had happened to their world yet, but people already caused danger, despair and chaos preparing for what might happen.

Cassie’s nerves pinged and jumped, as if her instincts told her something would happen soon enough, and she didn’t know if she’d be ready for it.

The old man was rattling on, and Cassie guessed that Griff already knew at least half of what the mechanic told him.

“If this thing comes to pass,” the old man said, “They say most cars and light trucks will still move, steer and stop. Ten percent might stall but would restart just by recycling the ignition key. There will probably be weird things happen to the dashboard.” The old guy patted the hood of the Charger. “The points on this would probably fry, so you’ll want a new set that you keep in a shielded container. You’d probably need a new ignition coil as well as starter, alternator and generator. Best case, you have new points, condenser, coil, starter, alternator and battery in an EMP proof container and just take a couple of hours to install them. Oh, and I can’t believe I forgot. It makes sense to unplug the battery.”

Griff rubbed his chin, obviously in full planning mode. “Let’s do it before this event happens. If you’ve got all that, I’ll take it. The fun part is going to be finding some place to put it and keep it safe from the EMP.”

“I’m using a big ol’ metal trash can. You got anything like that around the resort?”

Griff nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see what I can do with some trash cans.”

After they’d paid the old mechanic and piled the stuff in the trunk, Mr. Tracy looked at them both with sad eyes. “What the all Billy hell is the world coming to?”

“Nothing that it hasn’t come to before,” Griff said. “Just different players, different times. This has happened in the past. Just not when we relied on so many electronics to keep us afloat.” Cassie and Griff got back into the Charger, and Griff asked, “You going to be all right here?”

Mr. Tracy almost looked affronted by the question. “Hell yes. My wife and I built a bunker a long time ago out back with everything we need. You’re welcome to come here and wait it out with us if you like. We made sure we have room for several friends. They’re coming over today. We can fit in at least two more.”

“That’s a very nice offer,” Cassie said, half wondering if it wasn’t a good idea.

“We’ll be fine.” Griff’s voice sounded sure and firm.

As they headed back through town, Cassie glanced over at Griff and saw grim determination lined into his face. “Maybe the bunker is a good idea.”

“Not necessarily. Mr. Tracy seems like good people, but I’ve run into quite a few guys like him. Sometimes they have a few too many back-asswards ideas for me.”

Her eyebrows went up. She knew what he meant. “You don’t trust that everyone in his bunker will be good people.”

“Yep.”

“So we should rely on our own wits.”

“Yes.”

On the way through the small town they encountered a big traffic jam.

“Crap. I should have gone down a side street.” Griff shifted his hands on the steering wheel, his gaze darting from here to there almost as if he expected a particular threat.

“I’ll be all right,” she said.

Wow, here I am reassuring him when I’m not certain it’s going to be all right.

It took them a while to wend their way through a few side streets before they reached the road back to the resort. Once they parked in the back, he transferred the parts to a huge metal trash can they discovered at the back of the resort. He kept the trash can in a secluded area and rigged it as a large Faraday cage which would hopefully deflect EMP. After she’d helped him, they pushed the trash can into an alcove away from the Charger. They didn’t want anyone to know what was in the trash can or for someone to try to use it.

They met up with Penny in the lobby, telling her what they had planned with the Charger.

Cassie quickly discovered that preparing for an EMP took a lot knowledge. Griff explained both to Cassie and Penny the different methods they might need in the near future to make sure they had a fresh supply of water. The amount of information Griff had was staggering. How to purify the water and store it became a priority. Chemicals, in some case, could be used to make safe water, as well as other strange methods Cassie found fascinating such as making a beer can into a water purification device or making your own solar water distiller.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that,” Griff had said.

Making fire in case they needed it for cooking food, sterilizing water and other possibilities was discussed next. Without heat the next few days, they’d be in a world of hurt unless they wore a lot of clothing all the time.

Evening came and Griff, Cassie and Penny carried flashlights with them everywhere. Penny stayed at the front desk in case the three individuals who remained paying guests returned to the hotel. A few of the guests who’d left earlier in the day hadn’t paid when they’d rushed away in panic. Cassie had already moved into his room. She held on to her phone in case her parents called. They hadn’t. Every time she tried to contact them, she’d received a busy signal. Griff managed to get an email through to his office telling them he’d be at the hotel beyond his normal vacation time to help out local law enforcement if he was needed.

As she stood at the front door of the hotel, she didn’t hear one sound except for trees rustling in the wind. Very little traffic moved on the street. The world had gone a bit quiet. Waiting. Waiting for things to change.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm her stomach. This wasn’t the same thing as the tsunami. Then there had been no warning. But as she was disappointed in herself. She’d battled that week in Thailand when she’d wondered if she’d ever leave the country alive. She’d survived, and now this disaster was coming. In Thailand she’d escaped the water, but this time she couldn’t escape the solar flare. No one could.

In the background that damned television rattled on about the end of the world. She hated it, but she didn’t feel right telling Penny to turn it off. If any useful information came from the news media it would be unusual. Even when the world already fell into panic mode, they couldn’t seem to stick to the facts and help people. They still tried to get ratings when soon they might not even be on the air again.

“There should have been a way to foresee this,” Penny said.

Cassie started and turned around. Penny drifted Cassie’s way.

Cassie wasn’t sure she’d heard the woman correctly. “What?”

“The authorities. They could have thought of something to stop this.”

Cassie’s mouth popped open. Even though she’d heard Penny say few odd things, this statement gave Cassie pause. “How could they have done that? It’s the sun.”

Penny placed her hands on her hips and put on a stubborn look. “The government had to know this was coming beforehand.”

Cassie didn’t want to deal with irrationality, and her ability to feel compassion for oddity was running low. “Our technology gives us a little time to know this is coming but not much. But we can’t control what the sun does. The sun does what it wants when it wants.”

“The government is there to protect us. To make sure something horrible like this is taken care of.”

Cassie’s eyebrows went up as she tried to remind herself the woman might be cracking a little under the strain. “The government couldn’t tell that far ahead when this would happen. Like they said, it could be three days. At least that’s given us some time.”

Cassie thought about explaining to Penny that things could be worse, but Penny continued her doom-laden scenario.

“Mr. Dranage from the fire department was here earlier talking to Griff. Griff seemed to know more about surviving Armageddon than Mr. Dranage. Why do you suppose that is?” Penny asked.

Cassie wondered at the woman’s odd line of questioning but answered anyway. “Griff was a marine and he’s law enforcement. They learn a lot about that sort of thing.”

Penny’s frown grew deeper. “I suppose.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. You seem angry.”

Cassie turned back to the star-filled sky. “I’m just a bit on edge. We all are.”

Penny stood next to her and watched the night sky as well. “Me, too.”

“You haven’t heard from your son?”

“Not a word.” Penny stuffed her hands into the pockets of her khaki pants. “I’m trying not to worry but it’s hard.” Penny’s face lightened up considerably. “Griff was so nice making that report for me to the sheriff’s department. I mean, I know he couldn’t make it official and Benson could turn up any time. Griff is just so nice.”

Penny’s shit-eating grin surprised Cassie a little. Although she’d flirted with Griff lightly a couple of times, Penny now seemed intent on lobbing heavy ordnance at him.

All Cassie could do was agree. “Yes, he is.”

Penny stepped just outside the entryway into the cold breeze. “When I got pregnant at sixteen I thought the world had come to an end. Well, little did I know a lot of years later this would happen. I have something to really complain about now.”

Cassie hoped to reassure her. “Tell me about your son.”

Penny continued to stare at the star filled sky. “He’s a good boy. Well, he’s twenty-four. So he’s not a boy anymore. And he wasn’t always good. The people who adopted him were friends of my parents. They told me they couldn’t wait for him to move out when he was eighteen. They called him devil spawn.”

Cassie blinked. “Really?”

“He joined the navy at eighteen. He was in trouble with juvenile court more than once before he joined.”

“And the navy has straightened him up?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why isn’t he still in the navy?”

“He had one enlistment and then didn’t rejoin. Said he hated the regimental lifestyle.” Penny turned her attention back to the sky. “He’s a strange child. He’s of my body but sometimes there’s this look in his eyes…oh, my gosh. Would you look at that?”

Cassie exited the hotel to stand on the steps with Penny. To the north, just visible over buildings across the street from the resort, was a luminescent red glow.

“What is that?” Penny asked. “A fire?”

A cold shiver drifted over Cassie’s skin at the thought, then she looked closer. “No. It looks geomagnetic.”

“Geomagnetic?” Penny frowned at her.

“Northern lights.”

“This far south? I thought northern lights had colors in them.”

“I saw this before once while visiting a friend in Arizona. Depends on how big the event is and which way it comes in toward earth.”

All doubt left as the sky grew more animate. Colors danced and shimmered over the mountain tops. Yellow, green, red. Northern lights far more intense than any Cassie had seen decorated the night. They made a silent symphony both beautiful and terrifying.

They’d shut off all the appliances and unplugged them earlier in the day, with the exception of that television. There was less chance of a fire starting that way if there was an EMP. Either way, the event they’d worried about for hours appeared to come true in an instant.

Before they could say another word, all the lights in town went dead. Nearby a huge crack split the air, and Cassie gasped in surprise. Penny let out a tiny scream.

“Oh, crap. What was that?” Penny asked.

“Sounded like a transformer.” Cassie glanced around the darkness illuminated now only by the wild colors in the sky. “Maybe more than one.”

“They said on television a few hours ago that they planned to shut down several grids before the EMP got here.”

Cassie zipped up her coat. “I hope they already did it. God, I hope they already did.”

Blackout: Chapter Eight

Griff was taking the stairs down to the lobby when the lights cut out.

“Fuck.” He clasped the hand rail in the old stairwell.

He’d made a vow not to step in the elevator when news of the CME was announced. Good thing, too. Still, he almost stumbled in the blackness as he halted on one step. He clicked on the flashlight and descended the stairs slowly. Once in the lobby, he heard two distinct female voices. Cassie and Penny. Light from two flashlights spread across the lobby.

“Griff?” Cassie walked up to him, and instinct and need demanded he draw her against his side.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Peachy. Did you see the Northern lights?”

“No.” He headed out the front door with the women in tow, and what he saw blew his mind.

Not only did a myriad of colors dance across the northern sky, they began to spread until the lights covered from horizon to horizon.

“Shit. Oh dear,” Penny said. “Is it supposed to cover the sky?”

Griff drew Cassie close to him. Having her against him, her warm body plastered to his side, gave him comfort. While he’d been upstairs refreshing his memory on survival, part of him had worried the weirdoes would come out by now. Every place, even one as small as Bowmount, harbored the nut jobs that crawled from the woodwork when shit hit the proverbial fan.

“Come on, let’s get inside.” He steered the ladies back into the hotel. “Penny, lock the doors. We have to make sure every exit is locked. Do you have another set of keys you can give us?”

“What?” Penny said as he herded them into the building. “Yes. Why? I can’t lock all the doors. There are emergency exists required to remain unlocked by the fire department.”

“Right. But there are other exits where an alarm wouldn’t go off if people just tried to come inside, right?” he asked. “As long as the locks don’t prevent us from getting out we’re golden.”

He couldn’t see Penny’s face in the semi-darkness, but fear colored her voice. “Yes.”

“If you have another set of keys give them to us.”

Penny didn’t say a word, and he wondered if she’d be stubborn. He didn’t want to get into the nasty reasons why it might make sense for someone else to have a set.

“Sure.” Penny hurried to the front desk and quickly unlocked a drawer under the counter. She handed him a big key ring. “Now why do you want this?”

Cassie asked out of the darkness. “Yes, why do we want a set of hotel keys?”

“Penny doesn’t have anyone else to here from the staff to help her. That’s the only reason,.” he lied.

“Okay.” He heard the doubt in the woman’s voice.

“We’ll help you lock up tonight,” Cassie said.

Penny sighed. “All right. I’m going to stay in the lobby. On the couch. Just in case those other patrons come back.”

Griff looked at his watch and noted it read ten o’clock at night. Cassie yawned loudly.

After they’d helped Penny with the lock up, Griff and Cassie headed upstairs. Maybe he’d gone beyond stupid suggesting they stay in a room together. Yet he didn’t want her out of his sight. He’d try to convince her one more time. If anything happened to her—

No. He couldn’t think like that and function. Do your job, Griff. Protect and serve.

“What about your Charger and those parts we got from Mr. Tracy?” she asked.

“I’ll see if they work tomorrow.”

When she went to use the key card on the lock to her room, she said, “Let’s see if this works now that the power is out.”

The light on the door didn’t turn red or green, but when she tried the handle, the door opened easily. “Goodnight, Griff.”

“Wait,” he said. “Come to my room and try my cell phone. It’s been in the Faraday cage. You were trying to reach your parents, right?”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “That’s right I was.”

They went into his room and he closed the door.

For just a moment he savoured watching her as she set her backpack on his table. The thick veil of her almost black hair cascaded over her shoulders and hung to mid back. Today it was parted to the side. She wore little to no makeup. Maybe a hint of rose color on her eyelids and lips. She’d never tried to hide those freckles across her nose, and he liked that she didn’t. Her slim body moved with grace as she went to the center of the room. When she turned toward him, he saw a hundred questions in her beautiful eyes. God, he wished he did have all the answers for her.

She yawned and put her had to her mouth. “Oh, God. I’m so tired. I don’t know if I can sleep.”

“Ditto.”

He went to the small desk where he’d constructed a Faraday cage for his phone. Now that the EMP had reached Earth, he knew it was safe to take the phone out. He handed it to her. She powered it on and tried her parents.

Her eyes clouded as she handed the phone back to him. “There’s not even a busy signal now.”

He placed the phone back on the desk and turned toward her. “I’m sure your parents are all right. They have friends?”

“Of course.”

“Then they’ll band together and they’ll be all right.”

“I can’t help but worry about them.”

“Of course. That’s only natural.”

A pause lingered between them before she said, “Is there anything else we need to do for tonight? Wait. I can’t believe I forgot to ask. What did the sheriff say when you went to the station?”

That had been a joke. “The sheriff is a nice guy and he has quite a few deputies. But he’s not ready for an event like this. I told him what I knew about protecting his electronics but I think he only half believed me.”

She sighed. “Welcome to Bowmount.” She rubbed one hand over her eyes. “This is the weirdest vacation I’ve ever had.”

She saw something she hadn’t before sitting on the coffee table. “A radio? Where did you get this?”

“It’s a crank radio. It can be charged up just by cranking it. I turned it on before I came downstairs.”

Curiosity lit her face. “And? Did you get anything?”

He didn’t want to tell her this. “Yes and no. There was a lot of chatter going on from the different stations. Satellites had started to go off, though.”

A small crease formed between her eyebrows. Her long sweep of beautiful hair fell over her shoulders as she stared at the floor, then she looked back up at him. “Aren’t you afraid to sleep tonight?”

He shrugged. “No point in being scared. I’ll probably go downstairs in a little bit and do a recon. Just to make sure everything is secure. We’ll need to watch out for fires in the neighbourhood in case some people didn’t prepare right.”

She brushed her hair away from her shoulders and tossed her head back with a sigh. “You know someone didn’t.”

Cassie stood and paced, and he saw the agitation growing within her. Even if she didn’t see it, she was frazzled at both ends and holding on too tight. He’d seen marines act this way in the field and had a feeling if he told her to calm down or that things would be all right, that she’d deck him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” he asked on impulse, pretty sure he knew the answer already.

Her gaze hardened, a shields up. “I’ll be perfectly fine on my own. I’ve got food and water.”

“I’m not so sure you’ll be fine.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You’ve got a protective streak a mile wide, don’t you?”

He nodded. “So?”

“Does it lure a lot of women into your bed?”

Frustrated and surprised by the question, he glared at her. “No.”

“Or is it just your secretive past that does that? Do they try and get to know you and figure if they sleep with you you’ll tell them your secrets? Is it a lure?”

Anger reared its head, burning bright in his stomach. “I don’t play games with women, Cassie. Never have, never will.”

She crossed her arms. “You’re playing a game when you won’t talk about your past.”

“You haven’t told me all of your past. You’ve got a fence around you so high, I’m amazed you even kissed me.”

He saw a flash of recognition and acknowledgement in her eyes, and he felt like he’d scored a point. He wasn’t proud of feeling that way, but he did.

“Goodnight, Griff,” she said, leaving his room quickly.

Moments later he heard the door locks engage on her door, and he had to be satisfied that the locks would keep her safe.

* * *

Getting to the house Wednesday night was easier than he thought it would be. Most people spent that night dealing with living back in a medieval world. He smirked as he settled on the couch in the house that he now belonged to. Yes, he belonged. He drew in the house’s scent and enjoyed the stench. He closed his eyes. Dust. Decay. Old. An eau de something immeasurably ancient. It came to him in a flash, as things had occurred to him easily as a child and teenager. He’d known many times in the past what people thought, especially if they believed bad things about him. He knew when his mother and father thought horrible things. When they’d treated him and his siblings like crap, he’d also known they’d pay for it one day. At first he thought karma would catch up with them, but then he realized karma didn’t always work until people were dead. Until someone made them dead. And so when karma didn’t kill them fast enough, he took it into his own hands. Every time he accomplished this goal, his mind and body felt lighter. Satisfied. As if he’d had great sex or a good meal.

His thoughts raced as he recognized the true smell of evil. It lingered in this house, possessed it in ways he’d never felt in any other place. All the place needed was new blood. New slaughter to give it a clearer, more pungent smell. He loved his new house, and yearned for the time someone would wander into the lair and discover just how delicious and happy they could be living with him here.

He closed his eyes and waited. Then he got an idea. One that filled him with the greatest of pleasure. He knew someone who would want to live with him here. With a smile of satisfaction, he made a decision on how to get her to the house.

Blackout: Chapter Nine

Thursday

Cassie heard a car roar to life as she stepped out the back of the resort. The engine had a familiar purr. When she rounded the corner and looked toward the parking lot, she saw Griff under the hood of the car. She paused, just watching him work. She might have argued with him last night—disagreed somewhat at the very least—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate him for what he was. One hunk of gorgeous manhood. He wore a flannel shirt that wasn’t tucked in to the waistband of his jeans. Jeans that curved against long muscled thighs.

His position gave her an excellent view of his ass, and she allowed a smile to slip out. Cassie mulled over her discussion last night with Griff as she’d left his room. She knew her own mind and knew staying with a man like him could be dangerous in a lot of ways. She’d never gotten the vibes off of him that he’d physically harm her, but she didn’t trust herself not to care about him a little too much. She refused to shack up with a guy. Just because he had enough testosterone, personality and gentleness to fuel dormant bits of her libido didn’t mean she had to give into his demands that she do what he wanted.

Last night while she’d disagreed with him a strange thrill had bubbled and percolated in her blood stream. When she’d left his room, she realized their discussion felt far different than the arguments she’d had with her ex-husband. She’d never felt excited discussing anything with the ex, whereas the mere act of not agreeing with Griff made her want to reach out and grab him. To kiss him.

She hated that. She didn’t want to be excited by a man who clearly liked giving orders, and who would no doubt relish telling her what to do if he thought he could get away with it on a regular basis.

No, she’d had enough of that ten years ago. She’d made it through the ego-crushing experience of being married to a dominating man. She’d learned her lesson. It had been a very, very good thing she hadn’t stayed with him last night and maybe done something stupid.

Yeah, she’d keep telling herself that.

She cleared her throat, and he jerked around. The guard dog expression in his eyes made something inside her stir with the slightest hint of fear. Yeah, he could be dangerous. Very dangerous if he wanted to be.

“Hey,” he said. “Sneaking up on me for a reason?”

“Watching you work. So the Charger’s fine?”

He turned back to the car and slammed the hood. “Yep.” He sat in the car long enough to turn it off. He left the car, slammed the door and locked it. “The garbage can kept the parts safe. We’re good to go. We can leave here whenever we want.”

“We?”

“Your rental isn’t likely to work. It’s a brand new sedan, right?”

“You’re right. It’s probably fried.”

“Let’s try it.”

They wandered to the sedan and she unlocked it. When she hoped inside to start it, it simply made a clicking noise. “Damn. No juice.”

He leaned on driver’s side door and looked down on her. “Look, even if you hate my guts, I’ll still offer you a ride out of here when I leave.”

“Well, let’s not get dramatic. I don’t hate you.”

His eyes narrowed, and the hint of a smile found his mouth. It disappeared almost as quickly as it came. “Look, I get your need for boundaries. You mentioned an ex-husband, and my guess is he’s part of the reason you’re like this.”

Resentment danced inside her. “Why I’m like this? You make it sound like a defect. I think it’s a really good thing I’m strong independent woman. But I also know there are a hell of a lot of men who are threatened by that. Are you?”

He planted his hands on his hips, and his face had turned to stone again. “Hell no. I get that you’ve been hurt. But you and I should stick together during this event. If we want to survive, we need to work as a unit.”

“A military precise operation.”

“You got it.”

She slipped from the car and locked it. The keys went back in her jeans pocket along with her room key. “I agree. Let’s work together.”

His eyes narrowed. “Okay. Look, I’m going to head over to the sheriff’s department and see what’s happening. Maybe I can get an idea of what shape the world is in.” He took the car keys out of his pocket and held them out to her. “Here.”

She stared at his hand. “Why?”

“I’m walking to the sheriff’s department. I don’t want anyone to see I have a working car. But if something screwed up happens, I’d like you to have the car so you can leave whenever you want.”

She took the keys, but said, “Griff, nothing’s going to happen to you.”

His big shoulders went up and down in a totally nonchalant gesture. “You never know. Better you have the keys. I’ll get them back as soon as I return. See you later.”

As he walked away, her hands clenched tightly around the keys. She looked down at them, a sudden weight settling on her shoulders that felt like enormous responsibility. Maybe even a tiny bit of guilt. The man was trusting her with a car he obviously loved.

“Griff,” she called out.

He turned back, still within ear shot. “You might regret giving me these keys.”

“Why?”

“I drive too fast.”

He laughed, the sound sharp and genuine. But instead of taking back his keys he waved and kept walking.

She headed back to the resort back entrance, feeling more in control. Now that she knew the parameters of her relationship with Griff, she could stop thinking about how damned gorgeous he looked and how much he turned her on.

“Yeah, right,” she murmured.

When she returned to the front desk, Penny was staring at the counter in front of her. Her mug looked displeased. What had thrown Penny off, Cassie couldn’t say. Maybe the fact she couldn’t watch twenty-four hour news channels anymore, people hadn’t paid her for rooms, or that her son hadn’t returned.

“Something wrong?” Cassie put up one hand. “No, don’t answer that. The world is probably screwed. Of course something’s wrong.”

Penny smiled, but it didn’t look genuine. This morning her hair looked as if she had barely dragged a comb through it. She wore too much makeup; her eyelashes were so thick with mascara they looked artificial. Maybe they were. She’d never seen Penny made up or as frazzled as this before.

“Nothing’s wrong dear. Other than the world going to hell, of course,” Penny said.

Cassie leaned on the counter. “There’s a lot to be thankful for. Without electricity things should actually be more quiet. Hardly any car horns, traffic, obnoxious planes flying over. You know. All those pesky modern conveniences won’t stress us out anymore because we won’t have them.”

Penny snorted a short laugh. “You’re right.”

“We still have working flashlights. Griff’s crank radio brought in radio operator that said quite a few satellites and GPS systems aren’t working. But we don’t know how accurate that report is. There’s still some blessings to be counted, though.”

“Yeah but that doesn’t change the way most people really are.” Penny touched her rounded belly as she stepped from behind the counter. “Right here in the core, people just don’t give a damn about their fellow neighbors. They’re just shits.”

Wow. This woman continued to surprise Cassie. Where she’d seemed uniform enough in behavior when they first met, now she went from cheerful to off-kilter in a heartbeat.

Cassie didn’t know how to respond. “Are they?”

Penny glared at her computer, unplugged and without juice for maybe eternity. “Yes.”

“I prefer to think everyone has their good and bad points.” Cassie figured there wasn’t too much she could do to change Penny’s mind, so she steered her in a different direction. “Is there somewhere in particular your son might go? Somewhere we could start looking for him?”

“No. Nothing I’m aware of. When is Griff coming back?” Penny asked as she wandered to the closed front doors.

“He said it might be awhile.”

“Maybe we should look for him. Do you think he’s in trouble?”

“He just went to the sheriff’s department to see what’s going on.”

Penny drew in a breath and released it between her lips. “What if something happens to him?”

How the hell could she answer that? “If there’s anyone who can take care of himself, it’s Griff.”

Penny grunted, her frown still firmly in place. She stared out the locked glass doors. “If anything did happen to him, how are you and I going to survive? Are you trained to handle the new world out there?”

“No.”

Penny nodded emphatically. “Neither am I. Here’s what I think we should do if Griff is killed—”

“No.” The word snapped out of Cassie. “I’m not going to think like that because it won’t happen.”

“You don’t know jack.” Penny’s voice held vinegar and ice in one nasty combination as she threw a disgusted look at Cassie. “We need men to protect us. So we had better keep our eyes peeled if anything happens to Griff.”

Was this woman serious? Cassie was momentarily speechless.

In another part of her brain she acknowledged worry. If anything did happen to Griff what would she do? Yes, he’d already taught her a significant amount she’d need to survive without modern conveniences. But the idea of doing any of it without him scared the crap out of her.

“Penny, I refuse to live my life like that. I’m a strong woman, and I can do this on my own if I have to.”

Penny shook her head and pushed her fingers through her tangled hair. “Maybe you can, but you can’t tell me that you could battle a full grown man without help. I don’t care how strong a woman you are.”

“I’m not talking about physical strength. I mean mental. Women survived the wild west without men on many occasions. I think we could do it again if we had to.”

Penny smoothed her hands down her jeaned hips, drawing her long-sleeved blue sweater over her rounded body. “All my life, up until running this hotel, I’ve had to make it in the world by doing what I had to do. So that makes me a strong woman. But I’m not stupid. If a man wants to do it for me, let him.” Penny headed for the front. “I just need some fresh air. I’m not staying in here all the time.”

Penny pushed open one side of the double doors.

Cassie’s heart leapt as she lifted a hand in protest. “Penny, don’t.”

Penny went out the door and down the steps without a backward glance. Cassie hurried to the doors and what she saw a second later froze her heart. Two men were talking to Penny, and they didn’t look savory. Looks, of course, didn’t always mean what a person thought they did. Yet these guys gave Cassie the creeps. One wore fatigues she imagined the guy bought at a military surplus. They looked new and current. He had a shaved head, big tattoos on both forearms, and a huge rifle. An automatic rifle from the looks of it. Could the military be coming into town to help? The National Guard? It seemed too quick for that type of assistance to be here, out in the boonies. Besides, the uniform appeared cobbled together like pieces of a puzzle forced to fit.

The other man wore a black vest over a blue flannel long-sleeved shirt and jeans. His long black hair and mustache under a cowboy hat made him appear like a cowboy from an old west movie. He glanced her way, and the smile that spread across his face sent a cold wave over her.

Cassie’s heart beat faster as she watched the two men. Penny’s back was turned to her, so it made it difficult to tell what Penny thought of the conversation. Her hands were planted on her hips, and then she gestured and shrugged. Then the bigger guy with the shaved head took Penny’s arm and started to lead her away, while the mustache man came up the steps. A shiver danced over Cassie, but she made a split second decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. She couldn’t lock the door and leave Penny out there alone with these guys. She grabbed the baseball bat Griff had left next to the front door and opened the door before the man could get there. She came down the steps—no way would she be isolated in the resort with that guy. Better to fight him, if she had to, in the open where people might come to her aid. A darting glanced up and down the street told her no one walked the streets other than the goons.

Penny said to the shaved-head guy, “Maybe later.”

A thought crashed into Cassie’s mind. Maybe these men meant them no harm. Possibly they only wanted to help.

Mustache man smiled. “Hey, pretty lady.”

Cassie tightened her right hand around the baseball bat in annoyance. She didn’t see a weapon on mustache man, but she wouldn’t take chances. “What do you guys want?”

Mustache man gestured toward Penny and his companion. “Penny here tells us you guys have plenty of food and water for quite a while. She was planning on sharing with us.”

Cassie decided to run on instinct. “We don’t have enough for anyone else.”

“That so?” Shaved-head dude asked as he walked back toward Cassie. “That’s not very nice.”

Cassie’s anxiety rammed upward a notch. “We don’t mean any disrespect. We just don’t know you.”

“Pretty lady, you don’t need to be afraid of us,” Mustache man said, his eyes blue glaciers. “We just wanna be friendly like.”

Jesus, these guys sounded like something out of the old west all right. If they hadn’t creeped her out, she’d almost be amused.

“It’s okay,” Penny said. “I know these guys.”

“I see.” Cassie never would have thought these guys fit the profile for friends of a woman like Penny. But what did she honestly know about the woman?

“They’re locals.” Penny smiled, but there was ice in her eyes as well. “They live outside of town.”

Mustache man moved into Cassie’s personal space, and she took a step back until she’d retreated almost to the front door. Mustache man followed, and he reached out to touch her hair.

She flinched away. “Don’t.”

Mustache man’s cool eyes flickered with malice, and she questioned her decision to come out here. But she couldn’t leave Penny out here alone.

“You really are a cold princess, aren’t you?” Mustache man towered over her. He was skinny, his cheekbones in sharp relief, nose slightly bent at the tip and teeth crooked.

“Yeah. I am. So don’t touch.”

Penny laughed, but it sounded wobbly. “Now Jacky, don’t get ideas about her. She belongs to someone else.”

“We’re expecting friends back any minute,” Cassie said.

“What’s your name?” Jacky asked.

“Cassie Kovac.”

“Kovac?” The man with close-cropped hair asked. “What kinda name is that?”

Cassie was puzzled. “What do you care?”

Skin head walked up the steps until he joined his friend in standing far too close. “‘Cause it sounds foreign.”

She drew in a deep breath, flabbergasted. Seriously? “It’s not.”

“You’re American?” Army boy asked.

Curses ran through her head. “You can’t get any more American. Most of my ancestors have been in the United States since 1634.” She didn’t plan to mention her Native American heritage. These bigots would go off on the very idea. “How long have yours been here?”

A broad smile came over skinhead’s face, and he laughed. If he hadn’t been an asshole, his handsome face would have worked for a military recruiting poster.

“Wow. Well pardon me all to hell,” Skinhead said. He made a gesture with the hand that didn’t hold the big weapon. “Aren’t you special? Or at least you think you are.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve had enough bullshit for one day,” she said and turned back to the double doors.

Skin-head and Jacky darted in front of her, and she realized her mistake. She’d let her annoyance dictate what she did. Wrong move.

Skin-head dude smirked at her. “Your men folk didn’t teach you right, did they? They must have been pussy whipped.”

Anger surged inside her in a fresh, hot wave. She swallowed hard to keep from braining him with the baseball bat. She simply stared at him and didn’t say a word. Obviously he looked for a reason to do something drastic.

“Oh, come on now.” Penny’s voice sounded nervous now in a way it hadn’t before. “She’s from out of town. From the big city. She doesn’t know how it works out here.”

“Well maybe we should teach her.” Jacky’s grin revealed a mouth full of crooked teeth. “Bitches sometimes need a lesson or two before they submit.”

A wave of memory crashed into Cassie, as she heard her ex-husband’s voice whispering in the past.

Christ, Cassie. You just don’t know when you’re beat, do you? You stupid cunt. I’m going to teach you a lesson once and for all.

More pissed than she’d been in a long time, she flushed with heat and her heartbeat raced. A trembling made small earthquakes through her body.

Before she could give the two creeps a tongue lashing or escape, Skinhead grabbed her hair and jerked her forward into his big body. She yelped, unable to hold back the sound as pain spiked through her scalp. The baseball bat flew from her fingers and made a racket as it rolled down the steps. Jacky laughed like a hyena as he raced after the baseball bat. She squirmed in the man’s grip enough that she turned her back to the double doors.

“Let me go!” She kicked at him, but he held tight.

“Hey, easy there!” Penny shouted up at them.

“Fuck off, Penny,” Skinhead said. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your trap shut.”

Cassie moved closer to the guy, intent on throwing him off guard. It worked to well. The man toppled off balance, Cassie still shackled to him.

They fell.

Penny cried out as they plunged down the stairs, rolling over and over.

Pain lashed Cassie’s body as she met the concrete steps over and over, the big man crushing her every time he came out on top. Twelve steps later they came to a rest on the sidewalk, Skin head sprawled on top of her. She couldn’t move under his heavy weight. A sharp pain punctured her side, and she almost cried out. She pushed against him, her breath strangling in her throat. She couldn’t get a word past her mashed diaphragm.

“Bitch!” Skinhead snarled as leaned into her face. “Maybe we should take you back to our camp. You can work that pretty mouth over my dick instead of talking shit.”

Fear sliced deep into Cassie. She had to do something now before this got any worse. Anything to get this asswipe off her. His weight was too heavy, and she could barely breathe.

A voice broke in, deep and deadly authoritative. “Get the fuck off of her.”

Blackout: Chapter Ten

With Skinhead’s big body blocking Cassie’s vision, she couldn’t see past him at first. But she’d recognize Griff’s no-nonsense voice anywhere. Relief crashed like a wave over her.

Skinhead levered off of her and stood, and she scooted away. She didn’t try to stand, her body still protesting every move she made.

Griff came into her view as he came closer. He held his weapon out in front of him, his stance self-assured and ready to fire if need be. Cassie’s gaze narrowed to his face, to the coldness in his eyes, and the tight line of his lips.

Griff’s expression was tight with pure anger. “Back away from her.”

“Whoa, now,” Skinhead said. “We didn’t mean no harm.”

“You better get some etiquette lessons, asshole.” Griff’s expression didn’t change, and his voice stayed icy. “It fucking looked like you meant harm when you touched her.”

“This little lady your woman?” Jacky asked.

Griff didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Well, ain’t that fine?” Jacky smiled, ice still in his eyes. He held up his hands and took the steps down past Griff and nearer to his bulky friend. “We’ll just be going then.”

Jacky’s companion reached slowly for the rifle that had fallen to the ground when he’d rolled down the steps.

“Leave it.” Griff’s voice cut like a knife.

“It don’t belong to you,” Skinhead said.

“Too bad.” Griff’s stance didn’t move an inch, his weapon trained on the men.

“I don’t know,” Jacky said. “I think you oughtta teach your bitch some manners at least. She wasn’t the least hospitable.”

Cassie almost told the guy where he could shove his manners.

Skinhead’s ugly smile appeared. “Maybe I should take her from you. She’s a beauty.”

Cassie’s heart shot into her throat in a mix of fear and disgust. “No.”

The word was barely a whisper. A croaking sound. Griff didn’t even flinch.

Skinhead laughed. “Christ. Are you a dumb fuck? I got friends in this town. Maybe we should just come back later and kill you and take her then.”

Griff’s smile held no amusement. “You can try.”

The absolute certainty in Griff’s words made a shiver go through her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Jacky chuckled. “Cripes, Peterson. He has a look about him. Sure you weren’t in a militia or something, bub? A gang maybe?”

Griff’s gaze and his aim didn’t venture from the man called Peterson. “Yep.”

“You were in a gang?” Jacky asked.

“Survivalist camp. Neo-Nazi,” Griff said with perfect conviction.

At this news, a strange feeling of unreality came over Cassie. Griff couldn’t be serious.

“Well, why the hell didn’t you say so, brother?” Peterson said with a smile.

Griff didn’t lower his weapon. “I’m not here for old home week, and you put your hands on my woman. I suggest you leave.”

Jacky grinned as if Griff had offered him candy. “Well, we could help you, bub. We got weapons outside of town. Plenty of them. We were doing a recon in town just like you were apparently. You want to join up with us? We have plenty of food and water and shit at our camp. We knew this day would come. We’re going to take back the country from bitches like this.”

A new wave of anger attacked Cassie, but she knew saying anything would make things worse.

Griff kept his weapon on Peterson, and his gaze flicked from Peterson to Jacky. “No thanks. We’re staying put for now. But we may take you up on the invite later.”

Cassie’s heartbeat still hadn’t slowed, and she took in a shuddering breath.

Jacky and Peterson hesitated. They moved away slowly, their backs to Griff momentarily as he kept them in sight. All the time Penny stood at the bottom of the steps, her expression far more composed than Cassie would have expected.

When the men were far enough down the street, Griff lowered his weapon and stuffed it into a shoulder holster under his coat. Cassie felt out of breath and as if all her insides were on the outside. She struggled to her feet, bruised and aching.

“Griff, thank God you came,” Penny said in a soft, almost sweetly feminine voice.

Griff marched up to Cassie, ignoring Penny. He reached for her arm, his eyes still filled with that snapping, crackling energy. He almost looked angry with her. “Are you hurt? I saw you fall down the stairs.”

Cassie nodded and slipped from his grasp. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, gaze assessing her as if she was lying.

A shiver passed through her aching body. “Nothing’s broken.”

Griff eyeballed Penny and Cassie. What he said next, though, took Cassie by surprise.

“Christ almighty.” He almost hissed the words as he leaned down to pick up the automatic weapon. “Are you trying to get dead? I told you two to stay in the hotel and keep the doors locked.”

“It was my fault.” Penny said. “I saw Jacky and Peterson and thought I’d head them off before they got any ideas. I figured they’d try to come inside.”

“You should have stayed inside.” His voice was unforgiving.

“How do you know those men?” Cassie asked Penny.

“I grew up with them. They went to high school with me. They’re nut jobs.” Something disconcerting lit Penny’s eyes. She cleared her throat and peered over her shoulder as if she expected the men to return. “Jacky is my son’s father.” Penny threw an admiring look at Griff. “You handled those thugs like a pro.”

Cassie’s surprise at what Penny had revealed was overtaken by another emotion. Several emotions, in fact. Penny’s gaze on Griff was more than admiring. It was calculating. Suddenly Cassie didn’t trust the woman for one second longer. An impression flew at her—this woman wanted Griff for her own. Shocked, Cassie didn’t speak. Then, to her shame, she felt trembling start in her limbs. She didn’t dare lose control. She wouldn’t lose it in front of anyone.

“Excuse me,” Cassie said as she turned and made her way up the stairs.

She walked as fast as her legs would carry her, half expecting for Griff to run after her. When he didn’t, she wasn’t sure how to feel. She hurried toward the stairs and took them quickly, trotting up them until she’d reached her room. She pushed open the door and that’s when she heard footsteps behind her. Griff had followed.

“Cassie! Hold up.”

She opened the door and went inside. He caught the door before it slammed, then shoved it closed behind him. He watched her for a second, uncertainty crossing his eyes for a few seconds.

“Get out,” she said, shaking to the very core.

He stood in her room with that automatic weapon slung over his shoulder, his tall body tense, his eyes hard and unforgiving. Alongside the anger seething within her were other emotions she dare not acknowledge or reveal. Heat sprung up along her skin and replaced the cold, and her aches and pains faded to the background under new physical sensations. The man in front of her had protected her, but she hated that he had to. That the world she lived in had cruel, ugly men like the one who’d assaulted her. That she’d done such a poor job of protecting herself.

“Cassie—”

“Go ahead and get it over with.”

“What?”

“The lecture. Clearly that’s what you had in mind when you followed me up here.”

“You’re right. I did. You could have been killed. God only knows what would have happened if I hadn’t come back and seen what was happening.”

He put the automatic weapon down on the table, then drew off his coat and holster and placed both on a chair next to the couch. He stalked toward her, and she stiffened. All those emotions steaming through her threatened to boil over. Tears stung her eyes. Tangled emotions battled for supremacy inside her. She wanted to yell at him for resembling those Neanderthals in any way.

“From now on I need you to do what I tell you,” he said. “Things are getting dicey out there. There was damn near a riot at the sheriff’s department. People are looking for help and they’re starting to blame others. Look for scapegoats. They aren’t pulling together. At least not the ones who made a run on the cops, anyway.”

She closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath. “Why am I not surprised?”

“And why didn’t you do what I told you and stay in the hotel?”

Pissed, she took a step forward that practically put her in his face.

She poked his chest with her index finger, frustration pouring forth. “God, you’re such a man. I tried to get Penny to stay inside the hotel, but she saw those two goons and went outside. I wasn’t going to lock her out. I didn’t know she knew those idiots.”

“Still—”

“Still what? Survival of the fittest? I wasn’t going to leave her alone out there.”

He went silent, eyeballing her with unnerving intensity. If he’d been a stranger she’d have been very afraid of him. Instead she was pissed.

“Your woman, eh?” she said. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Creeps like that need to hear that kind of shit.”

“They could have killed you.”

“Hey.” His voice softened. “It’s all right.”

“No it isn’t—” She choked on her own words. She drew in a harsh breath. “You can’t order me around like one of your military underlings.”

“Yeah.” He said in a clipped tone. “But I’m more familiar with what can happen in situations like this. You’ve got to trust me.”

Her breath came faster as he closed the gap between them. Something primal and raw entered his eyes.

“Don’t order me around like that again,” she said in defense, unable to reason with him or herself why this was so important to say. “I’ve survived things you know nothing about.”

“Oh?” His eyes softened the slightest bit, a hint of compassion. “Have you battled assholes like the one that just tried to hurt you? Who would have done a lot worse if he got a chance?”

“Not exactly. But I won’t accept any man claiming he knows what is better for me than I know myself.”

“If it’ll save your life, I’ll do it again.” His voice was edgy, commanding.

“And Penny is up to something. Did you see how she acted with you?” Cassie’s voice went slightly higher. “Oh, Griff. My hero.”

He grunted, and for a half a moment humor mixed with a hot look in his eyes. “You jealous?”

A hot flush filled her face. She wouldn’t answer that question. “Anything could have happened. All you had was that pea shooter and that creep had an automatic weapon.”

“I wasn’t lying to him. I could have got a shot off and killed him.”

“Do you think I give a damn about that?” On impulse she grabbed the front of his shirt and twisted, half in anger and half in desperation. He must understand.

“Were you worried about me?” His voice went liquid with heat, a husky sound that sent tendrils of arousal spiraling all through her.

Shocked at the sensation, she couldn’t speak.

“Cassie, you may be mad as hell at me.” Griff slipped his hand around the back of her neck. “You can hate my guts. But I’m honest with you. They planned on taking you with them. Do you know how scared shitless I was when I saw that guy lying on top of you?”

Warmth coiled in her loins, the heat threatening to start a fire from the inside out. She was shaking with it. “Griff…”

His mouth came down on hers for one tender, sweet kiss. He whispered against her mouth. “You gotta trust me.”

“Why should I?”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes were blazing now as he drew her against every inch of his incredibly hard body. “What’s eating you up inside? What your ex did to you? I’d die before I ever hurt you, Cassie. I’m not your ex. I’m not those assholes that tried to hurt you. I swear it.”

He kissed her again, and all the emotions inside her exploded into action.

They kissed repeatedly, their mouths passionate and the hunger inside her reaching a fever pitch instantly. Tears poured from her eyes, and he kissed them away. One touch led to another. Desire eclipsed everything. With a frantic urgency, they tore at each other’s clothing. She needed him now, wanted the reassurance. He threw his shirt on the floor, tugged off his boots while she rapidly dispensed with her coat, sweater, boots and jeans. She stood in her underwear, the plain and utilitarian stuff she’d brought to Bowmount, never expecting a man would see them.

Her gaze fixated on his torso and for the moment all the bad shit going down in the world disappeared.

He must be sculpted from iron. With broad shoulders, ripped arms, a sprinkle of dark hair over a muscled chest and a washboard stomach, Griff defined hunk with a capital H. Mixed together with a ruggedly handsome face that definitely didn’t say pretty-boy, Griff made her libido stand up and take notice. Their gazes clashed, and the intensity in his eyes kept her pinned to the spot. Silky hot need coiled in her loins, and she recognized the feeling. Sexual attraction. With him the sensation proved more powerful and distracting than it did with any other man she’d met. She could blame it on their perilous circumstances, but that would be wrong. She’d felt this way about him from the moment they met, and the need grew fiercer the longer she knew him.

One arm wrapped around her waist tightly, his hand cradling the back of her neck as he plunged into another the kiss with whole-hearted urgency. His tongue dipped inside and tangled with hers, a symphony of tasting and touching. He kissed her once. Twice. Again.

Yes. Yes.

No retreat and no looking back.

His erection, steely hard against her belly, felt so good. She squirmed in his hold. God, she’d never felt this turned on so quickly in her life. He tore his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck. With small kisses he traced his way to her left ear, and his hot breath teased and tickled. She wriggled again, the ache in her breasts and between her legs reaching a fever pitch. Beyond this, in the outside world, there was nothing. There was no chaos, no solar flare, no ocean racing to swallow her.

“You make me crazy.” His voice was rough, deep and aching with need. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She clasped his head between her hands as his hands tightened on her hips. “You couldn’t. You won’t.”

With a moan he shoved his jeans and briefs down his legs and kicked them aside. She drank in the sight of long muscular legs and the thick cock between his thighs, Cassie wanted to groan. Because she couldn’t form a word to describe how crazy he made her. His chest heaved up and down as he watched her, and then she took hesitation away. She palmed his pectorals, teasing his stiff nipples with her palms.

He hissed in a breath, his teeth showing. Griff clasped her wrist and drew her forward. He kissed the sensitive skin there, and a wild thrill rippled up her arm. He drew her into his body and impressed upon her how big he was in every way. Powerful muscles, his height as he towered over her. Even the blatant strength turned her on. She moistened, growing hot between the legs with a need to move, to take him into her body. Shaking inside, she left his arms until she backed into the one wall with space. He followed and placed his palms on the wall on either side of her head. She was molten already, hot beyond anything she’d experienced before. It was crazy. Irrational. She didn’t care.

His gaze held heat as he attention took in her breasts, down her body to the juncture of her thighs. “You’re beautiful.”

She stayed against the wall, half afraid to take a step toward all that power and masculine force. He was so vital, so strong. What she didn’t know about him tantalized her now, and that shocked her. She loved it—never had forbidden needs ridden so hard and fierce. She wasn’t helpless, but his assertiveness drove her desires higher. Repeatedly he kissed her, and the slow thrust and retreat of his tongue against hers drove her needs higher. She traced his skin, testing his steel-hard muscles.

She arched into him, and his thick cock pushed against her stomach. “Griff.”

She went for bold, and reached between them to stroke his length, to cup his balls. He clasped her hand and brought it to his waist.

“I’m so hot if you do that again, I’ll come in your hand,” he said.

He leaned against her, and a rush of moisture made her soaking wet between the legs. She squirmed as he wedged his legs between hers and made room for his hips. Hot cock teased her, and she gasped. She was shivering, so hot for him she could barely speak. If he didn’t extinguish this crazy fire soon, she would lose her mind. She dared look into his eyes, and saw the dangerous man, a man with leashed animal inside.

“Oh, God, Cassie. You’re so wet.”

This time she kissed him, tugging his head down and devouring him. He complied, and the strength of desire made her wild. She arched, feeling every inch of his hair-roughened skin against her softness, his maleness undeniable and exciting. As his kisses drove her to the edge, he slipped his hands around and cupped her butt. He lifted her, and her legs went around his waist.

Oh, yes. Yes.

His thickness touched between her folds, and she groaned into his mouth.

He stopped kissing her and buried his face in her neck. They held on the precipice for a second.

He slid his cock straight into her core. Cassie gasped with the hot, sweet ecstasy as he spread her wide. Fear and anxiety that destroyed her when they’d stood on the steps outside the resort perished under the feeling of his hot masculinity deep inside her. She clutched at his shoulders as his muscles bunched and coiled. Holding her against the wall, he thrust hard. She lost her mind as he pumped her with sure strokes. She ate it up, the ecstasy inside her growing so fast it made her crazy. Moans left her throat, and she gasped as every inch of her came to life.

One hot thrust after another turned her into a wild creature, thoughts dashed under a primal imperative without reason. He gasped against her throat as his thrusts grew harder, his cadence more determined. Hot bliss filled her center, spreading in waves through her core as he groaned, their bodies dancing against each other. Another hard thrust and another and Cassie fell apart, shaking as she whimpered. Pure pleasure spread in hot liquid through her loins. With a last plunge, Griff held deep and growled as he came inside her.

He kissed her, and despite the coldness of the room, she’d never felt more warm. More safe. More loved.

Loved? No. He didn’t love her, and she knew that. They hadn’t known each other long enough. Certainly they’d come together in mutual lust. It didn’t mean marriage or a picket fence. But God. She’d never experienced sex more electrifying.

He gathered her close and walked across the room with her, his cock still buried deep in her softness and her legs around his waist. With a gentleness that belied his big body, he laid her on the bed and withdrew from her. He followed her down until he was beside her. Gathered in each other’s arms, they tumbled into a tangle of arms and legs.

Sweating and still panting in the aftermath, she drifted on a cloud of pure sweetness where she forgot everything but how she felt in his arms. Until he drew back and levered up on one elbow beside her. The lust was still there in his eyes, but so was an equally powerful emotion. Fear.

“Christ,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Shit.”

Startled, she sat up, forcing him to do the same.

“What?’ she asked.

“Condom. I didn’t use a condom.” His voice held anger.

Blackout: Chapter Eleven

Something tightened up inside Cassie at the implication of what they’d just done. “Not smart, I know. But you don’t need to worry.”

“Why?” He scrubbed one hand through his hair.

She lifted one eyebrow. “I’m sterile. I was tested extensively when my ex and I couldn’t have kids. They tested him first and his swimmers were fine. My ovaries were junk.”

He sighed, and the relief she saw in his eyes didn’t make her feel any better. Old baggage stirred inside her. Her ex had been furious when he found out they couldn’t have kids.

Griff reached up and brushed her hair back. “I’m sorry. I mean, if you wanted to have children…”

“I did. But at the end of the day I’m glad I didn’t have kids with that man. Very glad I didn’t.”

He nodded, and he must have seen the regret in her face. “I’m healthy. You don’t need to worry about any disease.”

“I’m clean, too.”

One more time he nodded, and he added a smile. His arms went around her, and he drew her down on top of him. Her mind whirled with questions, with a confusion of emotions she couldn’t even identify. She wondered about their connection. Was it real? Fueled by desperation as they’d tackled a scary situation, they’d come together in a quick and furious lovemaking?

“We’re safe tonight.” His voice was low and soft. “You need to rest.”

“Are you crazy?” Her eyes, so intense and mesmerizing, dared him to tell her anything she didn’t want to hear. “How can I relax? The freakin’ sun just fried all the damned electronics in the world and two thugs tried to mess me up.” She gestured at the flashlights and the small battery-powered lamp on the desk which gave them moderate light. “We’ve been knocked back to the stone age.”

“Not exactly.”

She went on, a uncharacteristic nervousness biting her around the edges. “Thank you for watching out for me today. In the last ten years since my divorce, I’ve grown up a lot. I’ve become very independent. Depending on another person for anything is driving me nuts.”

“You haven’t depended on me for anything yet.”

“Right. I don’t know jack about surviving the dark ages.”

“Maybe you don’t, but you would’ve figured it out without me. But I’m glad I’m here to help.”

“Long day already and it’s not half over.” Her voice held weariness. “I suppose from this day forward it’s a one moment at a time thing.”

“Yeah. Survival depends on flexibility. Learning to be tough if you aren’t already.”

“I thought I was tough. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Ease up on yourself. You just had a big trauma.” His fingers traced over her hip. “Damn it. There’s a bruise here. Got any more?” With a gentleness that threatened to drive her mad, he looked for more injuries. “You’ve got one on your shoulder, too. There will probably be more that’ll show up.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”

“I thought you said your husband didn’t beat you.”

“He didn’t. I meant…” Was she ready to tell him about the tsunami when he hadn’t told her everything about himself? “God, I don’t know where to start.”

“At the beginning?”

“I was in Phuket, in Thailand on December 26, 2004.”

He frowned, and she saw the confusion in his eyes before it cleared a moment later. “Jesus. The tsunami.”

“Yeah.”

His gaze darkened. “Oh God.”

“Yeah,” she said again, swallowing hard. “After my husband killed himself I took a lot of vacations. Well, a few anyway. I guess you could say I was trying to assert my independence, showing the world and myself I could do things on my own. And I hadn’t traveled anywhere without my husband. I decided the ultimate act of independence was to go to a foreign country over a holiday. I was in Thailand two days before the Tsunami hit.” He stayed silent and watchful, so she continued. “My hotel was about a hundred yards from the beach. It was a four story structure. Not luxury by any means, but nice enough. I had a room on the second floor. I spent most of my time touring the area, and there was this market area nearby. That morning I got up early, put on a bathing suit and I was sitting on a chaise near the pool. I was deep into this book when I heard people shouting. I looked up and…” Her throat went tight and felt raw. She swallowed around it and forced a breath into her lungs. “The water was rolling, white at the top. It kept getting higher. It was rushing back in after pulling way out. If I’d been paying attention I would have seen that the water had pulled out. I knew what that meant…that a tsunami was coming. But there were trees in the way, and…”

He brushed a finger over her chin, his eyes filled with the stark realization of what she was saying. He understood, and for a moment comfort propped her up and made her go on.

“Anyway,” she said, “I was frozen solid for a second, unable to believe what the hell I was seeing. Then I broke free of my shock and started screaming at the people around me to run. I ran for the hotel, but the damn wave was so fast. I barely made it inside the hotel, and I rushed for the stairs. I heard people screaming and screaming but I didn’t look back. There was no time. I reached the second floor and kept going. I didn’t stop until I reached the top floor and there was a door open to the roof A few people had already rushed there ahead of me.”

She stopped as a tear fell on her cheek. He brushed the tear away.

“Oh, Cassie.” His voice was soft, his eyes stark with understanding. “How many were up there with you?”

“About thirty.” She settled into a slower explanation. “The water washed through the first floor. After that was over, we waited to make sure a second wave wasn’t coming in. It did and it was worse. It reached the second floor. Just under it.” Words felt stuck in her throat, but she forced them out. “After we figured it was safe we went out. The whole time I was wandering around I felt like the ocean was watching me. Like it was ready to come back in and swallow me any time.” She drew in another deep breath. “There were so many injured. So many dead. Many of the people I’d already met on my two days there were gone. I never saw them again. That night I stayed in my room without electricity and only the minimal bottled water and food I had. I was exhausted. Every time I went to sleep I dreamed about the wave. Only in the dream I couldn’t get away. This disaster…”

She buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped her in his arms, his caresses tender as he whispered, “It’s not the same. It’s not the same. You’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know.”

“I will say it.” His voice was rough, but tender. “You’re amazing, Cassie. Fucking amazing in so many ways I can’t even describe it. Brave and strong.”

His reassurance and promise that all would be okay sank into her soul and held steady. She would believe him, if only for an hour or a day. Silence wrapped them, and she placed her hand over his heart. The steady beat reassured her and gave a sense of stability.

“That’s why you don’t swim, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I avoid it. One of these days I’m going to get back into a pool. For a while I was afraid of the dark. I’d wake up and imagine the water was coming but I couldn’t see it. Had to sleep with a light on.”

He caressed her hair and back. “God, what you went through.”

“I don’t feel sorry for myself, Griff. That’s not why I’m telling you this.”

“Of course not. But I’m glad you’re telling me.”

They went quiet again.

“How long did you stay in Thailand?” he finally asked.

“It was a few days before I could get transport to the airport and a ticket out. Weeks before I could get the nightmare out of my head. I went to a therapist again…the same one that saw me after my husband’s death. I refused to take any pills to mask what happened to me.”

“Good for you. I sense there’s a lot more story in there.”

She made a laugh, a brittle, fake laugh. “There is. A lot of what I saw and did before I even left Thailand. I get tired just thinking about it.”

“Maybe someday you’ll tell me the rest.”

She thought about that and a warmth spread through her. “Someday? After this is all over we’ll go our separate ways.”

His eyes chilled, as if she’d flipped a switch inside him. “We’re taking everything one day at a time, Cassie.”

“Of course.”

He looked toward the window. “I’ll bet your parents were freaked.”

“Oh, yeah. They mothered me until I had to tell them to chill out.”

“Of course they did. They love you.”

She pushed herself off his chest and lay down next to him. “Enough about my dangerous life. Let’s talk about something else.”

“All right. I’ve got good news.”

Good news would be wonderful. “Oh?”

“I should have told you this before we came up here and told Penny.”

She tweaked one of his nipples playfully. “Get on with it or I’ll have to torture you.”

“When I went into the sheriff’s office I got the word that the cops had been into the county, gotten radios to work, etc. They have information now they couldn’t get before when the electricity first went out. The entire grid didn’t go down. Just as we thought, some of the grids were shut off ahead of time. After the EMP they waited long enough to make sure it was over. When they powered things up it took a few hours.”

Happiness burst open inside her, and she laughed softly. “Oh, my God! That’s wonderful.”

She leaned in to kiss her, and before she could pull away he’d rolled her over and wedged himself between her thighs. He started a thorough exploration of her nipples. He licked and tweaked, pinching them gently between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped. “Wait. Tell me more.”

“Not much more to tell.” He palmed her hip, then wedged his fingers between her legs to trace her softness.

Heat grew inside her like a tornado, and as he found her clit and brushed over it, she thought she’d come unglued. After her last orgasm, she didn’t think she had the strength to come again. Maybe she was wrong. With slow and methodical caresses, he teased her aroused folds. He sank one finger deep and held there. She squeezed around it, wanting to ride it to completion.

“A lot of stuff did get messed up by the EMP, but it wasn’t as bad as the experts thought.” He kissed her neck, each little touch self-assured and maddening. “It’s going to take weeks to make everything right. But most of the transformers are all right.” He took her nipple between his lips and sucked strongly. “The follow-on effect is going to cause problems for a while. But we weren’t knocked back to the Middle Ages as we thought we might be.”

“That’s wonderful.” She moaned. “God, Griff. That feels so good.”

“This?” He curled his tongue around one nipple as he trapped the other breast in his palm. “Hmmm. Or this?” The hum against her flesh vibrated and caused a riot of sensation to tingle and heat between her thighs.

She squirmed in his hold, elated by the good news and the lovemaking. He kissed her, his tongue plunging deep. With one sweet, deep plunge his cock slipped inside her wetness. She moved against him, needing him to move, to banish the renewed ache that built rapidly in her core. He moved immediately, each smooth and steady stroke causing lightning swift pleasure to build moment by moment. As she fell into the rhythm, her blood sang, her flesh heated. His cock caressed her with stroke after stroke until she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore. Each touch, each kiss added fuel to her fire. His thrusts became harder and faster. Ecstasy slammed her a second later, vibrating through every inch of her. Griff held on until he brought her to another climax before plunging inside and breaking apart in orgasm. They lay in bed, panting and drowsy.

“We still have a lot to do,” she said after a long pause. “Even if this isn’t the end of the world.”

“Yep.”

His clipped answer silenced her for a short while.

“I’m sorry.” He rolled toward Cassie and bracketed her between his side and his other arm.

“For what?”

“Sometimes I forget civilians aren’t used to unrest and violence. The average man or woman on the street isn’t used to uncertainty like dealing with those assholes.”

Good humor erased some of her doubt. “They seemed to like you well enough after you lied and told them you were a Nazi survivalist.”

His gaze darkened, and he moved away, leaving the bed long enough to redress. He sat on the couch and stuffed his feet in his boots. His change of mood worried her.

She sat up and watched him. “What’s wrong, Griff?”

“What isn’t?”

“There was a riot at the sheriff’s department?”

“Yeah. A small one of six people. Less like a riot and more like the idiots that bothered you today.”

“Why did they riot?”

“Same reason people always riot. Dissatisfaction. Fear. Frustration.”

She left the bed and went for her own boots. The mood had severed when she’d mentioned the survivalist angle.

“It’s all so ridiculous.” She vented her own frustration. She explained Penny’s silly behavior before Jacky and Peterson arrived. “I guess people are so afraid they’ll use the blame game to make themselves feel better.”

Griff finished lacing his shoes and leaned back on the couch. “We just have sex to burn off our frustration.”

Was that what it was? She didn’t know. “Maybe we should suggest a huge orgy. You think that would fix everything?”

He laughed, and she loved seeing his lopsided, sexy grin.

“That might do it.” He leaned forward and leaned his forearms on his thighs. “Sex solves a lot of things. But not everything.” He sobered. “Are you all right?”

“Of course. Those peckerheads didn’t to pack me off to their bumfuck camp where I would have spent my life making them sandwiches.”

He snorted a laugh, but then sobered just as quickly. “This isn’t funny, Cassie. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to prevent what did happen to you.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Another possibility occurred to her. “Do you feel responsible for other people all the time, Griff?”

He grunted. “Hell no. Just people who can’t protect themselves. I guess it’s always been in my blood. A need to protect.”

“Why do I have a feeling that’s gotten you into trouble on occasion?”

His gaze flicked to hers and held, then he glanced away. “Good guess.”

A narcissistic thing jolted through her. If he always wanted to assist those in need, maybe what he felt for her didn’t amount to more than altruism. The thought deflated her. Maybe she should keep a part of herself apart and cool. If she hooked into with him too much, too closely, her possibilities for being hurt multiplied tenfold.

“Why don’t you stay here and rest,” he said as he stood.

“No.” She left the bed and stood as well. “I need things to do.”

He stared at her for a long moment as if he didn’t know what to think of what she’d said. “Okay. We have plenty to do. Let’s get to it. We need to make sure those wankers that tried to hurt you can’t get into this resort.”

A fresh dagger of fear sliced a new place inside her. “You think they’ll try?”

“They might.” He sighed. “They just might.”

* * *

That evening Cassie sat in her room and stewed in her thoughts. Her mind jumped from thought to thought. Resting didn’t feel like an option she could accomplish. The world had come apart at the seams over the last day. Hell, a lot had happened on and the day was unlikely to end on a high note. They’d turned the hotel into something of a fortress, and it had taken all day to make it secure. Penny had agreed to all the security measures. Reluctantly Cassie had agreed to having Griff stay in her room.

The bathroom door opened, and Griff exited wearing only gray sweat bottoms. “All yours.” His voice had turned huskier than normal.

“Thanks.” She stood and gathered her makeup kit with her facial cleaner and moisturizer. She grabbed her red checked flannel pajamas.

As she went into the bathroom and closed the door, she made a vow right then that the only reason she’d wear makeup from now on was for the sunscreen. Who knew when or if she’d buy makeup again. She smiled at herself in the mirror, oddly freed by the idea. Hell, if makeup wouldn’t be made anymore, all women would have to stop wearing the stuff. Authenticity would become the name of the game. Why not start now?

After cleaning up and changing into flannel pajamas, she drew in a deep breath and left the bathroom. She expected him to be asleep already, but instead he peeked out between the drapes. His broad, muscular back impressed her.

He turned around, and she asked, “See anything interesting?”

“Streets look quiet. That’s a very good thing. Maybe a few people are realizing it won’t do them a damn bit of good to freak out.”

His gaze danced over her pajamas. “Looks warm and cozy.”

She smiled. “Flannel is my number one nightwear in a Colorado fall or winter.”

“Maybe I should start wearing flannel.”

She snorted a laugh. “I have a hard time picturing that.” Her mouth ran away with her, and she continued. “You seem in your element now that everything has gone to hell.”

His eyes narrowed. “No, I’m not. I’m just as out of my element as you are. I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“Caught in a hotel room with a strange, flannel-wearing woman?”

He stalked toward her, and the room felt too small. Vulnerable, perhaps. He stopped close to her, his gaze burning into her.

When one tear escaped, she caught it and wiped it away with her hand. She closed her eyes, as if doing so would banish the reality staring her in the face.

His touch landed on her hair, soft and gentle. “Damn it, Cassie. Don’t cry.”

Anger lit her from within, and she opened her eyes and glared into his contrite face. “Don’t tell me not to cry.” She heaved a sigh. “What is it with men hating tears? Besides, I almost never cry.”

He drew her closer, cupping her face between both of his big hands. “You’re a strong woman, and you’ve endured a lot in your life. But I can keep you safe.”

His reassurance echoed inside her. Part of her wanted to believe what he said so much, the other didn’t know how she could. “You’ve never been in this world before, Griff. You can’t protect me from it.”

Something fierce and hot entered his eyes. His voice lowered, husky and soft. “I’ll die trying.”

“Why? You barely know me. I could walk out that door tomorrow and you’d be free of me.”

He made an exasperated noise and released her only long enough to clasp her shoulders. “God, that douche bag ex-husband made you think you’re not worth saving.”

His statement smacked her in the gut. He’d cut to the quick and figured out in short order the crux of the matter. “Yes. Yes, he did. But I’m over that. I’ve worked ten long years to be over that.”

“Are you? You can’t be if it’s come up now. People’s weaknesses always show up in times of stress and crisis. It’s only their strengths that can overcome them.”

Damn him, he was right. She hated that. She didn’t want to admit she had any weaknesses. Not after working her ass off to become the independent woman she was today. To discover she hadn’t leapt over that last hurdle hurt like a mother.

Not thinking, she placed her hands on his chest. Hot, hard male flexed under her touch, and his breath sucked inward on the smallest hitch of sound.

“Okay.” She kept her hands in place, loving the masculinity under her fingers. His chest was sprinkled with dark hair, and she liked that way too much, too. “What’s your weakness?”

His eyes smoldered with intention, and she knew she played with fire. “You’re my weakness right this minute.”

Her heartbeat quickened, her breath shortening as he drew closer. “How can that be?”

“I like being with you, talking with you…” Once more his hands plunged into her hair, and he tilted her chin up. “Touching you.”

She felt certain he’d kiss her, but then something dawned in his eyes. A realization, and the heat she’d seen there started to cool.

“But we shouldn’t be,” he said. “We can’t be.”

A brand new anger arose inside her, and she decided there and then she didn’t have the patience or the stamina to play this game. She wouldn’t do a dance and pine for him. She wouldn’t ask him to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, even if it wouldn’t. She refused to pretend. No matter what he said, they had a potent fire between them. At the end of the world, even if only for tonight, she wanted to know what it would feel like to be with him.

“You don’t get to hide anymore, Griff. We’re in a new world now. I have a feeling secrets can get us in a world of hurt. I’ve laid myself open for you. You’re going to do the same for me.”

She slipped her arms around his neck, and brought his head down. Their lips met, not sweetly or politely, but with heady passion. They would burn up the night, and she knew it in her bones. If only he’d let her inside.

He easily worked open each button on her long-sleeved flannel top. Accidentally or on purpose his skin brushed hers and sent sweet need dancing in sparks across her skin. He kept his gaze pinned to her, and she closed her eyes as much to absorb sensations as to avoid his intense eyes. His fingers trailed over her collarbone, and she shivered once more from the delicious anticipation. He leaned forward and kissed her neck, each lingering contact of his lips a hot brand. As his arms came around her, she clasped his hard shoulders and hung on. His touch lingered everywhere, torturing her body in ways she’d never experienced before this moment. His big palms swept over her ass, cupping and stroking, pulling her into his erection. He pushed the pajama top off her shoulders.

Pleased that he was that turned on, she complied and didn’t touch him again. With a low moan he clasped her butt in both hands and squeezed. He lowered his head until he found her right breast. His tongue flicked over the nipple. A soft, surprised gasp left her throat. When he suckled, drawing her nipple into his mouth, she lifted her thigh over his and rubbed. With one kiss and another, he fed her desire until she couldn’t think of anything other than this moment, his body, joining their flesh. He eased his fingers between her legs, and she widened her stance to give him access. With one light touch, he found her moist flesh. She gasped in delight as he traced her outer lips. Tingling, she waited for what he might do next. His tongue worked her nipple as he slipped one finger straight between her soaked folds and deep inside. He moaned against her nipple, stroking sensitive flesh with the lash of his tongue. He moved his finger, teasing her until the desire heating within her felt as if it might explode. She moved, unable to keep still as he worked her like a finely tuned instrument. Her clit was so sensitive, and she needed him to touch it, to bring her to a screaming orgasm.

“Griff, please,” she said again.

“What do you need?” His question was hoarse.

“Just do it now. Take me.”

Griff’s breathing was harsh in his chest and throat and restraint trembling on the edge.

“Please,” she said again, not caring if she begged.

He drew her down on the bed, and then he was on top of her.

He inserted one hard thigh between her legs, and she arched against it. With slow movements he rocked, his thigh pressing against her core.

“You’re teasing me,” she said with a gasp.

“Yes, I am. Not for long.”

He shifted his hips between her thighs, and hot, thick male flesh parted her folds. She gasped as he eased inside. She held her breath at the exquisite sensation. Whimpering in delight, she closed her eyes and savoured the feeling.

“Cassie.” His voice rumbled low in his throat. “God, you feel good.”

He took her slowly, each stroke caressing sensitive areas inside her until she thought she’d lose her mind. One tantalizing stroke and another brought her arousal higher. Before he’d stroked a half dozen times, her desire coiled and snapped. With a startled gasp and moan of ecstasy, her body trembled around his cock in orgasm.

“Oh, God,” His voice was rough with desire.

She loved the sound of him out of control. Taking matters in hand, she lifted her hips, grinding against him. She drew him down for a kiss. She writhed in his hold, and he lost it. With a growl he drew back and slammed forward. He pumped, hips gyrating. Griff’s thrusts brought her higher, and she bucked in his hold. So wet and aroused from his lovemaking, she took him easily as he moved within her powerfully. Her body refused to remain still as pleasure enveloped her. As his thrusts pounded deep, she allowed everything within her to break free. Climax coiled and exploded in her loins and her body clenched him deep inside. She moaned low, her whimper filled with stunned pleasure. He pressed tight, holding still as she came apart around him. Breathing hard, he waited until she eased, her climax drifting away. Her fingers dug into his butt, and with a low groan he loved her again, building one thrust into another until his own groans of excitement renewed her own. Then, with one last plunge, he shivered and shook in her arms. As he relaxed, he rolled to the side and drew her close.

Blackout: Chapter Twelve

Friday

Someone touched Griff’s chest, and he jerked awake and grabbed for the hand.

“Ow!” a female voice, a little scared and surprised, yelled in his ear.

“Shit.” He hissed the word and sat up. He reached for the flashlight and switched it on. He didn’t have a clue what time it was, but light barely filtered through the curtains. Probably early morning.

Cassie moved back from him, holding her right wrist. Her pretty breasts, full and round, made him catch his breath and his cock went solid even as worry hit him.

He cupped her face with one hand. “God, I’m sorry.” He circled her wrist with a gentle palm. “I hurt you.”

She let him hold her. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

“No. A little too much time in the desert on high alert. Makes me jumpy.”

Compassion filled her eyes. “Do you have PTSD?”

He winced at the idea. “Hell no.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. He caressed her wrist as tender need touched him. “Maybe a little. Loud noises bother me sometimes. The odd dream here and there. That’s all. I’m a damn sight better than most. I’m amazed I’m in one piece.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I was at a FOB.”

“A what?”

“A forward operating base.” He didn’t want to talk about this now, yet he knew if he blew her off and made light of it she’d dig it out of him. And what if it was time to talk about it?

“A forward operating base is usually in the thick of things. In the shit storm. Or the possibility of one.”

“Uh-huh.” Her direct syllables didn’t put down what he did or trivialize it. But uh-huh took it all in. She understood and he could see that in her eyes. But he wasn’t at a FOB, thank God.

“Sometimes when the shit hits the fan, we forget what to be grateful for,” he said. “There’s always something to be grateful for. No matter what happens to us in the days and months ahead, don’t forget that.”

Her expression altered into fear as she remembered their true situation. At least he imagined that’s what caused tears to flood her eyes, and that tenderness he didn’t want to feel rose once more.

“When I was sitting in my hotel room that night after the tsunami I wasn’t as grateful I should have been,” she said. “I was terrified. I hadn’t stopped being terrified from the moment the wave came. In the days before I left Thailand, I made the motions of being calm and plunged into helping because I wanted to and it also distracted me from the immediate fear. If I was calming someone else, I was less fearful. And I spent a lot of time being angry.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Everything. When I saw dead children. My mind went places I didn’t want it to go. But just like the solar storm, there wasn’t anything I control but myself. So the more fearful I got and the more angry I got, the less emotional I must have looked on the outside. I’d be damned if anyone was going to see me out of control.”

“Of course. It was a defense from the horror around you. A will to survive.”

Though tears filled her eyes, she fought them back and took a deep breath. He liked her strength and wanted more for her. He’d do whatever that took to accomplish. Maybe his priorities had changed.

He kissed his way from her wrist to her inner elbow. Soft, warm skin drew him closer until she lay under him. He pushed the sheet away, and that’s when she rolled him over onto his back and straddled his hips. He drew her into a kiss as desire road him hard. She took hesitation from him as she lifted high and sank down on his cock.

She leaned over him, her breasts pressed to his chest. “You feel so amazing naked inside me.”

Her sheath contracted around him, and she gasped. Maybe the idea turned her on, and the way her wet, tight body encased him in silky heat almost made him explode right that moment.

Unable to resist, he lifted his hips and thrust. Her lips parted, her breathing coming faster. Oh, yeah. She’d liked that.

She closed her eyes and lifted off him one slow inch at a time. Each excruciatingly slow movement threatened to make him explode. He gritted his teeth. He moved his hips in a slow, grinding motion, taking her with gentle thrust after deep thrust. He wanted to go fast, to ignore everything but the animal side which asked for quick release. He wouldn’t leave her behind, and modulated his movements. He watched her closely—the way she gasped and groaned. Her chest heaved with each breath, little moans escaping as she climbed higher. Her excitement fueled his, and he pumped harder. As her arousal increased, he kept steady, determined she’d have satisfaction. Suddenly she shivered and stilled, her head thrown back as a small shriek left her. A flush ran over her chest and up her throat. Muscles in her core clenched and released him with rhythmic pulsations. He couldn’t take it—the soft, wet grip around him blew his mind.

He left go, spurting hard and heavy as he released a hard growl. When she relaxed upon him and buried her face in his shoulder, he held her close. Whether he liked it or not, she’d branded herself upon him and there was no way he could remove her scent or touch.

* * *

Griff ate his breakfast, sitting in the restaurant with a granola bar and some sausage they’d cooked with a charcoal grill at the back of the hotel. He’d hoped the smell of charcoal wouldn’t bring the nuts out of the woodwork.

Across the table from him, Cassie sat silent and contemplative. She stared out one of the numerous windows, and the perfect silence was only broken by the clank and ting of their utensils. Her silence disturbed him when it shouldn’t have. Emotion seemed to slam him with deeper intensity since he’d met her. Hell, since he’d had sex with her. He’d never expected that. Sex for him before had never been indiscriminate and he never had one night stands. Yet she’d done something to him he couldn’t define. All the care he felt for those who needed protecting amplified in her presence. The thought of anyone threatening her again made everything male, primitive and violent within him threatened to uncoil. He shivered and yet he didn’t think it was the pervasive cold. No, it was thinking too much about that moment when he thought one of those men would hurt her. Perhaps take her away from him. Whether he liked it or not, he felt a connection with her he hadn’t experienced with any other woman. As a result, he gave a damn what that tiny frown on her face meant.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She pushed aside her plate. “I’m wonderful now. I was starving.”

“Good sex will do that to you.” He said it with a straight face.

She laughed, the worry on her face replaced with genuine humor. “Well, if good sex causes an appetite like that, I’d better stop having sex with you. I’ll gain a lot of weight.”

Her statement felt heavy. Laden with layers women put into conversations. Damn. That meant he could be in trouble if he breathed the wrong way or looked at her a certain way. He wondered if she wanted distance between them. Perhaps he should find that appealing. It would mean she couldn’t become clingy when the time came for them to part.

Give me a break, dickhead. She’s not the clinging type. A small idea tickled at his consciousness, and he didn’t like it. What if he was the one being clingy? After all, he knew he couldn’t leave her anytime soon. She didn’t have the skills to protect herself against gun-toting, thick-necked asswagons like the Nazi group. Everything else she could handle, especially if he taught her all he knew about survival.

She took a slow sip of water. “What about you? Are you all right?”

“I’m good.”

“So what’s our plan for today? What else do we have to do?”

“Nothing. Damn, for a girl, you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.” He smiled and kept the tease in his voice.

She snorted. “When I was a little kid I loved to make structures with mud. My parents thought I might be an architect in the making. So much for girls not wanting to get dirty.”

She kept him smiling, and he felt the result of that smile in the pit of his stomach. She’d tied her long, thick hair into a ponytail once more, and it enhanced her sculpted cheekbones, the slight shape of her eyes that suggested the exotic.

“What is it?” she asked.

Fuck. She was too perceptive. He swallowed hard and bit the bullet. “I was wondering if you have Native American in your ancestry.”

This time her smile was full and warm. “Arapahoe. My great grandmother on my father’s side. My mother doesn’t appear the least Native American, but I do.” She sniffed and tapped the side of her water glass with her fork. “That jerk said Kovac sounded foreign. I’m probably more freakin’ American than he ever thought of being.”

“Makes me wonder what we don’t know about…” He lowered his voice as he glanced around. “What we don’t know about Penny. She said she went to high school with her, but there’s something else there I can’t put my finger on.”

“You think she’s hiding a secret from us?”

He scratched his head. “I feel like she’s not everything she’s portraying herself to be.”

She lifted one dark eyebrow. “Are you suspicious of a lot of people?”

“Cynical. Afraid I grew up in a family that—” He cut himself off. Damn. He needed to shut up.

She tilted her head to the side. “A family that what?”

He closed his eyes and tried to banish memories. “Was highly dysfunctional.”

“Is that why your sister got pregnant at such a young age?”

“Diane’s life was hosed up by our family situation. She believed a lot of things my father told her about herself. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. He got to her when she was young. Berating her, calling her names. As a little kid, she believed it.”

“Your mother couldn’t stop him?”

“No. My mother is a whole different story. It would take a week to explain her.”

Her mouth popped open, and that frown was back between her eyebrows. “What did he say to your sister?”

Griff hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. He was a jerk. He…” God, his throat went tight. He almost strangled on the memory of what his father had done. Guilt twisted inside him, as it always did when he thought of Diane. “Dad is in a penitentiary.”

He waited for her reaction. It wasn’t what he thought it would be.

She reached across the table and touched his hand, fingers curling around his in a comforting gesture. Her eyes held warmth and concern. “I’m so sorry. What an awful situation. That had to damage your sister and your mother. And you.”

Her compassion and sympathy shook him, and made him feel things he’d rather not. He accepted her gentleness and let it slide into his heart where it started a warm, delicious appreciation. “It’s the past, and it needs to stay there. I don’t spent time whining about it.”

“Of course not. You can’t let it dictate anything for you now. You’ve done well for yourself. Sounds like your sister has, too.”

Little did she know their lives had changed in a hundred ways. “Our childhoods made us stronger. We’ve had to bounce back, to work harder and longer than the average person to get by.”

Was that admiration he saw in her eyes? He liked it way too much.

“Well, as far as Penny goes, I’ve noticed she’s started to hang on to you since this EMP event.”

An inkling came to him. “And you don’t like that?”

She pursed her lips a little, then smiled. “Well, I think maybe she is competing with me.” Her face reddened. “I mean, that she thinks she needs to take you away from me. A jealousy thing.”

He drew in a deep breath, not one hundred percent sure how to respond to that idea. “Not any chance of that. I’m not interested in her. Sure, we’re all freaked out and maybe she wants my help. That’s okay. But if she thinks she and I are going to hook up, that isn’t going to happen.”

“I’m sorry you had a bad family life,” she said. “It does make things harder to work out. It’s too easy to give up. To pretend circumstances can’t be changed. You’ve proved that’s not true. Where’s your mother now?”

A rock sat in his chest at the thought of his mother. Could he answer this? Did he want to?

Before he could answer, Penny walked in from the kitchen with a serious expression. He was pretty sure she couldn’t have heard their conversation.

Penny’s smile lacked warmth. The old saying about a smile not reaching the eyes worked in her case. “I found an old radio in the attic of this place. Don’t know why I didn’t think to look there before. You said an old radio might work if it wasn’t plugged in during the EMP?”

“Sure.” Griff stood up. “Show me. I just wish someone around here had a crank radio.

Cassie also stood and rubbed her eyes. “I’m going outside to get some fresh air. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

She left them, and Penny eyeballed him with interest. His skin crawled. Maybe what Cassie had said about Penny was true. Maybe the woman did have designs on his body. Too bad. His cock belonged to Cassie for the near future.

“Let’s see that radio,” Griff said.

Griff went upstairs with Penny following. He hoped this radio proved useful for when the electricity returned. When the electricity would return he didn’t know, but it probably would take a week or more. When they’d learned that hope was on the horizon, when the entire grid hadn’t been fried, he’d also felt another sharp and penetrating emotion. Being with Cassie seemed even more important now. Yes, they’d come through the worst part of the adventure, but he knew there would be more bumps along the way before they could call the all clear.

They arrived at the third floor, and when they reached the small door at the end of the passageway, she opened it. It wasn’t completely dark, but it was murky and dust motes flew here and there. It smelled musty and old.

Penny waved him forward. “Please go ahead of me. I’m scared of the dark.”

He smiled in disbelief, then reminded himself many people didn’t like gloom. So he hurried, eager to get the radio. He took the rickety-looking stairs eagerly. At the landing two windows provided minimal light. He peered into the semi-darkness. Shapes loomed, furniture covered in sheets, boxes here and there, a pair of old high-top women’s shoes in one corner. He saw a small table amid a jumble of half open cardboard boxes. On it a stood a radio that looked at least thirty years old. He started forward when pain exploded in the back of his head and neck, and the world turned to midnight.

* * *

Cassie went upstairs and collected her coat before she went outside. Temperatures had dropped this morning. Although the resort had cooled down considerably inside, with the work they’d done lately Cassie found layering a couple of sweaters sometimes worked better than a coat. Going outside, though, was another matter. It felt around forty degrees outside. She returned downstairs and stepped out of the back of the resort and walked toward the parking lot. She made it a few steps before a hand grabbed her shoulder and swung her around. She gasped.

Benson stood there, grinning from ear to ear, his hair a mess of tangled black. His eyes were dark and hot with emotions that threatened to boil forth. In the two or three times she’d seen him, he’d never smiled, so his jovial appearance now took her off guard. She’d also never paid much attention to what they looked like, but this time she was shocked into paying attention. He wasn’t much taller than her, but he wore a winter coat and she couldn’t be certain about his build. He’d looked ordinary when she’d seen him last. He tightened his grip on her shoulder, and it pinched. Pain pierced her shoulder.

“Ow. What—” she started to say.

“Quiet. He’ll hear.” His voice had a thick quality, as if he had a cold or hadn’t spoken in a considerable time.

“Who?” She pulled out of his grip, but he latched on to her bicep.

“Your lover.”

Shit. Apprehension tingled through her and danced over her skin with a cold shiver. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. “Let me go. You’re hurting me.”

Before she could pull away, he produced a handgun. She froze as the trepidation of a second ago turned to outright fear. If she screamed he’d probably shoot her. If she didn’t resist God only knew what he planned.

His smile faded, and the delight in his eyes went crystal hard. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere yet. Come on.”

“What are you doing? Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer, and his silence proved far more chilling than anything else could have. He gripped her bicep so hard, she winced and knew she’d have bruises. “Try to get away, and I’ll just shoot you. Don’t talk. Don’t say a word.”

While the handgun poked her in the side, Cassie’s mind raced. She’d heard all the advice that suggested she struggle. Anything to get away. If he took her somewhere more isolated, he would kill her. She had no doubt of that. He herded her toward a bright orange sedan sitting next to Griff’s Charger. In a split second she decided her alternatives. Run and perhaps die. Stay with him and probably die. Better to take a chance and maybe survive. She kicked at his shin, using a sideways motion. He yelled as she connected with the side of his knee. She tore away and made a run for the side of the resort. If she could get into the street there had to be people. She poured on the speed, wishing like hell she’d been an Olympic runner.

Heavy weight slammed into her back, her head hit something so hard it felt like concrete. Pain lanced her skull, and night came early.

Cassie awakened to a nightmare. Or at least at first she thought she’d fallen asleep upstairs. God, I have a headache. Aspirin. The surface under her felt hard and rough and sent an ache through her body. She shifted and realized her arms and legs were splayed out. She shivered as a cool breeze enveloped her legs and traveled upward. She drew her arms into her body and crossed them, stuffing her hands under her armpits for warmth. With relief she felt her sweaters and jeans still on. She hadn’t gone to bed in her clothes.

Wait. No. This didn’t feel like her bed.

Panic started to rise. Wait. If she wasn’t in her resort room, where—

Her eyes snapped open.

The house on the Point.

“No.” She stared around the room, each movement of her head a throbbing ache. Light streamed under the shutter slats and threw striped shadows on the walls. She listened hard but didn’t hear anyone.

The house hadn’t changed since she’d seen it with Griff a few days ago. She couldn’t hear signs of life, not even wind outside. Taking more stock of her surroundings, she felt the rotten rug under her fingers. The nubbly texture made her shiver and wonder how many feet, how much death had crossed this material. The non-descript dark wood laminate coffee table sat half on the rug in front of the funky couch. It occurred to her, in a strange flash of annoying banality, that she might be trapped in a seventies nightmare. Before, when she’d been in the house with Griff, she hadn’t taken in the colors as well. Of course, it had been dark. Now she had sunlight to illuminate the room.

She listened hard. Was Benson in the house? She didn’t hear him. Fear collided with her common sense. She needed to discover a way out of here and fast. She tried moving her head again and the pain darted from the base of her skull to the top of her head. What had he done to her? Shot her? No. He’d chased her and landed on her. Plowed her into the ground. She turned her head to the right and noted an ugly paint-by-numbers quality picture of a kitten on the wall to her right. The wood paneled walls reminded her of somewhere. Sometime. She fought to understand why all this felt familiar. It couldn’t. Before the furniture had seemed unfamiliar. Before…

She rolled to her left side with a groan, then levered up on her elbow. As if she moved through molasses, she forced herself into sitting position. From here she took a longer, deeper examination of the room. What she saw scared her shitless. Almost more than anything else could. Now she understood why it felt familiar.

“No way,” she whispered so low she barely uttered the words aloud.

The green carpet, the coffee table, the picture on the wall…even the avocado kitchen counter—

No. This house was different. She wasn’t in the weird house on the Point. The home had the same layout but this furniture didn’t match what she’d seen before.

“Mother’s house,” she said. Her parents had owned a ranch house complete with brick fireplace, avocado kitchen counters. “The painting.”

She swiveled to the painting. She’d made a paint-by-numbers like that when she was a kid. How could any of this be real? She eased to her feet as the fear and confusion built and threatened to strangle her. Obviously Benson had brought her here. She glanced around quickly as the ache in her neck subsided somewhat and pain in her skull dulled. She was grateful for any small thing at this point.

She backed toward the front door. It didn’t matter where the madman hid, she needed to escape this crazy house. She bumped into the door, whipped around and twisted the doorknob. Nothing. It was locked from the outside. She tried again. Again. She leaned her forehead on the door in frustration. She swung around, half afraid Benson stood behind her.

Please, help me. Griff, please.

He wouldn’t know what happened to her.

The side of her neck felt sticky, and when she touched her forehead she came away with red smears. Blood? She didn’t know. She walked toward the kitchen and ignored that the cabinets and floor were now a strange green. She reached the sliding glass doors leading out the back and tried unlocking them. The latch resisted. She yanked in frustration. Nothing.

“What are you doing?”

She whirled around and faced Benson, heart banging against her ribs. She drew in a steady breath to calm her pulse, but it didn’t work. Benson stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining area.

He crossed his arms and leaned on the side of the door. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

Honesty, she decided instantly, made sense. “Trying to escape.”

He laughed and ran one hand over his short hair. It stood in spikes, greasy looking. He wore a short-sleeved white t-shirt and jeans with a hole ripped in the knee. His feet were bare. Standing as he was, he looked innocent. A man who didn’t plan to hide a thing or harm anyone. He was good looking even with his sharp, cold eyes. She dared look into those depths and a shiver raced over her skin. She no longer wore her coat, and she rubbed her arms. What had he done with her coat? Why had he left her lying on the rug? Why would any man do what he was doing right now short of appeasing his insanity?

He smiled. “You’re very pretty.”

He didn’t move, but his statement made her skin crawl. She didn’t want him to think of her as attractive. She remembered back to the way she’d talked to her ex-husband. The dance of agreement she’d given him most of their marriage. Then she recalled when he’d taken her hostage and the way she’d spoken to him. In the end it had saved her life, even if it hadn’t saved his. She hated complying, being under the thumb of anyone. For a while, perhaps just a little bit of time she’d have to be under someone’s thumb to survive.

“Thank you for the compliment.” She moved slowly so that she stood in the doorway of the kitchen and across from him. As ridiculous as it felt, she smiled. “Why are we here?”

Benson moved toward her until he stood in the middle of the kitchen. “Because I saw you and wanted you.”

Wanted you.

Her stomach churned and for a second she wanted to barf. Upchuck right there at his feet. Not only because fear resided deep inside her, so deep because she managed to shove it down where it was manageable.

“I see. Why do you want me?” she asked.

He reached for the shutters that covered the single kitchen window and flipped them open. They squeaked. “Because. I love this house. I’m glad I found it. It makes me feel normal. Having a woman in it completes the picture.”

“How does it make you feel normal?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, and crossed his arms across his chest so he could hook his palms across his shoulders. Almost as if he comforted himself. He actually looked lost. Alone. Vulnerable for one tiny moment.

“Mom isn’t here with me. I’m alone without a woman here.”

“You’ve always had a woman in your house?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

She didn’t, but her skill at pretending, at pacifying, might save her life now as it had ten years ago.

He tilted his head to the side like a dog. His ordinary look, his normal facade drove her tense up. Obviously he had something wrong with him. He might be a sociopath as her ex-husband was. She didn’t know anything for certain right now. Part of her roiled with hatred for him. How dare he do this when so much had already happened? So many suffered right this moment because Mother Nature had kicked their asses. What more would they have to endure? Had his mind broken into little pieces because of the EMP? No. She knew he must have stood on the edge, and something…who knew just what, had torn to shreds he last thread of his decency and reality. What she didn’t know could get her killed. What she did know might save her life.

“I know your mother.” She took a deep breath and hoped she could talk around the fear creeping up her throat.

He nodded and took another step forward. She tensed.

“She’s a worthless bitch,” he said.

The statement stunned her a little even when it shouldn’t. Anything that came from his mouth shouldn’t surprise her. “Why?”

“Because she did what I wanted her to do.”

“What did she do?”

“She’s going to kill Griff.”

Cassie’s throat went tight, her heart returning to a relentless hammering. “Why?”

“Because then he can’t come here.”

His simplistic answers kept her on edge. She didn’t move, too shocked by the new information.

“Why would she do that?” she asked.

He touched the yellow curtains over the window that were already pulled aside, with their ridiculous small blue flowers. He leaned against the sink, his hands curled around the edge of the sink as he peered out of the slats.

“She wants him, and I want you. She told me if the world had to end we should have what we want.”

Cassie’s mind spun like a top. “The world isn’t ending. We heard good news. The EMP wasn’t bad enough to destroy everything. We’ll spring back again. It’ll take time, but the world will survive.”

He sniffed, his expression unchanging, as if she’d just told him that she’d bought toilet paper at a supermarket. “Huh.”

Maddened by his cool and calm approach, she nevertheless decided to take advantage. “You can be the hero of the day.”

“How?”

“You can let me go.”

He snorted. “Don’t see how that makes me a hero. It’s dumb. Women like to be dominated. They want to be told what and where to do things.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. The man had gone over at least one edge. “Did you tell your mother to kill Griff?”

Please, please let Griff be all right.

“Yeah. At first I thought she might turn me in. Then the EMP came.”

His logic didn’t seem whole, but what did she expect. “Turn you in for what?”

“She figured out what I’ve done all these years while I was in the Navy.”

“What job did you do in the Navy?”

“I was a military police officer. It gave me access to things many other people didn’t.”

“Such as?”

“Military bases. See, everyone tends to relax on a military base. Most people do anyway. And it’s understandable why they would. Military bases can be safe.”

A sick sensation rose in her stomach. “Can be?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere is safe. Don’t you understand that? Everywhere you walk, everything you do, there’s the chance something bad will happen to you. People are afraid all the time. My parents…well, my foster parents were sick fucks. They did a good job of hiding it. I’m not even going to tell you what they did to me.”

His voice stayed cold, his expression devoid of emotion. Only the darkness in his eyes told her the truth. In her bones she felt what he said was true. His foster parents had done something to him.

“You didn’t try to get away from them?”

“More than once. No one believed me.”

She took a deep breath, almost feeling as if she’d held it for a long, long time. “I’m so sorry.”

He sniffed. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t fix it now, does it?”

“Of course not.” She had a feeling if she didn’t keep talking he would make a decision, and that step would mean her death if she didn’t speak to him the right way. If she didn’t make him like her. If she didn’t think her way out of this mental maze.

“You were in the military. So what does that have to do with your mother knowing that you’ve done something? Something bad?”

He smiled, and yet the smile didn’t mean good humor or real laughter. On his face it was pure cruelty. He didn’t answer.

“How did you find your mother?” she asked, determined to get him to explain, to give her more precious minutes. “Or did she find you?”

“I found her. After I left my enlistment, I decided I needed to find the woman who made me.”

Strange way to think of a mother, but it made sense to him apparently. “Oh, wait. You were asking me about the military bases, weren’t you?”

His switch up took her off guard. “Yes.”

A wider grin stretched his face, this one more feral animal than human. “I was in the military two enlistments. Women trust men in uniform, especially if they’re military police. But there’s no guarantee, is there? I understood what so many others don’t. Since there isn’t any place safe, and everywhere is scary…” He paused and licked his lips. “Then I should contribute to that fear any way I know how.” He threw up his hands. “After all, if people are spending their entire lives fearful of their own shadow, to step outside their own doorway, then I can help them create that reality. That’s so powerful.”

Now his truth came out, and it chilled her to the bone. “You create worlds for people. If they’re fearful, you’ll make it worse for them. Give them what they expect.”

“Yes.” His grin went wider. “You understand me perfectly.”

No. No she didn’t. “Is that why you’ve been in this place? Were you here somewhere when Griff and I came in?”

Once more his smile grew wide. “Yes.”

“Where were you? Why couldn’t we find you?”

“Because I’m part of the house. I faded in like fabric in a curtain.” He touched the curtains again. “Or in the rug. Or in the wood floor. Anytime I want, I can disappear into these parts of the house.”

A shuddering breath left her lungs. “How? How is that possible?”

“First time I came in here earlier this week, I understood what this place is.”

“What is it?”

“A portal to darkness. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you sense that this place isn’t normal?”

She almost snorted a laugh. He was asking her when he obviously didn’t know jack about normal? “Yes.” Yes, it was true. “Have you always felt different, Benson? Since you were a child?”

“Of course. My foster parents knew that. Now my real mother does.”

“Is she different, too?”

“Oh yes. Where did you think I got it from?”

“Your mother acts normal and talks normal, but she isn’t. Just like you.”

“You understand her and me. I knew you would.”

She wanted to scream that he couldn’t know her, and she wanted to escape so much she could taste it. Her instincts told her to keep him talking. Talking. Somewhere in all this stupid chat, she’d find a way to survive.

The grin splitting his face turned maniacal. “I like you. Would you stay here with me? If you do, you’ll fade into the walls, too.”

“Why is the house this way? There aren’t any other houses like this place.”

He stepped toward her, and she stiffened. “There are other places like this. Other people like me. You just haven’t run into us before. Your lucky time, I guess.”

“Does this only happen when a solar flare happens?”

He shook his head and moved a step closer. “No. It happens all the time. But the solar flare is helping. The energy is making it easier for darkness to overtake the earth. It’s so delicious, isn’t it? All the people who have died here. Who’ve come in here and disappeared never to be seen again.”

Horror didn’t describe her feelings. Frozen in disgust, she could barely speak. “Who else died here?”

“So many. Many.”

She inched away from the entrance, taking one step back. Fear rose inside her far stronger than it had moments ago. She’d fought it. Wanted to ignore it and had succeeded for a short time. No the thick, horrible feeling overtook her.

Again he touched the curtains, as if he could learn from their texture. They reminded her of curtains her mother had once had on her kitchen windows. The air smelled musty, close and thick. As if oxygen had been restricted here.

“You’ll become these cabinets. This floor. You’ll be a part of something extraordinary. Just like I am,” he said.

For a staggering moment, perhaps only a second, her will to survive faltered. She hovered on the cusp, recognizing she was where many, many others had been in their lives. The moment where a person decided whether to fight or to succumb.

Blackout: Chapter Thirteen

A groan awakened Griff. Who the hell was making that noise? Couldn’t they see he wanted to sleep? Just sleep. Aches littered his body, and he wondered if he had the flu. No, that couldn’t be it. He rarely even got a cold. It was one thing his fellow marines always commented on when it came to Griff Nelson. He never faltered. Never lost. Never gave in even when a situation verged on hopeless. Fuck if he’d surrender to a damned virus. Shit, his head hurt, too. Maybe he was the one doing the groaning. Recalling basic, where he’d first learned to become a marine, he ignored his pain and opened his eyes. In the part of his brain not complaining about how much he hurt, he heard the other part of him think, Man up, pussy.

What he saw confused the hell out of him.

Penny sat on the floor next to him, legs crossed, a shit-eating grin on her face if there ever was one. She wore nothing but her underwear. A plain white bra and panties. Her soft, rounded body was significantly overweight, but that didn’t faze him. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what she had planned and why she’d apparently clobbered him over the head. A lamp lit the large attic space, and he noted a baseball bat propped against one box. Probably the one Cassie had the other day, and the one Penny had used to knock him cold. He lay on his back, arms and legs splayed out. She’d obviously rolled him onto his back.

“What the—” he started.

“Shhhh,” she said. “You’ll be all right now. I’m sorry I had to hit you so hard.”

Obviously something weird was happening, so he resolved to move slowly and keep the conversation calm. As soon as his body cooperated, he’d tie her up and find Cassie. Fear for Cassie churned inside him. Where was she? Had Penny hurt her?

“Why did you hit me?” he asked.

“Had to. It’s a part of the plan. Benson promised me I could have you if I cooperated with him.”

“Benson?” For a moment the name didn’t register.

“My son.”

Judas Priest. Yeah, he remembered now. Cassie had filled him in on what Penny had revealed about her son.

She spoke again. “But you’re such a big guy I knew hitting you from behind was the only way. I wasn’t dumb enough to hit you too hard, of course.”

He couldn’t thank her. Instead he eased slowly into sitting position, propping on his elbows as pain spiked up his neck and into his head. Fuck, if she hadn’t permanently screwed him up seven ways to Sunday he’d be damned lucky. When he made it into sitting position, and she didn’t attack him, he counted himself lucky.

“Why did Benson say you could do this? What do you mean by have me?”

“I’ve always admired you.” She smiled again, her eyes blooming with a craziness anybody would recognize. “Since the moment you walked into the resort. You know, I thought maybe Benson was a loony, but when I first met him I understood we are definitely alike. Mother and son. A pair. I guess it wasn’t just him that was loony. It’s me, too.”

Griff took one deep breath and then another. A woman with mental illness—he had no idea what—and an equally screwed up son. Not unheard of, but he’d never had the misfortune to run into two at one time. Just his luck.

Fear made him ask, “Where’s Cassie?”

She frowned, all sign of adoration disappearing from her eyes. “Don’t talk about her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s out of your life forever. It’s only you and me now.” She leaned forward, her elbows propped on her lower thighs near her knees. “We’re in this apocalypse together. She is out of the picture.”

Stunned, Griff stared at the woman. He braced, ready to take action. “What do you mean out of the picture?”

“Benson’s taking care of her. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt her. He told me about all the other women, but he said Cassie is different. He’s found the perfect place for them to be together.”

Terror unlike anything he’d experienced before raced through him. He’d survived fire fights in the Middle East by the skin of his chin. This fear outstripped anything he’d experienced. If he’d been a praying man, he would have been on his knees right now.

“Where are they?” he asked.

Irritation started in her eyes, and she leaned forward again. It was almost as if she wanted him to see down her bra. “I told you. With Benson. He told me he’d found the one after all his searching.” Her frown deepened. “He also found the place they can be together forever. Now that the world’s gone nuts, we can be together. In the hotel. I’m so glad I found a man like you. I grew up near those crazies like Peterson and Jacky. Icky men. But you’re a good man, and you know all the stuff they know. It makes me happy to know there are men like you out there in the world. Good men.”

He almost snorted in derision. Little did she know how much he resembled Jacky and Peterson.

“Where did Benson take Cassie?”

“Somewhere they’ll be safe when the rest of the world goes to hell. Because it is going to hell, Griff. You and I know that. If we’re together, though, even in the end it’ll be all right.”

This crazy-assed woman thought he would stay with her at the end of a so-called apocalypse. He’d rather face down any army, any enemy but waiting for life to drain from him here in this dusty attic.

“Where is she?” he asked again.

“Why do you keep asking?”

God, just the thought of Cassie under a crazy man’s power made everything inside Griff twitch for action.

She stood slowly, and he did the same. Her gaze sized him up. Darkness seemed to remove her admiration, as if she’d worked out what he planned. He kept his gaze pinned to her eyes, to what her hands did. If she planned to go extra psycho on him, he calculated what he’d need to do to take her down. He didn’t feel as steady as he should on his feet—she might have given him a concussion. At least he could see straight, and the pain in his head had lessened considerably.

“You’re asking because you want her, don’t you?” Penny asked, her mouth turning petulant again.

“Look, Benson needs help. What if he’s hurt her?”

She put her hands on her generous hips. “Well, what if she has? You shouldn’t care when you have me. I’m more of a woman than she ever could be.” She pointed at her cleavage. “I have more of everything that her bony ass can’t compete with.”

For a second Griff wondered if he wandered in a dream. Maybe he hadn’t woken up. Jesus, if this was a nightmare, he had to wake up.

Her eyes blazed with sudden contempt, and she swept her hair behind her ears. “Tell me right now you don’t care for her.”

“No. I won’t lie to you, Penny.”

“Son of a bitch!” Her voice went sharp and high. She stomped her bare foot, her face now contorted with pure hate. “You dumb shit! You creep!”

Her gaze darted to the left. She ran for the baseball bat.

Now or never.

She reached the baseball bat, lifted it and swung. He caught the bat, threw it to the side. She shrieked a high pitched squeal that practically broke the sound barrier. He made a move he’d learned long ago. A few twists, a choke hold. Her back pressed to his chest as he used his far superior strength to immobilize. She went limp in his arms seconds later. He lowered her face down onto the floor and grabbed some scarves lying in a pile on the floor nearby. Maybe she’d contemplated hog tying him at one point. He swiftly tied her feet to her wrists behind her back. Part of him hated leaving her like this, but what choice did he have? He needed to get the hell out of here and find Cassie.

He left the attic, taking the stairs just slowly enough he wouldn’t break his neck on the way down. Strength returned to his body more swiftly than he expected, thank God. Cassie needed him now. He couldn’t afford weakness. Penny had taken his gun and done something with it—he was lucky she hadn’t shot him with it. He raced back to the parking lot and discovered his vehicle was still there, and checked the trunk for his other weapons. He pulled the other Glock out of a box in his trunk and hurried into the hotel again and to Benson’s room. No sign of the bastard or Cassie. That left one place to look, and the most probable location where he could have taken her.

Running as fast as his battered body would allow, he returned to the Charger. Fast and furious described his departure as the Dodge’s tires squealed on the blacktop. He roared down the road, hoping to hell cops didn’t stop him. Soon he rocketed up the dirt road toward the Point. His heart banged in his chest, and his breathing came hard and agitated. He’d never been this damned scared in his life. He slowed the Charger on the dirt road. Wouldn’t do Cassie a damned bit of good if he wrecked. A litany ran through his head as he feared for her safety.

What if the fucker has hurt her? If he’s touched her, I will fucking kill him. I will choke the ever living hell out of him. God, please keep her safe.

The emotions running like a river through him represented everything he’d felt as a marine. As if he stood on a high-tension wire, almost ready to step into oblivion. He’d give his right nut to see Cassie again and make certain she lived.

With all that he’d learned in his life, both good and bad, he took a deep breath and made a determination.

Even if he had to give his life to save Cassie, he would do it.

* * *

Cassie waited for Benson to make another move, but he didn’t. He simply took a step toward her and disappeared.

“Oh shit,” she whispered. “Shit.”

She hadn’t just seen that.

“I’m here.” His voice came from nowhere.

Everywhere.

She looked around swiftly. She jerked this way and that. He wasn’t there. Her heartbeat rammed into the stratosphere again. Maybe he’d snuck off to the bedrooms or to that hidey hole—

An arm came around her mouth. She tried to turn, to scream. A hot band encircled her waist. She kicked, she wriggled, but the person—maybe Benson—yanked her down the hallway with ease. She stumbled, walking backward. His strength was amazing. She jammed an elbow backward, met with solid flesh and heard a gasp and curse. She stomped on his foot, or at least where she thought a foot would be. Whoever had her was invisible. She connected. Benson howled and released her. She heard someone screaming and thought it was her.

Faintly she thought she heard a man’s voice calling her name from somewhere far away. Griff? God if only—

She swung around, but as she did, a slap to the face sent her reeling, her flesh stinging. She stumbled against a wall. A push sent her sailing toward the open hole in the hallway floor. She screamed as she stumbled and tried to right herself.

“No!”

She tumbled into the hole head first. Slamming into hard packed earth, she ate dirt. Her nose hurt like hell, and grit filled her mouth. Sputtering she sat up. In the darkness she saw something to her left.

A body.

Dougray McPhee, lying with his neck askew in a way he shouldn’t be, and with his eyes wide open.

Horror clutched at her throat, freezing her to the spot. Benson must have killed McPhee.

“Help!” She bellowed for rescue again, hoping against hope.

“Shut up!” Benson’s voice came at her from above, but she still couldn’t see him.

She looked down and realized something far more horrifying. She couldn’t see her own hands. She was invisible. Invisible.

“No, no, no.” Cassie refused to take that inside. No way. No way.

A huge bang came from the front.

A volley of curses came from Benson. “I thought my mother was going to take care of him.”

Footsteps moved into the living room. “Cassie!”

Griff’s dear voice gave her strength. “Griff watch out! Benson’s invisible.”

A grunt sounded. Cursing. Griff’s roar as a fight started. The raging of two men in mortal battle. Choking. Strangling. She ran toward the end where the ladder door was located but when she got there it was gone. The morphing house had done it again. She returned to the hole, her ears assaulted by the continued fight. She prayed like she’d never prayed before. Finally a shot and the thud of a body falling. Heavy breathing continued.

She thought she would die waiting. Die before she knew who had won. God, please let it be Griff.

“Griff! Griff!”

“Cassie? Baby where are you?”

She choked on relief, the sound a gurgle in her throat. “Griff! I’m down here in this hole.”

When he arrived at the hole and looked down, she saw his dear face smeared on one side with blood, his hair matted with it and a dark patch on his sweater. He looked down into the hole.

“Griff I’m down here.”

“Where?” He looked confused.

“I’m invisible, too. This house…” She choked, tears finally welling in her eyes. She strangled on her fear.

“God damn it.” His face contorted with an agony she’d never seen on his features before. “Go to the ladder. I’ll get you there.”

“The ladder is gone.”

“Put your hand up so I can feel it. Stretch high.”

She reached and stretched and their fingers brushed. “Griff.”

He lay on his stomach. “No way in hell we can get you out of here this way. I’ve rope in the trunk. Be right back.”

“No.” She didn’t want him to leave her.

He winced. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right back.”

His footsteps left her, and for a terrifying few moments horrific emotions crashed in on her. Abandonment. Fear more thick and hateful than anything she’d experienced. Grinding hatred for Benson and Penny. She trembled and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging.

Pounding footsteps echoed in the hallway and then Griff was there, unrolling the rope and sending it down. “Tie it around your waist.”

She grabbed the rope and tied it securely around her waist. Seconds later he pulled her up, his strength impressing her as she worked with her feet against the opposite wall to assist. He hauled her up and out, and she tumbled into his arms on the floor. He lay half over her, looking down at…nothing.

His shocked expression hadn’t left. “Jesus, I can’t see you. Are you real?”

She touched his face, cupped it with her right hand. “I can see you. I’m really here.”

He pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where’s Benson?”

“Dead on the floor.” Icicle coldness filmed his voice. “I shot the asshole.”

When the entered the living room, she saw Benson lying bloody and very visible on the floor. The hurried past him toward the front door—the lock was blasted off and hanging. She assumed Griff had shot it. There was no time to wonder. They rushed out the front door, her invisible hand in his comforting grip. They charged through the snow, running, running around the crumpled roses bushes with their dying blooms. When they reached the Charger he stopped and turned to her, and his face went from grim to pure joy.

He yanked her into his arms. “I can see you. I can see you.”

Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she could see herself restored. She laughed, then sobbed, and the tears ran down her cheeks.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, apprehension in his eyes.

“No. Well, yes. He hit me over the head back at the resort hotel.” She told him the shortest version of what happened.

“You can tell me the rest after we get out of here.”

“What happened to you?” She touched the drying blood on his face and winced.

“Like mother like son. She clobbered me with the baseball bat when we got to the attic. Long story. I got the bat away from her and tied her up.”

He held her fast to his chest and kissed her once, twice, three times.

“Come on,” he said as he opened the passenger door and she slipped into the car.

He rounded the hood, jumped in, and they were off in no time. They turned their backs on the horror house.

“I never want to go back there again,” she said. “Don’t ever let me return.”

“Never.” His affirmation sounded breathless. “After we go to the cops, I want to get as far away here as we can.”

“They won’t let us leave town. Benson is dead.”

“You’re probably right. After this I think we should have a real vacation in Aspen.”

She laughed and then groaned as her head and neck ached. “Sounds good.”

“There’s more about the house Griff. It’s…I don’t think it makes any sense. What it does to people. I don’t know where to start to tell you.”

“I think at this point I’d believe anything.”

“After this I don’t want to come back to Bowmount ever again.”

“Deal,” he said.

Silence filled the car interior as the tires hissed. “No one will believe us, Griff. About the house.” She stumbled over her words. “McPhee is dead, too. He was down in that hole with me. Neck broken.”

“Shit.” Griff grumbled the word, his voice hoarse. He reached over for her hand. “After the cops get through with us, after we’re together again. I have a lot of stuff to tell you.”

She clutched his hand tightly. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Stuff you deserve to know. Things I should have told you before. If you hate me after I tell you, so be it. But there’s one thing I’ll tell you right now.” He glanced over at her quickly, heart in his eyes. “When I knew Benson had you, and I realized he could have done anything to you and I couldn’t stop it—” He cut himself off. “I knew that I wanted you in my world. That if I got you out of there, I’d tell you the truth.”

She took a deep breath, and as they turned onto Main Street and made their way to the sheriff’s department, she knew whatever he told her she would be ready for it. They parked in the sheriff’s department parking lot and walked into the building hand in hand.

Blackout: Chapter Fourteen

Saturday afternoon

Griff yawned and his jaw cracked as he opened the passenger door on the Charger and Cassie climbed inside. He closed the door carefully and walked with stiff steps around the car. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this beat up. Thank God for the supersize cups of coffee they both carried. The hospital cafeteria had provided a halfway decent late lunch after they’d checked themselves out of the hospital.

Exhaustion didn’t seem to cover everything they felt. A nurse at the sheriff’s department had examined them and said while they didn’t appear to have concussions they really needed a thorough exam. The cops had gone to the resort and taken a furious Penny into custody. Griff and Cassie had half expected the woman to concoct a story with them as the guilty party. She’d raved and admitted her part in what happened, and lucky for them had also told them she knew what Benson planned. After that the whole show had proceeded smoother and easier for Cassie and Griff and the cops had shipped them off to the hospital by ambulance.

After checkups, x-rays and more poking and prodding, the doctor insisted they stay long enough to be under observation for a while. They were cleared this afternoon.

Once on the road, Cassie stared out the windshield, her expression weary. He thought back to the report the officers had given about the condition of the haunted house when they reached the property. The roses had been blooming, which the police found odd but didn’t comment on. They discovered that Griff’s account of breaking into the house was true, and there they found McPhee dead and Benson cold as the grave. The entire house was in dusty ruins, and one cop admitted to Griff and Cassie that the sixties-style furniture looked completely new. Griff could tell the cops were freaked about that development. In the back of his mind Griff half wondered if the cops would try to pin a charge on him. Both Cassie and Griff had made certain they didn’t mention the paranormal bits of the story—no way in hell the police would believe it. This situation wasn’t over by any means, but at least he had Cassie with him, and she was safe.

Their cell phones didn’t work yet, but at least electricity was starting to come on in most places and with it some news outlets. They had a concept of what had really happened with the EMP. Many parts of the grid had gone down around the United States and the rest of the world, although Europe’s configuration had fared better than the United States. While the apocalypse wasn’t as bad as everyone had thought it would be, the resulting mess was substantial enough.

Cassie interrupted his thought process when she asked, “Where to next?”

“Breckenridge. There’s a great hotel there. Hope they have openings.”

“Sounds good.” She sighed deeply and took another sip of coffee.

One glance and he caught the strange contentment on her face. “Feel better?”

“Loads.”

Griff took a quick glance over at Cassie and caught her deep frown. “You okay?”

“I will be.” She sighed and shifted lower in the seat. “Griff, with everything that’s happened since we escaped Benson, you didn’t get a chance to tell me your secret.”

Shit. Right. He’d promised. “Yeah, that’s true. Can it wait until we’re in a room in Breckenridge and naked?”

She laughed. “That bad, eh?”

“Might be.”

She nodded. “All right. But you’re damned lucky you’re so handsome and that you bought me coffee.”

He laughed with her.

Once in Breckenridge an hour later, they registered at a resort he’d been to a few times for skiing. Luckily Breckenridge wasn’t in a mess and like Bowmount, had electricity. Griff checked them into a large suite.

Later, after showers, they fell into bed naked and went to sleep before getting a chance to talk.

Cassie awakened to feel Griff nuzzling her neck as he spooned her. She shifted onto her back and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She pulled out of his arms long enough to turn on the bedside lamp.

Griff groaned. “Mmm. What are you doing?” He kissed her shoulder and propped up on his elbow to look down at her. “I was about to kiss you all over.”

“Don’t try and bribe your way out of telling me that secret, Griff. You said it would wait until we were naked. We’re in bed. Naked. Spill it.” She gave her demand with a smile.

He rolled onto his back, and she followed, half sprawled over him. It was hard to concentrate when he cupped her butt and pulled her close to his deliciously hard body.

“Come on, Griff.”

“You’re right. I owe you.”

She traced a pattern between his pecs. “You do.”

His gaze met hers, and she saw how difficult it was for him to open up.

“My grandparents and my parents lived in a survivalist camp in Montana for most of their lives. That’s how I know how to survive in the wilderness and with almost nothing. It’s why I understood about EMP.”

Surprise rippled through her, but so did understanding. So many things came crystal clear. “Why were you afraid to tell me that?”

His serious gaze caught hers and held. “There’s a lot more.”

She smoothed her hand down to his ridged stomach muscles, and he sucked in a breath. “You said I’d hate you. Why would you think that?”

“They were a diverse group with a lot of hate behind their isolation. They were white supremacists. Oddly enough we lived near a Native American community.” His eyes were haunted, his mouth tight as he explained. “My dad brainwashed me and my sister constantly and told us lies about anyone who wasn’t so-called pure. For a little while my parents convinced us it was true—my father did anyway. My mother…well, she didn’t believe it and yet she was too afraid to leave my father.”

A sinking feeling started in her belly as she imagined what Griff and Diane must have experienced. “Oh, God.”

“He beat my mother regularly but never me and Diane. I always thought that was a miracle. We were homeschooled and my mother did her best to try and give me and Diane more perspective and understanding of what the world is like. She explained to us that Dad was full of shit, in not so many words.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

“Yeah. We were all scared to death of him and most of the other people in the group.”

“How many people?”

“About fifty total.”

“What about you grandparents. Did they believe all of that stuff?”

“They were the ones that taught my father all that crap.” He drew in a deep breath. “It came to a head when my father dragged my mother, Diane and I to this bar outside of town frequented by the survivalists. I hated the place. It stank. They gave kids liquor.” He shook his head. “Anyway, one night I went outside and found my sister being raped by this drunk Native American guy. He was so off his ass he didn’t realize he’d wandered into the wrong place. I was so enraged, I threw the guy off my sister and he fell against a rock.”

Griff swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Pain streaked across his face. She practically held her breath, on pins and needles as she listened to his story. Fear spiked through her as she waited for him to continue.

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “I was fifteen, and I was already big and strong. When I tossed the guy aside I was just trying to save Diane. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“Oh, no.” Tears sprung to her eyes as she realized the pain Griff must have experienced and his sister’s agony. “No. Poor Diane. And you.”

She sat up out of his arms and watched his expression change from pained to watchful. “I was charged in his death and sent to a facility for juveniles.”

“But you were just a kid and trying to save your sister.”

“Everyone knew we were from a survivalist camp. They assumed I didn’t mind killing the guy, and that I did try and kill him.”

Anger filled her. “But he was raping your sister.”

He held up one hand. “The local Native Americans wanted me tried as an adult and thrown in the pen.”

She brushed a hand over his forearm, a strong desire to comfort him. “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

“Yeah.” His voice was weary, as if relating the experience drained him. “I spent a year of my life incarcerated. I managed to get my GED while I was in there, so I wasn’t behind in school.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Unfortunately my mother didn’t leave my father.”

“And your sister got pregnant after that, didn’t she?”

“Not from the rape, but by a boy she was seeing. You know the rest of that story.”

She sensed a gap in the story. “What else, Griff?”

“My father finally went ballistic one night and murdered my mother. He beat her to death.”

She put a hand to her mouth, tears coming quickly and easily.

“Come here.” He drew her into his arms. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She cried into his chest as he held her close, understanding that it wasn’t just his story that saddened her, but the stress of what happened to them over the last week.

“What happened then?” she managed to ask around her tears.

“My aunt…my mother’s sister adopted us so we escaped the survivalist camp. I vowed I’d never be like my father and that I’d help people. I joined the marines when I was eighteen.”

She shifted until she could see his stern expression. She saw worry in his eyes, a deep apprehension she couldn’t have imagined noting in his eyes before.

“Why did you think I’d hate you if I knew this about your past?” she asked.

“I could see that you have Native American heritage when I met you.”

She sighed. “Give me credit for a broad understanding, Griff. You didn’t kill that man because he was Native American. You didn’t mean to kill him at all. You probably saved your sister’s life.”

He smiled, and some of the light returned to his eyes. “It killed me to think you might turn away from me once you knew. I feel like I’ve learned so damn much from you.”

She brushed a finger over his chin. “I know I’ve learned a ton from you. I never really trusted another man until I met you.”

“I wanted you from the moment I saw you, Cassie.”

She returned his grin and felt a new and sweet sensation rise inside her. “I’m tired as hell, sore, and don’t know what to do next. But as long as you’re here it doesn’t seem to matter.”

“Ditto.”

“What do we do after today, Griff?”

“I know I want you with me, no matter what we do. When I realized you were in Benson’s hands…that he’d taken you, I was scared shitless.”

“I felt the same why when he told me Penny had you. I had no idea what she would do.”

“I’m falling hard for you, Cassie.”

She smiled as tears filled her eyes again, but this time from happiness. “Ditto.”

They fell into an embrace, and they didn’t leave the room for a day, sleeping, eating and making love until the wee hours of the morning.

Blackout: Chapter Epilogue

One year later

Breckenridge, Colorado

Cassie watched as Griff lay on the hotel room bed, naked as the day he was born. He was asleep already. Or at least he looked like it. Even in sleep he was so gorgeous with his legs spread open and displaying his heavy masculinity. Her libido adored him. She’d just left the shower. She stood and admired him, thinking about the year just passed. She glanced at the sparkling engagement ring and matching wedding band on her left hand. They’d married over the weekend here in Breckenridge with Griff’s sister, brother-in-law, and her parents in attendance. They hadn’t wanted a formal wedding. Over the last year many things had changed, but their love for each other had grown in leaps and bounds. They’d gone through the investigation into Benson’s death. More and more information emerged on the former Navy man, and the horror of what they survived in Bowmount faded a little more each day. Benson had murdered ten women over the last ten years, and because he’d told Penny all the details, authorities had recovered the bodies. McPhee had been an unfortunate fatality when he’d entered the house. Penny would serve a long time in an institution for the criminally insane.

After the EMP the United States had taken some time to repair the infrastructure, and many things still didn’t operate as they should. It would take a while longer. Thankfully her family and Griff’s had fared well during the EMP, and everyone felt closer and more connected since then. Making their new lives together was so important. Not that they’d gotten off easy. Both had nightmares from time to time, but often they could comfort each other, and the strength they built together eased much of the trauma. Griff had built a new relationship with his sister as well, breaking the co-dependent ties once and for all.

Griff opened his eyes and caught her staring at him. She dropped her towel and crawled on the bed. He drew her into his arms, and as they kissed his body reacted to her with efficiency. His hardness pressed against her belly. When they broke the kiss, he rolled on top of her and settled between her thighs. She was aching and moist and with a lift of her hips she showed him what she needed.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he asked, his voice husky and his eyes hot with emotion.

“Yes. I love you, too. Always.”

He slid deep inside her, locking them together. As they started a primitive dance, she melted in ecstasy.

They’d both learned to share their worries, their hopes and dreams. They’d grown far more sharing life together than apart. They were individuals even stronger when together. They confirmed the one thing she knew with absolute certainty in a world where the lights could extinguish at any time.

They would love each other forever.

—The End—

About the Author

Denise A. Agnew

Denise A. Agnew is the author of over 65 novels. Denise has written paranormal, romantic comedy, contemporary, fantasy, historical, erotic romance, and romantic suspense. Archaeology and archery have crept into her work, and travels through England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales have added to a lifetime of story ideas. She lives with her husband and a Mini Schnauzer. Denise is also a paranormal investigator, Reiki Master and Certified Creativity Coach. Visit Denise’s websites at www.deniseagnew.com and www.creativepencoaching.com. You can also find her on Twitter @DeniseAAgnew and Facebook www.facebook.com/denise.a.agnew.

Additional Books by Denise A. Agnew

ASHFALL (The Wasteland Trilogy Book 1)

WITHIN HIS SIGHT (Heart of Justice series)