Brenda Jackson, Maureen Child, Joan Hohl,Tessa Radley, Jennifer Lewis, Laura Wright

One-Click Buy: October Silhouette Desire

© 2007

Stranded with the Tempting Stranger by Brenda Jackson

One

October

Cassie Sinclair-Garrison released an uneven breath when she rounded the corner in the lobby of her hotel. She stopped, totally mesmerized by the man standing at the counter to check in to the Garrison Grand-Bahamas. It had been a long time since any man had captured her attention like this one. He was simply gorgeous.

He stood tall at a height of not less than six-three with an athletic build that indicated he was a sportsman or someone who made it his business to stay in great physical shape. He was an American, she knew at once, studying his coffee-brown skin, his dark brown eyes and closely shaved head. And he wasn’t here on business, she thought, noting the way he was immaculately dressed in a pair of dark brown trousers and a tan shirt that brought out the beautiful coloring of his skin.

She didn’t know what, but there was something about him that demanded attention and from the way other women in the lobby were also staring, it was attention he was definitely getting.

Deciding she had more to do with her time than to practically drool over a man, Cassie pushed the button to the elevator that would take her to her office on the executive floor. It was an office that once belonged to her father.

Five years ago, when she was twenty-two, her father had made her manager and there hadn’t been a time when he hadn’t been pleased with the way she had handled things. That’s why she wasn’t surprised that upon his death he had left full ownership of the hotel to her. In doing so he had only confirmed what some of her employees had probably suspected all along-that she was John Garrison’s illegitimate child.

A flutter of pain touched her heart as she thought of her parents. She stepped inside the elevator, glad it was vacant because whenever she encountered these types of moments, she preferred being alone. Although she had tried putting on a good front over the past five months, it had been hard to first lose her mother in an auto accident and, little over a month later, lose her father when he’d died of a heart attack…although it was probably more of a broken heart.

She had wondered how he would be able to go on after her mother’s death. The last time she had seen her father-just days before he passed when he had come to visit her-Cassie had seen the depths of pain in his eyes and she had wondered how he would get over the loss. He had said more than once that losing his Ava was like losing a part of him.

Even though he was a married man that hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with her mother, the beautiful and vivacious Ava Sinclair. And she had been John Garrison’s true love for more than twenty-eight years.

According to her mother, she had met the wealthy and very handsome American in the States when he had been a judge and she a contestant in the Miss Universe beauty pageant as Miss Bahamas. Their paths had crossed a few years later, when he had visited the Bahamas to purchase land for this grand hotel he intended to build.

Although he had a family in Florida consisting of five kids, he was an unhappy man, a man who was no longer in love with his wife, but too dedicated to his children to walk away from his marriage.

Cassie hadn’t understood their relationship until she was older, but it was beyond clear her parents had shared something special, something unique and something few people had. It was a love of a lifetime. Ava never made any demands on John, yet he had freely lavished her with anything and everything, and provided her and the child they had created with complete financial support.

Cassie knew that others who’d seen her parents together over the years had formed opinions on what the relationship was about. He was a married American and Ava was his Bahamian mistress. But Cassie knew their relationship was so much more than that. In her heart she believed they had been soul mates in the truest form. She had loved her parents deeply and they had loved her, a product of their love, and there hadn’t been a day they hadn’t let her feel or know it.

She had resented those times when her father would leave them to return to his family in Miami, a family she’d only found out about when she became a teenager. The truth had hurt, but then her mother and father had smoothed away the pain with the intensity of their love and had let her know that no matter what the situation was, the one thing that would never change or diminish was their love for her, as well as their love for each other. From that day forward, whether others did or not, Cassie understood and accepted her parents’ unorthodox love affair.

She stepped off the elevator and walked into her office, stopping to smile at her secretary while picking up her messages off the woman’s desk. “Good morning, Trudy.”

“Good morning, Ms. Garrison.”

Cassie liked the sound of that. She had begun using her father’s last name within a week of his death. With both of her parents deceased, there were no secrets to protect and she had no reason to continue to deny herself the use of his name.

“Any additional messages?” she asked the older woman whom she had hired a few months ago.

“Yes. Mr. Parker Garrison just called and would like you to return his call.”

Cassie forced the smile to stay on her face while thinking that no matter what Parker liked, he wouldn’t be getting things his way since she wouldn’t be returning his call. She could not forget the phone conversation they had shared nearly four months ago. He’d called within a week of the reading of John Garrison’s will and he’d kept calling. Eventually, she had taken his call.

At the time she had been very aware that he, his siblings and mother had been shocked to discover at the reading of the will that John Garrison had an outside child. Of the five Garrison offspring, Parker had been the most livid because the terms of their father’s will gave her and Parker equal controlling interest in Garrison Inc., an umbrella corporation that oversaw the stocks and financial growth of all the Garrison-owned properties. He wasn’t happy about it.

Their telephone conversation hadn’t gone well. He had been arrogant, condescending and had even tried being intimidating. When he’d seen Cassie would not accept his offer to buy her out, he had done the unthinkable by saying she had to prove she was a Garrison, and had threatened her with a DNA test as well as the possibility of him contesting the will. Parker’s threats had ticked her off and she was still angry.

“Ms. Garrison?”

Her secretary’s voice recaptured her attention. The forced smile widened. “Thank you for delivering the message.”

Cassie entered her office. She would think Parker would have more to do with his time these days. It didn’t take long for news to travel over the hotel grapevine that the handsome and elusive playboy had gotten married. And not that she cared, but she’d also heard that another Garrison bachelor, Stephen, had gotten hitched, as well.

She had no intention of ever meeting any of her “siblings.” She didn’t know them and they didn’t know her and she preferred things stayed that way. They had never been a part of her life and she had never been a part of theirs. She had a life here in the Bahamas and saw no need to change that.

As she sat behind her desk her thoughts shifted back to the guy she’d seen in the lobby. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was married or single, straight or gay. She shrugged her shoulders knowing that it really didn’t matter. The last thing she needed was to become interested in a man. Her man was the beautiful thirty-story building that was erected along the pristine shoreline of the Caribbean. And “her man” was a beautiful sight that took her breath away each time she entered his lobby. And she would take care of him, continue to make him prosper the way her father would want her to do. Now that her parents were gone, this hotel was the only thing she could depend on for happiness.

Brandon Washington glanced around the room he had been given, truly impressed. He had spent plenty of time at the Garrison Grand but there was something about this particular franchise that left him astonished. It was definitely a tropical paradise.

The first thing he’d noticed when he had pulled into the parking lot was that the structure was different from the sister hotel in South Miami Beach, mainly because it was designed to take advantage of the tropical island beach it sat on. And it was nested intimately among a haven of palm trees and a multitude of magnificent gardens that were stocked with flowering plants.

The second was the warmth of the staff that had greeted him the moment he had walked into the beautiful atrium. They had immediately made him feel welcome and important.

And then it was his hotel room, a beautiful suite with a French balcony that looked out at the ocean. It had to be the most stunning waterscape view he’d ever seen.

Brandon was more than pleased with his accommodations. And since he planned to stay for a while, his comfort was of the utmost importance. He had to remind himself that this was not a vacation, but he’d come here with a job to do. He needed to uncover any secrets Cassie Sinclair-Garrison might have that could be used to persuade her to give up her controlling interest in Garrison, Inc., his most influential client. Not to mention that members of the family were close friends of his.

His father had been John Garrison’s college friend and later his personal attorney for over forty years and Brandon had been a partner in his father’s law firm. When his father was killed in a car accident three years ago, instead of transferring the Garrison business to a more experienced and older attorney, John had retained Brandon’s firm, showing his loyalty to the Washington family and his faith in Brandon’s abilities.

Brandon had known John Garrison all of his thirty-two years and he was a man Brandon had respected. And he considered Adam Garrison, one of John’s sons, his very best friend. Now Brandon was here at the request of Parker and Stephen Garrison. It seemed John’s illegitimate daughter refused to deal with the corporation in any way and had refused to discuss any type of a buyout offer with Parker.

Before resorting to a full-blown court battle, the two eldest brothers had suggested that Brandon travel to the Bahamas, assume a false identity to see if he could get close to Ms. Garrison and dig up any information on her present or her past, which would give them ammunition to later force her hand if she continued to refuse to sell her shares of Garrison, Inc. Another smart thing John had done was retain exclusive control of this particular hotel, the one Cassie had managed and now owned. No doubt it had been a brainy strategic move to keep his secrets well-hidden.

Brandon pulled his cell phone from his coat jacket when it rang. “Yes?”

A smile touched his lips. “Yes, Parker, I just checked in and just so you’ll know, I’m registered under the name of Brandon Jarrett.”

He chuckled. “That’s right. I’m using my first and middle name since I want to keep my real identity hidden.” A few moments later he ended his phone call with Parker.

Brandon began unpacking. He had brought an assortment of casual clothes since it was his intent to pose as a businessman who’d come to the island for a short but very needed vacation. That shouldn’t be hard to do, because since John Garrison’s death and his secrets had been revealed, Brandon had been working long hours with the Garrison family to resolve all the unwanted issues.

Contesting the will had been out of the question. No one wanted to air the family’s dirty laundry. Doing so would definitely send John’s widow, Bonita, over the edge. There were a number of people who would not sympathize with the woman, saying it was her drinking problem that had sent John into the arms of another woman in the first place and that he had stayed married to her longer than most men would have.

Then there would be others who would think that John’s extramarital affair is what had driven the woman to drink. As far as Brandon was concerned, there was no way Bonita hadn’t known about John’s affair, given the amount of time he spent away from home. But from the look on her face during the reading of the will, she had not known a child had been involved. Now she knew, and according to Adam, his mother was hitting the bottle more than ever.

Brandon rubbed his chin, feeling the need of a shave. As he continued to unpack he knew that sometime within the next couple of days he would eventually cross paths with Cassie Sinclair-Garrison. He would make sure of it.

Cassie stood on one of the many terraces on the east side of the hotel, which faced Tahita Bay. It was late afternoon yet the sky was still a dazzling blue and seemed to match the waters beneath it. There were a number of yachts in the bay and several human bodies were sunbathing on the beach.

She smiled and waved her hand when a couple she’d met yesterday when they’d checked in recognized her and gave her a greeting as they glided by on a sailboat. At least she had met the woman yesterday; the man she already knew from the numerous times when his family’s corporation-Elliott Publishing Holdings; one of the largest magazine conglomerates in the world-had utilized the hotel to host their annual business conference. Their main office was located in New York and the Garrison Grand-Bahamas was the ideal place to hold a seminar during the winter months.

Teagan Elliott was here vacationing with his wife of eight months, a beautiful African-American by the name of Renee. An interracial couple, the two looked very good together and reminded Cassie of what she thought every time she would see her parents together. And just like her parents, it was easy to see their love was genuine.

Thinking of her parents sent a feeling of forlornness through her. Now that the business of the day had been handled, she decided to stay at the hotel for the night instead of taking the thirty-minute drive to her home, which was located on the other side of the island. Maybe later she’d take a leisurely stroll along the shoreline in an area that wasn’t so crowded.

She thought of the Diamond Keys, an exclusive section of the hotel that had beachfront suites with parlors and French doors that opened directly to the water, providing a commanding view of endless beach and ocean. The rooms, which were extremely expensive but definitely worth it, were nestled in the hotel’s most intimate settings.

Cassie headed back inside, making her way to her bedroom to change out of her business suit and slip into a pair of silk lounging pants and matching camisole with a print design. It had been a long time since she’d carved out some time for herself. Over the past months she had spent the majority of her time wallowing in work and mourning the loss of her parents, as she tried to move on through life, one day at a time.

She had been at her mother’s funeral, standing beside her father, who’d remained in shock over their unexpected loss. What hurt so much even now was that she hadn’t attended her father’s funeral. By the time she had received word of his death, the funeral had already taken place. All she had was the memory of the last time they had spent together, a few days before his death.

He had shown up on the island unexpectedly, not at the hotel but at her condo, waiting for her when she had arrived home from work that day. The handsome and charismatic man she’d always known and loved had held sadness in his eyes and pain in his features.

That night he had taken her out to dinner and before he had returned to Miami, he had placed in her hand the deed to the beautiful ten-acre estate in the exclusive Lyford Cay community that he had purchased for her mother fifteen years ago. It was the home she now occupied and called her own.

Cassie took a glance around as she stepped out onto the sandy shores. Daylight had faded and dusk had set in. But that didn’t bother her. In fact she much preferred it. She always thought the beach at night was breathtakingly beautiful. In the background she heard the band from the lounge as it mixed with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. She leaned down and took off her sandals, wanting to feel the sand beneath her feet. Being on the beach always made her feel better. It helped her momentarily forget her pain, and made her feel carefree, energized and invigorated.

She bit back a smile and glanced around again, just to make sure she was alone, before pretending to play hopscotch on the sand. She laughed out loud when she almost slipped as she continued to hop around on one foot from one pretend square block to another. What a wonderful way to work off the day’s stress, she thought, and today had definitely been a busy one. The hotel’s capacity was at an all-time high, with requests for extended stays becoming the norm. They even had a waiting list for weeks not considered as prime time. The man she had chosen to succeed her as a manager, Simon Tillman, was doing an excellent job, and now she was able to concentrate on doing other things, such as expanding her business in various ways.

She had received a call from her accountant that profits for the hotel were surging. Once it had become official that she was the owner of the Garrison Grand-Bahamas, she had begun implementing the changes she had submitted to her father in a proposal just a month before his death. Over the last dinner they had shared together, he had given his blessing to move ahead with her plans. Today after meeting with her staff, she had a lot to be happy about, for the first time in months.

“May I play?”

Cassie lowered her leg as she swung around at the sound of the deep, masculine voice, angry at the intrusion. She narrowed her eyes, at first not seeing anyone, but then she watched as a man seemed to materialize out of the darkness.

She recognized him immediately. He was the man she had seen earlier today when he had checked into the hotel. He was the man every woman in the hotel had been watching, and a man who even now was taking her breath away.

Two

Brandon stared at the woman standing a few feet from him. He had been watching her, barely seeing her features in the shadows, and now with her standing so close, he thought she had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He immediately wanted to know everything about her.

He glanced at her left hand, didn’t see a ring and inwardly let out a relieved breath. But that didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t have a significant other, even perhaps a boyfriend. What were the chances of her spending time at this hotel, one known for rest, relaxation and romance, alone?

But still, that didn’t stop his hormones from going into overdrive when he stared into her face, seeing the cocoa color of her complexion, the dark curly brown hair that fell to her shoulders, the darkness of her brown eyes and the shape of her curves in the outfit she was wearing.

Disgusted, he was reminded of why he was there, which was not to concentrate on a woman whose looks were so striking they could almost blind him, but to get close to a woman who was causing problems to his biggest client-a woman he had yet to meet, although he’d hung around the hotel the majority of the day hoping that he would. When he had discreetly asked about her, he’d been told that Cassie Sinclair-Garrison had been in meetings all day and chances were she had already left for her home, which was on the other side of the island.

In that case, since it wasn’t likely he would be running into Ms. Garrison anytime tonight, why not spend time with this beauty…if she was free and available.

He watched how she tilted up her chin and narrowed her eyes at him. “You intrude on my privacy.”

Her Bahamian accent was rich, just as rich as the curly brown hair that flowed around her shoulders, he thought. With the lifting of her chin he zeroed in on more of her features. In addition to her creamy brown skin, she had high cheekbones, a cute dimple in her chin, a straight nose and lips so full and generous they were downright sexy. There was something so feminine about her it actually made him ache.

“And I apologize,” he said quietly, accepting what she felt was her need to take him to task. “I was out for a walk and couldn’t help but notice the game you were playing. “

“You could have said something to let me know you were there,” she said directly, eyeing him.

“And you’re right, but again, I got so caught up in watching you that I didn’t want to interrupt, at least not for a while. If I upset you, I’m sorry.”

Cassie realized she really shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. After all it wasn’t just her section of private beach, but belonged to anyone who was staying at Diamond Keys, and evidently he was. “Since there hasn’t been any harm done,” she said in a muffled voice, “I will accept your apology.”

He smiled. “Thank you. And I hope you will let me make it up to you.”

“And how do you pose to do that?”

“By asking you to be my guest at dinner tonight,” he said lightly, watching the look of surprise skim her features at his request.

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is. I offended you and want to make it up to you.”

“You didn’t offend me. You just caught me off guard.”

“Still, I’d like to make it up to you.”

Cassie bent her head, trying to hide the smile that suddenly touched her lips. If nothing else, he was persistent. Shouldn’t she be as persistent, as well, in turning down his offer?

She lifted her head and met his gaze and for a period of time she was rendered speechless. He had moved into into her line of vision and she thought he was so incredibly handsome, she could actually feel a rush of blood flow through her veins. She doubted that very few women turned down anything coming from him.

“Maybe we should introduce ourselves,” he said, taking a step forward and smiling. He extended his hand out to her. “I’m Brandon Jarrett.”

“And I’m Cassie Sinclair-Garrison.”

It took everything Brandon had to keep the shock that rocked his body from showing in his face. This was Cassie Garrison? The woman who was causing Garrison, Inc., all kinds of trouble? The woman who had been giving Parker heartburn for the past four months? The woman who was a sibling to the Miami Garrisons whether she wanted to acknowledge them or not? The woman who was the main reason he was here on the island?

“Hello, Cassie Sinclair-Garrison,” he said, forcing the words out of his mouth and hesitantly releasing her hand. It had felt good in his, as if it had actually belonged there. He had looked forward to meeting Cassie, but without this element of surprise. He didn’t like surprises and this one was a biggie.

“Hello, Brandon Jarrett,” she said, smiling. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay here.”

“I am. Are you?” he asked, not wanting to give anything away that he recognized her name or knew who she was, although she carried the same last name as the hotel.

“Yes, I’m enjoying myself.”

No doubt at my expense, he thought, when he saw she had no intention of mentioning that she was the hotel’s owner. “I think you might enjoy it even more if you have dinner with me.”

A feeling of uneasiness crept over Cassie. The moment her fingers had slid into the warmth of his when they had shaken hands, she had felt a surge of sensations that settled in the middle of stomach. This guy was smooth and the problem was that she wasn’t used to smooth guys. She dated, but not frequently, and definitely not someone like Brandon Jarrett. It was quite obvious he knew how to work it and it was also quite obvious that he thought he had a chance of working her. That realization didn’t repulse her like it should have. Instead it had her curious. He wouldn’t be the first man who’d tried hitting on her, but he was the first who had remotely triggered her interest in over a year or so.

“We’re back to that, are we?” she asked, chuckling, feeling a little more relaxed than she had earlier.

“Yes, I’m afraid we’re back to that, and I hope you don’t disappoint me. We can dine here at the hotel or go someplace else that’s close by. It will be your choice.”

She knew if would be crazy to suggest to a perfect stranger to take her someplace other than here, but the last thing she wanted was to become the topic of conversation of her employees. Some of them hadn’t yet gotten over the shock that John Garrison was her biological father and that he had left the hotel to her. Making a decision she hoped that she didn’t later regret she said, “I prefer going someplace else that’s close by.”

She could tell her response pleased him. “Is there any place you want to recommend or do you prefer leaving the choice to me?” he asked.

Again putting more trust in him than she really should, she said, “I’ll leave things to you.”

“All right. Do you want us to meet in the lobby in about an hour?”

She knew that wouldn’t work. “No, we can meet back here, at least over there on that terrace near the flower garden.”

“Okay.”

If he found her request strange he didn’t let on. “Then I’ll see you back here in an hour, Cassie Sinclair-Garrison,” he said, smiling again.

Her heart missed a beat with his smile and, holding his gaze a bit longer than she should have, she said goodbye and then turned and quickly began walking back across the sand to her suite.

As Brandon headed back toward his room, he felt more than the October breeze off the ocean. A rush of adrenaline was pumping fast and furious through his veins. What were the chances of the one woman he had been attracted to since his breakup with Jamie Frigate a year ago to be the woman he had purposely come here to get to know?

Jamie.

Even now he had to steel himself against the rising anger he always felt when he thought about his fiancée’s betrayal. How any woman could have been so shallow and full of herself he would never know. But more than that, she had been greedy as hell. She hadn’t been satisfied with just having the things he could give her. While engaged to him she’d had an affair with a California businessman. He had found out about her duplicity when he had returned to Miami unexpectedly from a work-related trip to find her in bed with the man.

He entered his suite, not wanting to think about Jamie any longer, and instead his thoughts shifted back to Cassie. Any information he shared about himself to her would basically be false. But under the circumstances, that couldn’t be helped. Tonight things had fallen into place too nicely for him and for some reason he was bothered by it. The woman he had seen playing a game of hopscotch had had an innocent air about her, definitely not what he had expected. And he had detected some sort of vulnerability, as well.

And he couldn’t dismiss just how incredibly beautiful she was. With her striking good looks he would think she would have a date every night of the week. So the question that was presently popping in his mind was why didn’t she?

In just the brief time he had spent with Cassie he had a feeling she was extremely bright. Maybe it had been the way she had studied him before making the decision to join him for dinner tonight that had given him that perspective.

A chuckle welled up inside of Brandon. He would find out just how bright she was at dinner when he really got into the game of wining and dining her. Whatever it took, he needed her to feel comfortable enough with him to share things about herself; things that could possibly damage her reputation if they became public knowledge.

He was suddenly unnerved by what he had to do and if he dwelled on it too long he would probably find the entire thing disgusting. But he could not let personal feelings or emotions intervene. He had a job to do and he intended to do it well.

Cassie glanced at herself in the mirror once more. She had taken another shower and changed outfits. This one was a dress her mother had bought her earlier in the year that she had never worn until tonight.

It was a slinky thin-strapped mini-dress, fuchsia in color, and what made it elegant was the silver-clasp tie neck. She nervously smoothed the dress down her body, wondering if perhaps in trying to make a good impression she was making some sort of a statement, as well.

She ran her fingers though the long, dark brown curls on her head, fluffing them around her face. A face she thought had a remarkable resemblance to both of her parents, but mainly her father. She had her mother’s eyes but her father’s mouth, nose and cheekbones. And then there was that cleft in her chin that definitely came from him.

Her skin coloring was a mixture of the both of them, but her smile was that of John Garrison. She chewed her bottom lip nervously, thinking her smile was something she hadn’t shown much of lately. But tonight she had smiled more than once already, although she had lowered her head so Brandon wouldn’t see it the first time she’d done so.

She inhaled deeply, thinking for the umpteenth time that Brandon Jarrett was so drop-dead gorgeous it was a shame. No man should be walking around looking like he did and with a well-toned muscled body in whatever clothes he wore, made him downright lethal. He had to be the most beautiful man she’d ever met. On the beach he had been wearing a pair of jeans and a white shirt. And like her, he had removed his shoes. The outfit would have been casual on any other man but not on him.

Evidently he was single. At least he hadn’t had a ring on his finger, but that meant nothing since her father had rarely worn his wedding ring, either. She wondered if Brandon had someone special living in the States. A businessman traveling alone often forgot certain details like that. As owner of the hotel she was observant and perceptive and knew such affairs were going on under her roof, but as long as they were of mutual consent it was no business of hers.

Cassie reached for the matching shawl to her dress and placed it around her shoulders. The air tonight was rather breezy. Forecasters had reported a tropical storm was stirring up in the Atlantic. Hopefully, it wouldn’t become a hurricane, and if it did she hoped that it would not set its course toward the islands.

She glanced at her watch. It was time to meet the very handsome Brandon Jarrett.

Brandon stood near the flower garden, his body shadowed by numerous plants and an abundance of palm trees. He watched Cassie as she left her suite and strolled along the private brick walkway. Like earlier, she hadn’t detected his presence and this gave him a chance to study her once again.

The dress she was wearing seemed to have been designed just for her body and was definitely working for her, and for him as well. Just watching her made his pulse rate increase. The lantern lights reflecting off the building highlighted her features. Her hair flowed around her shoulders, tossing around her face with every step she took.

Sensations he hadn’t felt in a long time gripped him and they were of a degree he’d never experienced before. John Garrison’s youngest daughter was definitely a looker and was having an impact on his senses as well as his body. He inhaled deeply. He had to regain control. He had to remember his plan.

Deciding it wouldn’t be in his best interest to catch her off guard for a second time, he deliberately cleared his throat. When she glanced his way their gazes met. He almost forgot everything, except the way she was looking at him. He had never been swept away by a woman, but he felt that he was now standing in sinking sand and quickly decided, just for that moment, he would forget the real reason he was on the island. The woman was too stunningly beautiful for him to do anything else.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she said, coming to stand directly in front of him, giving him a close view of her outfit.

“Not at all, but any time I’ve spent waiting has been worth it,” he said, taking her hand in his and feeling the way her hand trembled beneath his fingers. In response, he felt his insides quiver and primitive emotions began stirring in his gut. He was discovering just how strong his sexual attraction to her was.

“Have you decided where we’re going?”

Her question invaded his thoughts and he wished he could respond by telling her they were going to find the nearest bed. “Yes, the Viscaya Restaurant. Have you ever heard of it?”

“Yes, I’ve heard of it,” Cassie answered, drawing in a deep breath. “It has an astounding reputation.”

“I heard that, as well,” he said, holding firm to her hand as he led her through the gardens and toward the parking lot where his rental car was parked. It was a beautiful October night and the breeze off the ocean made it somewhat cool.

“You look nice,” Brandon said, opening the door to the Lexus.

She glanced up at him and smiled as she slid onto the car seat. “Thanks. You look nice yourself.”

He smiled back at her. “Now it’s my time to thank you.”

“And you are welcome.”

Cassie watched as Brandon crossed in front of the car to get into the driver’s side. He did look nice in his dark trousers and crisp white shirt and looked the epitome of sexy. Everything about him appealed to her female senses. His walk was smooth and self-assured.

Before starting the engine he glanced over at her. “The lady at the front desk said the restaurant is only a five-minute drive from here.”

Cassie nodded. “All right.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and she leaned back into her seat, her body relaxed. She was looking forward to this evening; especially his company. There was a lot she wanted to know about him and decided that now was the time to ask. “So where are you from?”

“I’m from Orlando, Florida,” he answered.

“Disney World.”

He chuckled. “Yes, Disney World. Have you ever been there?”

“Yes, when I was about ten my mom took me there. We were there for a whole week.”

“What about your father?”

A small smile touched her lips. “Dad traveled a lot and joined us later, but for only a few days.” And then, as if she wanted to know more about him, she asked, “And what sort of work you do?”

“I’m an investment broker. My motto is ‘If you have any monies to invest then entrust them with me and I’ll do the rest.’”

“Umm, that’s clever. I like it.”

“Thanks. And where are you from, Cassie, and what do you do?” he asked.

Brandon had come to a traffic light and he glanced over at her and saw her nervously rubbing her palms against the side of her dress. Her actions caused him to look at her thighs, the portion her minidress wasn’t covering. It took everything within him to force his eyes back on the road when the light changed.

“I was born here on the island and I’m in the hotel business,” he heard her say.

Deciding not to put her on the spot by asking her to expound more regarding her occupation he said, “The Bahamas is a beautiful island.”

He could tell she had relaxed by the sound of her breathing. “Yes, it is. I take it that this is not your first visit here.”

He smiled, liking the sound of her sexy accent. “No, I’ve been to the island several times, but this is the first time I’ve stayed at the Garrison Grand-Bahamas.”

He didn’t think it would be appropriate to mention that he had flown here last year with Jamie in his private plane. It had been then that he had asked her to marry him. She had accepted and they had spent the rest of the week on a yacht belonging to one of his clients, who was also a good friend.

He was grateful when they pulled into the parking lot of the Viscaya Restaurant. For a little while he was getting a reprieve from having to weave more lies.

Less than an hour later Cassie had determined a number of things about Brandon. In addition to being breathtakingly handsome, he was also incredibly charming and outrageously smooth. She’d discovered during dinner that he was also someone who was easy to talk to; someone who had the ability to make her feel comfortable around him. And she noticed he had a tendency to treat all people-from the restaurant’s manager to the waiter to the busboy who’d come to clear off their table-with respect. He had made each individual feel important and appreciated.

“That was kind and thoughtful of you,” she said when they were walking out of the restaurant.

He glanced over at her. “What?”

“The way you treated everyone back there. You didn’t hesitate to let them know how much you appreciated their services. You would be surprised at how many people don’t do that,” she said, thinking how rudely her hotel workers were often treated by people who thought they were better than them.

He shrugged. “It’s something I got from my father. He believed it wouldn’t take much for a person to let others know when they’ve done something right, especially when we are quick to let them know when they’ve done something wrong.”

“It sounds like your father is a very smart man.”

“He was a smart man. Dad passed away a few years ago,” he said.

She glanced over at him and a look of sorrow touched her features. “I’m sorry. Were you close to your father?”

“Yes, we were extremely close. In fact we were partners at our firm,” he said truthfully. “My mother died of cancer before I reached my teens so it had been just my dad and I for a long time.”

She nodded and then said, “My father passed away a little over four months ago and my mom a month before that.”

Brandon heard the pain of her words in her voice and from the light from the electrical torches that lit the parking lot, he actually saw tears in her eyes. He stopped walking just a few feet from where their car was parked and instinctively pulled her into his arms. She offered no resistance when he gathered the warmth of her body against his. He briefly closed his eyes, regretting this cruel game he was playing with her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear, in a way for both her loss as well as his lies. Her loss was sincere and he actually felt her pain. She had loved both her parents immensely. For the first time since John’s death, Cassie Sinclair-Garrison had become a real person and just not a name on a document on a file in his office. And not just the person with whom Parker had a beef.

“I didn’t mean to come apart like that,” Cassie said, moments later, stepping back out of Brandon’s arms, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“It’s okay. I can understand the depth of your pain. I’ve lost both of my parents, but when my mom died at least I had my dad to keep things going, providing a sense of stability in my life. But your parents died fairly close to each other. I can’t imagine how you endured such a thing. Do you have other siblings?” he asked, wondering if she would acknowledge the Miami Garrisons.

She gave him a distracted look, as if thinking deeply on his question. Then she said, “My father had other children but I’ve never met them.”

“Not even at the funeral?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She shrugged. “No, not even then.” Then she quickly said, “I’d rather not talk about it anymore, Brandon. It’s rather private.”

He nodded. “I understand. Sorry for prying.”

She reached out and took his hand. “You weren’t prying. Everything’s sort of complicated right now.”

“Again I understand, but if you ever need to talk or need-”

“A shoulder to cry on again,” she said, trying to sound cheerful.

He chuckled. “Yes, a shoulder to cry on. I am available.”

“Thank you. How long will you be staying at the hotel?”

He paused to open the car door for her. “A week. What about you?”

She waited until she was inside and glanced up at him and said. “Indefinitely. I work at the hotel and depending on how my days are, I sometimes spend the night there instead of driving all the way home. I have a private suite. My home is on the other side of the island.”

“I see,” Brandon said before closing the door. He had given her another opportunity but she had yet to tell him she owned the hotel.

After walking around the car and getting inside he turned to her before starting the ignition. “I’m glad you came to dinner with me tonight. What are your plans for tomorrow?”

She smiled. “I have a meeting in the morning and then I’ll be leaving for my home. I won’t be returning to the hotel until Thursday morning.”

Brandon leaned forward and smiled. “Is there anyway I can weasel another dinner date out of you?”

Cassie laughed. “Another dinner date?”

“Yes, I’ll even be happy if you wanted to treat me to some of your good cooking.”

“And what makes you think I can cook?”

“A hunch. Am I wrong?”

She shook her head. “No, you’re right. Not to sound too boastful or conceited, although I don’t spend a whole lot of time in the kitchen since I usually eat at the hotel, I can cook. That was one of my mom’s biggest rules. And because of it, I was probably one of the few girls in my dorm at college who could fend for herself.”

He chuckled. “And where did you attend college?”

“I went to a school in London and got a degree in business administration.”

Brandon was still smiling when he finally decided to dig deeper by asking, “And just what is your position at the hotel? You never did say.”

From her expression he could tell she was somewhat startled by his question. He was forcing her to make a decision as to whether or not she trusted him enough to tell him that much about herself.

“Evidently,” she finally said, “you didn’t make the connection when I gave my name earlier tonight.”

He lifted a dark brow. “And what connection is that?”

Cassie held on to his gaze. “Garrison. I own the Garrison Grand-Bahamas.”

Three

“You own the hotel?” Brandon asked, seemingly surprised by what she’d said and trying not to place much emphasis on what she’d just revealed and raise her suspicions about his motives for being there.

“Yes, my father left it to me when he died.”

Brandon brought the car to a stop at a traffic light and used that opportunity to look directly at her. “Then you must feel proud that he had such faith and confidence in your abilities to do such a thing.”

The smile she gave him extended straight from her eyes and he suddenly felt his gut clench from the effect those dark eyes had on him. “Thanks. And he did know of my capabilities because I’d managed the hotel for the past five years.”

He nodded when the car began moving again. “That might be true but I’m sure managing a hotel is a lot different than owning it. It’s a big responsibility to place on anyone’s shoulders and evidently he felt, and I’m sure justly so, that you could handle the job.”

“Thank you for saying that,” she said softly. “That was very kind of you.”

“I’m just telling you the way I see it,” he said, bringing the car to a stop in the parking lot of the hotel. “Now getting back to the subject of seeing you again tomorrow…” he said smoothly.

She shook her head, grinning. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Not without a fight,” he said sincerely. “And if you don’t feel like having me try out your cooking skills, I’d love to take you to another restaurant tomorrow evening. I understand several in this area come highly recommended.”

Trying to ignore the urge to laugh from the intensity of his plea, she smiled. Since she’d taken ownership of her mother’s home a few months ago, no man had crossed its threshold and she hadn’t planned for one to cross over it anytime soon. But for some reason the thought of Brandon visiting her home didn’t bother her, which could only mean one thing. She really liked him.

Pushing her hair away from her face she said, “I would love having dinner again with you tomorrow and I insist it be my treat. At my home. And I will proudly show you just what a good cook I am.”

Brandon grinned. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He got out of the car and walked around it to open the door for her. What he’d said was true. He was looking forward to it but not for the reason that he should be. A part of him wished like hell that her last name wasn’t Garrison.

“Thank you, Brandon,” she said when he offered her his hand. “I’ll leave a sealed envelope with directions to my home for you at the front desk tomorrow,” she added when they stood at her door. “It’s in Lyford Cay.”

“And is there a particular time you prefer that I show up?”

She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Anytime after four will be fine. I won’t be serving dinner until around six but I think you might enjoy taking a walk through the aquarium.”

He lifted a brow. “The aquarium?”

She smiled. “Yes, my mother loved sea life and ten years ago for her fortieth birthday my father had a beautiful indoor aquarium built for her.”

“You live in your mother’s home?” he asked when she had lowered her head to get the door key out of her purse.

She glanced back up at him. “It used to be Mom’s, but Dad signed it over to me when she died. I really had thought he was going to sell it, but I think the thought of parting with it bothered him since the place held so many special memories.”

Brandon didn’t know what to say to that. He did know there was no mention of John Garrison owning a home in the Bahamas in any of the legal papers he had. It was a moot point now since, according to Cassie, John had signed it over to her.

“I enjoyed your company tonight,” she said, unlocking her door.

Cassie’s words drew back his attention. “And I, yours. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

“So am I. Good night, Brandon.”

Although they had just met tonight, he had no intentions of letting her escape inside her suite without them sharing a kiss. All night he had focused on her lips, wondering how they would taste and how they would feel beneath his. He could feel the sizzling tension between them and took a step closer to her, deciding to draw it out and pull it in. He was powerless to do anything less.

He reached out, cupped her chin gently in his hand and studied the dimple she had there. “Nice place for a dimple,” he said in a husky voice.

She smiled up at him. “My dad said it’s a cleft. He had one, too.”

So do his other five children, Brandon thought. “I’m going to have to disagree with your father on that. I have it on good authority that on a man it’s a cleft but on a woman it’s a dimple.”

“Nothing wrong with disagreeing,” Cassie said.

His hand felt warm and when he moved it from her chin and took the backside of his hand and caressed the side of her face, she felt her entire body tingle from sensations that not only flooded her mind but also her senses. Without any self-control she released a deep sigh and closed her eyes, thinking his touch felt so soothing. And before she could reopen her eyes she detected the warmth of his lips close to hers, and then she felt it when he placed them softly against her own.

She released another sigh and her lips parted, giving his tongue the opportunity to slip inside and capture hers. She had thought of tasting him all night and she was getting more than she had bargained for. His taste was manly, sexy, delicious-everything she had imagined it would be and more. She couldn’t stop the quiver that passed through her body or the moan she heard from low in her throat. He was a master at his game, definitely an expert at what he was doing and how he was making her feel.

Her fingers gripped the sleeve of his shirt when she felt weak in the knees, and in response his arms wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling her closer to him. And she could actually feel his heat, his strength, everything about him that was masculine. Moments later when he broke off the kiss, she opened her eyes.

“Thank you for that,” he whispered hoarsely, just inches from her lips. And before she could draw her next breath, he was kissing her again and the pleasure of it was seeping deep into her bones. Instinctively she responded, feeling slightly dizzy while doing so, and she could hear the purr that came from deep within her throat.

Moments later he ended the kiss and she regretted the loss, the feel of his mouth on hers. Her gaze latched onto his lips and she felt a warm sensation flow between her legs. Without much effort, he had aroused impulses within her that she had never encountered before. It was like her feminine liberation was threatening to erupt.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Cassie,” he said, taking a step even closer.

The light that shone in her doorway cast the solid planes of his face into sharp focus. She watched as his gaze moved slowly over her features before returning to her eyes. And while his eyes held hers, she studied the deep look of desire in them. For some reason the look didn’t startle her, nor did it bother her. What it did do was fill her with anticipation of seeing him again.

“And I’m looking forward to seeing you, as well.” When she realized she was still clutching his sleeve she quickly released it, turned and, without wasting time, opened the door and went inside.

A few moments later Brandon entered his own suite as he took a mental note of what had transpired that night. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Cassie Garrison was definitely not what he had anticipated. He had expected a woman who was selfish, spoiled, inconsiderate and self-centered. Definitely temperamental at best. However, the woman he had spent time with tonight, in addition to her physical perfection, had possessed charm, style and grace, warmth and sensuality, even while not knowing she was eluding the latter. Then there was her keen sense of intelligence, which was definitely obvious. She was not a woman who acted irrational or who didn’t think through any decision she made. Even when she had ordered dinner she had expounded on the advantages of eating healthy. And when she had spoken of her parents he could feel the pain that she’d endured in losing them, pain she was still mending from.

He shook his head, remembering how comfortable she had gotten with him. Surprisingly, they had discovered over the course of their conversation that they had a lot in common. They enjoyed reading the same types of books, shared a dislike of broccoli and had the same taste in music. And when she had opened up to him and revealed she had owned the hotel, he had seen the trusting look in her eyes.

A part of him wished the circumstances were different, that she hadn’t lost her parents; that the two of them had met before John’s death. And more than anything a part of him wished that he wasn’t here betraying her.

In truth, he didn’t want to think about that part-he really didn’t want to think about Cassie Garrison at all. If only he could let it sink into his mind, as well as his body, that his only reason for being here was purely business and not personal. He of all people knew how it felt to be betrayed. How it felt to have your trust in someone destroyed. And that was not a comforting thought.

He walked out on the balcony and took a moment to stare out at the ocean, hoping he could stop Cassie from whirling through his thoughts. It was a beautiful night, but instead of appreciating the moon and the stars, his mind was getting clouded again with thoughts of a pair of long, gorgeous legs, a mass of curly brown hair cascading around a strikingly beautiful face and the taste of a mouth that wouldn’t go away. Kissing her, devouring her lips, had been better than any dessert he’d ever eaten.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the scent of the ocean, trying to get his mind back in check. That wasn’t easy when instead of the ocean’s scent filtering through his nostrils it was the scent of Cassie’s perfume that wouldn’t leave him.

A feeling of uneasiness crept over Brandon. He definitely didn’t need this. He was not a man known to get wimpy and all emotional over a woman. Okay, so he had enjoyed her company, but under no circumstances could he forget just who she was and why he was here.

With that thought embedded into his mind and back where it belonged and where he intended for it to stay, he turned and went into his suite.

Craning her neck, Cassie stood at the floor-to-ceiling window in her living room and looked out, watching Brandon’s car as it came through the wrought-iron gates that protected her estate.

As the vehicle made its way down the long winding driveway she forced back the shivers that tried overtaking her body when she remembered the night before-every single thing about it. For the first time in a long time she had spent an evening very much aware of a man. No only had she been aware of him, she had actually lusted after him in a way she had never done with a male before. But somehow she had managed to maintain her sensibility and control-at least she had until he had kissed her. And it had been some kiss. Even now those same shivers she tried forcing away earlier were back.

A part of her mind relayed a message to move away from the window when Brandon’s car got closer, or else he would see her and assume she was anxiously waiting for him. She lifted her chin in defiance when another part of her sent a different message. Let him think what he wants since she was anxiously waiting.

He brought his car to a stop in front of her house and from where she stood she had a very good view of him; one he wouldn’t have of her until he got out of the car and halfway up her walkway. She studied his features through the car window and in the light of day he was even more handsome. And when he got out of the car he was dressed as immaculately as he had been the night before.

Today he was wearing a pair of khaki trousers and a chocolate-brown polo shirt. The man was built. He exuded so much sensuality she could actually feel it through the window pane.

She watched him walk away from his car toward her door and suddenly, as if he somehow sensed her, he looked toward the window. His eyes held hers for a moment and then he lifted his hand in a wave, acknowledging her presence.

The heat she had felt earlier in her body intensified and the shivers she couldn’t fight slithered through her once more. She lifted her hand to wave back, wondering what it was about him that affected her so. What was there about this man that had her inviting him to her home, her private sanctuary, her personal domain, the place where she felt the presence of her parents the most? Why was she sharing all of that with him?

She discovered she didn’t have time to ponder those questions when he disconnected his eyes from hers and headed toward her door. She sighed deeply, her nerves stretched tight. The air she took into her lungs was sharp, and the quickening she felt in her veins was absolute.

Not waiting for a knock at her door, she moved away from the window and headed in that direction, very much aware of the magnetism, the attraction and the lure of the man who was now standing on her doorstep.

“Welcome to my home, Brandon.”

Brandon gazed at Cassie, telling himself that just like last night, his reaction to her was strictly sexual, which accounted for the ache he suddenly felt below the belt. The effect did not surprise him. He accepted it although he didn’t like it.

He immediately picked up her scent, the same one that had tortured him through most of the night as if it had been deeply drenched into his nostrils. Reaching out, he took her hand in his, leaned closer and placed a light kiss on the dimple in her chin and finally said, “Thank you for inviting me, Cassie.”

He released her hand and she smiled before taking a step back, letting him inside her home. The moment he crossed the threshold he beheld the stunning splendor of the décor. It wasn’t just the style and colors, there were also the shapes and designs that combined traditional flare with that of contemporary, colonial and Queen Anne. The mixture in any other place would look crammed, definitely busy. But in this monstrosity of a house it demonstrated a sense of wealth combined with warmth. It also displayed diversity in taste with an unmistakable look of sophistication.

“You have a beautiful home.”

Her smile widened. “Thank you. Come let me give you a tour. I haven’t changed much since Mom died because she and I had similar taste.”

She led and he followed. “Do you take care of this place by yourself?” he asked, although he couldn’t imagine one person doing so.

She shook her head. “No, I have a housekeeping staff, the same one Mom had when she and Dad were alive. My staff is loyal and dedicated and,” she said grinning, “a little overprotective where I’m concerned since they’ve been around since I was twelve.”

They came to a spacious room and stopped. He glanced around, appreciating how the entire width of the living room had floor-to-ceiling windows to take advantage of the view of the ocean. He also liked the Persian rugs on the floor.

Beyond the living room was the dining room and kitchen, set at an angle that also took advantage of the ocean’s view. The first thing he thought when they walked into the kitchen was that that she had been busy. Several mouthwatering aromas surged through his nostrils and he successfully fought back the grumbling that threatened his stomach.

Both the dining room and kitchen opened to a beautiful courtyard with a stunning swimming pool and a flower garden whose design spread from one area of the yard to the other. Then there was the huge water fountain that sprouted water to a height that seemed to reach the roof.

“Did you live here with your mother?” he asked, moving his gaze over her, taking in the outfit she had chosen to wear today, tropical print tea-length skirt and matching peasant blouse that was as distinctly feminine as she was. The way the skirt flowed over her curves only heightened his sexual desire and made him aware, and very much so, just how much he wanted her.

“Until I left for college,” she said, leading him up the stairs. “When I returned from London I got an apartment, but a year later for my birthday Dad bought me a condo. When he gave me the deed to this place, I moved back.”

Moments later after giving him a tour of the upstairs, she said with excitement in her voice, “Now I must show you the aquarium.”

Once they returned downstairs and rounded corners he saw other rooms-huge rooms for entertaining, a library, a study and room that appeared lined with priceless artwork. He suddenly stopped when he came to a huge portrait hanging on the wall. The man in the painting he recognized immediately, but the woman…

“Your parents?” he asked, staring at the portrait.

“Yes, those are my parents,” he heard Cassie say proudly.

Brandon’s gaze remained on the woman in the portrait. “She’s beautiful,” he said. He was so taken by the woman’s exquisiteness that he took a step closer to the painting. Cassie followed and glanced over at his fixed look and smiled.

“Yes, Mom was beautiful.”

When Cassie began walking away, he strolled beside her, noticing several other photographs of her parents together and some included her. In every one of them John was smiling in a way Brandon had never seen before. To say the man had found true happiness with Ava would be an understatement. The image portrayed on each picture was of a couple who was very much in love, and the ones that included Cassie indicated just how much they loved their daughter, as well.

When they approached another room she stood back to let him enter. His breath literally caught in his throat. On both sides of the narrow but lengthy room were high mahogany cabinets that encased floor-to-ceiling aquariums, each one designed to hide the aquarium frames and waterlines, they were filled with an abundance of tropical and coldwater sea life, seemingly behind a glass wall.

“So what do you think?”

The sound of her voice seemed subdued, but it had a sexy tone just the same. He turned to her. “I think your mother was a very lucky woman to have your father care so deeply to do this for her.”

Cassie chuckled. “Oh, Dad knew what would make Mom happy. She had a degree in marine biology and for years worked as a marine biologist at the largest mineral management company on the island.”

“Your mother worked?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Cassie didn’t seem surprised by his question. “Yes, Mom worked although Dad tried convincing her not to. She enjoyed what she did and she refused to be a kept woman.”

At his raised brow, she explained. “My parents never married. He was already married when they met. However they stayed together for over twenty-eight years.”

Surprised she had shared that, he asked, “And he never got a divorce from his wife?”

“No. I think at one time he intended to do so when their children got older, but by then things were too complicated.”

“Your mother never pushed for a divorce?”

Cassie shook her head. “No. She was comfortable with her place in my father’s life as well as his love for her. She didn’t need a wedding band or a marriage certificate.”

He nodded slowly and deliberately met her gaze when he asked. “What about you? Will you need a wedding band or marriage certificate from a man?”

She grinned. “No, nor do I want one, either. I’m married to the hotel.”

“And what about companionship?” he murmured softly, his head tilting to one side as he gazed intently at her. “And what about the idea and thought of a man being here for you? A person who will be there for you to snuggle up to at night. Someone with whom you can get intimate with?”

If the intent of his latter questions were meant to arouse her, it was definitely working, Cassie thought, when a vivid picture flashed through her mind of the two of them sharing a bed, snuggling, making love. Shivers slid down her body and the passion she saw in his eyes was incredibly seductive, too tempting for her well-being.

Trying to maintain her composure with as much effort as she could, she said, “Those happen to be ideas or thoughts that don’t cross my mind.”

He lifted a dark brow. “They don’t?”

“No.”

“Umm, what a shame.”

“I don’t think so. Now please excuse me a moment. I need to check on dinner.”

She turned and swiftly left the aquarium.

The moment Cassie rounded the corner to her kitchen she paused and leaned against a counter and inhaled deeply. She had quickly left Brandon because her self-confidence would have gotten badly shaken had she stayed.

He had asked questions she’d only recently thought about herself, but only since meeting him. Last night she had gotten her first experience of a real kiss. She had been filled with the intensity of desire and had never felt such passion. And for the first time in her life she had longed for male companionship, someone to snuggle up close to at night. Someone with whom she could make love. The very thought sent heated shivers down her spine.

Grabbing the apron off a nearby rack and tying it around her waist, Cassie moved away from the counter and went to the sink to wash her hands. She then walked over to the stove where she had a pot simmering…the same way she was simmering inside. It was a low heat that if she wasn’t careful, could escalate into a full-fledged flame. And truthfully, she wasn’t ready for that.

Four

Following the smell of a delicious aroma, Brandon tracked his way to the kitchen and suddenly paused. He had seen a lot of feminine beauty in his day, but Cassie Garrison took the cake. Even wearing an apron while standing at a stove stirring a pot, she looked stunning.

She was wearing her hair up but a few errant curls had escaped bondage and were hanging about her ears. Because of her peasant blouse, the top portion of her shoulders was bare and a part of him wanted to cross the room and kiss her, then take his lips and move downward toward her throat and place butterfly kisses along her shoulder blades.

“Something smells good,” he said, deciding to finally speak up to remove such lusty thoughts from his mind.

She turned and smiled and not for the first time he thought she had a pretty pair of lips, ones that had felt well-defined beneath his.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

He chuckled. “I am. I missed lunch today.”

She lifted a brow. “And how did that happen when our brunch buffet is to die for?”

It wouldn’t do to tell her that he had missed lunch because he had gotten a call from one of the Miami Garrisons, namely her brother Stephen. “I can believe that. In the two days I’ve been here I’ve found your hotel staff to be very efficient at everything they do. The reason I missed out on what I’m sure was such a very delicious meal was I got a call from the office on a few things I needed to finalize.”

“Don’t they know you’re on vacation? My father’s rule was to tell the office to hold the calls when you’re taking a much-needed break from work, unless it was an extreme emergency.”

“Sounds like your father was a smart man.”

“He was,” Cassie said proudly as her lips formed into another smile. “You would have liked him.”

I did, Brandon quickly thought. He leaned against one of the many counters in the kitchen and asked. “So what are you cooking?”

“A number of dishes for you to enjoy. Right now I’m stirring the conch chowder. I’ve also prepared crab and rice, baked macaroni and cheese and potato salad. For dessert I decided to give you a taste of my grandmother’s famous recipe of guava duff.”

Brandon felt his lips curve, thinking he wouldn’t mind having a taste of her, too. That thought instantly sent his pulse thumping wildly. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked, thinking the best thing to do to keep his mind from wandering was to get busy.

“Let me see…” She said glancing around the room. “I’ve already washed everything if you want to put the salad together in a bowl.”

Relief swept through him, glad she had found him something to do. If he were to continue to stand there and look at her while having all kinds of sexual thoughts, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.

“Considering my skills in the kitchen, doing what you asked should be reasonably safe,” he said, moving toward the sink to wash his hands.

Moments later he was standing at the counter putting the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and onions in a huge bowl for their tossed salad. Knowing he needed to use all the time he had to get to know her, or to find out everything he could about her, he asked, “So, why are you still single, Cassie?”

“Why are you?”

Brandon could tell by her tone that he had once again put her on the defensive. To counter the effect he decided to be honest with her. “Up to a year ago I was engaged to get married.”

She stopped stirring the pot and slanted him an arch glance. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

He did mind her asking, but since he initiated the discussion, he would provide her an answer. “My fiancée decided a few months before the wedding that I wasn’t everything she needed. I discovered she was unfaithful.”

He watched her expression. First surprise and then regret shone in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, so was I at the time, but I’m glad I found out before the wedding instead of afterward.” Not wanting to discuss Jamie any further, he said, “Salad’s done.”

She turned back to the stove. “So is everything else. Now we can eat.”

Brandon leaned back in his chair after glancing at his plate. It was clean. Cassie hadn’t joked when she’d said she knew her way around a kitchen. Everything, even the yeast rolls that had been so fluffy they almost melted in his mouth, had been totally delicious.

He glanced across the table at her. She was finishing the last of the dessert, something that had also been delectable. “The food was simply amazing, Cassie. Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”

“You’re welcome and I’m glad you enjoyed everything.”

“You never did answer the question I asked earlier, about why you’re still single. Was I out of line in asking?” he asked, studying the contents of his glass before glancing back at her.

She met his gaze. “No, but there’s not a lot to explain. After high school I left home for London to attend college there. I spent my time studying, more so than dating. I didn’t see going to college as a way to escape from my parents and start proclaiming my freedom by exerting all kind of outlandish behavior.”

“You mean you didn’t go to any naked parties? Didn’t try any drugs?” He meant the comment as a joke and he could tell she had taken it that way by the smile he saw in her eyes.

“No, there were no naked parties, no drugs and no eating of fried worms just to fit in with any group.” She grinned and added, “I mostly hung alone and I lived off campus in an apartment. Dad insisted. And the only reason he agreed that I have a roommate was for safety reasons.”

“So you never dated during college?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. “I dated some but I was very selective when I did so. Most of the guys at college enjoyed a very active sex life and didn’t mind spreading that fact or the names of the girls who helped them to reach that status. I didn’t intend to be one of them. I had more respect for myself than that.”

Brandon stared down at his wine, considering all she had said. He then looked back up at her. “Are you saying you’ve never been seriously involved with anyone?”

She smiled warmly. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She paused for a moment before adding softly, “There was someone, a guy I met after college. Jason and I dated and thought things were working out but later discovered they weren’t.”

“What went wrong?”

The memory of that time filled Cassie’s mind and for some reason she didn’t have a problem sharing it with him. “He began changing in a way that wasn’t acceptable to me. He would break our dates and make dumb excuses for doing so. And then out of the clear blue sky one day he broke off with me, and it was then that he told me the reason why. He had taken up with an older woman, a wealthy woman who wanted him as a boy toy, and he felt that was worth kicking aside what I thought we had.”

Brandon stared at her. “How long ago was that?”

“Almost four years ago.”

“Have you seen him at all since that time?” he asked.

She took another sip of her wine and suddenly felt quite warm. “Of course we haven’t dated since then, but yes, I’ve seen him. He was thoughtful enough to attend my mother’s funeral.”

And then Cassie said, “And when I saw him I knew that our breakup was the best thing and I owed him thanks. That was a comforting thought and I no longer could hate him.”

Brandon stared down into his wine, absently twirling the glass between his fingers, wondering if she ever discovered the truth about him-who he was and why he was there-would she end up hating him, too.

“You’ve gotten quiet on me,” she said.

He glanced back up at her, held her gaze and then reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Have I? If so, it’s because I can’t imagine any man letting you go,” he said softly, tightening his hold on her hand.

A shiver ran down Cassie’s spine. She felt the sincerity in Brandon’s words and they touched her. She stared at him, totally aware of his physical presence, and with his hand holding hers she felt his strength. Warmth flooded her from the heat she saw in his eyes and for a tiny moment a wealth of meaning shone in them.

“And while you were telling me about your ex-fiancée,” she said, her eyes holding steady on his face, “I couldn’t help thinking the same thing. I can’t imagine any woman letting you go, either.”

It seemed the room suddenly got quiet. The only sounds were that of their breathing in a seemingly strained and forced tone. And he was still holding her hands and she felt his fingers move as they brushed across her hand in soft, featherlike strokes. The beating of her heart increased and his gaze continued to hold hers. The expression on his face was unreadable but the look in his eyes was not.

He slowly stood and pulled her out of her seat. Wordlessly, he brought her closer to him. Heat was thrumming through her and she drew in a slow breath. She slid her gaze from his eyes and lowered them to his lips. He leaned in closer, inching his mouth closer to hers.

Cassie felt the heat within her intensify just seconds before he brushed his lips across hers, causing a colossal sensation that she felt all the way to her toes, before spreading to areas known and unknown. And when a sigh of pleasure escaped her lips, easing them apart, with a ravenous yet gentle entry he began devouring her mouth.

Brandon felt the rush of blood that started in his head, and when it got to his chest it joined the rapid pounding of his heart. This was what energized passion was all about. And as he deepened the kiss all kind of feelings reverberated through him, searing awareness in his central nervous system. When he took hold of her tongue, he was filled with intense yearning and a craving that for him was unnatural.

He slightly shifted his stance and brought her closer to the fit of him, and to a body that was getting aroused by the minute. By the moans he heard coming from her he could tell she was enjoying the invasion of his tongue. That realization had him sinking deeper and deeper into the taste and texture of her mouth.

Her body pressed against his hard erection, making him want to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the nearest bedroom. He knew it would be sheer madness. And it would also be wrong. She deserved more than a man making love to her for all the wrong reasons, a man who had walked into her life without good intensions. A man who was even now betraying her.

That thought had him ending the kiss but he couldn’t let her go just yet, so he pulled her closer into his arms. How had he allowed himself to get into this situation? How had he let Cassie get to him so quickly and so deeply?

She pulled slightly back, glanced out the window and then back at him and smiled. “Do you want to take a stroll on the beach before it gets too dark?”

“I’d love to,” he said, releasing her.

“It will only take a minute for me to get my shawl. You can wait for me on the terrace if you’d like.”

“All right.”

She shifted to move past him and he suddenly reached out and gently locked his hand on her arm. Then he raised his hands to her hair and brushed back the strands that had fallen in her face. He felt the shiver that touched her body the moment he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her lips. “I’ll be waiting,” he whispered.

A few moments later Cassie quietly slipped out on the terrace to find Brandon standing with his back to her, staring out at the ocean with both hands in the pockets of his trousers.

His stance radiated so much sex appeal it should have been illegal. He seemed to be in deep thought and she couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking about. Had talking about his ex-fiancée opened up old wounds? Having someone you loved betray you wasn’t easy to take. She had discovered that with Jason.

“I’m ready.”

He turned at the sound of her voice and across the brick pavers she met his gaze. He then looked at her from head to toe, zeroing in on her bare feet for a few seconds.

She laughed. “Hey, don’t look surprised. You never walk on the beach with shoes on. That’s an islander rule, so please remove yours.”

He chuckled as he dropped into a wicker chair to take off his shoes and socks. She thought the feet he exposed were as sexy as the rest of him. Placing his socks and shoes aside, he stood and smiled at her. “Happy now?”

“Yes, extremely. Now we can make footprints in the sand.” She held her hand out to him. “Let’s go.”

Brandon took the hand she offered and together they walked down the steps toward the private beach.

“So, tell me about your life in Orlando.”

Her question reminded him of the lies he had planted, as well as those he had to continue to tell. He glanced over at her and asked, “What do you want to know?”

Smiling curiously, she asked, “Is there someone special in your life waiting for your return?”

“No,” he responded with no hesitation. “I date occasionally but there’s no one special.”

Seconds ticked by and when she didn’t say anything he decided to add, “And it isn’t because I mistrust all women because of what my ex-fiancée did. I got over it and moved on. I buried myself in my work because while with her I spent a lot of time away from it. That’s what she wanted and what I thought she needed.”

“But you found it wasn’t?”

“Yes, I found it wasn’t, especially when it wasn’t for the right reason. Jamie had an insecurity complex and I fed into it. But that wasn’t enough. She had to feel doubly safe by having someone else in her life, besides me.”

“Did she not care how that would play out once you discovered the truth?”

He shrugged. “I guess she figured she would never get caught. She even went so far to admit that she would not have given up her lover after we married.”

“Sounds like she was pretty brazen.”

His jaw tightened. “Yes, she was.”

When they reached the end of the shore they stopped and looked out at the ocean. Standing beside her Brandon could feel Cassie’s heat, and even with the scent of the sea he inhaled her fragrance. He allowed the rest of his senses to appreciate her presence, being with her at this time and place.

She turned and flashed him a brilliant smile. “The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and so are you.”

She lowered her head as if to consider his words. She then looked back at him. “Are you always this complimentary with women?”

“No, not always.”

“Then I should feel special.”

“Only because you are.”

She turned and pressed her lithe body against his aroused one, and he was tempted to lower his head and connect to the lips she was so eagerly offering him. Instead he stepped back and said, “I think it’s time for me to leave and go back to the hotel now.”

He saw the questions in her eyes and really wasn’t surprised when she asked, “Why, Brandon?”

He understood her reason for asking. But there was no way he could be completely honest with her. “I don’t think we’re ready for that step yet,” he murmured softly, moving forward to pull her in his arms.

She leaned back and looked at him as her lips curved into a smile. “Are you talking for yourself or for me?”

He ignored the underlying challenge in her words. “I’m trying to be a gentleman and speak for the both of us.”

“I’m a grown woman, Brandon. I can speak and think for myself.”

He looked down at her, studied her eyes and saw the deep rooted stubbornness glaring in them. “I know that, but I want you to trust me to know what’s best for the both of us right now.”

She paused then said, “All right, but only on one condition.”

He raised a dark brow. “And what condition is that?”

“That we have dinner again tomorrow night.”

It was on the tip of Brandon’s tongue to tell her that he was thinking seriously about returning to Miami tomorrow. Parker and Stephen would know soon enough that his mission hadn’t been accomplished. The thought of spending time with Cassie one more night over dinner was something he couldn’t pass up. But then, he would give her an out by suggesting a place she probably wouldn’t go along with.

“Dinner will be fine as long as we can dine at the hotel,” he said.

He was surprised when she nodded and said, “All right.”

Brandon nodded. “Come on, let’s go back.”

When they reached the terrace he stopped and turned to her. “And I might have to go back to the States on Thursday. Something has come up that needs my attention.”

He could see the disappointment in her face and it almost weakened his resolve.

“I understand. I’m a businesswoman, so I know how things can come up when you least expect them to…or want them to.”

He eased down in the wicker chair to put back on his shoes and socks. He waited and then said, “I’m looking forward to having dinner with you tomorrow.”

“So am I.”

He glanced up at her, intrigued by the eagerness in the tone of her voice, and wondered if perhaps she was plotting his downfall. He wanted her with a fierce passion and it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

Brandon stood, knowing it was best for him to leave now. Hanging around could result in more damage than good. “Will you walk me to the door?”

He reached for her hand and she didn’t resist in giving it to him. When they reached her front door he gazed at her, thinking he wouldn’t be forgetting her for a long time. “Thanks again for a beautiful evening and a very delicious dinner.”

The smile that appeared on her face was genuine. “You are welcome.” And then she leaned up on tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his lips. “I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow, Brandon. Please leave a note at the front desk regarding where you want us to meet and when.”

Brandon held her gaze for a moment, and then nodded before turning to walk down the walkway to his car.

Five

Brandon glanced at the table that sat in the middle of the floor. Room service had done an outstanding job of making sure his orders were followed. He wanted Cassie to see the brilliantly set table the moment she arrived.

He had tried contacting Parker earlier today to let him know his trip hadn’t revealed anything about Cassie that they didn’t already know. He shook his head, thinking that he stood corrected on that. There was a lot about her that he knew now that he hadn’t known before, but as far as he was concerned it was all good, definitely nothing that could be used against her.

Parker’s secretary had told him that his friend had taken a couple of days off to take his wife Anna to New York for shopping and a Broadway show, and wouldn’t be returning until the beginning of next week. Brandon couldn’t help but smile every time he thought about how the former Anna Cross had captured the heart of the man who had been one of Miami’s most eligible bachelors and most prominent businessman.

He turned at the sound of the knock on the door and quickly crossed the room. As he’d expected, she was on time. He opened the door to find Cassie standing there, and smiled easily. As usual she looked good. Tonight her hair was hanging around her shoulders. He studied her face and could tell she was wearing very little makeup, which was all that was needed since she had such natural beauty.

His gaze slid down her body. She was no longer wearing the business suit he had seen her in earlier that day when he had caught a glimpse of her before she had stepped into an elevator. Instead she had changed into a flowing, slinky animal-print dress that hugged at the hips before streaming down her figure. A matching jacket was thrown over her arm. A pair of black leather boots were on her feet, but how far up her legs they went he couldn’t tell due to the tea-length of her dress. He knew she was wearing the boots more for a fashion statement than for the weather.

“May I come in?”

He pulled his gaze back to her face and returned her smile. “Yes, by all means.”

Her fragrance filled his nostrils when she strolled by him and after closing the door he stood there and stared at her with his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. He had placed them there so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and pull her into his arms. That temptation was becoming a habit.

“You look nice,” he couldn’t help but say because she did look nice, so nice that he felt the fingers inside his pockets beginning to tingle.

“Thank you. And you look nice yourself.”

When he lifted a skeptical brow he saw her smile widen, and then she said, “You do look nice. I thought that the first time I saw you.”

“That night on the beach?”

“No, that day you checked in to the hotel. I happened to notice you and immediately knew by the way you were dressed that you were an American businessman.”

He nodded, not wanting to get in to all the other things that he was, especially when his conscience was getting pinched. He decided to change the subject. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.” She glanced around and saw the table. “They’ve delivered already?”

Freeing his hands from his pockets, he moved away from the door to cross the room to where she stood. “No, they’ve just set up everything. I didn’t want to take the chance of ordering something you didn’t like.”

He reached for the menu he had placed on the table. “You want to take a look?”

She shook her head. “No, I have every entrée on it memorized.”

He chuckled. “I’m impressed.”

She grinned. “Just one of my many skills. And if I may…”

“And you can.”

“Then I would recommend the Salvador. It’s a special dish that’s a combination of lobster, fish, crawfish and various other seafood that’s stewed and then served over rice.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“It is, but I have to warn you that it’s kind of spicy.”

A smile curved his lips. “I can handle a little bit of spicy. And please make yourself comfortable while I phone room service.”

Cassie placed her jacket across the back of the sofa and sat, crossing her legs. She hadn’t missed the look of male appreciation in Brandon’s eyes when he had opened the door. His already dark gaze had gotten darker and his seductive look had sent heat flowing through her body.

Deciding she needed to cool down, she glanced around. The layout of this suite was similar to one she used whenever she stayed overnight at the hotel. However since hers was an executive suite, it was slightly larger and also had a kitchen, although she never used it.

“Our dinner will be delivered in about thirty to forty-five minutes,” he said, sitting on the sofa beside her and shifting his position to face her. “So, how was your day?”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Crazy. Hurricane Melissa can’t seem to make up her mind which way she wants to go, so we’re taking every precaution. Just yesterday she was headed north, but now she’s in a stall position as if trying to decide if she really wants to go north after all. We had a number of people who decided not to take any chances and have checked out of the hotel already.”

Brandon nodded. He’d been keeping up with the weather reports as well and understood her concern. Being a native of Miami, he had experienced several hurricanes in his lifetime, some more severe than others. Earlier that day he had spoken with his secretary, Rachel Suarez. A Cuban-American, Rachel had been working for his firm for over thirty years, and had started out with his father. When it came to handling things at the office she could hold her own-including the possibility of an oncoming hurricane.

“And if the hurricane comes this way I’m sure your staff knows what to do,” he said, tempted to ease over toward her and run his hands up her legs to see how far up her boots went.

“Trust me, they know the drill. Every employee has to take a hurricane awareness course each year. It prepares them for what to do if it ever comes to that. Dad mandated the training after we went through Hurricane Andrew.”

Brandon remembered Hurricane Andrew, doubted he would ever be able to forget it. It had left most of Miami, especially the area where he had lived, in shambles. “Well, hopefully Lady Melissa will endure a peaceful death before hitting land,” he said mildly.

He then asked, “Would you like anything to drink while we wait? How about a glass of wine?”

“That would be nice. Thanks.”

He stood and Cassie watched as he did so. She watched him walk across the room, thinking he was so sinfully handsome it was a shame. His gray trousers and white shirt were immaculate, tailored to fit his body to perfection. Last night he had done the gentlemanly thing and had stopped anything from escalating further between them, and after he had left her home she had felt grateful. Now she felt a sense of impending loss. He would be leaving tomorrow and chances where they would never see each other again.

For the past two days she had felt alive and in high spirits, something she hadn’t felt in the last five months-and all because of him. He hadn’t pushed for an affair with her. In fact when he’d had a good opportunity to go for a hit, he had walked away. Had he exerted the least bit of pressure, she would have gladly taken him into her bed. There had never been a man who’d had her entertaining the idea of a casual fling before. But Brandon Jarrett had.

“Here you are.”

She looked up. Their gazes connected and she reached out to take the wineglass he offered, struggling to keep her fingers from trembling. “Thanks.” She immediately took a sip, an unladylike gulp was more like it. She needed it. The heat within her was intensifying.

“You okay?”

She favored him with a pleasing smile. “Yes, I’m fine.” She held on to the look in his eyes and then asked, “And are you okay?”

He returned her smile. “Yes.”

She lowered her head to take another sip of her drink, trying to ignore the towering figure standing in front of her. She sensed his movement away from her, but refused to lift her head just yet to see where he had gone. Moments later when she did so, she drew in a quick breath. He was standing across the room with a wineglass in his hand, leaning against the desk and staring at her. Not just staring, but he seemed to be stirring up the heat already engulfing her. Then there were pleasure points that seemed to be touching various parts of her body. She was a sensible woman but at the moment she felt insensible, deliriously brazen. She knew what she wanted but inwardly debated being gutsy enough to get it. But then, as awareness flowed between them, she was compelled to do so.

With his eyes still holding hers, she stood and slowly began crossing the room to him. His strength, as well as his heat, was filtering across to her, touching her everywhere, and putting her in a frame of mind to do things she’d never done before. He watched her every step, just as she watched how the darkness of his eyes did nothing to cloak the desire in his gaze. It was desire that she felt in every angle of her body, in every curve and especially in the juncture of her legs. Especially there.

When she reached him she stood directly in front of him, still feeling his strength and heat, and still radiating in desire. With great effort she held on to the wineglass in her hand, needing another sip to calm her nerves, to quench her heat.

She lifted the glass to her lips and after taking a quick sip, Brandon reached out and took the glass from her, leaned in and placed his lips where the glass had been.

Brandon’s heart was pounding furiously in his chest and every muscle in his body ached. Fire was spreading through his loins and a quivering sensation was moving through him at a rapid pace. Her mouth had opened beneath his and he tasted her with a ravenous hunger that was gripping him, conquering with a need he could no longer contain.

Pulling back, he placed both of their glasses on the table, and with his hands now free he took her into his arms and quickly went back to kissing her with a passion that was searing through him. With very little effort his mouth coaxed her to participate. Once he took hold of her tongue, he strived to reach his goal of ultimate satisfaction for the both of them.

What they were exchanging was a sensual byplay of tongues that was meant to excite and arouse. Their bodies were pressed so close that he could feel the tips of her breasts rub against his chest. He could feel the front of her cradle his erection in a way that had his heartbeat quickening and his body getting harder. A need to make her his was seeping through every pore. He lowered his hand and pulled her even closer to his aroused frame, as he was in serious danger of becoming completely unraveled.

She pulled back and breathed in deeply, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. It only took a look into her eyes to see the fire burning in their depths. That look made him feel light-headed. The room seemed to be revolving, making him dizzy with smoldering desire. The experience was both powerful and dangerous. His lungs released a shuttering breath and a part of him knew he should do what he’d done last night and walk away. But his wants and needs had him glued to the spot.

And then she rose on tiptoe and whispered. “Make love to me, Brandon.”

Her words, spoken in a sexy breath, broke whatever control he had left, every single thread of it. With a surge of desire that had settled in his bones, he swept her off her feet and into his arms and headed straight for the bedroom.

Cassie’s heart began thumping in her chest when Brandon placed her on the king-size four-poster bed. And when he stood back and gave her that look, like she was a morsel he was ready to devour, she automatically squeezed her legs together to contain the heat flowing between them. There was an intensity, a desperation bursting within her, but not for any man. Just this one.

Since meeting him she hadn’t been able to put him out of her mind. Even as crazy as today had been, periodically he had found a way to creep into her thoughts. And she had felt herself getting flushed when she thought about the kisses they had shared. The memories had been unsettling on one hand and then soothing on the other. His kisses had easily aroused her and had made every nerve in her body quiver…like they were doing now.

She watched as he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt before shrugging broad shoulders to remove it. Her gaze zeroed in on his naked chest and suddenly her mind began indulging in fantasies of placing kisses all over it. She held her breath watching, waiting for him to start taking off his pants. However, instead of doing so, he walked back over to the bed.

“Do you know what I want to know? What I have to know?” he asked, staring at her from top to bottom.

Her mind went blank. She didn’t have a clue. “What,” she murmured, feeling the sexual tension that had overtaken the room.

“I have to know how far up your legs those boots go.”

That definitely was not what she had expected him to say and couldn’t help but smile. “Why don’t you find out,” she challenged silkily.

Brandon took a couple of steps toward the bed, reached out and slowly raised her dress. He sucked in a deep breath as he lifted it higher and higher. The top of the boots ended just below her knee, giving him a tantalizing view of her thighs.

“Satisfied?”

He shifted his gaze from her legs and thighs back to her face. “Partially. But I will be completely satisfied in a moment.”

Cassie swallowed when Brandon unzipped her boots and began removing them, taking the time to massage her legs and ankles and the bottom of her feet. “Do you want to know something else?” he asked her.

“What?”

“I stayed awake most of the night just imagining all the things I’d like doing to you if ever given the chance,” he said in a husky tone.

“Now you have the chance.”

He smiled. “I know.” He took a step back. “Scoot over here for a second.”

She eased across the bed to him on her knees and he tugged her dress over her head, leaving her clad in a black satin bra and a pair of matching panties. He tossed the dress aside with an expression on his face denoting he was very pleased with what he had done.

Cassie was very pleased with what he had done, too. “Not fair,” she said sulkily. “You have on more clothes than I do.”

He chuckled. “Not for long.” His hands went to the snap on his pants.

Reasonably satisfied with his answer, as well as more than satisfied with what she was seeing, Cassie watched as Brandon begin easing down his zipper, her gaze following every movement of his hand. This wasn’t her first time with a man, but it had been a while. And this was the first time one had gotten her so keyed up. What she was seeing was sending shivers rippling down her spine.

She nearly groaned when he stepped out of his pants. The only thing covering his body was a pair of very sexy black briefs-briefs that could barely support his huge erection, but were trying like hell to do so. She stared when he removed them. Then she blinked and stared some more. And in a move that was as daring as anything she had ever done, she scooted to the edge of the bed, reached out and stroked over his stomach with her hand before moving it lower to cup him.

She glanced up when she heard his sharp intake of breath. “Am I hurting you?” she asked softly, as she continued to fondle him in a way she had never done with a man before. Even with Jason she hadn’t been this bold.

“No, you’re not hurting me but you are torturing me,” she heard Brandon say through clenched teeth. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Yes, let me show you.” He reached his hands behind her back and undid her bra clasp. He eased off her bra and tossed it aside and his hands immediately went to her naked breasts. And then he began stroking her as precisely and methodically as she was stroking him. A startled gasp erupted from her throat when he took things just a little further and leaned over and caught a nipple between his lips.

Suddenly, she understood the difference between pain and torture. She understood it and she felt it. This was torture of the most exhilarating kind. It was the type that filled you with an all-consuming need, an intense sexual craving. When he switched his mouth to the other breast she released a deep moan, thinking his tongue was wonderfully wicked.

“I can’t take much more,” she muttered in an abated breath.

“That makes two of us,” he said, lifting his head. “But I’m not through with you yet.”

He moved to grab his pants off the floor, pulled a condom packet from his wallet and put it on. He then eased her back on the bed and gently grabbed a hold of her hips to remove her panties. She heard the deep throated growl when she became completely bare to his view. She saw the look in his eyes; felt the intensity of his gaze, and immediately knew where his thoughts were going. He glanced at her, gave her one hungry, predatory smile and before she could draw in her next breath he lifted her hips to his mouth.

Cassie screamed out his name the moment his tongue invaded her and she grabbed on to the bedspread, knowing she had to take a hold of something. He was taking her sensuality to a whole new dimension and shattering her into a million pieces, bringing on the most intense orgasm ever. She continued writhing under the impact of his mouth while sensations tore through her. And while her body was still throbbing, he pulled back and shifted his body in position over hers. Their gazes locked, held, while he eased into her, joining their bodies as one.

Brandon sucked in sharply as he continued to sink deeper and deeper into Cassie’s body, fulfilling every fantasy he’d had about her. Securing his hips over hers he then used both hands to lock in her hair as he lowered his head to capture her mouth. He began rocking against her, thrusting into her as she gave herself to him, holding nothing back. He felt her inner muscles clench him, while a whirlwind of emotions washed over the both of them.

“Brandon!”

When he felt her come apart under him, he followed suit and exploded inside of her. He felt heaven. He felt overwhelmed. He felt a degree of sensuality that he knew at that moment could only be shared with her.

Moments later he gathered her closer into his arms, their breathing hard, soft, then hard again. He slowly moved his hand to caress her thigh and stomach, still needing to touch her in some way.

Deep down Brandon knew he should not have made love to her without first telling her the truth of who he was and why he was there. He didn’t want to think about how she would react to the news and hopefully, she would hear him out and give him time to explain. More than anything, she deserved his honesty. “Cassie?”

It took her a long time to catch her breath to answer. “Yes?” She lifted slightly and looked at him for a moment before saying, “Please don’t tell me that you regret what we shared, Brandon.”

He shook his head. Boy, was she way off. “I have no regrets but there’s something I need to tell you.”

She lifted a brow. “What?”

He opened his mouth to speak at the exact moment there was a knock on the door. A part of him felt temporary relief. “Dinner has arrived. We can talk later.”

Like Cassie had said it would be, dinner was delicious. But it would be hard for any man to concentrate on anything when he had a beautiful woman sitting across from him wearing nothing but a bathrobe. And the knowledge that she was stark naked underneath was not helping matters.

He had assumed, when he had slipped back into his shirt and trousers to open the door for room service, that she would put back on her clothes, as well. He had been mildly surprised, but definitely not disappointed, when she had appeared after the food was delivered wearing one of the hotel’s complimentary bath robes.

Deciding to take his mind off his dinner guest and just what he would love to do to her…again, he glanced out the French doors and onto the terrace. In the moonlight he could tell that the ocean waves were choppy and by the way the palm trees were swaying back and forth, he knew there was a brisk breeze in the air. Even if Hurricane Melissa decided not to come this way, she was still stirring up fuss.

“Brandon?”

He glanced over at Cassie. She had said his name with a sensual undercurrent, making him get aroused again, especially when he saw the top of her robe was slightly opened, something she’d evidently taken the time to do while he had been looking out the French doors. A smile tugged at his lips. She was trying to tempt him and he had no complaints. In fact, he more than welcomed her efforts. When it came to her he was definitely easy. “Yes?”

“Right before dinner you said you needed to talk to me about something.”

He nodded. He had dismissed the thought of discussing anything over dinner. The last thing he’d wanted was the entire meal flung at his head. And in a way he didn’t want to talk about anything now since he knew how the evening would end once he did so. But he couldn’t overlook the fact that he owed her the truth.

She was giving him a probing look, waiting on his response. He was about to come clean and tell her everything when a cell phone went off. From the sound of the ringer he knew it wasn’t his and she jumped up and walked quickly to grab her purse off the sofa and pulled her cell phone out.

“Yes?” After a few moments she said, “All right, Simon. Let me know if anything changes.” Cassie held the phone in her hand for a moment before putting it back in her purse.

“Bad news?”

She glanced up and met Brandon’s gaze. “Nothing that surprises me. Forecasters predict Hurricane Melissa will escalate to a category three whenever she makes it to shore.”

Brandon nodded. “So she’s moving again?”

“No, she’s still out in the Atlantic gaining strength. Wherever she decides to land is in for a rough time.”

And more than anyone Cassie knew what that meant. Because of the uncertainty, more people would be checking out of the hotel. She really didn’t blame them and didn’t begrudge anyone who put their safety first. But that also meant chances were Brandon would be leaving tomorrow, as well, possibly earlier in the day than he had planned. If Hurricane Melissa turned its sights toward the Bahamas, the airports would be closing, which wouldn’t be good news to a lot of people.

Today things at the hotel had been crazy, but she had a feeling tomorrow things would get even crazier. She would probably be too busy to spend any time with Brandon before he left, which meant tonight was all they had. The thought of never seeing him again pricked her heart more than she imagined it would. And she knew what she wanted. She wanted memories that would sustain her after he left. They would be all she would have in the wee hours of the morning when she would want someone to snuggle close to, someone to make love to her the way he had done earlier. Those nights when she would ache from wanting the hard feel of him inside of her, she would have her memories.

He had said that he had something to tell her and a part of her had an idea just what that something was. A disclaimer that stated spending time with her, sharing a bed with her, had been an enjoyable experience, but he had to move on and he wouldn’t keep in touch. She couldn’t resent him for it because he hadn’t made any promises, nor had he offered a commitment. What they were sharing was an island fling and nothing else and chances were he wanted to make sure she understood that.

She did.

And she wouldn’t have any regrets when he left. Knowing all of that, she knew what she wanted. More than anything, tonight she wanted to spend the rest of her time making love and not talking.

Deciding not to be denied what she wanted, and knowing his eyes were on her, she untied the sash at her waist to remove her robe and dropped it where she stood. She brazenly moved to cross the room to him stark naked. He stood and began removing his clothes, as well. For the second time that night she felt daring and the look in his eyes while he pulled a condom out of his pocket and put it on over his huge erection, once again made her feel desirable.

They stood in front of each other completely naked and their mouths within inches of each other, emanated intense heat. He leaned down and captured her mouth. Unlike earlier that night, there was nothing gentle about this kiss. It conveyed a hunger that she felt as he plunged deeply and thoroughly in her mouth, at the same time he wrapped her arms tightly around her. His taste was spicy and reminded her of the food they’d eaten for dinner. The flavor of him exploded against her palate when her tongue began tangling with his.

Her body began quivering, all the way to her bones, and she felt heat collect in the area between her legs. Only Brandon could bring her to this state, escalating her need for passion of the most intense kind. She felt the powerful beating of his heart in his chest, sending vibrations through her breasts, tantalizing her nipples and making them throb, the same way she was throbbing in the middle.

She pulled back, hauled in a gasping breath, and before she could recover, he began walking her backward toward the sofa. She was glad when they finally made it there since her knees felt like they would give out at any moment. She sank back against the sofa cushions, and then he was there, his mouth and hands everywhere, and it took all she had not to give into the earth-shaking pleasure and scream.

And then he did the unexpected, he pulled her up with him turning her so her back pressed against his chest. He leaned over and began placing kisses along her throat and neck while his hand moved up and down her stomach before capturing her breasts in his hand. He cupped them, gently squeezed them, teased her sensitive nipples to harden beneath his fingertips.

“Open your legs for me.” He murmured the request hotly against her ear while his hands moved from her breasts and traveled lower to the area between her legs. He stroked her while breathing heavily in her ear. Electric currents, something similar to bolts of lightning, slammed through her with his touch. Moments later another orgasm exploded within her but she had a feeling he wasn’t through with her yet.

“Lean forward and hold on to the back of the sofa,” he said with a raw, intense sexuality in his breath.

As soon as she stretched her arms out and grabbed hold of the sofa, she felt him grind the lower part of his body against her. He took his hands and tilted her hips before easing his shaft into her. He went deep, and she felt him all the way to her womb.

“Brandon!”

He began thrusting back and forth inside of her, sending sensations rippling all through her. Establishing a rhythm that was splintering her apart both inside and out, he grabbed hold of her breasts again and used his fingertips and thumb to drive her over the edge.

She cried out his name when her body exploded and when he plunged deeper inside of her she could feel the exact moment an explosion hit him, as well. She groaned when a searing assault was made on her senses, and when he pulled her head back and took control of her mouth she felt his possession.

Before she could get a handle on that feeling, she felt him scoop her into his arms and carry her into the bedroom.

The ringing phone woke Cassie and, instinctively, she reached over and picked it up. When she heard Brandon’s voice engaged in a conversation with someone, she quickly recalled where she was and realized that he had gotten out of the bed earlier to take a shower and had picked up the bathroom’s phone.

She was about to hang up when she recognized the voice of the man he was talking to. She immediately sat up straight in bed, knowing she was right when she head Brandon call the man by name. Why would Brandon be talking to Parker Garrison? How did they even know each other? Just what was going on?

Hanging up the phone, she angrily slipped out of bed. Ignoring the soreness in the lower part of her body, she glanced around, looking for her clothes, and hurriedly began putting them on. Her mind was spinning with a thousand questions as she tried getting her anger under control. She had just tugged her dress over her head when she heard Brandon enter the room.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

She swung around after pulling her dress down her body. Trembling with rage, she tried remaining calm as she crossed the room to face Brandon. A part of her didn’t want to believe that this man, who had tenderly made love to her last night, who had taken her to the most sensuous heights possible in his arms, could be anything other than what she saw. Utterly beautiful. The epitome of a perfect gentleman, who was thoughtful and kind.

Something in her eyes must have given her away, and when he reached for her hand, she took a step back. “What’s wrong, Cassie?” he asked in a voice filled with concern.

Instead of answering his question she had one of her own. Swallowing the lump she felt in her throat and with a back that was ramrod straight, she asked, “How do you know Parker Garrison, Brandon?”

Six

There was a long silence as Brandon and Cassie stood there, staring at each other. Tension in the room was thick, almost suffocating. Brandon inhaled deeply, wishing like hell that he’d told her the truth last night as he had intended and not have her find out on her own. Apparently, she had listened to his phone conversation long enough to know the caller had been Parker.

“I asked you a question, Brandon. How do you know Parker?”

Her sharp tone cut into his thoughts and he could tell from her expression that she was beginning to form her own opinions about things. He didn’t want that. He took another deep breath before saying, “He’s a client.”

She turned her face from him with the speed of someone who had been slapped and the motion made his heart turn over in his chest. He had hurt her. He could actually feel it. The thought that he had done that to her appalled him and at that moment he felt lower than low. “Cassie, I-”

“No,” she snapped, turning back to him.

She reached up as if to smooth a strand of hair back from her face, but he actually saw her quickly swipe back a tear. Brandon winced.

“And just what do you do for Parker, Brandon? Are you his hit man? Since I’m not being cooperative did he decide to do away with me all together?”

“I’m his attorney, Cassie,” he asserted, his brows drawing together in a deep frown, not liking what she’d said.

“His attorney?” she whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief.

His stomach tightened when he saw the color drain from her face. “Yes,” he said softly. “I represent Garrison, Inc.”

She didn’t say anything for a few moments but the shocked eyes staring at him appeared as jagged glass. Then they appeared to turn into fire. “Is Brandon Jarrett even your real name?” she blurted.

He exhaled a long breath before answering. “Yes, but not my full name. It’s Brandon Jarrett Washington.”

Cassie frowned. She recalled seeing the name of Washington and Associates law firm on a letterhead sent to her on Parker’s behalf a few months ago when she had refused to acknowledge any more of his phone calls. “I should have known,” she said with anger in her voice. “Anything that’s too good to be true usually isn’t true. So what sort of bonus did Parker offer you to make me change my mind about the buyout? He evidently told you to succeed by using any means necessary. You wasted your time in law school since you would make a pretty good gigolo.”

“Don’t say that, Cassie.”

“Don’t say it?” she repeated as intense anger radiated from every part of her. “How dare you tell me not to. You came here pretending to be someone you are not, to get next to me, to sleep with me to change my mind because Parker paid you to do it?”

“That’s not the way it was.”

“Oh? Then what way was it, Brandon? Are you saying you didn’t come here with me as your target, and our meeting had nothing to do with Parker wanting me to give up my controlling share of the company?”

Brandon felt the floor beneath him start to cave in, but he refused to lie. “Yes, but that changed once I got to know you.”

That wasn’t good enough for Cassie. She shook her head and began backing away from him. She felt both hurt and anger when she thought of all the time they had spent together, all the things they had done. And all of it had been nothing more than calculated moves on his part.

That realization filled her with humiliation. “You bastard! How dare you use me that way! I want you out of here. Out of my hotel,” she all but screamed. “And you can go back and tell Parker that your mission wasn’t accomplished. Hell will freeze two times over before I give him anything!”

It only took her a minute to snatch her boots off the floor and then she stormed past him and went to the sofa to grab her jacket and purse. Brandon was right on her heels.

“Listen, Cassie, please let me explain. I told Parker just now that I was going to tell you the truth.”

She whirled on him. “You’re lying!”

“No, I’m not lying, Cassie. I tried telling you the truth last night.”

“It doesn’t matter. You lied to me, Brandon, and I won’t forget it. And I meant what I said. I want you out of my hotel or I will order that my staff put you out.”

With that said and without taking the time to put on her boots, a barefoot Cassie opened the door and raced out of the suite.

Brandon studied the roadway as he drove toward Cassie’s home, barely able to see due to the intense rain pouring down. By the time he had made it out of the suite after Cassie, she had gotten into her car and driven off. He had gone back inside and done as she’d demanded by packing, and within the hour he had checked out.

He had called his pilot to cancel his flight off the island. He refused to leave the Bahamas until he had a chance to talk to her again, to clear himself. Nothing mattered other than getting her to believe that although his intentions might not have been honorable when he’d arrived on the island, after getting to know her, he had known he could not go through with it. And he had tried telling her the truth last night.

But deep down he knew that none of that excused his behavior in her eyes. He also knew that she had a right to be angry and upset. He owed her an apology, which he intended to give her, and nothing would stop him from doing so. Not even the threat that Hurricane Melissa now posed since she had decided to head in this direction.

The hotel had been in chaos with people rushing to check out. No one wanted to remain on an island that was in the hurricane’s path. But even with all the commotion, Cassie’s staff had everything under control and was doing an outstanding job of keeping everyone calm and getting them checked out in a timely manner. For Cassie to be at home and not at the hotel was a strong indication of how upset she was and just how badly he had hurt her.

He inhaled a deep sigh of relief when he pulled into Cassie’s driveway and saw her car was there. He hoped she had no intentions of going back out in this weather. From the report he’d heard on the car’s radio, the authorities were saying it wasn’t safe to travel and were asking people to stay off the roads since there had been a number of major auto accidents.

He glanced at her house when he brought the car to a stop. Judging the distance from where he was to her front door, chances were he would be soaked to the skin by the time he made it, but that was the least of his concerns. He needed to clear things up between them and he refused to entertain the thought that she wouldn’t agree to listen to what he had to say.

He opened the car door and made a quick dash for the door. The forecasters still weren’t certain if Hurricane Melissa would actually hit the island or just come close to crossing over it. Regardless of whether it was a hit or a miss, this island was definitely experiencing some of the effects of her fury. He was totally drenched by the time he knocked on Cassie’s door. He had changed into a pair of jeans and the wet denim material seemed to cling to his body, almost squeezing him.

The door was snatched open and he could tell from Cassie’s expression that she was both shocked and angry to see him. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to come here.”

“I’m here because you and I need to talk.”

“Wrong, I have nothing to say to you and I would advise you to leave,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We have a lot to say and I can’t leave.”

She glared at him. “And why not?”

“The weather. The police asked drivers to get off the road. If I go back out in that I risk the chance of having an accident.”

Her glare hardened. “And you think I care?”

“Yes, because if there’s one thing I’ve discovered about you over the past few days, it’s that you are a caring person, Cassie, and no matter what kind of asshole you undoubtedly think I am, you would not send me to my death.”

She leaned closer and got right in his face. “Want to bet?”

From the look in her eyes, the answer was no. At that particular moment he didn’t want to bet, but he would take a chance. “Yes.”

She glared at him some more. “I suggest that you go sit in your car until the weather improves for you to leave. You’re not welcome in my home.”

“If I do that then I run the risk of catching pneumonia in these wet clothes.”

Evidently fed up with what she considered nonsense, she was about to slam the door in his face when he blocked it with his hand. “Look, Cassie, I’m not leaving until you hear me out, nor will I leave the island until you do. If you refuse to do so here today then whenever you go back to the hotel I’ll make a nuisance of myself until you do agree to see me.”

“Try it and I’ll call the police,” she snapped.

“Yes, you could do that, but imagine the bad publicity it will give the hotel. I’d think the last thing you’ll want for the Garrison Grand-Bahamas is that.” He knew what he’d said had hit a nerve. That would be the last thing she would want.

Except for the force of the rain falling, there was long silence as she stonily stared at him before angrily stepping aside. “Say what you have to say and leave.”

When he walked across the threshold he glanced around and saw what she’d been doing before she’d come to answer the door. She had been rolling the hurricane shutters down to cover the windows. “Where’s your staff?”

She glared at him. “Not that it’s any of your business but I sent them home before the weather broke. I didn’t want them caught out in it.”

“But you have no qualms sending me back out in it,” he said, meeting her gaze.

“No, I don’t, so what does that tell you?” she stormed.

He crossed his arms across his chest and gave her a glare of his own. “It tells me that we really do need to talk. But first I’ll help you get the shutters in place.”

Cassie blinked. Was he crazy? She had no intention of him helping her do anything. “Excuse me. I don’t recall asking for your help,” she said sharply.

“No, but I intend to help anyway,” he said, heading toward the window in the living room.

She raced after him. “I only let you in to talk, Brandon.”

“I know,” he agreed smoothly, over his shoulder. “But we can talk later. A hurricane might be headed this way and John would roll over in his grave if he thought I’d leave his daughter defenseless,” he said, taking hold of the lever to work the shutter into place.

A puzzled frown crossed Cassie’s brow and she stopped in her tracks. “You knew my father?”

He glanced over at her, knowing he would be completely honest with her from here on out and would tell her anything she wanted to know, provided it wasn’t privileged information between attorney and client. “Yes, I knew John. I’ve known him all my life. He and my father, Stan Washington, were close friends, and had been since college.”

He saw the surprised look in her eyes seconds before she asked, “Stan Washington was your father?”

“Yes. You’d met him?” he asked, moving to another window.

“I’ve known him all my life, as well,” she said. “But I never knew anything personal about him other than he and Dad were close friends. He was the person Mom knew to contact if an emergency ever came up and she needed to reach Dad.”

Brandon nodded. He figured his father had been. As close a friendship as the two men shared, Brandon had been certain his father had known about John’s affair with Ava. Besides that, Stan had been the one who’d drawn up John’s will and who had handled any legal matters dealing with the Garrison Grand-Bahamas exclusively. Once Cassie had taken ownership of the hotel she had retained her own attorneys.

“What about all the other windows?” he asked, after securing the shutters in place.

“I had my housekeeping staff help me with them before they left.”

“Good,” he murmured as he glanced over at her. She was still barefoot but had changed into a pair of capri pants and a blouse. And like everything else he’d ever seen on her body, she looked good. But then she looked rather good naked, too.

“Now you can have your say and leave.”

His eyes moved from her body to her face. He had been caught staring and she wasn’t happy about it, probably because she had an idea what thoughts had passed through his mind.

“I’d think my help just now has earned me a chance to get out of these clothes.”

Her back became ramrod straight. “You can think again!”

He suddenly realized how that might have sounded. “Calm down, Cassie,” he said, running his hand down his face. “That’s not what I meant. I was suggesting it would be nice to get out of these wet things so you can dry them for me. Otherwise, I might catch pneumonia.”

Cassie bit down on her lip to keep from telling him that when and if he caught pneumonia she hoped he died a slow, agonizing death, but then dished the thought from her mind. She wasn’t a heartless or cruel person, although he was the last human being on earth who deserved even a drop of her kindness.

“Fine,” she snapped. “The laundry room is this way,” she said, walking out of the room knowing he had to walk briskly to keep up with her. “And I suggest you stay in that room until your clothes are dry.”

“Why? Don’t you have a towel I could use while they’re drying?”

She shot a look at him that said he was skating on thin ice and it was getting thinner every minute. “I have plenty of towels but I prefer not seeing you parade around in one.”

“Okay.”

She abruptly stopped walking and turned to face him. “Look, Brandon. Apparently everything you’ve done in the last three days was nothing but a joke to you but I hope you don’t see me laughing. You don’t even see me smiling.”

The humor that had been in Brandon’s eyes immediately faded. When he spoke again his voice was barely audible. “No, I don’t think the last three days were a joke, Cassie. In fact I think they were the most precious I’ve ever spent in my entire life. The only thing I regret is coming to this island thinking you were someone you are not and because of it, I screwed up something awful. The only thing I can do is be honest with you now.”

She refused to let his words affect her in any way. There was no way she could trust him again. “It really doesn’t matter what you say when we talk, Brandon. I won’t be able to get beyond the fact that you deliberately deceived me.”

“Not all of it was based on deceit, Cassie. When I made love to you it was based on complete sincerity. Please don’t ever think that it wasn’t.”

“You used me,” she flung out with intense anger in her voice.

He reached out and gently touched the cleft in her chin and said in a low voice, “No, I made love to you, Cassie. I gave you more of myself than I’ve ever given another woman, freely, unselfishly and completely. “

Knowing if she didn’t take a step back from him she would weaken, she said, “The laundry room is straight ahead and on your right. And since you’re so terrified of catching pneumonia, there’s a linen closet with towels in that room. But I’m warning you to stay put until your clothes dry. I have enough to do with my time than worry about a half-naked man parading through my house. I need to fill all the bathtubs with water in case I lose electricity.”

“And if you do lose electricity, the thought of being here in the dark won’t bother you?”

“For your information, I won’t be here. As soon as your clothes dry and you have your say, I’m going to the hotel to help out there.”

“You’re going out in that weather?” he asked in a disbelieving tone.

“I believe that’s what I said,” she said smartly.

“Weren’t you listening when I said the authorities are asking people to stay off the streets?” he asked incredulously, refusing to believe anyone could be so pigheaded and stubborn.

She lifted her chin. “Yes, I was listening with as much concentration as you were when I was telling you to leave.” She narrowed her eyes and then said, “Now if you will excuse me, I have things to do. When your clothes are dry and you’re fully dressed again, you should be able to find me in the living room.”

Narrowing his eyes, Brandon watched as she turned and walked away.

Cassie kept walking on shaky legs, refusing to give in to temptation and glance over her shoulder to look at Brandon once again. The man was unsettling in the worst possible way and the last thing she needed was having him here under her roof, especially when the two of them were completely alone.

She shook her head. At least he was taking off those wet jeans. She hadn’t missed seeing how they had fit his body like a second layer of skin. She was glad he hadn’t caught her staring at him when he had been putting the shutters up to the windows. Every time he had moved his body her eyes had moved with it. Not only had his wet jeans hugged his muscular thighs but they had shown what a nice tush he had, as well as a flat, firm stomach.

She sighed deeply, disgusted with herself. How could she still find the man desirable after what he had done? And she’d had no intention of accepting his help with the shutters but he hadn’t given her a choice in the matter. He did just whatever he wanted. Even now his behavior and actions were totally unacceptable to her.

After filling up all the bathtubs and making sure there were candles in appropriate places and extra batteries had been placed beside her radio, she called the hotel. Simon had assured her that he had everything under control and for her to stay put and not try to come out in the weather. The majority of the people who had wanted to leave had checked out of the hotel without a hitch. The ones that had remained would ride the weather out at the Garrison Grand-Bahamas. If the authorities called for a complete evacuation of the hotel, then they would use the hotel’s vans to provide transportation to the closest shelters that had been set up. Simon had insisted that she promise that if needed, she would leave her home and go to the nearest shelter, as well.

Satisfied her staff had everything under control, she walked into the living room, over to the French doors and glanced out. The ocean appeared fierce and angry, and the most recent forecast she’d heard-at least the most positive one-said that Melissa would weaken before passing over the Bahamas. But Cassie had lived on the island long enough to know there was also a chance the hurricane would intensify once it reached land as well.

She glanced up at the sky. Although it was mid-afternoon the sky had darkened to a velvet black and the clouds were thickening. Huge droplets of rain were drenching the earth and strong, gusty winds had trees swaying back and forth. She rubbed her arms, feeling a slight chill in the air. Even if Melissa did become a category four, Cassie wasn’t afraid of losing her home. Her father had built this house to withstand just about anything.

Except pain.

It seemed those words filtered through her mind on a whisper. And she hung her head as more pain engulfed her, disturbed by the emotions that were scurrying through her. She drew in a deep breath, thinking she hadn’t shed a single tear for what Jason had done to her, yet earlier today she had cried for the pain Brandon had caused her. Inwardly her heart was still crying.

Cassie lifted her head. She smelled Brandon’s scent even before she actually heard him. She knew he was there and had known the exact moment he had entered the room. However, she wasn’t ready to turn around yet, at least not until she had her full coat of armor in place. For a reason she was yet to understand, Brandon Jarrett Washington had gotten under her skin and even with all the anger she felt toward him, he was still embedded there.

“Cassie?”

She stiffened when the sound of his voice reached her. She tried ignoring the huskiness of his tone and the goose bumps that pricked her skin. Saying a silent prayer for strength, as well as the retention of her common sense, she slowly turned around. Because all the windows were protected by shutters, the room appeared slightly dark, yet she was able to make him out clearly. He stood rigid in the doorway and thankfully, fully dressed. He took a step into the room and heat coursed through her, and to her way of thinking she might have been thankful way too soon.

Although she didn’t want to admit it, even in dry jeans and a shirt, Brandon looked the picture of a well-developed man. And she was reacting to his presence in a way she didn’t want to and that realization was very disconcerting. The silence shrouding them within the room was a stark contradiction to the fury of the storm that was raging outside.

She tightened her hands into fists at her side when he slowly crossed the room to her. His gaze continued to touch hers when he reached out his hand to her and said in a soft voice, “Come, Cassie, let’s sit on the sofa and talk.”

Seven

Cassie glanced down at the hand Brandon was offering her. That hand had touched her all over last night, as well as participated in their no-holds-barred lovemaking. Finding out about his betrayal had hurt and she wasn’t ready to accept anything he offered her. She would listen to what he had to say and that would be it.

Refusing to accept his hand, she returned her gaze to his face and said, “You can sit on the sofa. I’ll take the chair.” Her lips tightened when she moved across the room to take her seat.

Brandon was still considering Cassie’s actions just now when he headed toward the sofa. It was apparent she didn’t intend to make things easy for him and he could accept that. He had wronged her and it would be hard as hell to make things right. He wasn’t even sure it was something that could be done, but he would try. Nervous anxiety was trying to set in but he refused to let it. Somehow he had to get her to understand.

Once he was settled on the sofa he glanced over at her, but she was looking everywhere but at him. That gave him a chance to remember how she had looked that first night he’d seen her on the beach. Even before knowing who she was, he had been attracted to her, had wanted to get to know her, get close to her and make love to her.

He shifted in his seat. Intense desire was settling in his loins, blazing them beyond control. Now was not a good time for such magnetism and he figured if she were to notice, she wouldn’t appreciate it. Not needing any more trouble on his plate than was already there, he shifted on the sofa again and found a position that made that part of his body less conspicuous, although his desire for her didn’t decrease any.

“Before you get started would you like something to drink?”

He glanced up and met her gaze, surprised she would offer him anything. “Yes, please.”

She left the room and that gave him a few moments to think. In a way it was a strange twist of fate that had brought him and Cassie together. Their fathers’ friendship had extended from college to death and unless he cleared up this issue between them, he and Cassie could very well become bitter enemies. He didn’t want that and was unwilling to accept it as an option.

She returned moments later with two glasses of wine, one for him and the other for herself. Instead of handing him his wineglass directly, she placed it on the table beside him. Evidently, she had no intention of them touching in any way. He picked up his glass and took a sip, regretting he was responsible for bringing their relationship to such a sorrowful state.

“You wanted to talk.”

Her words reminded him of why she was there, not to mention the distinct chill in the air. He took another sip of his wine and then he began speaking. “As you know, the Garrisons didn’t know about your existence until the reading of John’s will. I’m not going to say that no one might have suspected he was involved in an affair with someone, but I think I can truthfully say that no one was aware that a child had resulted from that affair. You were quite a surprise to everyone.”

When she didn’t make any comment or show any expression on her face, he continued. “But what came as an even bigger surprise was the fact that John left you controlling interest to share with Parker. That was definitely a shocker to everyone, especially Parker, who is the oldest and probably the most ambitious of John’s sons. It was assumed, as well as understood, that if anything ever happened to John, Parker would get the majority share of controlling interest. Such a move was only right since John had turned the running of Garrison over to Parker on his thirty-first birthday. And Parker has done an outstanding job since then. Therefore, I hope you can understand why he was not only hurt and confused, but also extremely upset.”

He could tell by the look on Cassie’s face that she didn’t understand anything, or that stubborn mind of hers was refusing to let her. “As I told you earlier,” he continued, “my father is the one who drew up John’s will, so I didn’t know anything about you until I read over the document a few days before I was to present the will to the family. Once I discovered the truth, I knew the reading of it wouldn’t be pretty.”

He took a deep breath and proceeded on. “Pursuing normal legal action in this case, we took moves to contest the will but found it airtight. And-”

“I guess Parker smartened up and thought twice about pushing for a DNA test, as well,” she interrupted in a curt tone.

Brandon nodded. “Yes, I advised him that nothing would be gained from it. John claimed you as his child and that was that. Besides, there was no reason to really believe that you weren’t. You and Parker made contact and he offered to buy out your share of the controlling interest. You turned him down.”

“And that should have been the end of it,” she snapped.

Brandon couldn’t help the smile that touched the corners of his lips. “Yes, possibly. But that’s where you and Parker are alike in some respect.”

At the lifting of her dark, arched brow, he explained. “You’re both extremely stubborn.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s your opinion.”

He decided not to waste time arguing with her by telling her that was what he knew, especially after spending time with her. Although she and Parker had never officially met, the prime reason they didn’t get along was because they were similar in a lot of ways. Besides being stubborn, both were ambitious and driven to succeed. Apparently John had recognized that quality in the both of them and felt together they would do a good job by continuing the empire he’d created.

“I’m waiting, Brandon.”

He glanced over at Cassie and saw her frowning in irritation. “I want to apologize for assuming a lot of incorrect things about you, Cassie, and I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Cassie wasn’t ready to say whether she would or would not forgive him. At the moment she was close to doing the latter. However, she was curious about something. “And just what did you assume about me?”

Brandon inhaled before speaking. “Before answering that, I need to say that when you decided to be a force to reckon with by not responding to my firm’s letters or returning any more of Parker’s phone calls, it was decided that I should come and meet with you and make you the offer in person. It was also decided that I should first come and see if I could dig up any interesting information on you and your past, to use as ammunition to later force your hand if you continued your refusal to sell.”

By the daggered look she was giving him, he knew she was surprised he had been so blatantly honest. He could also tell she hadn’t liked what he’d said. “You might be stubborn, Cassie, but I’m a man who likes winning. I’m an attorney who will fight for my clients, anyway that I can…as long as it’s legal. Garrison Incorporated is my top client and I had no intention of Parker not getting what he wanted. My allegiance was to him and not to you.”

Cassie straightened in the chair and leaned forward. Her eyes were shooting fire. “Forget about what’s legal, Brandon. Did you consider what you planned to do unethical?” she snapped.

He leaned forward, as well. “At the time, considering what I assumed about you, no, I didn’t think anything I had planned to do as being unethical. By your refusal to even discuss the issue of the controlling shares in a professional manner with Parker, I saw your actions as that of an inconsiderate, spoiled, willful, selfish and self-centered young woman. And to answer your earlier question, that’s what I assumed about you.”

That did it. Cassie angrily crossed the room to stand in front of him. With her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “You didn’t even know me. How dare you make such judgments about me!”

He stood to face off with her. “And that’s just it, Cassie. No one knew you and it was apparent you wanted to keep things that way, close yourself off from a family that really wants to get to know you. And if my initial opinion-sight unseen-of you sounds a bit harsh then all I have to say in my defense is that’s the picture you painted of yourself to everyone.”

Cassie turned her head away from him, knowing part of what he said was true. She’d still been grieving her mother’s death when she’d gotten word of her father’s passing. He had been buried without her being there to say her last goodbye and a part of her resented that, and had resented them for letting it happen. But then the truth of the matter was that they hadn’t known about her, although she had known about them. They would not have known to contact her to tell her anything.

“Imagine my surprise,” she heard Brandon say, “when I arrived here and met you. You were nothing like any of us figured you to be. It didn’t take long for me to discover that you didn’t have an inconsiderate, spoiled, willful, selfish or self-centered bone in your body. The woman I met, the woman I became extremely attracted to even before I knew her true identity that night on the beach, was a caring, giving, humane and unselfish person.”

He took a step closer to her when Cassie turned her head and looked at him. “She was also strikingly beautiful, vivacious, sexy, desirable and passionate,” he said, lowering his voice to a deep, husky tone. “She was a woman who could cause my entire body to get heated just from looking at her, a woman who made feelings I’d never encountered before rush along my nerve endings every time I got close to her.”

He leaned in closer. “And she’s the woman whose lips I longed to lock with mine whenever they came within inches of each other. Like they are now.”

An involuntary moan of desire escaped as a sigh from Cassie’s lips. Brandon’s words had lit a hot torch inside of her and as she gazed into his eyes, she saw the heated look she had become familiar with. And she couldn’t help but take note that they were standing close, so close that the front of his body was pressed intimately against hers, and the warm hiss of his breath could be felt on her lips. Another thing she was aware of was the hardness of his erection that had settled firmly in the lower center of her body.

She shuddered from the heat his body was emitting. Luscious heat she was actually feeling, almost drowning in. And then there was the manly scent of him that was sending a primal need escalating through her. It was a need she hadn’t known existed until she had met him and discovered that he had the ability to take her to a passionate level she hadn’t been elevated to before.

She knew he was about to kiss her. She also knew he was stalling, giving her the opportunity to back up and deny what the two of them wanted. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Although they still had a lot more talking to do, a lot more things to get straight, she felt at that particular moment that they needed time out to take a much needed break from their stress.

And indulge in a deliriously, mind-boggling kiss.

When to her way of thinking he didn’t act quickly enough, she stuck out her tongue, and with a sultry caress, she traced the lining of his lips from corner to corner. She saw the surprise on his face and the darkening of his pupils just seconds before a deep guttural groan spilled forth from his throat. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, and like a bird of prey, he swooped down and captured her lips with his.

He had a way of devouring her mouth with the finesse of a gazelle and the hunger of a wolf, sending shivers all the way through her. And when he began mating with her tongue with a mastery that nearly brought her to her knees, she released a moan deep in her throat.

He tasted of the wine he had drunk and had the scent of man and rain. And he was consuming her with such effectiveness that she could only stand there and purr. His kiss was turning her into one massive ball of desire and she felt a dampness form between her legs.

He pulled his mouth free. His breathing was heavy when he said huskily, “If you don’t want what I’m about to give you, stop me now, Cassie. If you don’t, I doubt I’ll be able to stop myself later.”

She had no desire to stop him. In fact she intended to help. To prove her point, she pulled his shirt from where it was tucked inside his jeans, before freeing the snap and easing down his zipper. And with a boldness she’d only discovered she had last night, she slipped her hand inside his jeans and felt her fingers grip the rigid hardness of him. She cupped him, fondled him and felt him actually grow larger in her hand.

“I want to be inside of you, Cassie,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “I want to feel your heat clamp me tight, squeeze me and pull everything I have to give out of me. I want to make love to you until neither of us has any energy left. And then, when we regain our strength I want to do it all over again. I want to bury myself inside you so deep, neither of us will know at what point our bodies are connected.”

His erotic words sent fire flaming through her body. The dampness between her legs threatened to drench her thighs. “Then do it, Brandon. Do me. Now.”

As far as Brandon was concerned, her wish was his command and he eased her down on the Persian rug with him and quickly began removing their clothes. The logical part of his brain told him to slow down, she wasn’t going anywhere, but another part, that part that was throbbing for relief said he wasn’t going fast enough.

When he had her completely naked he turned his attention to removing his own clothes. And she was there helping him by pulling his shirt over his head and tugging his jeans down his legs after she had removed his shoes and socks.

He made a low growl in his throat when she straddled him and began using her tongue to explore him all over, starting with the column of his neck. She worked her way downward, tasting the tight buds on his chest before easing lower and giving greedy licks around his navel. She left a wet trail from his belly button to where his erection lay in a bed of tight, dark curls.

Cassie paused only long enough to raise her head to look at Brandon before gripping the object of her desire in her hands again. Lowering her head, she blew a warm breath against his shaft before clamping her mouth over him. Then she simply took her time, determined to give him the same kind of pleasure he had given her last night.

His body arched upward, nearly off the floor, and he released a deep groan before reaching down and grabbing hold of her hair. She thought he was going to jerk her away from him. Instead he entwined his fingers in her hair and continued to groan profusely. And then he started uttering her name over and over from deep within his throat. The sound had her senses reeling and made the center part of her wetter than before.

“No more,” he said, using his hands to pull her upward toward him to capture her lips. And then he was kissing her with a need she felt invading her body. And suddenly she found herself on her back, her legs raised over his shoulders, nearly around his neck. He then lifted her hips and before she could catch her breath, he swiftly entered her, going deep, embedding himself within her to the hilt.

And then he began those thrusts she remembered so well, she tried grabbing hold on his buns, but they were moving too fast, pumping inside of her too rapidly. So she went after the strong arms that were solid on both sides of her and held on to them.

Their eyes met. Their gazes locked. The only thing that wasn’t still was the lower part of their bodies as he kept moving in and out of her, filling her in a way that had sweat pouring off his forehead and trickling down onto her breasts. And then she felt her body shudder into one mind-blowing orgasm, the kind that made her go wild beneath him while screaming out his name and digging her fingernails into his arms.

And then he threw his head back and screamed out her name, as well. She felt him explode inside of her and she clenched her muscles, pulling more from him and knowing what had just happened could have very well left her pregnant with his child if she weren’t on the pill. But the thought of that didn’t bother her like it should have because she knew at that moment, without a doubt, that she had fallen in love with him.

“The power’s out.”

Cassie’s head snapped up when she felt a movement beside her. She quickly remembered where she was. On the floor in the living room in her home, naked. She had dozed off after making love to Brandon, several times and then some.

She squinted her eyes in the darkness, missing the warmth of his body next to hers. “I put the candles out. I just need to get up and light them.”

“Can you see your way around in the dark?”

“With this I can,” she said, reaching for a large flashlight nearby. She smiled. “I figured we might lose power so I was ready.”

She turned the light toward him and, seeing his naked body, she deliberately aimed it on a certain part of him. She chuckled. “Does that thing ever go down?”

He grinned. “Not while you’re around.” He walked over toward her. “Where’s your radio?”

“On that table over there.”

“Let me borrow this for a second. I don’t know my way around in your house in the dark as well as you do.” He took the flashlight and slowly moved around the room. When he located the radio he turned it on. It was blasting a current weather report that turned out to be good news. The island had been spared the full impact of Melissa but another tropical island hadn’t been quite as lucky. The worst of the storm was over and everyone without power should have it restored by morning.

Cassie crossed the room. “I want to call to make sure everything is okay at the hotel.”

“All right. I’m going to get dressed and check to see how things are outside.”

By the time Brandon returned he found Cassie in the kitchen. She had put back on her clothes and was standing over a stove…with heat. Seeing his raised brow she said, “Mom preferred gas when it came to cooking, so if nothing else, we won’t starve.”

He nodded as he leaned in the doorway. “How are things at the hotel?”

“Fine. The power went out but the generator kicked in,” she replied. “A few fallen trees but otherwise nothing major. How are things outside?”

“The same. A few fallen trees but otherwise nothing major. And it’s still raining cats and dogs.” He crossed the room to look into the pot she was stirring. “What are you cooking?”

She smiled up at him. “The conch chowder from the other night. I grabbed it out of the freezer. You said you liked it.”

“I do. It’s good to know you plan on feeding me.”

She chuckled. “That’s not all I plan to do to you, so I have to keep your strength up.”

He came around and grabbed her from behind and pressed her against him. “For you I will always keep my strength up. What can I help you do?”

“Put the bowls and eating utensils on the table and pour some tea into the glasses.”

Moments later they sat to eat and Brandon decided to use that time to finish the talk he had started earlier. “So now you know why I did what I did, Cassie. I’m not saying it was right.” At her narrowed eyes he changed his strategy and said, “Okay, it was wrong but you weren’t making things easy for anyone.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Tell me, Brandon. What part of ‘no’ didn’t Parker understand? No means no. He asked to buy me out and I said no, I wasn’t interested. What was the purpose of him calling when my answer wasn’t going to change?”

“The reason he refused to let up is because he’s a staunch businessman, Cassie. Parker is a man who is used to going after what he wants, especially if it’s something he felt was rightfully his in the first place. Besides, you never took the time to hear what he was offering.”

“It would not have mattered. What Dad left me was a gift and there’s no way I’d sell my shares, no matter how much Parker offered me. And if he keeps it up, you’ll be representing him on harassment charges.”

Brandon stared at her for a moment, knowing she was dead serious. He chuckled. She lifted a brow. “What’s so funny?”

“You, Parker and all the other Garrison siblings, but specifically you and Parker. At first I wondered what the hell John was thinking when he put that will into place. Now I think I know, although I didn’t before coming here and meeting you.”

“Well, would you like to enlighten me?”

“Sure. Like I said earlier, you and Parker are a lot alike and I think John recognized that fact. Besides the fact that both of you are stubborn, the two of you have an innate drive to succeed. Apparently John recognized that quality in both of you and felt together you and Parker would do a good job by continuing the empire he’d started.”

She shook her head. “That can’t be it. Dad knew how much I loved it here. He of all people knew how I missed the islands while attending college in London. To do what you’re insinuating would mean moving to Miami and he knew I wouldn’t do that. I told him after returning from college that I would never leave the island again. It’s my home and where I want to stay.”

“Then why do you think he gave you and Parker sharing control?”

Cassie inhaled deeply. “I wished I knew the answer.”

Brandon’s face took on a serious expression before he said, “Then hear me out on my theory. John loved all of his children, there’s no doubt in my mind about that. I also believed that he recognized all of their strengths…as well as their weaknesses. Not taking anything away from the others, I think he saw you and Parker as the strongest link because of your business sense. Parker is an excellent businessman, a chip off the old block. He’s done a wonderful job of running things while John was alive, so John knew of his capabilities. And I understand that you did a fantastic job managing the hotel, so he was aware of what you could do, as well. Personally, I don’t think it was ever John’s intent for you and Parker to share the running of Garrison, Inc. Both of your personalities are too strong for that and he knew it. I think he put you in place to serve as a check and balance for Parker whenever there’s a need.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully before saying, “If what you’re saying is true then it would serve no purpose if I were to sell my share of control to Parker. I wouldn’t be accomplishing what Dad wanted.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

She studied him for a moment. “You haven’t forgotten that you’re Parker’s attorney, have you?”

He smiled as he shook his head. “No, and I wasn’t speaking as Parker’s attorney just now. I was speaking as your friend…and lover.” After a brief moment, he said, “I’d like to make a suggestion.”

“What?”

“Take a few days off and come to Miami with me. Meet Parker, as well as your other sisters and brothers. I know for a fact that they would love to meet you.”

“I’m not ready to meet them, Brandon.”

“I think that you are, Cassie. And I believe John would have wanted it that way. Otherwise, he would have given you ownership of the hotel and nothing else, but he didn’t do that. He arranged it where sooner or later you would have to meet them. And why wouldn’t you want to meet them? They’re your siblings. Your family. The six of you share the same blood.”

He laughed. “Hell, all of you certainly look alike.”

She raised a surprised brow. “We do?”

“Yes. All of you have this same darn dimple right here,” he said, leaning over and reaching out to touch the spot.

She tilted her chin, trying to keep the sensations his touch was causing from overtaking her. “It’s a cleft, Brandon.”

He chuckled, pulling his hand back, but not before brushing a kiss across her lips. “Whatever you want to call it, sweetheart.”

His term of endearment caused a flutter in her chest and the love she felt for him sent a warm feeling flowing through her. A few moments passed and then she said in a soft voice, “Tell me about them.”

Knowing her interest was a major step, Brandon bit back a smile. “All right. I think I’ve told you everything there is about Parker. He’s thirty-six. No matter how arrogant he might have come across that time when you did speak to him, he’s really a nice guy. He used to be a workaholic but things have changed since he’s gotten married. His wife Anna is just what he needs. She was his assistant before they married.”

He took a sip of his tea and then said, “Stephen is thirty-five. Like Parker, he’s strong-willed and dependable. He’s also compassionate. He’s married and his wife is Megan. They have a three-year-old daughter named Jade.”

Cassie lifted her brow. “Correct me if I’m wrong but it’s my understanding that he got married a few months ago.”

Brandon smiled. “You are right.”

“And he has a daughter that’s three?”

Brandon chuckled. “Yes. He and Megan had an affair a few years ago and she got pregnant. He didn’t find out he was a father until rather recently. Now they’re back together and very happy.”

A huge smile touched Brandon’s lips when he said, “And then there’s Adam. He and I share a very close friendship and I consider him my best friend. As a result, I spend more time with him than the rest. He’s thirty and operates a popular nightclub, Estate. And last but not least are the twins, Brooke and Brittany. They’re both twenty-eight. Brittany operates a restaurant called Brittany Beach, and Brooke operates the Sands, a luxury condominium building.”

Cassie took a sip of her own tea before asking, “What about my father’s wife?”

Brandon glanced at her over the rim of his glass. “What about her?”

“I’m sure she wasn’t happy finding out about my mom,” Cassie said.

Brandon put his glass down and met her gaze. “No, she wasn’t. But finding out about you was an even bigger shock. A part of me wants to believe she had an idea that John was having an affair with someone, but I think finding out he had another child was a kicker. Needless to say, she didn’t take the news very well.”

Brandon decided not to provide Cassie with any details about Bonita, especially her drinking problem. He would, however, tell her this one thing. “If you decide to come to Miami with me, I want to be up front with you and let you know that Bonita Garrison won’t like the fact that you there. Trust me when I say that it wouldn’t bother her one bit if you decided to drop off the face of the earth.”

Cassie almost choked on her tea. Once again Brandon had surprised her. Now that he had decided to tell her the truth about everything, he was being brutally honest. “If she feels that way then I’m sure the others-”

“Don’t feel that way,” he interrupted, knowing her assumptions. “Their mother doesn’t influence how they treat people in any way. Come to Miami with me, Cassie, and meet them.”

She ran her hands through her hair as she leaned back in her chair. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking of me, Brandon.”

“And I think I do. It’s the right thing to do. I know it and I believe you know it, as well. This bitter battle between you and Parker can’t go on forever. Do you think that’s what John would have wanted?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Neither do I.” He paused, then he asked, “Will you promise that you will at least think about it?” He reached across the table and took her hand in his.

“Yes, I promise.”

“And will you accept my apology for deceiving you, Cassie? I was wrong, but I’ve told you the reason I did it.”

She thought about his words. He had tried telling her the truth last night, and if sex was all he’d wanted from her, he’d had a good opportunity to get it the night she had invited him to her home for dinner. But he had resisted her advances. And even last night, she had been the one to make the first move.

She stared into his face knowing the issue of forgiveness had to be resolved between them. She could tell he was fully aware that he had hurt her and was deeply bothered by it. “Yes, now that you’ve explained everything, I accept your apology.” She saw the relieved look that came into his eyes.

He hesitated a moment. “And another thing. I didn’t use any protection when we made love, so if you’re-”

“I’m not. I’ve been on the pill for a few years now, and I’m healthy otherwise.”

Brandon nodded. “So am I. I just don’t want you to think I’m usually so careless.”

“I don’t.” She smiled, thinking of the way he handled their lovemaking, always making sure she got her pleasure before he got his. “In fact, I think you are one of the most precise men that I know.”

Later that night Cassie lay snuggled close to Brandon in her own bed. She was on her side and he was behind her in spoon position, holding her close to the heat of him. The power had come back on a few hours ago and they had taken a shower together before going to bed and making love again.

He was sleeping soundly beside her, probably tired to the bone. He had taken her hard and fast, and she had enjoyed every earth-shattering moment of it. Her body trembled when she remembered the mind-splitting orgasm they had shared. Brandon was undoubtedly the perfect lover.

And she appreciated him sharing bits and pieces about her siblings, satisfying a curiosity she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that she’d had. And then he had been completely honest with her about how her father’s wife would probably feel toward her if she decided to do what Brandon had suggested and go to Miami with him.

She inhaled deeply. A part of her wanted to go and resolve this issue between her and Parker once and for all, and then another part didn’t want to go. What if Brandon was wrong and they really didn’t want to meet her like he thought?

Deciding she didn’t want to bog her mind with thoughts of them anymore tonight she let her thoughts drift to the issue of her and Brandon. She knew that true love was more than a sexual attraction between two people. It was more than being good together in bed. It was about feelings and emotions. It was about wanting to commit your life to that person for the rest of your life.

It was about the things she and Brandon didn’t have.

She loved him. That was a gimme. But she knew he didn’t love her. He was attracted to her and he enjoyed making love to her. For him it had nothing to do with feelings and emotions. Her heart turned in her chest at the realization, but she couldn’t blame him for lacking those things. He hadn’t made her any promises. He hadn’t offered her a commitment. She was okay with that. She had no choice.

Moments later when she discovered she couldn’t get to sleep, she knew the reason why. She quietly eased out of bed, put on a robe to cover her naked body and slipped down the stairs. She entered the room where her parents’ huge portrait hung on the wall and turned on the light. Whenever she had problems and issues weighing her down, she would come in here where she would feel their presence and remember happier times.

A few moments later she went to the aquarium, sat on a love seat and observed the many species of marine life in the tanks all around her. The sight and sound created a relaxing atmosphere and she sat there with her legs tucked beneath her and enjoyed the peaceful moments.

She left the aquarium a short while later and when she eased back in the bed, Brandon tightened his arm around her, pulled her closer to his warmth and whispered in her ear, “Where were you? I missed you.”

She cuddled closer to him. “Umm, I went downstairs to think about some things.”

“About what?”

“Whether I should go to Miami with you to meet my sisters and brothers and resolve the issue between me and Parker.” She cupped Brandon’s face in her hand. “I’ve decided to go, Brandon.”

And then she leaned up and kissed him, believing in her heart that she had made the right decision.

Eight

Cassie glanced over at Brandon, who was sitting across from her in his private plane. They had boarded just seconds ago and already his pilot was announcing they were ready for take off from the Nassau International Airport.

The last week had been spent preparing for this trip, both mentally and physically. As strange as it seemed, she was a twenty-seven-year-old woman who would be meeting her siblings, all five of them, for the first time. And surprisingly enough, once Brandon had told them of her decision to visit, she had heard from each of them…except for Parker. However, his wife Anna had contacted her and had seemed genuinely sincere when she’d said that she was looking forward to meeting her.

After remnants of Melissa’s presence had left the island and the sun had reappeared, it was business as usual. Cassie had gone to the hotel that first day to check on things, and her other days she had spent with Brandon.

They had gotten the trees taken care of that had fallen on her property and then the rest of the time had been used taking care of each other. She’d given him a tour of the island and had introduced him to some of her mother’s family. They had shopped together in the marketplace, had gone out to dinner together several times and had taken her parents’ boat out for a cruise on the ocean. But her favorite had been the times she had spent in his arms, whether she was making love with him or just plain snuggling up close.

She would be spending two weeks in Miami as a guest in his home. After that, she would return to the Bahamas and resume her life as it had been before he’d entered it. She tried not to think about the day they would part, when he would go his way and she would go hers. In reality, they lived different lives. He had his life in America and she had hers in the islands.

And even now, she still wasn’t sure of Brandon’s feelings for her, but she was very certain of her feelings for him. She loved him and would carry that love to the grave with her. Like her mother, she was destined to love just one man for the rest of her life.

She continued to stare at Brandon, and as if he felt her eyes on him, he glanced up from the document he was reading and met her gaze. “You okay?” he asked, with concern in his voice, as he put the papers aside.

“Yes. I’m fine.” And she truly was, because no matter how things ended between them, he had given her some of the best days of her life and she would always appreciate him for it.

“How about coming over here and sit with me.”

She took a perusal of his seat. It couldn’t fit two people. “It won’t work.”

He crooked his finger at her. “Come here. We’ll make it work.”

The raspy sound of his voice got to her and she unsnapped her seat belt and eased toward him. He unsnapped his own and pulled her down into his lap. “Don’t be concerned with Gil,” he said of his pilot. “His job is to get us to our destination and not be concerned with what’s going on in here.”

She snuggled into his lap, thinking this was what she would miss the most when he left-the closeness, the chance to be held tight in a man’s arms, to be able to feel every muscle in his body, especially the weight of that body on hers. Not to mention the feel of him inside of her. Then there was his scent…it was one she would never forget. It was a manly aroma that reminded her of rain, sunshine and lots of sex.

“I spoke with Parker before we left.”

She’d heard what he said but didn’t respond. She was still thinking of lots of sex.

He tightened his arms around her as he glanced down. “Cassie?”

She tilted her head and looked up at him. “I heard you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just reached out and softly caressed the cleft in her chin. She swallowed with his every slow, sensuous stroke. He was trying to get next to her. And it was working.

“What did he want?” she asked, forcing the words out from her constricted throat. His hand had moved from her chin and was now stroking the side of her face, the area right below her ear.

He pretended not to hear as he continued to trace a path from her ear to her neck. “Brandon?” she said, to get his attention.

“I heard you,” he answered, meeting her gaze and grinning.

She grinned back. “What did Parker want?”

“He has summoned you to the compound for Sunday dinner.”

She raised up and glanced at him with a perturbed look on her face. “He did what!”

He laughed. “I was joking. I knew you wouldn’t like the word summoned. I like getting a rise out of you.”

She eased her hands between his legs to his crotch. “I like getting a rise out of you, too. Now stop teasing and tell me what Parker wanted.”

He pulled her hand back and drew her closer into his arms. “He wants to invite you to Sunday dinner at the Garrison Estate. It’s a weekly affair for the Garrison family.”

She nodded as she thought about what he’d said. “And what about Bonita Garrison? The woman who wouldn’t care if I dropped off the face of the earth.”

Brandon inhaled deeply. “I wondered about that myself, but knowing Parker he’ll have everything under control.”

Cassie glanced up at him. “You don’t sound too convincing.”

He lowered his head. “Maybe this will help,” he breathed against her lips while his hand lifted her skirt to stroke her thigh. He then stroked his tongue across her lips the same way his hand was massaging her thigh, gently, pleasurably and methodically. And if that wasn’t enough, he inserted his tongue into her mouth and the impact shattered her nerve endings. Her lips parted on a sigh, which gave him deeper penetration, something he was good at taking advantage of. And he was doing so in a way that had her moaning from the sensations escalating through her. His exquisite tongue was doing wild and wonderful things to hers. Devouring her mouth. Deepening her desire.

“Buckle up for landing.”

He lifted his head when his pilot’s command came across the speaker. And then as if he couldn’t resist, he lowered his head and kissed her again. This time it was Cassie who pulled back and whispered against his moist lips. “I think I need to go back to my own seat.”

“Yes, you do,” he agreed, tracing his tongue around her mouth before finally releasing her from his lap.

She eased back to her seat and quickly buckled in. She lifted her head. Their gazes met. She smiled. So did he.

The thought that suddenly ran though her mind was that they hadn’t missed making love one single time since that first experience and they hadn’t gone a day without sharing a kiss, either. Those would be memories that would have to sustain her. Memories she would forever cherish.

“Cassie?”

She glanced over at him. “Yes?”

“Welcome to Miami.”

“Do you mind if I make a quick stop by my office to check on things?” Brandon asked Cassie as he drove his car down Ocean Drive. Her attention was on the happenings outside the car’s window. During this time of the day, it wasn’t unusual to spot models, vintage cars, Harleys and people on Rollerblades mixing in with the many tourists that visited South Beach.

She turned to him, smiling. The sun coming through the window seemed to place golden highlights in her hair. “No, not at all. I’m sure you want to check to make sure nothing was damaged during the storm, although from the looks of things, all this city got was plenty of rain.”

“Which seem to have grown more people,” Brandon said, chuckling. “This area gets more popular every day. Daytime is bad enough but wait until darkness falls and all the nightclubs open. South Beach becomes one big party land.”

“Umm, sounds like fun.”

He chuckled. “It is, and Adam’s nightclub is right there in the thick of things. It’s doing very well. Before you return to the Bahamas, I plan to make sure I take you out on the town one night, and Adam’s club is just one of the many places we’ll visit.”

Cassie slanted a smile over at him. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those party animals.”

He laughed. “Not anymore, but I used to be. Adam and I have a history of spending many a nights out partying and having a good time. We were intent on experiencing as much of the wilder side of life as we could. But after Dad’s death I had to buckle down and get serious when everything fell on my shoulders. I will always appreciate your father for having faith in my abilities and retaining our firm after Dad died. John didn’t have to do that, but by doing so, he gave me a chance to prove my worth.”

Cassie nodded as her smile deepened. “So you settled down, but is Adam still the party animal?”

“Not to the degree he used to be,” he said. “He’s become a very serious businessman. You’re going to like him.”

“You would say that because he’s your best friend,” she said.

“Yes, but I think you’re going to like all the Garrison siblings.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “Even Parker?”

“Yes, even Parker. Once you get to know him you’ll see he’s really a nice guy, and like I told you before, his marriage to Anna has changed him in a lot of ways. He loves her very much. I would be the first to admit that I never thought I’d see the day he would settle down. After all, he was one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, a status he liked having.”

Cassie considered his words and wondered if there would ever be a woman in Brandon’s life that he would fall in love with and want to marry and spend the rest of his life with.

“We’re almost there, just another block. And you’ll be able to see the Garrison Grand once I turn the corner. It’s on one corner of Bricknell and my office is on the other.”

No sooner had he said the words than she saw what had been her father’s first hotel. A sense of pride flowed through Cassie. It was a beautiful high-rise, a stately structure.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, getting to study it in more detail when they came to a stop at a traffic light right in front of the grand-looking building. The Garrison Grand was a perfect name for it.

“Stephen’s in charge of running it now and he’s doing an excellent job. He has exemplary business skills, but he’s going to have his hands full when the Hotel Victoria open its doors.”

Cassie glanced at Brandon. “The Hotel Victoria?”

“Yes, it’s a hotel that’s presently under construction and is being built by Jordan Jefferies. It will be a competing hotel that will be slightly smaller in size but will rival the Garrison Grand in luxury and prestige and attract the same type of clientele. Jeffries is a shrewd businessman who can be rather ruthless at times. He’s a person who’s determined to succeed by any means necessary.”

“Sounds a lot like Parker.”

Brandon chuckled. “Yes, which is probably why the two can’t get along. There’s a sort of family rivalry going on between the Garrisons and the Jeffrieses and has been for a while. However, a couple of months ago, Brittany defied the feud and recently became engaged to Emilio, Jordan’s brother.”

“I can imagine Parker not being too happy about that,” Cassie said.

“No, and neither is Jordan. But Brittany and Emilio seem very much in love and intend to live their lives the way they want without family interference.”

“Good for them.”

Brandon glanced over at her as he pulled the car to a stop in a spot in a parking garage. A name plate indicated the spot was designated for his vehicle only. “You sound like a rebel.”

She unsnapped her seat belt, stretched over and placed a kiss on his lips. “I am. My mom told me how her family was against her dating my dad since he was a married man. She defied them and dated him anyway.”

“What about you? Would you date a married man?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m more possessive than my mom ever was. I couldn’t stand the thought of sharing. That’s why I feel somewhat sympathetic to Bonita Garrison. I can only imagine how she must have felt finding out her husband had had a long-term affair with another woman. But then another part of me, the part that knew my father so well and knew what a loving and loyal man he was, feels there was a reason he sought love and happiness elsewhere.”

Brandon shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Cassie really didn’t expect him to say any more than that. Even if he knew anything about her father and his wife’s relationship, he wouldn’t say. No matter what she and Brandon had shared, he was very loyal when it came to the Garrison family.

A few moments later they entered the lobby of the Washington Building. “My father purchased the land for this building over forty years ago from your father. At the time a young John Garrison, who was in his early twenties, was on his way to becoming a multimillionaire. He was single and one of the most eligible bachelors in Miami. My father was his attorney even then.”

Cassie nodded as she glanced around before they stepped on the elevator. “Nice building.”

“Thanks. My firm’s office is on the twentieth floor,” he said, pressing a button after the elevator door closed shut. “I lease out the extra office space to other businesses.”

When the elevator came to a stop on the twentieth floor they began walking down a carpeted hall. Brandon’s law firm’s glass doors had his named written in bold gold script. The receptionist area was both massive and impressive, and a young lady who sat at the front desk smiled and greeted them when they entered.

Passing that area they rounded a corner that contained several spacious offices, where she noticed people working at their desks. Some looked up when she and Brandon passed their doors and others, who were busy working or talking on the phone, did not. Cassie figured since it was Friday, most were probably trying to bring their work week to an end at a reasonable time so their weekend could begin.

She admired the layout of the offices. She knew that every office was made up of three fundamental elements-architecture, furniture and technology-and it appeared that Brandon’s firm emphasized all three. The interior provided a comfortable work environment where anyone would want to spend their working hours. The painted walls, carpeted floors in some areas and marble tile floors in others, modern furniture and state-of-the-art equipment all provided an upscale image of what she’d thought Brandon’s place of business would be like and she hadn’t been wrong.

“I should have warned you about my secretary, Rachel Suarez,” he said in a low voice. “She’s been here for ages, started out as my dad’s first secretary, and she thinks she owns the place. But I have to admit she does a fantastic job of running things. I have ten associates working for me and she keeps everyone in line, including my other thirty or so employees.”

Cassie glanced over at him, not realizing his firm was so massive. “You have a rather large company.”

“Yes, and they are good people and hard workers, every one of them.”

“The layout is nice and no one is cramped for space,” she openly observed.

Brandon’s secretary’s desk appeared to be in the center of things. The sixty-something-year-old woman’s face broke into a bright smile when she saw her boss. “Brandon, I wasn’t expecting you back until sometime next week.”

He smiled. “I’m still officially on vacation. I just dropped by to see how everything faired during the storm.”

The woman waved off his words with her hands. “It wasn’t so bad. I’m just glad it didn’t get worse. I understand the islands got more rain that we did.”

She then glanced over at Cassie and gave her a huge smile. “Hello.”

Cassie smiled back. “Hello to you.”

Brandon began introductions. “Rachel, this is-”

“I know who she is,” the woman said, offering Cassie her hand. “You look a lot like your daddy.”

Cassie raised a surprised brow as she took the hand being offered. Her surprise had nothing to do with being told that she looked like her father since she knew that was true. Her surprise was that the woman knew who she was.

At Cassie’s bemused expression Rachel explained. “I was Stan Washington’s secretary when you were born.”

Cassie nodded. In other words the woman had known about her parents’ affair and, like Brandon’s father, had been sworn to secrecy.

“I’m going to give Cassie a tour of my office, Rachel. And like I said, I’m still on vacation so I won’t be accepting any calls if they come in.”

Rachel grinned. “Yes, sir.”

Brandon ushered Cassie down the carpeted hall to his office. When they entered he locked the door behind him. She only had time for a quick glance around before he pulled her into his arms. “Now to finish what we started on the plane,” he said, before lowering his head for a kiss.

Their mouths had barely touched when Brandon’s cell phone rang. Muttering a curse, he straightened and pulled it out of his pocket. He rolled his eyes upon seeing whose telephone number had appeared. “Yes, Adam?” he said, a split second from letting his best friend know he had caught him at a bad time.

“Yes, Cassie is here and yes, she’s with me now.” A few moments later he said. “No, she’s not staying at the Garrison Grand. She’ll be a guest in my home.” He winked his eye at Cassie before she moved to sit on the sofa across the room, crossing her legs in a very sexy way.

“And, no,” he continued, trying to concentrate on what Adam was saying and not on Cassie’s legs, “you won’t be able to meet her until dinner on Sunday. You might be my best friend but I can’t let you use that fact to your advantage since Parker has requested that the family all meet her at the same time. Besides, I’m taking her to dinner tonight and tomorrow I plan to give her a tour of the town.”

Brandon laughed at something Adam said and replied, “Okay, Adam. I’ll let Cassie know.” He then clicked off the phone and placed it back in his pocket.

“Let me know what?” she asked, returning to where he stood.

Brandon smiled. “If you want to go ahead and make him your favorite brother, he’s fine with it.”

A smile touched Cassie’s lips. She had a feeing she was really going to like him. “He seems nice.”

“He is. Like I told you, all of them are, including Parker. The two of you just rubbed each other the wrong way in the beginning.”

“And what if he doesn’t agree with the counteroffer I intend to make him? I want you to know that I won’t back down. He can either take it or leave it.”

Brandon grinned. Sunday dinner at the Garrisons would be interesting, as usual. “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Like I said, Parker is a sharp businessman and I believe he wants to end the animosity between the two of you and come up with a workable solution as much as you do.”

He reached out and caressed the cleft in her chin. “Every time I touch this I get turned on.”

Cassie smiled, shaking her head. “I think you get turned on even when you’re not touching it.”

He laughed. “That’s true.” And to prove his point he lowered his mouth and joined it with hers. Their lips locked. Their tongues mated. Desire was seeping into both of their bones. Brandon thought he would never get enough of this woman no matter how much he tried.

Moments later he lifted his head and drew back from the kiss, his gaze on her moist lips. “I better get you out of here. It’s not safe to be in here alone with you. I’ve never made love to a woman in my office, but I might be driven to do that very thing with you.”

On tiptoe she stretched up and brushed a kiss across his lips. In a way she wanted him to take her here. That way when they did go their separate ways, her presence would always be in here, a place where he spent the majority of his time working.

“Maybe not today, but promise you’ll do it before I leave to return home.”

He lifted a brow. “Do what?”

“Make love to me in here,” she said, stepping closer and sliding her fingers to his nape to caress him there.

He released a shuddering sigh at her touch before asking, “Why would you want me to make love to you in here?”

“So you could always remember me, especially in here.”

He was taken aback by her words, and then murmured softly, in a husky tone, “Do you honestly think I could forget you, Cassie? Do you think I’d be able to forget everything we’ve shared together?”

Before she could answer he bent his head and claimed her lips, kissing her with so much passion it made her stomach somersault. It made the lower part of her body feel highly sensitive to his very presence.

Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth away and gazed at her in a way that sent sensations rushing all through her. He took her hand in his. “Come on and let’s get out of here before I do just what you ask and not care that I have an office full of people working today.”

A smile touched his lips when he added, “They’re a smart group of people who will get more than suspicious about all the noise we’ll make.”

“Umm, you think we’ll make a lot of noise?” she asked when he unlocked the door.

“He glanced over at her before opening it and chuckled. “Sweetheart, we always do.”

Later that night Cassie could feel the soft pounding of Brandon’s heart against her back. His arms were wrapped around her as he slept. The warm afterglow of their lovemaking had lulled her to sleep, as well, but now she was awake.

And thinking.

He had a beautiful home, and after showing her around, she had felt the love he had for it while he’d given his tour. She had watched him carefully when he had shown her with pride the things that were his. They were possessions he had worked hard to get and he was still working hard to retain. He’d told her that a number of his father’s clients had dropped his firm after his father’s death, citing Brandon’s youth and lack of experience. John Garrison had been one of the few who’d kept him on, and had gone even further by recommending him to others. With hard work Brandon had rebuilt the legacy his father had started.

When Brandon stirred in his sleep, she glanced over her shoulder and her gaze touched his sleeping face. She wanted him. She wanted to marry him. She wanted to have his babies. But most of all, she loved him. However, this would be one of those situations where she couldn’t have any of the things she wanted.

Because he didn’t love her in return.

And she could never spend her life with a man who didn’t love her. She had grown up in an environment that was filled with too much love to want something less for herself.

She closed her eyes to blot out the advice her mind was giving her. Get out while you can do so without getting your heart shattered. Take your memories and go.

Cassie opened her eyes, knowing she would take the advice her mind was giving her. This was Brandon’s world and hers was in the Bahamas. Instead of staying the two weeks she’d originally planned, she would let him know after dinner on Sunday that she would be leaving in a week. It was important that she and Parker resolved the issues between them, and she was looking forward to meeting her other siblings. After that it was time to move on. The more time she spent with Brandon, the more she yearned for things she could not have. Already her love for him was weakening her resolve and undermining her defenses.

It was time for her to make serious plans about returning home. There was no other way.

Brandon walked off the patio and back into his home to answer the ringing telephone. He stood in a spot where he could still see Cassie as she swam around in his pool.

The two-piece bathing suit she was wearing was sexual temptation at its finest, and he was quite content to just stand there and stare at her. But when his phone rang again, he knew that wasn’t possible. He reached on the table to pick it up. “Yes?”

“Brandon, this is Parker.”

He wondered when Parker would get around to calling him back. They had been playing phone tag for the better part of the day. He understood Parker had been in meetings most of yesterday, and Brandon and Cassie had left the house early this morning when he had taken her to breakfast and later on a tour of South Beach.

When she had mentioned that she had a taste for Chinese food, they had dined for lunch at one of his favorite restaurants, an upscale and trendy establishment called the China Grille. After lunch, instead of taking in more sights, he had done as she requested and had taken her to the cemetery where her father was buried. He had stood by her side when she’d finally got a chance to say goodbye and then he had held her in his arms while she cried when her grief had gotten too much for her.

Afterward, they had returned to his place to take a swim in the pool and relax a while before getting dressed for dinner and the South Beach night life.

“Yes, Parker, I’m glad we finally connected.”

“I am, too. How’s Cassie?”

Brandon turned and glanced out the bank of French doors to stare right at her. She was no longer in the water but was standing by the edge of the pool, getting ready to dive back in. It was his opinion-with the way she looked with the sunlight made the wet strands of her hair gleam, and her body made his breath catch every time he saw it, naked or in clothes-Cassie was every man’s fantasy. That was definitely not something her oldest brother would appreciate hearing from him.

“Cassie’s fine and is out by the pool. She wanted to take a swim before we go out to dinner.”

“Everyone is looking forward to meeting her tomorrow,” Parker said.

“Glad to hear it. I had a hard time convincing her of that, but I did, which is the main reason she’s here in Miami.”

“Just so you know, I haven’t mentioned it to Mom.”

Something in Parker’s voice forced Brandon to ask, “But you will, right?”

“I don’t think that will be a wise thing to do at this point.”

Brandon didn’t like the sound of that. Chances were Bonita would be home since she rarely left the house on Sundays. And, for that matter she was rarely sober after lunchtime, as well. “And why not, Parker? I’ve been totally up front with Cassie since she discovered our association and I’m not going to have her start doubting my word or intentions about anything. If Bonita will be at dinner tomorrow, before I agree to bring Cassie, I need a good reason why you won’t be telling Bonita she’s coming. That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.” He knew Cassie could hold her own against anyone, but in this particular situation, he felt she shouldn’t be placed in a position where she had to.

For the next ten minutes Parker explained to Brandon why he’d made the decision he had, and after discussing it with his siblings, they felt Bonita being caught unaware would be the right approach to use. “That might be the right approach for Bonita, but what about Cassie? I can see an ugly scene exploding, one I don’t like and wouldn’t want to place her in.”

Brandon rubbed his hand down his face. “I’m going to tell her, Parker, and explain things to her the way you have explained them to me. It’s going to be her decision as to whether or not she still wants to come.”

“And I agree she should know, which is the reason I wanted to talk to you. So when will you tell her?”

Brandon sighed deeply. “I’d rather wait until in the morning. I don’t want anything to ruin the plans I have for dinner,” he said, fighting for control of his voice. He still wasn’t sure not telling Bonita was the right thing, although he understood Parker’s reason for it.

“Please inform me of Cassie’s decision one way or the other,” Parker said. “If she doesn’t want to join us for dinner at the Garrison Estate tomorrow evening, then we can all get together and take her out somewhere else. Mom will wonder why we’re not eating Sunday dinner at her place though, so either way, she’s going to find out Cassie’s in town and that we’ve made contact with her. I just think it’s best if we all stand together and face Mom as a united front.”

“I understand, Parker, but like I said, it will be Cassie’s decision.”

Nine

Frowning, Cassie stared over at Brandon. “What do you mean Bonita Garrison doesn’t know I was invited to dinner?”

Brandon sighed. He had known she would not like the news Parker had delivered yesterday. “Considering everything, the Garrison siblings felt it would be best if she didn’t know,” he explained.

From where he was standing, with his shoulder propped against the bookshelves in his library, he could tell that Cassie, who was sitting on a sofa, was confused by that statement.

“But it’s her house, right?” she asked, as if for clarification.

“Yes, it’s her house.”

“Then am I to assume she’s out of town or something and won’t be there?”

“No, you aren’t to assume that.” He saw the defiant look in her eyes, a strong indication as to what direction this conversation was going.

“Then I think you need to tell me what’s going on, Brandon.”

He sighed again, more deeply this time. What he needed was a drink, but that would have to come later. He really did owe her an explanation. Straightening, he crossed the room to sit beside her on the sofa. His gaze locked on her face when he said, “Bonita Garrison is an alcoholic and has been for years. She’s always had a drinking problem and John’s will only escalated the condition. Like I told you before, considering the state of their marriage, I think she had an idea he was having an affair, but she didn’t know anything about you. That was one well-kept secret.”

Cassie’s frown deepened. “Have any of her children suggested that she seek professional help?”

“Yes, countless times. I understand John even did so, but for the longest she wouldn’t acknowledge she had a problem. She still hasn’t.”

Cassie nodded. “But what does that have to do with me? Wouldn’t seeing me in her home uninvited, the person who is living proof of her husband’s unfaithfulness, push her even more over the edge?”

He reached for her hand. “Parker and the others are hoping it doesn’t. Their relationship with her is strained and has been for some time. I’m talking years, Cassie. They’d decided, and unanimously I might add, that they want to meet you, build relationships with you, include you in the family mix, and they refused to sneak behind their mother’s back to do so. They believe it’s time to mend the fences and move on, and want Bonita to see that as a united group they plan to do just that, with or without her blessings.”

He chuckled. “I’ve known those Garrisons most of my life and this is the first time they’ve ever been in complete agreement about anything.”

Brandon got quiet for a moment and then said in a serious tone, “John would be proud of them. And knowing the type of man he was, a man who loved his children unconditionally, I want to believe that had he lived, he would have eventually gotten all of you together. He was a man who would have made it happen.”

His words had Cassie staring at him thoughtfully. What he’d said was true. She believed that, as well. She had learned about her siblings’ existence from her father, and she had known he had loved them as much as he had loved her. He had said so a number of times.

“But…” she said, frowning still. “What if things get ugly?”

“And there’s a possibility that they might,” he said honestly, needing to make her aware of that fact. “But Parker wants you to know that no matter what, they intend to finally bring things to a head, a forced-feeding intervention, so to speak.”

Cassie inhaled a deep breath. She just hoped Parker and the others were right. The last thing she wanted was to be responsible for Bonita Garrison getting pushed over the edge. But then her children knew her better than anyone and Cassie was sure that no matter how strained their relationship, that they loved their mother. And if they felt what they had planned for this afternoon was the right approach to use then she would trust their judgment.

She met Brandon’s gaze. “Okay, thanks for telling me.”

“Are you still going?”

“Yes. I’m going.” After a moment, she asked, “You will be there, too, right?”

A smile touched the corners of his lips. “Yes, I was invited, as well, and I will be there,” he said. Tugging on the hand he still held he pulled her closer to him and whispered, “But even if I weren’t invited I would still be there, Cassie. You would not be alone.”

Cassie glanced around when Brandon brought the car to a stop in front of the massive and impressive Spanish-style villa that was the Garrison Estate. Everywhere she looked she saw a beauty that was spellbinding. From the brick driveway to the wide stucco stairs that led to the entrance, she thought there weren’t many words that could be used to describe the house that could sufficiently do it justice.

She inhaled a reverent breath in knowing this is where her father had lived, the place he considered home when he wasn’t in the Bahamas with her and her mom. And even now a part of her could feel his presence. What Brandon had said earlier that day was true. Her father would want his offspring to meet.

“You’ve gotten quiet on me. Are you okay?”

She glanced over at Brandon, hearing the concern in his voice. From the moment his plane had landed in Miami, he had been attentive, considerate of her well-being and so forthcoming with his affection. More than once she’d had to stop and remind herself that his affection had nothing to do with love, but was a result of his kindness. There was a natural degree of warmth and caring about him. Those were just two of the things that had drawn her to him from the first.

“Yes, I’m okay. I was just thinking about Dad and how much I loved him and how much I miss him, and how today I can feel his presence more so than ever.”

“And you never resented him for having another family besides you and your mom?”

“I never resented Dad, but when I was a lot younger, after having found out he was a married man with another family, for a long time I resented them. In my mind, whenever he would leave me and Mom it would be to return here to them. I never gave thought to the fact that whenever he was in the Bahamas with me and Mom, he wasn’t with them, either. I was too possessive of him in my life to even care.”

“But now?”

“But now I want to believe that somehow he was able to give all six of us equal time, special time, as special as he was,” she said softly.

“I think he did,” Brandon said in a quiet tone. “I believe he knew what each of his kids needed and gave it to them. He was an ingrained part of each of their lives and they loved him just as much as you did.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Do you think that even now? After finding out he’d had a long-term affair while married to their mother? You don’t think that love was tarnished because of it?”

Brandon shook his head. “No. Adam is the only one I’ve spoken to in depth about it, basically to garner his personal feelings. He said they all knew their parents’ marriage was on the rocks for years. Bonita’s abuse of alcohol led to a friction that couldn’t be mended.”

Cassie nodded, then dragged in a deep breath and said, “It’s time we go inside, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Nervous?”

“I would be lying if I were to say no. But I can handle it.”

Brandon chuckled as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Cassie Sinclair-Garrison, I think you can handle just about anything.”

He exited the car and came around to open her door for her, admiring what she was wearing. Although it was the middle of fall, the weather was warm and the sky was clear and she was casually dressed in a pair of black slacks and a velvet plum blouse. The outfit not only brought out the natural beauty of her skin coloring, but added a touch of exuberance to her brown eyes, as well. She smiled at him.

He offered his hand and she took it. The sensation that immediately flowed through him was desire that was as intoxicating as the strongest liquor.

After closing the door, he placed her hand on his arm and walked her up the wide stucco stairs that led to the front door. Before he could raise his hand to knock, the door opened and Lisette Wilson stood there smiling at them. The woman had been the Garrison’s housekeeper for as long as Brandon could remember and, according to Adam, Lisette was a force to reckon with when he’d been going through his mischievous teen years. Now she seemed older, and although a smile was bright on her face, she looked tired. She was probably worn out from having her hands full these days with Bonita’s excessive drinking. With none of the Garrison siblings living at home, they depended on Lisette to keep things running as smoothly as possible on the home front.

“Mr. Brandon, good seeing you again, and I want to welcome the both of you to the Garrison Estate.”

Brandon returned the woman’s smile. “Thanks, Lisette. Have Parker and the others arrived yet?”

“Yes, they’re on the veranda,” she said, stepping aside for them to enter. “I’ll take you to them.”

Lisette led the way. Brandon could feel the tenseness of Cassie’s hand on his arm. He smiled over at her as they passed a wide stone column that marked the entrance to the living room. After passing through several beautifully decorated rooms, they walked through a bank of French doors to the veranda. The Garrison siblings were there. All five of them. Along with three of their significant others.

“Your dinner guests have arrived,” Lisette announced.

The group immediately ended whatever conversation they were engaged in and turned, seemingly all at once. Eight pairs of eyes stared at them, mainly at Cassie. They appeared stunned. The look on their faces confirmed that they were thinking what Brandon already knew. She was definitely a Garrison.

It was Parker who made the first move, crossing the veranda with an air that was cool and confident. He came to a stop in front of them. He continued to stare at Cassie, studying her features, probably with the same intensity that she was studying his.

For her it was like seeing what she figured was a younger version of their father. He looked so much like John Garrison it was uncanny. All three Garrison men did. That was the first thought that had crossed her mind when they had looked at her. But Parker, the firstborn, had acquired nearly every physical feature their father had possessed, including his height, build and mannerisms-especially how his dark brow creased in a deep, thoughtful frown when he analyzed anything.

Not feeling at all intimidated, Cassie tilted her head back as she met his intense stare. Then she watched his eyes soften speculatively when he said, “Umm, the famous Garrison cleft. Was there ever a time you thought it was a curse rather than a blessing?”

Refusing to let her guard down, not even for a second, Cassie said, “No, that never occurred to me. Anything I inherited from my father I considered a blessing.”

A semblance of a smile touched his arrogant lips and he said, “So did I.” Extending his hand out to her, he said, “I’m Parker, by the way.”

She accepted it. “And I’m Cassie.”

He nodded before glancing over at Brandon. “Good seeing you again, Brandon.”

“Likewise, Parker.”

Parker’s eyes then returned to Cassie. “There’s a group of people who’re anxious to meet you. Please come and let me introduce them.”

“All right,” she said, giving Parker the same semblance of a smile that he’d given her as she held his gaze steadily. Their opposing wills seemed to be squaring off, but in a sociable way. “I’d love to meet everyone,” she said.

Cassie glanced over at Brandon and he smiled at her, and immediately his strength touched her, gave her the added confidence she needed. She fell in love with him even more.

She inhaled deeply as the two men escorted her across the veranda to meet the others. As much as she didn’t want them to be, butterflies were flying around in her stomach at the round of introductions she was about to engage in.

She forced herself to relax and smiled when they came to a stop before a woman she quickly assumed to be Parker’s wife, from the way he was looking at her. He might have been a happy bachelor at one time, but from the way he gently placed an arm around the beautiful woman with shoulder-length dark hair and green eyes, it was quite easy to tell he was a man very much in love.

He smiled affectionately at his wife before returning his gaze to Cassie. “Cassie, I’d like you to meet my wife, Anna.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Anna gave her an affectionate hug. “It’s nice meeting you, Cassie, and welcome to the family.”

“Thank you.”

Without taking more than a step, Cassie came to stand in front of two men she immediately knew were her other two brothers, since their clefts were dead giveaways. The woman standing between them had green eyes and wavy red hair. And just like Parker’s wife, she was gorgeous.

“Cassie, welcome to Miami and I’m Stephen,” the man standing to her left said, making his own introductions while slanting a smile at her and taking the hand she offered. “And this is my wife, Megan.”

Like Anna, Megan automatically reached out and hugged her. “It’s nice to finally get to meet you,” Megan said, smiling at her with sincerity in her eyes. “And you have a three-year-old niece name Jade who I’m hoping you’ll get to meet before you return to the Bahamas.”

“I would love that and can’t imagine leaving Miami before I do.”

She then glanced at the other man, who was tall, dark and handsome-common traits, it seemed, with Garrison men. “And you must be Adam,” she said.

A broad grin flitted across his face and suddenly two words came to her mind regarding him-loyal and dedicated. He reached out and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, I’m Adam, and remember, I’m to be the favorite brother.”

She met his gaze and had a feeling that he would be. “I’ll remember that.”

She then turned and saw two women and a very handsome man of Cuban descent. She knew immediately that the two women were her identical twin sisters.

“Cassie, I’d like you to meet Brooke, the oldest of the twins by a few minutes,” Parker said of the tall, attractive, model-thin woman with long dark brown hair and brown eyes. “And this is Brittany and her fiancé, Emilio Jeffries.”

Cassie faintly raised a brow at the derision she’d heard in Parker’s voice when he had introduced Emilio. She then remembered what Brandon had shared with her about there being bad blood between the Garrisons and the Jefferieses, and how Brittany had basically fallen in love with one of her brother’s enemies. But still, she couldn’t help but admire Brittany for her bravery, as well as her good common sense. No woman in her right mind would let a hunk like Emilio slip through her fingers, regardless of how her family felt about it.

“It’s nice meeting all of you,” Cassie said, glancing around at everyone and very much aware of the moment Brandon came to stand next to her side.

“It’s good to know I’m no longer the baby in the family,” Brittany said, grinning.

The next few minutes Cassie mingled with everyone while answering numerous questions about her life in the Bahamas, without any of the inquiries getting specific about the relationship between their father and her mother. Stephen asked about the activities at the Garrison Grand-Bahamas and complimented her on the great job she was doing.

For the most part Parker didn’t say anything, and knowing the astute businessman that he was, she figured he was hanging low and listening for any details regarding her business affairs that might interest him.

“Dinner is ready to be served.”

Everyone glanced over in Lisette’s direction before the woman disappeared back inside.

“Would you give me the honor of escorting you in to dinner?” Adam asked as he appeared at her side. “I’m sure Brandon won’t mind,” he added, winking an eye at the man he considered his best friend.

Cassie smiled serenely, wondering how much her siblings knew…or thought they knew of her and Brandon’s relationship. Did they assume they were friends, lovers or what? Did she care? She knew the terms of their relationship, the boundaries as well as the life span of it.

She smiled over at Brandon before returning her gaze to Adam. Before she could open her mouth to say anything, she felt Brandon’s hand at her back when he said in a low tone, “I think we will both do the honor, Adam. I’ve appointed myself her escort for the evening.”

She saw the two men exchange meaningful looks. She was aware, as much as they were, that Bonita Garrison had not yet made an appearance. “I think having two escorts is a splendid idea,” she said.

When they reached the dining room she noted Parker had taken the chair at the head of the table. Brandon took the chair on one side of her and Adam took a chair on the other side. Emilio was sitting across from her and they shared a smile. She suspected that he felt as much an outsider as she did. There was the easy and familiar camaraderie the others shared, including Brandon. He’d evidently shared Sunday dinner with the group before because he seemed to be right at home.

“So when can I come visit you in the Bahamas?” Brooke asked, smiling over at Cassie.

Before she could respond, Adam said, “Trying to get the hell out of Dodge for some reason, sis?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Not particularly,” she said, not meeting his gaze as she suddenly began concentrating on the plate Lisette set in front of her.

“You’re welcome to visit me any time,” Cassie said and meant it. When Brooke glanced up, Cassie could have sworn she’d seen a look of profound thanks in her eyes. That made Cassie wonder if perhaps what Adam had jokingly said was true and Brooke was trying to escape Miami for a reason.

Conversation was amiable with Adam, Brooke and Brittany telling her about the establishments they owned and ran under the Garrison umbrella. Stephen discussed the Miami Garrison Grand and even asked her advice on a couple of things that he’d heard she had implemented at her hotel.

When Brooke excused herself for the second time to go to the bathroom, Cassie overheard Brittany whisper to Emilio that she thought her twin was pregnant. Cassie was grateful everyone else had been too busy listening to Megan share one of her disastrous interior decorating experiences to hear Brittany’s comment.

Suddenly, the dining room got deathly quiet and Cassie knew why when Brandon reached for her hand and held it tight in his. She followed everyone’s gaze and glanced at the woman who was standing in the entrance of the dining room. Regardless of what curiosity she had always harbored about her father’s wife, she never in a million years thought such disappointment would assail her body like it was doing now.

It was easy to see that at one time Bonita Garrison had been a beautiful woman, definitely stunning enough to catch a young John Garrison’s eye. But the woman who appeared almost too drunk to stand up straight while holding a half-filled glass of liquor in her hand looked tired and beaten.

“Mother, we weren’t sure you would be joining us,” Parker said, standing along with all the other men at the table.

“Would it have mattered?” Bonita snapped, almost staggering with each step she took. She made it to the chair on the other side of Parker and sat.

Resuming his seat, Parker glanced at Lisette, who had entered, and said, “Please bring my mother a plate as well as a cup of coffee.”

The woman glared at her oldest son. “I don’t need anything to drink, Parker. I have everything I need right here,” she said in a slurred voice, saluting her glass at him.

“I would say you’ve had too much, Mom.”

The comment came from Stephen and whereas Bonita Garrison had glared at Parker just moments earlier, she actually smiled at Stephen. She didn’t say anything to Stephen directly, but instead announced, “Maybe I’ll have a cup of coffee after all.”

Cassie knew it was then that Bonita noticed her presence. She saw Brandon sitting beside her and holding her hand, and said, “Brandon, how nice, you’ve brought a date.”

Brandon didn’t say anything but merely nodded, while Bonita continued to stare. Cassie figured that it wouldn’t take long before her identity became obvious with her sitting so close to Brittany. Other than the color of their skin, the two women favored. In her drunken state such a thing could go over Bonita’s head.

But it didn’t.

Cassie found herself the object of the woman’s intense attention and then suddenly Bonita rose on drunken legs and, not speaking to anyone in particular, she asked, “Who is she?”

It was Parker who spoke. “Cassie. Cassie Sinclair-Garrison.”

The woman snatched her gaze from Cassie and glared at Parker. “That woman’s child? You invited that woman’s child to our home?”

“No, I invited our father’s child to our home, Mother. Cassie is our sister and we thought it was time we met her,” Parker answered with the same mastery in his voice that Cassie was certain he used in the boardroom.

Bonita’s features took on a stony countenance. “Meet her? Why would you want to meet her after what your father and her mother did to me?”

“Whatever happened between you and Dad was between you and Dad,” Adam said firmly, his jaw set.

“And no matter what happened, Mother, or the participants involved, nothing changes the fact that Cassie is our sister and we want to get to know her,” Stephen added.

Bonita slowly glanced around the table and saw a look of conformity on the faces of Brooke and Brittany as well. Angrily, she slammed her glass down. “Don’t expect me to be happy about it.” She then stormed out the room.

“Maybe we should consider cancelling her sixtieth birthday party,” Brittany said softly.

No one agreed or disagreed. Instead, Parker met Cassie’s gaze and said, “I want to apologize for my mother’s behavior.”

Cassie shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. I just regret upsetting your mother.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Adam said, smiling as he took a sip of his wine. “Everything upsets Mother. We’re used to it and have been for a long time. Over the years we’ve learned to deal with it. Some better than others.”

Dinner resumed and the tension eventually passed. Cassie, like everyone else, indulged in the shared discussions, murmurs, chuckles and laughter around the table. Feeling more comfortable, she began to relax and more than once she glanced over at Brandon to find him staring at her.

When dinner was over everyone retired to the family room. Moments later, Brandon asked to speak with Parker privately. She knew he would be telling them of her wish not to discuss any business today, and that she preferred meeting with Parker tomorrow.

Moments later, she found herself alone with Brittany, Brooke and Emilio. Anna and Megan, who were close friends, took a walk outside to admire one of the many flower gardens surrounding the estate, and Stephen and Adam had excused themselves to speak with Lisette.

“I see your brother still doesn’t care for me,” Emilio said, chuckling to Brittany.

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Doesn’t matter, since I like you.”

Fascinated, Cassie decided to ask, “Do you think he’ll ever soften up?”

Brooke lifted an arched brow. “Who, Parker? No. That would be too easy,” she said, with more than a trace of annoyance in her voice.

“And he’s really upset now that he knows that Jordan has acquired a piece of land he had his sights on,” Emilio said. Then since he thought Cassie didn’t know, he added, “Jordan is my brother.”

“Excuse me, please. I think I’ll join Anna and Megan in getting some fresh air,” Brooke said rather tersely before turning and walking out the French doors.

Brittany watched her twin leave. “I wonder what that was about?” she said thoughtfully. “Something’s up with her.”

“Pure speculation on Brittany’s part,” Emilio added. “She thinks Brooke’s been acting strange lately.”

“It’s not what I think, sweetheart. It’s what I know. She’s my twin, so I can’t help but notice certain things.”

Before Brittany could speculate any further, Brandon, Parker, Stephen and Adam returned. Brandon came up to her and slipped his hand around her waist. “Ready to leave?”

Cassie smiled up at him. “Yes, if you are.”

She promised Brittany she would drop by her restaurant this week and gave Brooke her word she would visit the condominiums that Brooke owned.

Before leaving she made more promises. Adam wanted her presence at his club at least once and Stephen asked her to come by the Garrison Grand so he could give her a tour. Parker hadn’t asked her to promise him anything since he was meeting with her first thing in the morning at his office. The most important thing to him was for them to come together and find a resolution to what was keeping them at arm’s length.

When she and Brandon walked to the car she smiled over at him. “Dinner wasn’t so bad.”

He grinned. “No, I guess not. What did you think about Bonita?”

“I hope that she’ll get professional help, and soon.”

“What about your siblings?”

She tilted her head and said, “To be quite honest, I like them.”

He opened the car door for her. “I told you that you would. Even Parker softened up some.”

When he came around and got inside the driver’s side he glanced at his watch. “I know just the place I want to take you now.”

She glanced over at him upon hearing the sensual huskiness of his tone. “Oh, really? Where?”

“My office.”

Ten

After walking down the carpeted hallway holding hands, they reached Brandon’s office. There was no guesswork as to why they were in an empty office on a Sunday night.

Cassie could unashamedly remember her request to him a couple of days ago, and there was no doubt in her mind that he was going to give her just what she’d asked for.

She chewed her bottom lip, not in nervousness but in anticipation. Goose bumps had begun forming on her arms, desire was making her panties wet and her tongue ached to mingle with Brandon’s in a hot-and-heavy kiss. From the time he had announced just where he would be taking her and they had pulled out of the brick driveway of the Garrison Estate, sensations, thick and rampant, had flowed through her, making her shift positions in her seat a few times.

Cassie’s thoughts shifted back to the here and now when Brandon released his hold on her hand and she immediately felt the loss of his touch. Opening the office door, his touch was back when he guided her inside before closing the door behind them. He tugged on her hand and brought her closer to him.

She felt weak in the knees, and to retain her balance, she placed her hands on his chest and gazed up at him, remembering the last time they had made love. It had been early that morning when they had awakened. And his lovemaking last night had given her a good night’s sleep and been the very thing that had lulled her awake that morning as well. She’d wanted more of what he had the ability to give her. He had been more than happy to oblige her in the most fervent and passionate way.

She knew she should tell him of her decision to return to the Bahamas sooner than she’d originally planned, but at the moment she couldn’t. The only thing she could do while standing in his embrace was get turned on even more by the gorgeous brown eyes looking down at her. Being the sole focus of his attention was causing all sorts of emotions to run through her; feelings that were intimate and private, feelings that could only be shared with him.

“Do you know what I think about whenever I look at you?” Brandon asked in a low husky voice, taking his forefinger and tracing the dimple in her chin.

She shook her head. She only knew what she thought about whenever she looked at him. “No. Tell me. What do you think when you look at me, Brandon?”

He took a step back and his gaze flicked over her from head to toe, and then he met her eyes. “I think about stripping you naked and then kissing you all over. But I want to do more than just kiss you. I want to taste you, to savor your flavor, get entrenched in your heated aroma, and to get totally enmeshed in the very essence of you.”

Cassie was caught between wanting to breathe and not wanting to breathe. His words had started her heart to race in her chest and was making heat shimmer through all parts of her. Whenever they made love he had the ability to let go and give full measure, holding nothing back and making her the recipient of something so earth-shattering and profound.

With a heated sigh, she recovered the distance he had placed between them and reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck. She stared into his face, studied it with the intensity that only a woman in love could do, taking in every detail of his features-the dark brown eyes, sensual lips and firm jaw. Despite her determination to return to the island and live her life alone, she knew there was no way she would ever forget him and how he made her feel while doing all those wonderful things to her.

“On Friday you said you wanted me to make love to you in here because you didn’t want me to forget you. Why do you think I’d forget you, Cassie?”

Chewing her bottom lip, she met his gaze knowing his inquiry demanded an answer, one she wasn’t ready to share with him. If she did, she would come across as a needy person, a woman wanting the love of a man who wasn’t ready to give it. A man she figured had no intention of ever getting married after what his fiancée had done to him. But then, hadn’t she figured that same thing about her own life after Jason?

“Cassie?”

Giving him an answer that was not the complete truth she said, “Because I know this is just a moment we are sharing, Brandon, and nothing more. I know it and you know it, as well. But I want you to remember me like I will always remember you. And since this is where you spend a lot of your time, I want you to remember me here.”

He smiled with a touch to his lips that made more heat flow through her. “Especially in here?” he asked in a deep, throaty voice.

“Yes, especially in here,” she replied silkily. “I want to get into your mind, Brandon.” What she wouldn’t say is that she wanted to get in his heart, as well, but she knew that was wishful thinking.

With all amusement leaving his face, he said in a serious tone and with a solemn expression, “You are in my mind, Cassie.”

She swallowed. She had all intention of making some kind of sassy comeback, but didn’t. She so desperately wanted to believe him, and in a way she did believe him. He might not be in love with her, but over the past couple of weeks they had bonded in a way that went beyond the bedroom. He had come to the island seeking her out with a less than an honorable purpose, but in the end he had come clean and had been completely truthful with her, telling her more than she’d counted on.

And he had brought her here tonight to make the memories she wanted him to have, even when she would be across the span of an ocean from him, he would remember her in here. The happiness she felt at that moment made her feel light-headed and she automatically breathed air into her lungs, picking up his manly scent in the process. “Then let’s make memories, Brandon. Let’s make them together.”

Brandon stared at Cassie. He wanted her with a desperation he almost found frightening. The intensity of his desire was almost mind-boggling. It had been that way each and every time they made physical contact. She was an itch he couldn’t scratch enough, a meal he could never get tired of consuming.

With the way she was standing so close to him, he could feel the hard tips of her breasts pressing against his chest, and the heated juncture of her legs aroused his erection even more. And if those things weren’t mind-wrenching enough, he pulled her closer to the fit of him, needing the intimacy of their bodies joined first in clothes and then without.

The thought of making love to her in his office suddenly sent a sexual urgency as strong as anything he’d ever encountered to fill him to capacity. And with a sharp hunger that could only be appeased one way, he lowered his head and greedily consumed her mouth, devouring its taste and texture. He felt her lips tremble beneath his, he knew the exact moment her tongue engaged in their sensuous play, something so powerfully erotic it made him growl deep in his throat. He knew the air conditioning was on and was working perfectly, yet he felt hot and the only way to cool off was to remove his clothes. Their clothes.

He broke off the kiss and quickly began unbuttoning his shirt, driven by graphic images flowing through his mind of just what he wanted to do to her. The thought made his lips curl into a smile.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked when he began removing his shoes and socks.

He glanced at her and chuckled. “Trust me, you don’t want to know so I’d rather not tell you.”

“But you will show me?” she asked when he began removing his pants.

He nodded. “Oh, yes, I will definitely show you.”

Totally naked, he stood in front of her. He wanted to take her hard and fast, then slow and easy. He wanted to brand her. He wanted to…

Sensing he was suddenly about to lose it, he took a condom out of his wallet and quickly put it on before stepping closer to her to begin removing her clothes, appreciating the fact that she was helping. Otherwise he would have ripped them off her in his haste, his greed, his obsession.

When she stood before him completely nude, he knew that this was one immaculate woman, a woman who could turn him on like nobody’s business. She was elegant and sexy, all rolled into one. He reached for her hand, took it in his and began walking backward toward his desk. He’d been fantasizing about taking her on it since the last time he’d brought her here. He could imagine her legs spread wide, with him standing between them and making love to her in a way that had his body hardening even more just thinking about it.

And they would be making memories. There would never be a time that he wouldn’t enter his office without thinking about her, remembering what they had done in here, and remembering her being a part of him for this short while.

When they reached his desk he picked her up and sat her on it. A hot surge of desire rammed through him and he wanted his hands all over her, he wanted his body inside of her. He wanted it all. He reached out and let his fingers trace a path all over her, and pretended to write his name on her chest, stomach, thigh, everywhere.

And then he captured her mouth, sank into it with a hunger that was more intimate than any kiss he’d ever shared with a woman. She was consuming all of him, whether she intended to or not. Deliberate or accidental, he didn’t care, she was doing it, taking him to a level that was physically exciting and emotionally draining all at the same time.

And when he gently leaned her back on the desk he spread her thighs and took his place between them-a place at the moment that was rightfully his. She looked beautiful with her hair a tousled mass on her head, flowing over her shoulders and falling in her face. He pushed the soft, curly strands back, not wanting anything to obliterate her vision. He wanted her to see every single thing he would do to her.

Her warm scent assailed him and he leaned forward and took her lips with an urgency, his tongue invading her mouth the way his erection was about to invade her body. Not wanting to wait any longer, knowing he couldn’t even if he did, he pressed his engorged flesh against her and then when he felt her ultrawet heat, he eased it into her, clenching his teeth the deeper it went.

The sound of her moan pushed him into moving, stroking her body with his, thrusting in and out of her while holding her hips immobile. He made love to her with a primitive hunger that had him feeling every single sensation right down to his toes. Every stroke seemed keyed to perfect precision and his heart was pounding with each and every thrust.

He felt her shudder and his reaction to it was instantaneous. He was overtaken with pleasure so intense his body exploded in a million tiny rapturous pieces. Releasing the hold on her hips, he reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair as his entire body became one huge passionate mass. He pressed into her deeper still, when he felt the essence of him shooting into her womb as her flesh still continued to throb while his senses raged out of control. It was as if this part of her knew exactly what he needed and was giving it in full measure.

When she went limp, he somehow found strength to gather her into his arms to hold her, not wanting to let her go, wondering how he would do so when she left in two weeks. Not wanting to think about their parting, he picked her up and moved to sit behind the desk with her nestled protectively in his lap.

He glanced down at her. Her face wore the glow of a woman who’d just been made love to, a woman who had enjoyed the shared intimacy of a man. Not being able to stop himself from doing so, he reached out and began touching the swollen tips of her breasts. And when he noticed her breathing change, he leaned forward and took a tip into his mouth.

He wanted her again.

He lifted his head and met her gaze and his hand began trailing down her body, seeking out certain parts of her. He heard her sharp intake of breath when his fingers touched the area between her legs.

“Had enough yet, baby?” he asked huskily in a low voice.

She clutched at his shoulders and whispered the one single word he wanted to hear. “No.”

“Good.”

He stood with her in his arms and headed toward the sofa. Tonight was their night. In the coming days the Garrisons would want to spend time with her before she returned home. But tonight was theirs and they would make memories to last.

Parker’s secretary glanced up and gave Cassie a thoroughly curious look as she stood from her seat. “Mr. Garrison is expecting you and asked that I escort you to his office the moment you arrived, Ms. Garrison.”

“Thank you.”

Cassie followed the woman, knowing she had made the right decision in deciding to meet with Parker this morning alone. Regardless of her and Brandon’s relationship, Parker was still his client.

She had talked to her own attorney and taken in all the advice he had given her. He had indicated he wanted to be included-whether in person or via conference call-in any business meetings that she and Parker conducted that included Brandon, as a way of making sure she was well-represented and not being compromised in any way. She came to the conclusion that things would be less complicated and more productive if she and Parker discussed things and tried to reach an agreement without any attorney involvement for now.

The secretary gave a courtesy knock on Parker’s door before opening it and walking in. He turned from the window, which overlooked Biscayne Bay, and gazed at her. With his intense eyes on her she was struck again with just how much he looked like their father.

“You’re staring.”

She could feel herself blush with his comment. She noticed his secretary had left and closed the door behind her, and she was grateful for that. “Sorry, I can’t get over just how much you look like Dad.”

He chuckled slightly. “That’s funny. I thought the same thing about you on Sunday. And I hadn’t expected you to look so much like him.”

The guard she put up was instinctive and immediate. Tilting her head back, she asked, “Who did you expect me to look like?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, probably more like your mother, a stranger, someone I really didn’t have to relate to. But seeing you in the flesh forced me to admit something I’ve tried not to since the reading of Dad’s will.”

“Which is?”

“Admit that I do have another sister-one my father evidently cared for deeply to have done what he did,” he said, while motioning to a chair for her to have a seat.

“But I’m a sister you’d rather do without,” she said, accepting the seat.

He moved to take the chair behind his desk and grinned sheepishly. “Yes, but don’t take it personal. I’ve felt the same way about Brittany and Brooke one time or another when they became too annoying. It was hard as hell being an oldest brother.” And then he added thoughtfully, “As well as an oldest son.”

A part of Cassie refused to believe her father had been so ruthlessly demanding of his firstborn. “Did Dad make things hard for you since you were the first?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He seemed surprised by her question. “No, I made things hard on myself. I admired everything about him and wanted to be just like him. He was a high achiever in everything he did-sports, business, financial success. He was a man who was well-liked and admired by many. I never knew if I’d be able to grow up and fit his shoes, but God knows I always wanted to.”

He paused then said, “But one thing about Dad was that he was fair, with all of us. At an early age we were encouraged to enter the family business and that’s something none of us have regretted doing.”

Cassie nodded. He had encouraged her to join the family business, as well. At sixteen she had worked part-time for the hotel and when she had graduated from college he had given her the responsibility of managing it. It had been a huge responsibility for a twenty-two-year-old, but he had told her time and time again how much faith he had in her abilities.

And she hadn’t wanted to let him down…just like Parker had probably grown up not wanting to let him down as well. Did he assume that since their father hadn’t left him the bigger share of the pie that somehow he had?

“Dad was proud of you, Parker,” she decided to say.

She saw the glint of surprise that shone in his eyes. “He discussed us with you?” he asked.

“Of course, considering the circumstances, he wasn’t able to tell all of you about me, but I’ve always known about the five of you. He used to talk about what a wonderful job you were doing and that he had no qualms about turning the running of the entire company over to you one day.”

Parker leaned back in his chair and Cassie felt him study her intently while building a steeple with his fingers. “If what you’re saying is true then why are you and I sharing controlling interest?”

Cassie smiled. His arrogance was returning. “Because I’m good at what I do just like you’re good at what you do. He knew both of our strengths, as well as our weaknesses, and although you can’t quite grasp it now, I think he figured that over the long run, the two of us would work together for the betterment of the company. You even admitted that Dad was a fair man.”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing, Parker,” she said, leaning forward in her seat. “He was a good and fair man, point blank. And I’m sure Brandon has told you by now that I won’t sell my portion of the controlling shares.”

“Yes, he did say that,” Parker said, and Cassie smiled at the tightening of his lips. There was no doubt in her mind that Parker Garrison was used to having his way, something she hoped his wife Anna was working diligently to break him out of.

“I’m here to make you another offer, one we can both live with,” she said.

The look in his eyes said he doubted it. “And what offer is that?”

“Like I’ve told you, the Garrison Grand-Bahamas is my main concern, but I won’t give away a gift Dad gave to me. However, I will agree to sign my voting proxy over to you with the understanding that you inform me of all business decisions, not for my approval but just to keep me in the loop on things, since I’ll be in the Bahamas.”

Cassie saw the protective shield that lined the covering of his gaze when he asked, “Are you saying you won’t sell the controlling shares but you’ll give them to me by way of proxy?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying. Since I’m signing them over to you it will basically mean the same thing, except I retain ownership. Yet it removes me from having to provide my feedback and vote on every single business decision you make.”

The room got quiet and she saw the protective shield become a suspicious one when he asked, “Why? Why would you do that?”

A quiet smile touched the corners of her lips. “Because I believed Dad all those times when he said you were one of the most astute business-minded persons that he knew, and because I also believe that you will do what you think is best for the company and keep Dad’s legacy alive for the future generation of Garrisons.”

She could tell for a moment that Parker didn’t know what to say. And then finally he said, “Thank you.”

She nodded as she stood. “No need to thank me, Parker. Have Brandon draw up the papers for me to sign before I leave.”

He stood, as well. “You’ll be here another week, right?” he asked.

“That had been my original plan but I’ve decided to leave at the end of the week. I haven’t told Brandon of my change in plans. I will tell him tonight.”

Parker came from around the desk to stand in front of her. “Cassie, Brandon is a good man. In addition to being my attorney, he’s also someone that I consider a good friend. The reason he did what he did when he came to the Bahamas-”

She waved off his words. “I know, he explained it all to me. Although I was furious at the time I’m okay now.” I’m also very much in love, she couldn’t add.

“Anna and I would like to have you over for dinner before you leave. Will you be free Wednesday night?”

Cassie smiled, feeling good that she and Parker had formed a truce. She thought about all the other dinner engagements she had scheduled that week with Stephen, Adam, Brittany and Brooke, and said, “Yes, I’d like that and Wednesday night will be fine. Thanks, Parker.”

Brandon sat looking at Cassie on the dance floor with Stephen, who had dropped by to see her before she left for the Bahamas. Tonight was her last night in Miami and he had brought her to Estate, Adam’s nightclub. It was Thursday night, which Adam had long ago designated as ladies’ night.

Brandon had been surprised and disappointed when Cassie had told him a few nights ago that she would be leaving Miami a week earlier than she had originally planned. He had come close to asking her not to go, to stay with him, and not just for another week but for always. But then he remembered what she had said about the Bahamas being her home and not ever wanting to live anywhere else. Little did she know that when she left she would be taking a piece of his heart right along with her.

“Brandon, got a minute?”

He glanced up at Adam. “Sure, what’s up?”

Adam straddled the chair across from him and glanced around as if to make sure no one was in close listening range. He then met Brandon’s curious gaze. “I’ve decided to run for president of the Miami Business Council.”

Brandon smiled. “That’s great, Adam. Congratulations.”

Adam grinned. “Thanks, but don’t congratulate me yet. Already there’s a problem.”

Brandon raised a curious brow. “What kind of a problem?” Both he and Adam had been members of Miami’s elite Business Council for years, and evidently Adam felt it was time to step up and take control. Brandon saw no problem with him doing that. Like his brothers, Adam was an astute businessman and the success of Estate could attest to that.

“Some of the older members, those with clout, aren’t taking me seriously. They see me as a single man who is a notorious playboy, and since I work in the entertainment field, they also see me as someone not suited to lead the business council.”

Brandon stared over at Adam. Unfortunately, he could imagine the older, more conservative members saying such a thing to Adam. “So what are you going to do?”

“One of the things that someone suggested that I do is easy.”

“Which is?”

Adam smiled. “Work on expanding the club’s clientele beyond the young, rich and famous. But the other suggestion won’t be so easy.”

“And what was that suggestion?” Brandon asked, hearing a hint of despair in his best friend’s voice.

“To clean up my playboy image it was suggested that I find a wife.”

Brandon blinked. “A wife?”

Adam nodded. “Yes, a wife. So what do you think?”

Brandon frowned. “I think you should tell whoever told you that to go to hell.”

“Be serious, Brandon.”

Brandon’s frown deepened. “I am serious.” He then sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Okay, what if you did consider doing something like that? What woman will marry you just to help you advance your career that way?”

Then before Adam could respond, Brandon said, “Don’t bother answering that. For a split second I forgot your last name is Garrison. You’ll have all kind of greedy-minded, money-hungry women lining up at your door in droves. Is that the type of woman you’d want to be strapped to for the rest of your life?”

“It won’t be for the rest of my life. I’m only looking at one year, possibly two. I want a woman who’ll agree to my terms. We can get a divorce at the end of that time.”

Brandon took a sip of his wine and asked, “And where do you intend to find such a woman?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you have any ideas?”

Brandon chuckled and said the first name that came to his mind. “What about Paula Franklin?”

Adam glared at him. “Don’t even think it.”

Paula had first made a play for Parker a few years ago and when Parker hadn’t shown her any interest, she had moved on to Stephen. Stephen had avoided her worse than Parker had, and she’d finally turned her sights on Adam, determined to hook up with a Garrison.

Adam had been forewarned about Paula from Parker and Stephen and hadn’t been surprised when she had shown up at the club one night, ready to make a play for him and willing to do just about anything to succeed. When he had refused her advances, she had all but stalked him for a few weeks until he had threatened her with possible harassment charges.

Brandon gazed at him thoughtfully for a minute and then smiled and said, “Okay then, what about Lauryn Lowes?”

Adam gave Brandon a look that said he’d lost his mind. “Straight-laced Lauryn Lowes?”

Brandon ignored the look and said, “Yes, that’s the one. You have to admit she’s a picture of propriety, something those older, conservative members would want in a wife for you, so consider it a plus. And she’s not bad-looking, either.”

Brandon’s words got Adam to thinking. “Lauryn Lowes.”

Brandon stood and clapped Adam on the shoulder. “Yes, Lauryn Lowes. And while you’re giving that some thought, I’m going to steal my girl from Stephen for a dance.”

“Umm, that’s interesting,” Adam said, looking at him.

Brandon paused. “What is?”

“That you consider Cassie your girl. If she’s your girl then why is she leaving town tomorrow to return to the Bahamas?”

Brandon frowned. “She said she needed to go. What was I supposed to do? Hold her hostage? The Bahamas is her home, Adam, and she doesn’t want to live anywhere else. She told me that a few days after we met.”

“Have you given her a reason to change her mind?” Adam asked. “Maybe it’s all been for show and you really don’t care about her as much as I assumed you did. But if I cared for a woman, I mean really cared for one-although mind you, I don’t-I would do whatever it took to make sure we were together, and nothing, not even the Atlantic Ocean, would be able to keep us apart.” Before Brandon could say anything, Adam got out the chair and walked away.

Brandon took that same chair and sat, thinking about what Adam had said and his mind began racing. Although Cassie never said she loved him, a part of him had always felt that she did whenever they made love. She would always give herself to him, totally and completely.

And although he had never told her how he felt, he knew in his heart that he loved her, as well. He loved her and he wanted her, but he didn’t want her to be with him in Miami if she wasn’t going to be happy. Besides, her hotel was in the islands. It wasn’t like she could fly over there every day for work.

He suddenly rolled his eyes when a thought flickered through his mind and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. He took a few moments to consider the idea, evaluate the possibility and then decided he would make it work. He laughed out loud, pretty pleased with himself.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Brandon looked into Stephen’s concerned face. Instead of answering he glanced around and asked, “Where’s Cassie?”

“She’s still out there dancing,” Stephen responded, sitting down at the table. “Another song came on and this guy asked her to dance.”

“And you let her?” Brandon asked, actually feeling a muscle tick in his jaw.

The sharp tone of his voice actually surprised Stephen. “Was I supposed to stop her or something?” When Brandon didn’t respond, Stephen asked, “What’s going on, Brandon?”

Brandon searched the dance crowd for a glimpse of Cassie. He saw her dancing to a slow song in another man’s arms.

“Brandon?”

He glanced across the table at Stephen. “What?”

“I asked what’s wrong with you?”

Brandon stood again. “Nothing’s wrong with me. In fact at this moment everything is right with me. I think I’ll go dance with Cassie.”

Stephen shook his head, hiding his grin. “She’s already dancing with someone.”

“Too bad.”

Like a man on a mission, Brandon crossed the room and tapped the man dancing with Cassie on the shoulder. The man turned and glared at Brandon, but instead of saying anything, he graciously moved away. As soon as he did so, Brandon took hold of Cassie’s hand and pulled her into his arms.

She glanced up at him and smiled. “The song is almost over so you didn’t have to cut in, Brandon.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t like the thought of another man touching you.”

This was the first time she’d ever witnessed Brandon in a possessive mood and she made a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “And why would that bother you?”

“Because it does.”

“Why?”

The song had ended and when others began returning to their tables, he took a firm hold of Cassie’s hand and said, “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

They went outside and moments later they walked down a group of steps that led to the beach. Cassie paused long enough to remove her sandals. Her heart was beating fast and furious within her chest. Why had Brandon gotten all possessive and jealous all of a sudden? Could it mean that he cared for her more than she’d thought? A degree of hope stirred within her chest.

She decided to break the silence surrounding them. The only sound was the waves hitting the shoreline. “Estate is a very nice club.”

Brandon stopped walking and she did likewise. She looked up at him and the bright lights from all the businesses on the beach lit his features. He was staring at her, his dark gaze intense. “I didn’t bring you out here to talk about Adam’s club,” he said.

She looked away for a moment, across the span of the Atlantic Ocean, trying to maintain her composure. When she turned back to him, glancing up at him through her lashes, she asked, “Then what did you bring me out here to talk about, Brandon?”

For a brief moment Brandon couldn’t speak. All he could do was stare at Cassie while his throat was constricted. Slowly expelling a deep breath, he said, “Our feelings for each other.”

She met his gaze. “Our feelings for each other?” she repeated.

“Yes. I want to know where do you see our relationship going after you leave here tomorrow?”

As far as Cassie was concerned, the question he asked wasn’t a difficult one to answer. “Nowhere.”

Brandon tried to ignore the sharp pain that touched his chest. “And why do you think that?”

“Why would I not think that?” she responded in an irritated tone. “You’ve never said anything about continuing a relationship with me.”

She was right. He hadn’t. “I was afraid to,” he said honestly.

She met his gaze. “Afraid? Why?”

“I knew what you told me weeks ago about how much you loved your homeland and not ever wanting to leave the island again to live anywhere else. I knew I could never take you away from that so I couldn’t see a future for us. I was giving in to our demise too easily. But now I know what my heart is saying.”

She studied his intense features before asking in a soft voice. “And what is your heart saying, Brandon?”

He took hold of her hand and brought her closer to him and then placed that same hand on his chest and over his heart. “Listen.”

She felt the gentle, timely thump beneath her hand and then heard him when he said, “It’s a continuous beat that’s saying over and over again, I, Brandon Jarrett Washington, love Cassie Sinclair-Garrison, with all my heart, soul and mind. Don’t you hear it, sweetheart?”

Cassie fought back the tears that threatened to fall. “Yes, I can hear it now.”

He smiled. “And do you also hear the beats that are saying that I want to marry you, make you my wife and give you my babies.”

She chuckled. “No, I don’t hear those ones.”

“Well the beats are there, drumming it out loud and clear. What do you think? And before you answer I want you to know that I have no intention of asking you to leave the island to move here to accomplish any of those things.”

She lifted a brow. “You’re anticipating a long-distance marriage?”

He heard the disappointment in her voice. She was probably remembering the sort of absences her parents had endured. “Not hardly. I plan for us to live together in the Bahamas as man and wife and I will use my private plane to commute to Miami each day. It’s less than a thirty-minute flight. Some people spend more time than that on the highways to get to work.”

Her heart was filled with even more love when she said, “You would do that for me?”

He smiled and took his thumb to touch the dimple in her chin. “I would do that for us. I love you and I am determined to make things work.” He then leaned down and captured her mouth with his and she shuddered under the mastery of his kiss. Moments later, when he pulled back, she was left quivering.

“Are you with me, sweetheart?”

She reached up and placed a palm to his cheek and smiled. “All the way.”

He tightened his hold on her hand and tugged her in another direction. “Where are you taking me?” she asked, almost out of breath.”

“Home. And I think we need to cancel your flight in the morning. My heart is beating out plenty of other words that you need to listen to, so I think you need to stick around.”

Cassie smiled, totally satisfied that her heart belonged only to this man, and that it would always be that way. “Yes, I think I will stick around for another week after all, especially since my heart has a few special beats of its own, as well, Mr. Washington. And they are beating just for you.”

Captured by the Billionaire by Maureen Child

One

“Oh, God, I’m in jail.” Debbie Harris curled both hands around the bars of her cage and gave them a frustrated shake. They clanked a little and the sound seemed to echo eerily around her. “I’m a criminal. I’ll have a record.”

Her forehead thunked against the bars and the fear at the base of her throat squeezed tight, nearly shutting off her air.

Okay, Deb, she told herself firmly, get a grip. This is all a mistake. It’ll be straightened out in no time. You’re not in the Big House, for heaven’s sake.

In fact, the jail cell was more Mayberry than Oz. The whitewashed walls were clean and sparkling, and the cot was covered by a red-and-white quilt. There was a table and chair on one wall and a toilet and sink hidden behind a partition. The cell next to hers was empty and there was a closed door between her and the office where her jailer sat.

She scowled at the closed door because she couldn’t do anything else. The man who’d locked her in here had been very polite but completely uninterested in listening to what she had to say. He’d simply closed the door to her cell and left her alone to wonder what in the hell had happened to land her here.

Outside the barred window, the tropical sky was a brilliant blue dotted with huge, fluffy white clouds, and the sun’s rays fell in golden stripes across the red-concrete floor. She rested her forehead briefly against the cold bars and closed her eyes, remembering just how she’d ended up a prisoner.

After nearly four weeks on the private island, staying at the fabulous Fantasies resort, Debbie had packed her bags and headed for the tiny airstrip to go home. Back to her life in Long Beach, California. Where, it turns out, she should have stayed.

She’d filed through security along with everyone else leaving Fantasies that morning. The lines were long, even on this tiny island, as suitcases were checked while their owners moved through a metal detector.

Then she’d come to the Customs agent and everything had gone straight downhill. As he checked her passport, Debbie’d watched as his smiling brown eyes had gone flat and cold. He looked at her, checked her name again and frowned.

Interesting that despite knowing she hadn’t done a darn thing wrong, she’d instantly felt like a diamond smuggler or something. A wash of guilt and worry had smashed over her and when the agent motioned to a uniformed police officer to pull Debbie out of line, she’d felt the first jolt of real fear.

“What’s going on?” She looked at the officer who had a firm grip on her elbow as he took her aside for questioning. “Is there a problem? Can you tell me what it is?”

He didn’t speak until he got her away from the crowds. Now everyone thought she was a terrorist or something.

“You are Deborah Harris?” The officer’s voice was quiet but no less demanding.

“Yes.”

“American?”

“Yes.” She avoided looking at anyone else, but she felt their stares on her. Lifting her chin, she squared her shoulders, looked directly at the man questioning her and tried to project an air of outraged dignity.

Not so easy to do when you were scared to death.

She wanted to shout, I’m innocent, but she had the distinct feeling no one would believe her anyway.

“There seems to be some difficulty with your passport,” he was saying.

“What? A difficulty? What difficulty? It was fine when I got here.”

“I can only say what I have been told by Customs.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She tried to take it from him, but he whipped it back and out of her reach. Okay, this was fast moving from a little scary to downright terrifying. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve done nothing wrong and I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Not today unfortunately,” he said with a shake of his head. “If you would please come with me…”

It wasn’t an invitation.

It was an order.

Debbie seriously wished she had left Fantasies a week before, with her friends Janine and Caitlyn. If her best friends were with her, she wouldn’t be worried. Janine would make some smart-ass remark and Caitlyn would be charming the Customs guy. Between the three of them, they would have had this all straightened out in a heartbeat.

But her friends were home, each of them no doubt all wrapped up in their wedding plans. God, it had seriously been a heck of a month. They’d come to Fantasies, the three of them together, to splurge on themselves.

Each of the three friends had been engaged and then dumped over the course of the previous year. So they’d decided together to take the money they had been saving for the weddings that hadn’t happened and blow it on a treat for themselves. They’d had a wonderful time, until their threesome had slowly been splintered by the arrival of the loves of Janine’s and Caitlyn’s lives.

Caitlyn had ended up engaged to the very boss she’d come here to get away from and Janine…Debbie sighed wistfully. She’d talked to Janine only the day before and found out that her British lover had followed her home to Long Beach, California, just to propose. Now Janine was preparing to move to London, Caitlyn was planning the wedding her mother had always dreamed of and, apparently, Debbie was going to prison.

Sure. Her friends found love and she was getting a mug shot.

Life was fair.

“There’s been a mistake,” she said, digging in her heels when the officer, in his sparkling white uniform, tried to steer her through the terminal door. “If you’ll just check again…”

“There is no mistake, Miss Harris.” He was tall, with skin the color of smooth milk chocolate and brown eyes that looked at her as if she were an interesting bug. He was stronger than he looked, too. Her attempts at squirming out of his grasp failed miserably. “I am with the island security force. You must come with me.”

“But my bags-” She flung a look over her shoulder at the bustling little airport.

“Will be retrieved from the plane, I assure you.” His voice was musical, but there was no smile in his eyes. He kept walking, his grip on her elbow decidedly firm, just in case she should make a break for it.

“I’m an American citizen,” she reminded him, and hoped that tidbit of information would do some good.

“Yes,” he said as he tucked her into the passenger seat of a red-and-white Jeep. “I am aware.”

While he walked around to the driver’s side, she considered jumping out of the Jeep and making a run for it. But where would she go? Where could she go? They were on an island. The only way off was by boat or plane. She slumped in her seat and waited until he was sitting beside her to say, “What’s going on? Can you at least tell me that?”

He shot her a sympathetic look, but shook his head. “I must report to my superiors. They will decide what to do.”

“Who’re they?”

He didn’t answer her, just fired up the little car and steered it down the long road leading back to the village that spilled out at the foot of Fantasies. Wind in her face made her eyes water, but Debbie knew real tears weren’t far off. Her stomach was churning, her palms were damp, and a tight knot of fear was lodged firmly in her throat.

She was on her own.

And she had had no idea what was going to happen next.

Sighing, Debbie came up out of the memories, looked around her and fought the fear still crouched inside. It had been two hours since the guard had locked her in this cell. She hadn’t seen anyone. Hadn’t been allowed to call anyone.

What were the laws on a privately owned island? Did she even have rights? No one was speaking to her. No one seemed to care that she’d been locked away. It was as if they’d turned the key and forgotten all about her.

“I could die right here,” she muttered, looking now at the cozy little cell as if it were a dungeon with manacles hanging from its mold-covered damp walls. “Die and rot. No one would know. No one would wonder what happened to me and-”

She stopped abruptly and got a firm hard grip on her imagination. “For heaven’s sake, Deb. Let’s not get crazy here. Janine and Cait will miss you. You haven’t dropped off the edge of the world. And you’re not the Prisoner of Zenda or something. This is all a mistake. You’ll be going home soon enough.”

She sounded sure.

She only wished she were.

Voices drifted to her from the outer office. They were muttering, but at least she felt as if she wasn’t alone on the face of the planet. “Hello? Hello?”

She grabbed her cell bars again and rattled them viciously. “Who’s there? I need to make a phone call! I need to talk to somebody.”

The outer door swung open slowly and Debbie took a deep breath. She was going to be firm. She would insist on speaking to the owner of the island. Demand that they straighten this mess out and let her go. No more feeling sorry for herself. From now on, she was going into battle mode. She’d been standing up for herself for years. And this was no time to quit.

She braced herself for whatever was coming. At least, she’d thought she was braced. But how could she ever have been prepared to see the man who walked through that door and looked at her through hard, green eyes.

He wore black slacks and a long-sleeved white shirt with the collar open at the neck. His long, sun-streaked brown hair hung loose, almost to his shoulders and when he smiled, Debbie felt a jolt of something hot and rich that she hadn’t experienced in nearly ten years.

“Gabe?” she whispered, hardly able to believe her own eyes. “Gabriel Vaughn?”

“Hello, Debbie,” he said, and his voice was as deep as she remembered it. “Long time.”

She blinked at him and watched as he strolled casually across the jailhouse floor toward her cell. Despite her situation, emotions charged through her system, nearly battering her with memories and images of what she and Gabe had once shared. She couldn’t help it. Just looking at his face was enough to wipe away the years between and remind her all too clearly of the last night she’d seen him.

The night he’d asked her to marry him.

The night she’d said no and walked away.

Now, his footsteps sounded loud against the concrete floor. When he came closer to her, the slanted bars of sunlight outlined him, keeping his face in shadow. “Looks like you’ve got some trouble, Deb.”

“You could say that,” she admitted, and when he didn’t speak again, only stared at her, she kept talking, as though she couldn’t stand the tense silence that stretched out between them. “It’s all a mistake, obviously. I mean, I haven’t done anything wrong…”

“Haven’t you?”

“No.” She didn’t like the speculative tone of his voice, as if he were wondering just what kind of criminal she’d turned out to be. “It’s some mix-up with my passport or something and they brought me here to talk to the owner of the island. But he hasn’t come around and I’ve been here two hours already and-”

He braced one arm on the bars of her cage and looked down at her, with something like amusement flickering in his eyes.

“What’re you doing here, Gabe?” she asked as a slow curl of suspicion unwound in the pit of her stomach.

“Here on the island? Or here in the jail?”

“Here,” she said. “At the jail. Why’re you here?”

“When there’s a problem, I get called in to handle it,” he said, lazily pushing away from the bars to wander back and forth in front of her cell again.

“Oh.” Debbie’s gaze followed him as he walked to the far end of the jail, then turned and strolled back again, like a man in absolutely no hurry at all. Of course, why would he be bothered? He wasn’t the one in the jail cell. Impatience fluttered to life inside her. “So you’re the police chief or something?”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “Or something,” he allowed as he stopped directly opposite her and stared down into her eyes. “We don’t really have a police force on the island. Just security. If we happen upon some real criminals, we hold them here until we can ferry them over to Bermuda. But the little stuff, we handle ourselves.”

“And what am I?” she asked. “Small stuff or ferry-worthy?”

“Well, now, that’s something we have to figure out, isn’t it?”

“Gabe,” she said quickly, “you know me. You know I’m not a criminal. Heck, I don’t even jaywalk.”

His smile faded and he shook his head. “Ten years ago, I could have said I knew you. At least, I thought I did at the time…”

He let that statement hang there for a moment and Debbie knew he was remembering their last night together ten years ago. Just as she knew he wasn’t smiling at the memory. She’d turned down his proposal, despite the fact that she’d loved him madly. She’d walked away from him when everything in her had yearned to be with him.

“Gabe,” she said softly.

“But now,” he quickly interrupted whatever she might have said, “who’s to say? It’s been a long time, Debbie. People change. Maybe you’ve become a master thief.”

“I have not.”

He shrugged. “Or a smuggler.”

“Gabe…”

Fixing his gaze on hers, he said, “Look, bottom line, you’re not going anywhere until the owner of the island says you are. He makes the rules here.”

Debbie’s hands tightened on the slick, cold metal bars. She wouldn’t be getting any help from her long-ago lover. She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be seeing her again. So, fine. She’d handle this on her own. All she needed was five minutes with the mysterious island owner and she knew she could talk her way out of this mess. But it would help if Gabe would at least give her a little information on who she might be facing.

“So there’s no police here. No courts. Just some rich guy who owns his own little universe?”

“Pretty much.”

“So he’s like a king?”

“He thinks so.”

He gave her a quick grin and just for an instant her fear eased off. Gabe was a good guy. No matter how things had ended between them, she knew he’d never let her come to any real harm.

Of course, she was still in jail.

“Fabulous.” Anxiety churned with anger and became a frothy, unsettling mix in the pit of her stomach. “Is he reasonable? Will he listen to me?”

“Probably depends on what you have to say.”

“Damn it, Gabe, at least tell me what he’s like. What I can expect.”

A slow, lazy smile curved his mouth and his green eyes darkened until they were the color of shadow-filled forests. “I think you should expect to be staying at Fantasies for a while, Deb.”

“What?” Her stomach dipped again and her mouth went dry as she watched his features tighten. “I can’t stay. I have a life. A job. Responsibilities.”

“All of which will just have to wait until you’re allowed to leave.”

Debbie snorted despite the trickle of fear dripping through her bloodstream. “Allowed to leave? What? You think the island’s owner can somehow keep me here?”

Gabe lifted one shoulder in a shrug that said clearly he didn’t care one way or the other. “You’re the one in the cell. What do you think?”

“He can’t hold me in here forever,” Debbie argued. “He can’t just kidnap people and-”

“He didn’t kidnap you,” Gabe reminded her, “you came here on your own.”

Her hands tightened on the bars. “And now I want to leave.”

He grinned at her, but the shadows in his eyes remained dark, fathomless. “Hell, Deb, you’re the one who taught me that you don’t always get what you want.”

Guilt pinged inside her despite her own precarious position. “Gabe, this isn’t about us. But I can see that you’re still angry about how we left things. And if you need to hear me say I’m sorry, then I am. Sorry, I mean. I wasn’t trying to hurt you that night and-”

He laughed out loud, the sound rich and booming as it rattled through the tiny jail like a party with nowhere to go. Shaking his head, he said, “You’re amazing, you know that? Deb, do you really think I’ve been pining away for you for the last ten years?”

Frowning and feeling just a little foolish, she said, “No, but-”

“I moved on a long time ago, babe.” His gaze speared her. “Until you showed up here, I hadn’t given you a thought in ten years.”

Wow. That little dart hit home. Debbie didn’t like knowing that he’d never thought back. Never remembered. But how could she expect differently? Just because she’d spent a lot of nights over the years, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake in leaving him…didn’t mean he would have felt the same.

After all, it was she who’d ended everything between them. Why would he want to remember having his heart handed to him?

Gabe planted his feet wide apart, folded his arms across his chest and studied her for a long, thoughtful moment as his smile slowly faded. “You’re right about one thing, though. This isn’t about us.”

Nodding, she told herself to let go of old times. To put the past where he had-behind them. All that mattered at the moment was the fact that she was in jail, for Pete’s sake.

“Fine.” Debbie let go of the cell bars, stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and rocked back on her heels. “Then why don’t you tell me why the island’s owner sent you here in his place? Why isn’t he here himself if he’s so interested in talking to me?”

“What makes you think he’s not here?” Gabe’s voice came low, a whisper of ice.

She looked past him, as if she could stare through the closed door to the outer office beyond. “He’s out there? Then why…”

“Didn’t say that.”

Debbie’s gaze shifted back to him and it felt as if there were a couple dozen lead balls rolling erratically around at the pit of her stomach. The truth slowly, inexorably, dawned on her and as it did, she noted that Gabe’s green eyes went colder, darker, as silent seconds ticked past. “You mean-”

He stepped closer to the bars, looked her up and down, then his gaze locked with hers. “I mean,” Gabe said, “I own this island and everything on it, babe. Including, at the moment, you.”

Two

Her eyes went wide and horrified and Gabe wasn’t ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that he was enjoying this. He could almost see her thoughts flashing through her mind as her features shifted from amazed to confused to fury all in the blink of an eye.

Of course, being Debbie Harris, it didn’t take her long to erupt.

“Are you nuts?”

He laughed shortly. “Is that any way to talk to your jailer?”

She stepped back from the bars and stared at him as though she’d never seen him before. Shaking her head, she whispered, “You can’t be serious about keeping me locked up like this.”

But he was.

Gabe hadn’t seen Debbie in ten years and he hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he hadn’t given her much thought in all that time. At least, he admitted, not until she and her girlfriends had shown up here on his island.

And from the moment he’d seen her, all he’d been able to think about was Deb. Irritating as hell, but there it was. He wasn’t a man to be led around by his hormones and it was lowering to admit even to himself just how much he wanted her. After all, he had a life. A plan. And she had no part in any of it. And yet…

He let his gaze sweep over the bars of the cell before sliding back to her. “Looks like I’m serious to me.”

She still looked damn good. The cute girl she’d been ten years ago had become a gorgeous woman. Her curves were lush, her long blond hair lay in soft waves down to the center of her back and her tanned skin was the color of warm honey.

He remembered the feel of her, the taste of her and as something like hunger surged through him, Gabe had to admit that keeping her here had probably been a mistake. Damn it, he could have been rid of her. She’d been at the airfield, leaving, walking out of his life again, yet when he’d been handed the opportunity-he’d had her stopped.

He still wasn’t sure why, exactly.

“What kind of game are you playing?” Her voice was just a hiss of fury.

“No game,” he said tightly. That much was true at least.

“Of course it’s a game,” Debbie countered. “Your guy at the airport said there was a problem with my passport. We both know that’s a lie.”

“Not a lie. Usually, it’s a ruse. Something the guards tell a suspect to keep them calm while they’re being transported here.”

“A suspect?” She shrieked that last word and then stopped, looked at him hard and said, “What do you mean usually?”

Gabe wandered the jail area, looking around as if inspecting the cells to make sure they were just as they should be. “It seems,” he said quietly, idly, as if he couldn’t be less interested himself, “there’s a jewel thief working the resorts in this area.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

He smiled and let his gaze slide up and down her body before spearing into hers again. “This particular thief is about five foot four, long blond hair, blue eyes…”

She swallowed hard, shook her head and said, “You can’t possibly believe I’m a jewel thief.”

No. He didn’t. But when the notice from the British authorities had crossed his desk, he’d looked at it like a gift. Stupid. He couldn’t afford to have her here. Especially now.

But he hadn’t wanted her to leave, either.

One shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug. “You do fit the description.”

“So do a lot of people.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling again. “But you’re here. On the island. And we were asked to keep an eye out for a woman matching that description and detain her if necessary.”

“Detain,” she repeated, her voice sounding a little hollow. “Here? In jail?”

“If you’re innocent,” he started to say.

“If?”

“If you’re innocent,” he said again, “I’m sure this will be cleared up in a few days.”

“Days?”

“Is there an echo in here?” he wondered out loud, hiding his amusement. “You’ll stay as a guest of Fantasies until the authorities have been notified and proper steps are taken.”

“What steps?”

He shrugged again and stared directly into her wide, scared eyes. “Fingerprinting, no doubt. You’ll have to be investigated.”

“You’re kidding me. You don’t seriously believe-” She moved up to the cell bars, grabbed hold of two of them and squeezed hard. “Gabe, you know I’m not a thief.”

“No, I don’t,” he said reasonably, enjoying the heat of her temper. God, arguing with Deb had always been fun. “For all I know, you are this master thief the British authorities are looking for.”

“British?”

He shrugged. “Apparently the thief ran through several estates in England before moving on to the island resort towns.”

“I’ve never been to England,” she argued.

Gabe smiled and turned to face her. “And I’m supposed to take your word for that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t risk allowing a wanted criminal to escape the island.”

“Oh, for-”

“So,” Gabe said, walking toward her again with slow, measured steps, “until we get this straightened out, you’ll be staying right here at Fantasies.”

“You can’t keep me here, Gabe.” She stopped dead at the far end of the cell and glared at him.

“You’re wrong about that.”

She gaped at him and started pacing again.

He leaned one shoulder against the cold, steel bars and watched her as she stalked the confines of her cell. The heels of her sandals clicked frantically against the cement floor and the look she shot him should have fried him on the spot.

“I’m not guilty of anything and you can’t hold me here against my will.”

“I can do whatever I want to, Deb. This is my island. I make the rules.”

“There are laws about kidnapping.”

He chuckled. “Nobody kidnapped you.”

She gritted her teeth, hissed in a breath and then spoke in a deliberately patient tone. “You can’t just hold a person in jail because you feel like it.”

He smiled, waved one hand to encompass the tidy jail cell and said, “Clearly, I can.”

Sighing, she slid one hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. “What’s really going on here, Gabe? We both know I’m not this jewel thief, so why’re you really doing this to me?”

There were too many reasons, he thought, and scowled as the humor he’d found in the situation moments ago drained away. He didn’t owe her any more of an explanation than the one he’d given her. He had the right to hold her on the island until the authorities notified him otherwise. Still, if he kept her around for too long, things could get sticky.

He pushed away from the bars, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and said, “We can talk about this later.”

“No, there is no later. I have a plane to catch.”

“Actually, you don’t,” he said, watching her, “your plane’s gone.”

She just stared at him and Gabe almost felt a flicker of guilt. Almost. Then he remembered that one night ten years before, she’d walked away from him without a backward glance. And that memory was enough to steel him against the sheen of tears glittering in her eyes.

He only hoped it would be enough to help him hold out against the low, distinct throb of need pulsing inside him. “Look, as I see it, you have two choices,” he said quietly. “You can spend your time on the island here, in this cell…”

She swung her gaze in a wide arc, taking in her surroundings in a heartbeat. He knew exactly what she was thinking. It didn’t matter that the tiny jailhouse was a pleasant enough place. There were bars on the doors and windows and being locked away wasn’t a good thing, no matter how nice the accommodation.

Which is how he knew she’d choose door number two when presented with it.

“Or,” he said, meeting her gaze when she shifted it back to his, “you can come back to the hotel with me.”

“With you.”

“As the owner of the island, I can release you into my custody.”

“Custody.”

He grinned. “There really is an echo in here, isn’t there?”

“Funny.” Debbie watched him warily. “And if I’m in your custody, what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” he said, his voice low and dark, “you would be staying in my suite. Where I can keep an eye on you, until the matter is resolved.”

“Why can’t I have my old guest room back?”

Because he wanted her close, damn it.

“A wanted criminal?” he countered, lifting one dark blond eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

“We both know I’m not guilty of anything.”

“All I know is, you’re in jail and I’m in charge,” he said. “Up to you, Deb. Spend a few nights in a cell or come with me now.”

She looked from him to the cot behind her and back again. She studied his face and said, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” he countered, giving her a lazy smile that didn’t even try to disguise his amusement.

Debbie stared at him for another long minute. She could hardly believe any of this was happening. Gabriel Vaughn was the owner of Fantasies? The owner of his own, private island?

Ten years ago he’d had big plans and little else. Debbie had loved him madly back then, despite her own fears of a future that had looked shaky at best. Now, he was clearly more successful than even he had dreamed.

And she was literally at the mercy of a man who had every right to still be furious and bitter at the way she’d ended things between them.

This so didn’t look good.

Her mind racing, Debbie tried to slow her thoughts down and slide them into some kind of order. By all rights, she should be on a plane home, having a tropical drink right now, served by a smiling flight attendant. Instead she was standing in a cell, facing down the man she’d once thought she would love forever.

But the truth was, she thought as she looked at him on the other side of the bars, she couldn’t see anything of the Gabe she had known in the man watching her now. This man was cold. Even his smile was like ice.

She shivered, moved away from the cell door until the backs of her knees hit the quilt-covered cot behind her. Then she simply dropped to the narrow mattress and stared up at him. “I think I’ll stay here,” she said quietly.

Something in his green eyes flickered and she was pretty sure it was surprise. “You’d prefer a jail cell to the hotel?”

No, she thought wildly, somehow terrified of spending the night behind bars. “Yes.”

“Fine,” he said shortly, already turning for the door that led into the outer office. “If you change your mind, have one of the men call the resort.”

“I won’t change my mind, Gabe,” she called as he opened the door and stepped through.

He stopped, turned his head to look at her and said thoughtfully, “You said that once before. A long time ago. But you changed your mind anyway. I think you will this time, too.”

Then he left, closing the door behind him.

And Debbie was alone.

In the middle of the night, Debbie was wishing she were alone.

She sat up straight on her narrow cot and threw a furious look at the man in the adjoining cell to hers. The guards had brought him in an hour ago and he hadn’t been quiet for a moment since.

“We will, we will, rock you!” The best that could be said about his singing voice was that it was loud. The worst was, he kept running through every eighties song his blurred mind could recall. And the words he didn’t remember, he made up.

Debbie’s head was pounding and her eyes felt gritty. She was so tired she could hardly think and knew she wasn’t going to get any sleep at all. Not with the drunken lounge singer keeping her awake.

“Hey, honey,” the man crooned suddenly as he leaned on the bars separating their cells. “Got any requests?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “How about you shut up now?”

He grinned sloppily. “Don’t know that one. How ’bout ‘you’re just too good to be true…’?”

“Oh, God.” Debbie cupped her hands over her face and sighed heavily while she was serenaded. She couldn’t take this. Even facing down a cold-eyed Gabe would be better than being stuck in this cell with a drunk wannabe crooner.

Besides, there was no telling who the guards might bring in next. And with both cells occupied, the guards would start doubling up. Who knew who might be Debbie’s roommate by morning?

Mind made up, she jumped off the cot, crossed to the cell door and shouted, “Guard! Guard!”

She’d never thought she’d be in this position. It was like she was living an old movie. All she needed was a tin cup to rattle across the bars. She was humiliated and scared and tired, and all she wanted to do was to go home. But since she couldn’t at the moment, the hotel would be way preferable to life in a cage. Damn Gabe for being right.

When the security guard opened the door and looked in at her, she could have wept with gratitude. “Would you call Gabe for me? I mean, Mr. Vaughn?”

“What do you wish to tell him?” the man asked, pitching his voice to be heard over the strains of “Every Breath You Take,” now being slaughtered by Debbie’s cell mate.

She shot the drunk another furious glare, then turned back to the guard. “Tell him…tell him I changed my mind.”

Debbie stepped into Gabe’s suite at the hotel and could hardly notice any of the plush surroundings, since her gaze was locked on him. He wore nothing but a pair of black silk pajama bottoms that dipped low over his hips.

His broad, bare chest was tanned and sculpted as if out of bronze. His long, dark-blond hair hung loose and was tousled enough to tell her he’d gotten out of bed to answer her cry for help. The lights in the room were dim and the sheer drapes were pulled open, allowing the moon and starlight to drift inside on a wash of silver.

“Thanks for bringing her up, Emil,” Gabe said, and shook the guard’s hand before seeing him out and closing the door behind him.

Debbie stood in the middle of the living area and dared not take her eyes off of Gabe for an instant. When he met hers, she read annoyance and pleasure in those dark green depths and found herself shifting uncomfortably beneath his steady regard.

“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “You were right. I changed my mind.”

He leaned back against the door, folded his arms across his chest and crossed his feet at the ankle. Studying her for a long minute, he said, “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Okay, good,” Debbie said, and finally took a moment to glance around her. “Just tell me where to sleep and I’ll get out of your way.”

“My room’s through there,” he said, pushing away from the door and pointing to a door on the far side of the long room.

“Uh-huh. Where’s mine?”

He smiled. “With me.”

“Now wait a damn minute,” Debbie said, shaking her head. “I didn’t agree to-”

“Dial it down, Deb,” he cut her off quickly. “Like I said, it’s been a long day. I’m tired. I’m not arguing with you about this.”

“Fine. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t have one.” He started across the room, moonlight playing on his bare skin like a lover’s touch.

“Don’t have a-” She took a quick look. Chairs. Dozens of chairs sprinkled around the wide room, clustered in conversation groups, but no sofa. “What kind of a person doesn’t have a sofa?”

“Me. Now come on.”

“I’m not sharing your bed, Gabe.”

“To sleep, Deb.” He opened his bedroom door and scowled at her. “And you damn well are. I’m too tired to go chasing you across the island if you should try to escape.”

“I’m not going to escape.”

“Damn straight, you’re not. Now come on.”

Her insides squirmed uneasily. Sharing a bed with Gabe had not been a part of this deal. But she wasn’t sure how to get out of it and, damn it, she was tired, too. After all, he hadn’t been the one trying to sleep on a narrow, lumpy cot in a jail cell for the past several hours.

She started across the room, keeping her gaze fixed with his. “No false moves.”

He choked out a short laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, babe. You’re not that hot.”

“Thanks very much.”

“No more talking. Sleep now. Talk tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

She stepped into his bedroom and almost sighed. The room was huge, with an empty fireplace on one wall, a set of French doors leading to a wide stone terrace on another and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on a third. An open doorway led to what must be the bathroom, and moonlight drifted in through the terrace doors, laying an invitation across a bed as big as a football field.

Every cell in Debbie’s body groaned in anticipation. But as Gabe walked around the edge of the bed to the left side, she swallowed hard. He pushed those silk pajama bottoms down and off and stood there naked, watching her.

“Do you mind?” she said quickly, turning her gaze away, but not before her mouth went dry and her stomach did a quick spin and lurch. God, he was still gorgeous.

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

“Yeah, but do you have to be naked now?”

He laughed, got into the bed and pulled the white duvet up over his hips. “Like I said, I’m tired. Now get into bed and go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep with you naked.”

“And I can’t sleep with me in clothes. Guess who I’m more worried about.”

“No guess required,” she muttered, and walked around to the other side of the immense mattress. Stepping out of her sandals, Debbie thought seriously about sleeping in her clothes, but then decided that would be stupid. It wasn’t as if Gabe was even interested in her. And if he did make a move, she could stop him.

Would stop him.

So keeping her eyes averted, she undid the button and zipper on her shorts and slipped out of them, letting them fall to the hardwood floor. Then she sat on the bed and swung her legs up.

“That’s it?” he asked in a low-pitched grumble. “You’re gonna sleep in your shirt and bra?”

“I’m very comfortable,” she lied, laying her head down on a feather pillow that felt like heaven.

“Right. Whatever.” He blew out a breath, rolled to one side and warned, “Don’t try to leave the room, Deb. I’m a light sleeper.”

“I remember,” she said softly into the silvery darkness.

Whether he heard her or not, she couldn’t be sure. And a moment or two later, she didn’t care. She fell into sleep like a rock dropping into a well.

Three

Debbie sighed in her sleep, rolled onto her side and cuddled into the warm, hard body beside her. Her head nestled in the curve of a strong shoulder, she kept her eyes closed despite the wash of light she sensed beyond her eyelids.

Morning, and she wasn’t ready to get up and go to work. Her mind drifted, focused and drifted again. She was just so comfortable she didn’t want to think about moving just yet. She’d much rather-

“Comfy?”

She knew that voice.

Her eyes flew open even as she practically flew back and away from Gabe’s warm, naked body. Amusement colored his features but something deeper flashed in his eyes. Hunger. She recognized it because it was sputtering into dancing flames inside her own body.

“What were you doing?” she demanded, shoving one hand through her hair while she scooted back to the edge of the mattress.

“Sleeping. What were you doing?” One corner of his mouth quirked into a half smile that tugged at Debbie’s insides just as it once had.

God, ten years and he could still make her quiver with a look. What was it about him that she’d never found in anyone else? And how was she going to stay close to him without getting close to him?

What a mess.

“Nothing,” she muttered thickly. “I wasn’t doing anything I was just-nothing.” She slipped out of bed, grabbed up the shorts she’d taken off the night before and tugged them up over her white lace panties. She didn’t feel safe until she had those shorts zipped and buttoned.

For heaven’s sake, she’d been practically laying on top of the man. All cuddled in like she belonged in his arms. He’d felt strong and warm and…safe. But hey, a person couldn’t be held responsible for what they did in their sleep, could they?

He propped himself up on one elbow and the thick white duvet fell down his body to puddle just at his hips. Debbie closed her eyes tight and prayed he wouldn’t move any more. She just wasn’t up to another peek at a naked Gabe.

He grinned then, as if he knew just what she was thinking.

“If you’re interested in a little morning wake-up, all you have to do is say so.”

“I’m not interested, but thanks for the generous offer,” she quipped, and hoped to heaven her voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. “That-” she waved one hand at him “-didn’t mean anything and you don’t have to look so pleased with yourself.” She swung her hair back from her face and tried to look a lot more self-controlled than she felt at the moment. “I was sleeping. Didn’t realize that was you next to me and-”

“Ah.” He interrupted her again and threw back the duvet in one easy motion.

Debbie swallowed hard, but refused to close her eyes. She wasn’t going to let him know that his nudity bothered her.

Man, he looked really good.

“So what you’re saying,” he continued as he stood and stretched lazily, “is that in your sleep, you’ll snuggle up to whatever warm body’s available?”

“Yes.” She frowned, distracted by the play of golden sunlight over his bronzed, rippled chest and abdomen and his hard and ready-don’t look. “No. That’s not what I-” She blew out a breath, forced herself to keep her gaze locked with his. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Is that wrong?” He grinned at her.

Debbie crossed her arms over her chest and tapped the toe of one foot against the gleaming hardwood floor. “Yes. All of this is wrong.”

Staring at her, he reminded her, “You were the one cozying up to me, Deb. Wasn’t the other way around.”

“I’m not talking about that,” she snapped, then sighed heavily. “Do you mind getting dressed?”

“Am I making you nervous?”

She smirked at him. Not for all the money in the world would she admit to him that he wasn’t making her nervous at all-he was making her very…needy. “No. It’s just not easy holding a conversation with a naked man.”

One eyebrow lifted. “We don’t have to have a conversation…”

“Oh, yes we do.” Fine. If he wouldn’t get dressed, she’d turn around. No point in making herself crazy by trying to avoid staring at all of that tanned, muscled skin. No tan lines, either. God. Did he sunbathe naked, too? Oo-oh. She closed her eyes and muffled a groan at the mental image rising up in her brain.

To cool herself off, to try to gather up the tattered threads of rational thought, she started talking again. “Last night, I agreed to come here because I didn’t want to stay in the jail.”

“So?”

“So…” Debbie stared at the painting on the pale blue wall opposite her. A beach scene at sunset, with deep, rich colors streaming across a canvas sky and drizzling onto ocean waves whipped by an unseen wind. “So how long do I have to stay here?”

She heard him moving around the room behind her and only hoped that getting dressed was part of his game plan.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On how long it takes for you to be cleared of suspicion.”

“Oh, come on, Gabe.”

When he didn’t answer, she whirled around, saw that he’d pulled on those silky pajama bottoms, and blew out a grateful breath. Then she followed him as he walked out onto the tiled terrace off the bedroom.

The shining red tiles felt cold beneath her bare feet, but the sun was already climbing in a cloudless blue sky. In the distance, the ocean stretched out in front of the resort and flashes of colored sails on swift-moving boats caught her eye. Directly below them and to the left was a golf course, so deep and rich a green it almost hurt to look at it, and on the right, stone paths wound through carefully tended shrubs and flowers, leading to the pool area and the beach beyond.

“This place is amazing.”

He swiveled his head to look at her. A brief smile curved his mouth then disappeared an instant later. “Thanks. I like it.”

She smiled and shifted her gaze to the sweep of green where a couple of early golfers were steering a red-and-white cart down a path. “You used to talk about having a place like this. Remember?”

She flicked a glance at him in time to see his smile fade and a shutter drop over his eyes. “I remember. Look, Deb. I’m not interested in a forced march down memory lane, all right?”

“Yeah, sure.” His instant withdrawal stung a little. But could she blame him?

He pushed off the railing, walked into his bedroom and threw words back over his shoulder like crumbs to a hungry pigeon. “I’ll contact the authorities in Bermuda. See if they’ve got any more information on the jewel thief.”

“Gabe, you know that’s not me. Right?”

He stopped and glanced at her. “Doesn’t matter what I know, Deb. All that matters is what you can prove.”

“How’m I supposed to prove I’m innocent?”

Nodding, he acknowledged, “Good question. You should get to work on that right away.”

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

“I’m letting you stay with me.”

She shot a look at the mile-wide bed and then looked at him again. “Yeah, about that. Is there a guest room-”

He laughed. “Why in the hell would I bother to have a guest room in my suite?” Shaking his head, he waved both arms and reminded her, “I live in a hotel, Deb. All the rooms here are guest rooms.”

Good point. “Okay, let me have my old room then.”

“No can do.” He opened the top drawer of a sleek, polished dresser, pulled out a pair of black boxers, then slammed the drawer closed again. “As long as you’re here, you’re my responsibility. You stay where I can keep an eye on you or you go back to jail. You choose. Right now, I’m gonna grab a shower, then get to work.”

She really hated this. Hated that she was caught up in something she couldn’t control. Hated that she needed Gabe and really hated that he was so getting a charge out of giving her a hard time over it. And she hated knowing that she sort of felt safe with Gabe. She wasn’t nearly as scared as she should be, because Gabe was right here, snarling at her. And looking way too sexy.

But she had no other choice. No way was she going back to jail. So she’d have to find a way to stay with Gabe without giving in to the feelings he could still inspire in her.

Sure.

No problem.

Oh, she was in serious trouble here.

“Fine,” she said on a deep breath. “I’ll stay.”

“Glad that’s settled. Call downstairs. They probably brought your bags from the airport last night.”

“Okay, then what?”

He shrugged. “Take a shower. Get dressed.”

“And then?”

“Hell if I know.”

He turned to walk into the huge bathroom jutting off the master bedroom and stopped when she called, “But what am I supposed to do about all this?”

He sighed and said, “I’ll make some calls later. See what I can find out.”

“Thanks.”

He didn’t answer, just walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Alone again, Debbie looked around the empty room and wondered just how long she was going to be a prisoner in this palace.

“Jewel thief?” Janine’s voice shrieked over the phone line and Debbie felt better just hearing her friend’s fury. “Is he crazy? You’re no thief.”

Smiling, Debbie leaned back in her chair and took her first easy breath since being stopped at the airfield the day before. It was good to hear someone else’s belief in her. “Thanks.”

“Everybody knows you’re too clumsy to be a jewel thief,” Janine added. “You’d never make a living.”

Debbie scowled at the phone in her hand and muttered, “Thanks again.”

“Well, come on,” Janine said on a laugh now, “you’ve gotta admit, jewel thieves have to be sneaky. You trip over your own feet.”

“Okay,” Debbie said, hoping to cut short Janine’s amusement. “But let’s pretend the authorities don’t know that I’m a clod and figure out how I can prove to them that I’m not this thief they’re looking for.”

The restaurant by the beach was, as with most everything else at Fantasies, done in a red-and-white decor. White tables shone in the sunlight, red carnations sprouted from white vases in the center of every table. The servers wore Hawaiian-print shirts, also in red and white, and the crowd around Debbie was relaxed, celebratory.

As she had been only a few days ago.

That was, until she’d been arrested.

“Oh, God.” Debbie stifled a groan.

“Right, right. But whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“Wish I knew.”

Janine heaved a sigh that carried all the way from Long Beach to the beachside restaurant on Fantasies. “You say the owner of the resort is helping you?”

“That’s what he says,” Debbie told her, but privately she wondered. Gabe had no reason to be kind to her.

But she’d done what she’d believed she had to do to save both of them from more pain further down the road back then. Did she wish things could have been different? Of course. But that didn’t change a damn thing, did it?

“You don’t think he is?”

“I don’t know.” Debbie grabbed her glass of iced tea, took a long drink to ease the tightness in her throat and kept her gaze focused on the beach, so she didn’t have to look at any of the other people seated in the restaurant. “I really don’t.”

She took a breath and blew it out in a rush. “Janine, it’s Gabe.”

A second passed, then…

“What? Gabe? You mean the owner? Gabe?”

“Yes, yes and yes.”

“Oh, crap.”

“Exactly.” Debbie traced the tip of one finger through the water ring her iced tea had left on the glass tabletop.

“Is he still mad?” Janine asked.

“He says no.”

“Well, of course he’s gonna say he’s not still angry. If he was still mad ten years later that makes him either a psycho or a big weenie.”

While Janine ranted, Debbie’s brain raced. Of course her girlfriends both knew about Gabe. They’d met him a few times back in the day, though she and Gabe had mostly preferred being alone back then. But her girlfriends had consoled her after the breakup and whenever she’d doubted the decision she’d made, they’d assured her she’d done the right thing.

“I can’t believe Gabe owns Fantasies,” Janine was saying. “And that we never saw him while we were there. Was he hiding? Is he hideously disfigured or something?”

“A million times no,” Debbie said on a groan.

“Still hot, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well…” Janine’s voice went thoughtful. “This puts a new spin on things, doesn’t it?”

“Kind of, I guess. But the point is, I don’t know what to do. Should I get a lawyer or something?”

“Beats me,” Janine admitted, then offered, “I’ll ask Max. Maybe he’ll have some clue.”

“Okay, good.” That was something concrete. And hey, got them off the subject of Gabe and her own brief incarceration. “And speaking of Max, everything okay with you guys?”

“Only slightly wonderful,” Janine said, and Debbie heard the near purr in her friend’s voice. “He’s helping me pack for the move to England-no, wait. Make that, he’s paying people to help me pack.”

“Works just as well.”

“Yeah. He’s really great, Deb. I mean, amazing and he’s gonna fly you and Cait to London for the wedding, which is turning into like a three-ring circus, by the way, because Max is this big deal in business over there and-”

“That’s great, honey,” Debbie cut her off without a qualm. After all, she was delighted her friend was so happy, but she had the little problem of oh, say, prison facing her at the moment. “But selfishly, back to me…”

“Right, right. Okay, I’ll talk to Max. Then I’ll call Cait. Maybe Lyon can do something, too.”

Her other best friend, Caitlyn, was now engaged to her boss, Jefferson Lyon, who had plenty of connections in fairly high circles, so Debbie was prepared to take all the help she could get. Even if it was so damned embarrassing to have to ask for that help.

“Great. Fabulous. Now everyone will know I’m a felon.” Debbie’s chin hit her chest as visions of herself dressed in an old movie version of a black-and-white-striped prison uniform flashed through her mind. “I don’t look good in horizontal stripes.”

Janine laughed, clearly understanding exactly what her friend had been talking about. “Horizontal stripes are nobody’s friend. Don’t worry, Deb. We’ll get this straightened out in no time. Until then, try to enjoy yourself. You’re still at Fantasies. Make the most of it. And, hey, maybe you should make the most of being close to Gabe again.”

Her body sizzled. Not a good sign. “That’s so not gonna happen.”

“Well, at least keep him happy, since he’s the guy in charge of the jail key!”

“Right.” She hung up, listened to the sigh of the waves rushing toward shore, the screech of the seabirds, and the conversations ebbing and flowing all around her. Enjoy herself. Sure.

No problem.

Gabe had plenty to keep him occupied. Even with a first-class manager and staff, there was work to be done. But doing that work while his brain kept circling around Debbie was no small task.

He knew damn well she wasn’t a jewel thief. The only reason she was still on his island was that he wasn’t finished with her. Yet. And if she thought she was trapped here, then so much the better.

Leaning back in his office chair, he swung around to look out the wide window behind him. His view of the golf course and the ocean beyond didn’t soothe him as it usually did. Normally, he reveled in the knowledge that he’d made all of his crazy-ass dreams come true. He’d built an empire out of luck, talent and sheer grit, and he enjoyed the hell out of his life. It was everything he’d always planned for it to be.

But now, with Deb here on his island, he had the chance to settle a score that had niggled at the back of his mind for far too long. Ten years ago, she’d taken his heart and crushed it. Now, she was going to see just what kind of man she’d helped to create.

Ever since he’d seen her with her girlfriend down at the pool, he’d been thinking about her. Remembering things he hadn’t allowed himself to recall in years. And if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that looking back served no purpose at all. The only thing that mattered was the present and the future you created for yourself.

Still…

There was a part of him that called for vengeance. Fate had handed him a golden opportunity and he hadn’t become the success he had by ignoring quirks of fate. Besides, in that small, dark corner of his heart, he wanted to make Debbie sorry she’d ever walked away from him. And until he’d done that, he wouldn’t let her go.

“Mr. Vaughn?”

His assistant’s voice cut through his thoughts and Gabe turned to scowl at the woman standing in the open doorway. About fifty years old, she was tall, thin and so organized, she would have made a great general. She’d been with him for the last five years and probably knew even more about his businesses than he did. “What is it, Beverly?”

“There’s a woman here to see you. A Debbie Harris?”

He smirked. Debbie never had been a patient woman. “Send her in.”

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Debbie was slipping past Beverly and striding into the office. “Thanks, Bev. That’s all.”

The woman sniffed in displeasure, but backed out and closed the door. When she was gone, Gabe fixed his gaze on Debbie and wished he didn’t care about how good she looked. She was wearing a soft, blue sundress with thin straps over her tanned shoulders. The hem of the dress hit her midthigh and her heeled sandals gave her an extra inch or two of height. Her blond hair was pulled into a silver clip at the nape of her neck and hung in loose waves down to the center of her back.

And his only thought was, he’d like to bury his hands in that hair, pull her head to his and-maybe keeping her here hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

“What is it, Deb?”

“Gabe, I need to know what you’re doing about this.” She moved around the office, trailing her fingers across glossy tables, stopping to peer at the jam-packed, rigidly aligned bookshelves and then moving eventually to the wall of windows behind him. She stared out at the opulent view and while she looked at the ocean, Gabe looked at her.

“I made a few calls,” he lied smoothly. There was no one to call. The authorities weren’t really interested in her. Her resemblance to the jewel thief supposedly running around the islands meant nothing to them. Gabe was the only thing keeping Debbie on this island. And she wasn’t going anywhere until he was good and ready to see her leave.

“And?” she asked.

“And…nothing so far.” He saw the helplessness glint in her eyes as he added, “The authorities are looking into the situation.”

She shook her head slowly, sadly. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

A quick twist of something that might have been guilt shot through him as fast as a lightning flash. He ignored it. “Don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Easier than she knew.

She chewed at her bottom lip in a nervous gesture he recognized and Gabe knew how worried she was. Guilt threatened again and was ruthlessly squashed. Hell, he wasn’t hurting her. He was just giving her a hard time for a few days. Soon enough, she’d be back to her life and he’d have had the revenge he was due.

Watching her, as she stood so closely and yet so far from him, it finally came to Gabe just how to exact the payback his pride demanded. He was going to seduce her. Make her want him as he had once so desperately wanted her. And when she was limp with desire, ready to beg him to take her back…he’d cut her loose as surgically as she had done to him so long ago.

If that meant he would be forced to hold her captive on the island for a while longer, then that’s just what he’d do. As he’d already told her…he owned the island and everything on it. Here, he made the rules.

“I called my friend Janine,” she was saying, “and she said she’d get her fiancé to look into this for me, but I don’t know what Max can do.”

“Max?” he asked.

“Max Striver. He’s-”

“I know Max,” Gabe interrupted, and wondered if his old friend really had taken the plunge and proposed to the cute little brunette he’d spent so much time with in the last few weeks.

“You know him?”

“For a few years. And I never would have thought he’d get married again. Are you sure about this?”

“Hmm? What? Oh, yeah. Apparently he followed Janine home to Long Beach and proposed. They’re getting married in London in a few weeks.”

“Amazing,” he mused, sitting on the corner of his desk. Of course, looking back, he could see that Max had been drawn deeper and deeper into the relationship with the woman he’d been paying to pretend to be his wife. Strange that now she’d be his wife for real. “He always said he’d never marry again.”

“People change,” she said lightly.

“Apparently.” He shouldn’t have been so surprised, really. He’d known that Max’s father had been after him to marry and start building on the family dynasty.

Debbie was staring at him, a question in her eyes. “You never got married?”

“No.” He stiffened, then forced himself to release the swift punch of tension gripping him. He hadn’t thought of marriage again until recently. But that wasn’t part of this conversation.

“Gabe…”

“Forget it,” he said, not wanting to hear her explanation of why she’d turned down his marriage proposal ten years ago. It was over. And now, his life was different. He was different. He wasn’t an eager young man following his heart anymore. Now he made decisions based on logic. Cool, clear logic.

“We should talk about it,” she said. “About what happened between us.”

“No point,” he said. “It’s over and done. Let it go. I have.”

Four

Gabe insisted they have a late dinner at Fantasies’ rooftop restaurant.

Debbie wanted to be doing something about her predicament, but since Gabe said all that could be done was being done, she’d had little choice but to try to relax. She wore the strapless, short black dress she’d brought with her on vacation, because it was the only dressy thing she had. But she also loved the way it fit, smoothing over her curves and flaring into a swirling skirt three inches above her knees.

Gabe’s green eyes had fired when he first saw her in it and that little jolt of confidence had done a lot for her.

Now, they sat at a private table, on the corner of the roof, with a wide, black sky glittering with stars above them. The moon’s reflection danced on the surface of the ocean and a soft breeze twisted the candle flames into a frenzied dance. The table was spread with a pristine, white-linen tablecloth and sported a single red rosebud in a crystal vase as a centerpiece. While the other people at the restaurant chatted and laughed, Debbie watched Gabe and wondered how he’d come so far in only ten years.

Physically, he looked much the same-long, thick, dark-blond hair, streaked gold now by the sun, a tall, lanky body that belied the strength in him. His face was sharp angles, piercing green eyes and a mouth that had, long ago, been able to reduce her to whimpers in seconds.

When she had known him, he’d been mostly a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy. Yet tonight, he wore a finely tailored tuxedo and looked as though he’d been born to it. In fact, with that long hair, pulled back at the nape of his neck, his high cheekbones and steady eyes, he looked both elegant and dangerous.

Enough to bring most women to their knees.

And she, Debbie thought, was no exception.

There was an air of tightly leashed power about him now that he hadn’t had ten years ago. She’d noticed how the staff at Fantasies practically came to attention when he entered a room. He seemed to know every employee by name and every one of those employees jumped into action when he quirked a finger.

And she wondered again if there were some remnants of the man she’d once known beneath the veneer of sophistication he carried now.

“What’re you thinking?” he asked, and she just barely caught the low rumble of his voice over the hum of conversations surrounding them.

Debbie smiled, reached for the glass of chilled white wine in front of her and took a sip to ease the dryness in her throat. “Just that you’ve changed a lot.”

There was no answering smile in his eyes, but he nodded his head in acknowledgment. “I had plans. I saw to it that they succeeded.”

If there was a barb in that statement, Debbie chose to ignore it. After all, ten years was a long time. Maybe he really had let the past go. Shouldn’t she do the same? “I don’t understand, though, how you did it? How’d you accomplish so much so quickly?”

He shifted his gaze to a nearby waiter, subtly signaled and had the man bustling over to top off their wineglasses. When the waiter had retreated again, Gabe said, “A combination of hard work and luck.”

“I’m guessing that’s the short version.”

Briefly, his mouth curved into a half smile. “It is.”

“How about the other version?”

He took a breath, blew it out and said, “There were a couple of lean years. Took a job in the Middle East, working security for the oil fields. Big money, not a lot of places to spend it.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I banked my pay, invested most of it.”

Debbie lifted her wine again. “You can’t tell me you did all this on simple investments.”

“Hardly.” He lifted his own wineglass, studied the straw-colored wine as it was backlit by the flickering candles and continued as if he were talking to himself rather than to her. He took a sip, set the glass down and leaned back in his chair.

“Several years ago, I met a guy who had an idea for some computer thing.” He smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Didn’t understand then what it was all about, still don’t, really. But he seemed to know his stuff. He needed backing, I took a shot on him and hit the jackpot.”

He told the story so simply, but she could see him in her mind’s eye. Working in the Middle East, saving his money, investing it, taking a chance on another man with a dream. And finally, making all of his plans come true. A swell of admiration filled her as she remembered all the nights they’d spent talking about their dreams, their hopes.

He’d done everything he’d once talked about.

Accomplished so much.

“And then you bought the island?”

He let his gaze sweep the crowded rooftop restaurant before looking back at her. Pride shone in his eyes as he said, “Yes. I redid the hotel, renamed it and opened for business five years ago.”

“It’s a beautiful place,” she said, and wished she didn’t feel as though she were talking to a stranger. “You’ve really made something here, Gabe. Something people all over the world talk about.”

The waiter approached again, served their meals, then dissolved into the background as silently as he’d arrived.

“What about you?” Gabe asked as she picked up a fork and lifted a bite of her pan-seared halibut. “What’ve you been doing since I last saw you?”

She chewed, swallowed and said, “I still live in Long Beach. I own a travel agency there.”

“So you’ve done well.”

Nodding, Debbie let her pride in her business fill her. True, she hadn’t succeeded on the grand scale that Gabe had, but she’d made a good life for herself. One that was safe. Secure. And that was all that mattered to her. “Do you ever get back home?”

“No,” he said, biting off the single word. “I left Long Beach ten years ago-”

He broke off and Debbie winced. She knew when he’d left. After their last night together, when she’d turned down his proposal. She’d tried to see him a few days later. To try to explain. To make him understand that it wasn’t because she didn’t love him.

But he’d already left and even his younger brother hadn’t known where he’d gone. At least, Devlin Vaughn hadn’t wanted to tell her.

“I went to your house,” she said, wanting him to know that she hadn’t simply turned her back on what they’d had. “But Devlin told me you were gone.”

“No reason to stick around, was there?” He sliced off a piece of his swordfish and ate it. Then he gave her a small smile. “Don’t look so guilty, Deb. You did what you had to do. So did I.”

True, she had. She’d wanted to be with him, but her own fears hadn’t allowed that choice. If her heart still hurt for chances missed and roads not taken, that was something she’d simply learned to live with.

But her throat was tight and swallowing wasn’t easy. So she forgot about dinner for the moment and had another sip of wine. “Well then, tell me what Dev’s up to. Is he here working for you?”

“No, Dev runs his own businesses. He went into the military not long after I left. When he got out, he started a security firm-Top Dog. He keeps a team here on the island to work for the celebrity guests, but he’s based out of L.A.” Now his smile was genuine and even Debbie could see that the Vaughn brothers were as tight as they’d always been.

“Say hi to him for me when you see him next.” Her fingers tapped restlessly on the tabletop as nerves jittered through her system. Didn’t seem to matter that she kept trying to relax. Her body simply wouldn’t allow it.

“Sure. Look.” He leaned across the table again and reached out to lay one hand over her dancing fingers. “I know you’re worried about the situation, but you’re just gonna have to trust me. You couldn’t do it ten years ago. Try harder now.”

She frowned at him. “Gabe, I’m trapped here. Hard not to be a little on the anxious side.”

“Trapped?” he repeated.

“I can’t leave, can I?”

“No.”

“Then…” She pulled her hand out from under his, picked up a braised carrot and took a small bite.

The candle flames threw dancing shadows across his face and his green eyes caught with the tiny fire. “I’ll do what I can to help. I already told you that. And there are worse places to be stuck.”

“I know that, it’s just-”

“You never could stand not being in control,” he mused, and eased back in his chair.

“So much for not talking about the past, then,” Debbie pointed out.

He tipped his head. “You always were stubborn, Debbie. Determined to have things your own way.”

“So were you.” She waved one arm, encompassing their lush surroundings. “You built a world just the way you wanted it to be. How is that any different from me?”

“Suppose it’s not,” he agreed. “But in this case, what you want has to wait on a few other factors.”

She dropped her fork and it clinked musically against the fine china. “No one is really going to believe I’m the jewel thief, are they?”

He shrugged negligently, as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “The authorities have to check it out.”

“And how long is that going to take?”

“Things move a little slower in the islands.”

“Fabulous.”

He laughed shortly. “I can promise to be an understanding jailer.”

Debbie looked across the table at him and wished she could see into his thoughts. His smile was cool, pleasant, but his eyes held secrets and that bothered her more than she cared to admit. Just the night before he hadn’t seemed so eager to make her happy. Hadn’t he said something like, I own everything on this island, including you? So what happened to change his attitude?

“Something wrong?”

“You tell me,” she said, pushing her plate away since clearly she wasn’t going to be able to swallow anything beyond her wine. “Why’re you being so nice all of a sudden?”

He reached up, loosened the tie at his neck and then undid the top button of his dress shirt. Instead of making him look more relaxed, it only served to make him appear edgier. Sexier, God help her. Her palms went damp and her mouth went dry.

His eyes glittered and his features stiffened. “Maybe I just don’t see any point in being enemies.”

She wanted to believe him. She wished she could. “Really?”

“Really.” Gabe looked at her for a long, silent minute. He heard the hope in her voice, saw the vulnerability in her eyes. And he knew this was going according to plan. She was trusting him. Of course, what choice did she have?

She watched him and his gaze slid over her in appreciation. His body reacted in an instant. She was beautiful. Enough to take a man’s breath. She was made for moonlight. Her skin seemed to glow, her eyes shone and her mouth…

He pulled in a breath, reminded himself that this was just a ploy. He was here to lower her guard, not his own. He was being nice, as she put it, with that single goal in mind. And he was a man who never gave up once his course was set.

He wanted her.

Hell, he’d always wanted her. From the very first time he’d laid eyes on her. She’d been only eighteen years old, and his blood had pumped and his brain had dissolved. She had been the one sure thing in his life.

Until she’d walked away.

Now, he had her right where he wanted her. And he was going to seduce her into thinking all was forgiven. He was going to make her want him as she once had. And then when he’d had her under him, over him, every way he could think of, he’d be the one to walk away.

With that thought in mind, he took a sip of wine, arrowed his gaze into hers and said, “So you never got married, either, huh?”

She blinked. “Wow. There’s a change of subject.”

He shrugged. “Just a question.”

“Right. Okay.” Nodding, she sipped at her own wine and said, “No, I never married. I was engaged earlier this year, though.”

Something inside him fisted. He didn’t like how it affected him to know that she had found a man she loved enough to say yes to. A man she apparently had loved far more than she had him. Strange that after all this time, he would even care. But there it was. “So you managed to say yes to a proposal, after all.”

She flushed and shot him a quick look. “Gabe.”

He shook his head, forced himself to smile. “But even after saying yes, you backed out. Haven’t changed much, have you, Deb?”

“I didn’t back out.”

“Really? So where’s your husband?” Gabe looked past her at the crowd as if searching for a particular face before shifting his gaze back to hers.

“I said I didn’t back out.”

“Ah,” he smiled then, “so he turned the tables on you, did he?”

“No.” Scowling now, she blew out a breath and said, “It just didn’t happen.”

“Why not?”

He watched her, saw emotions churning in her eyes and couldn’t identify any of them. There had once been a time, he thought, that he knew what she was thinking. That they were so connected, they could have completed each other’s sentences. But that time was long gone.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Her fingers swept up and down the stem of her wineglass and her mouth firmed fiercely as if she were biting back words that battled to get free. Finally, though, she met his gaze and said quietly, “I found out that Mike was already married. To two other women.”

“Ah…” Despite the fury trembling in her voice, he heard the pain, too, the humiliation, and a small part of him was glad of it. Why should he be the only one to remember how it felt to have someone you loved pull the rug out from under you? Besides, he wasn’t here to sympathize. “So you chose badly, again.”

She took another sip of wine. “All those years ago, Gabe,” she said, “we were too young.”

“I loved you.”

“And I loved you.”

“Not enough.”

“You’re wrong,” she said. “But love isn’t everything.”

Now she reached across the table toward him, but Gabe pulled his hand back.

He resented her bringing their shared past back to gnaw at him. For years, Gabe had deliberately kept those memories in lockdown, refusing to think about them, refusing to wallow in what he had concluded had been a mistake, right from the beginning. The past had no part in his life. His present was just as he wanted it and his future was planned out.

And she wasn’t a part of it.

Yet, just by being here, she was neatly undoing all of those carefully arranged locks he’d put in place. But damn, if he was going to make it easy on her.

“We keep heading down that road and I’m just not interested in the past, Deb. It was a long time ago and we’re different people now. You said it yourself. People change.” He stood and shoved both hands into the pockets of his tux. Looking down at her, he said, “Stay. Enjoy your dinner. I’ve got some things to look into.”

“Gabe, don’t go.”

The softness in her voice pulled at him. The yearning in her eyes tugged at something deep inside. He didn’t want to be tugged, but no way would he be the one to bend in this little contest.

He lifted one hand to her face, stroked his fingertips along the soft, smooth line of her jaw and said, “I’ll see you later.”

“You want me to what?”

Gabe leaned back in his desk chair and looked up at his head of security. Yes, his brother, Devlin, kept a team of private security on the island, but this man, Victor Reyes, worked for Gabe. Victor had been in charge of island security for four years now and in that time, he and Gabe had become friends.

“I want you to make sure Debbie Harris knows she’s being watched.”

Victor was a tall, muscular man with a fierce expression, forbidding personality and black, glittering eyes. It was usually enough for him to simply show up and anyone causing trouble at Fantasies was quickly convinced to change their mind. “Can I ask why?”

“She thinks she’s under suspicion of being the jewel thief wanted on the islands.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “You have reason to believe she’s the thief?”

“No.” Gabe got up and turned to face the wide bank of windows behind his desk. “She’s not a thief. But I’m not ready for her to leave the island just yet and I’m willing to do what I have to do to keep her here.”

There was a long moment of silence and Gabe knew that Victor was considering his next words before he spoke. A careful man. “I guess you’ve got your reasons.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“All right, then,” Victor said. “You’re the boss.”

Gabe glanced over his shoulder at the other man. “But you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You don’t pay me to think, Gabe,” Victor said, folding massive arms across his chest. “But if you want my opinion, no. It’s not the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Probably not, Gabe thought, turning back to stare out at the spread of the world he’d built stretching in front of him. Would have been smarter to let Debbie go never knowing he was on the island. But this felt right. He’d learned long ago to listen to his instincts, so he was going to go with that. There was a score to be settled between him and Debbie Harris.

Turning around, Gabe faced his old friend and nodded. “You’re probably right, Vic. But we’re gonna do this my way.”

“Okay by me. But what’re you going to do about Ms. Madison?”

“Huh?” Gabe felt the world tip slightly, but looked at his friend and asked, “What’re you talking about? What’s Grace got to do with this?”

Victor shook his head and pulled a PalmPilot from the pocket of the lightweight jacket he wore to cover up the gun at his hip. Turning the device on, he scanned the screen, looked up at Gabe and said, “According to the schedule, Ms. Madison’s due to arrive in three days.”

“Damn it.”

How could he have forgotten this? Grace’s visit had been arranged more than a month ago. But then, in the last month, he hadn’t thought about much more than Debbie Harris. Hardly surprising he’d forget about other plans when he was so wrapped up in his scheme for revenge.

Muttering dark threats just under his breath, Gabe shoved one hand through his hair, then kicked the edge of his desk. “I forgot all about her.”

Victor chuckled and put his PalmPilot away.

“This amuses you?” Gabe asked, his voice a thin, cold ribbon.

Victor wasn’t cowed, though. They’d been friends too long. He simply smiled and said, “You’ve got Debbie Harris staying in your suite…and in three days, your fiancée shows up. What’s not amusing about that?”

Gabe scowled at him. Grace wasn’t his fiancée. Not officially. He hadn’t proposed, though he and Grace had reached an agreement the last time she’d visited. Debbie. Without even trying, she was messing with his life. “We’re not engaged. Yet.”

“Oh, well, then. No problem.”

Gabe slumped back into his desk chair. Disgusted, he glanced at his friend. “You’re fired.”

“Hell, boss, you can’t fire me. I’m the only friend you’ve got left.”

Five

Gabe had come a long way from Long Beach, CA. Mingling with the rich, the powerful, the famous, he was completely at home. He wore a tuxedo as though he’d been born to it and used a smooth, practiced charm on the “beautiful” people surrounding him. And while he looked relaxed, Debbie could see, even at a distance, that his gaze was sharp as he swept the room, making sure everything was as it should be.

Then a glamorous brunette in a fire-engine-red dress that dipped low over her huge, had-to-be-man-made breasts and ended high on her thighs, leaned into Gabe and whispered something in his ear. He gave her a slow smile that set off a bubble of something hot and ugly in the pit of Debbie’s stomach. She didn’t have the right, of course, to care that he was smiling at a woman who clearly didn’t know the meaning of the word “subtle.”

But that didn’t seem to matter. When the brunette dipped her head and looked up at him through her lashes, Debbie muttered, “Oh, for God’s sake. What is this, Seduction 101?”

At least Gabe wasn’t buying what the woman seemed so intent on selling. He smiled again, then turned his attention back to the older, sophisticated couple standing on his right. The brunette pouted for a minute, then slipped into the crowd.

“Happy hunting,” Debbie whispered as she watched the scene play out from the doorway of Fantasies’ main club. A swirl of nerves jittered through her stomach and had her taking a long, deep breath in a futile attempt to settle herself.

Gabe may completely be at ease here, but she felt as out of place as a discount store in Beverly Hills. She knew she was here under false pretenses. After all, the people crowding this club were wealthy, pampered. She owned and operated a travel agency in Long Beach. She couldn’t be more different from Fantasies’ usual guests.

Nerves rattled through her again and she tried to ignore them. DJ-driven music pumped through cleverly disguised speakers on the dark-red walls and candlelight waved and flickered on every tabletop. On the dance floor, couples swayed in sensuous patterns, conversations and laughter rose and fell like waves on the ocean, and amid the sea of people, Debbie felt suddenly alone.

The only person she knew here was Gabe, and he was more or less a stranger now, anyway. Ten years was a long time and what they’d had together then had nothing to do with today.

Her hair was swept up into a tangle of curls and the soft kiss of an air-conditioned breeze brushed the back of Debbie’s neck. She shivered a bit, but knew it had little to do with the cool air and more to do with the uneasy situation she found herself in-depending on a man who had no reason to think well of her and no way of getting back home.

“Deep thoughts?”

Gabe’s voice rumbled across her nerve endings and she jolted a little as she turned to find him standing right beside her. His green eyes shone with an emotion she couldn’t quite identify and the subtle, spicy scent of his aftershave seemed to reach out for her. The man was a walking hormone assault.

“I didn’t hear you come up.”

“Looked like you were too busy thinking to hear much of anything.”

“I guess so,” she admitted, keeping her gaze locked with his.

When he smiled, the secrets in his eyes shifted, softened. Then he held one hand out to her and as she took it he said, “You look beautiful.”

The deep, sapphire-blue dress fit snug to her curves, as if it had been designed especially for her. It snaked down her hips and belled around her knees to fall to the floor in a fluid sweep of silky fabric. She’d never owned such an amazing dress and still wasn’t sure she should have accepted it.

She’d found it laid out for her on Gabe’s bed-and the shoes and matching bag were alongside it. Logically, she knew that buying her this dress had been no more to him than picking up a quart of milk at the corner grocery. But illogically, she felt wrong wearing a dress given to her by a man who didn’t even like her.

Swallowing hard, she said, “Thank you for the dress, Gabe. Really. It’s beautiful. But-”

“If you’re about to tell me I didn’t have to do it, save your breath.” He tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and led her into the crowded club. “I wanted you here tonight and you needed something appropriate.”

Meaning nothing she’d brought with her would do. Well, hard to be insulted by the truth. But still, it irritated her to have to acknowledge it.

“Thanks, anyway.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked down at her, smiled again and Debbie’s knees went a little wobbly.

A simple hormonal reaction, she assured herself as he steered her toward the dance floor. Didn’t mean a thing. Then he pulled her into the circle of his arms and slid into the crowd of slowly moving people on the gleaming wood floor.

His arms felt good-right. She moved against him and memories crowded her mind. Memories of a slow dance with him on the Long Beach pier one cold, autumn night ten years ago. The moon had been out, casting shadows over them and the dozen or so people joining them on the pier.

The scent of the sea had whipped around their bodies, the sweet rush of love had flowed between them. He’d smiled at her then, just as he was now, and when he’d kissed her, she’d known she loved him.

“You’re thinking again,” he whispered, bending his head to hers so that his voice and his breath caressed her ear, sending another shiver over her body.

“Just…remembering,” she said, her hand on his shoulder tightening, to help her balance.

“The pier.”

Her head tipped back and she stared up at him, surprised somehow, that he’d allowed himself that memory. Hadn’t he made a point in the last couple of days, of telling her that he had no interest in the past?

“You remember?”

He moved her into a slow turn, his arm about her waist squeezed, pulling her closer to him. Close enough that she felt the hard ridge of his body pressing into hers.

“Just because I don’t want to think about the past doesn’t mean I’ve lost the memories.”

“They’re good memories,” she said, and watched sadly as the shutters dropped over his eyes again. He was still here, with her, but his emotions had closed down, shutting her out, shutting out anything that might have been warming between them. And something inside her was sorry for it.

He stared at her, his gaze moving over her face with the sureness of a touch. “Not all of them.”

“No,” she admitted, hardly noticing the blur of motion from the dancers moving past them. They were nothing more than a wash of brilliant colors, blending together into a swirl of distraction. “But most of them are good, Gabe. Do we have to lose it all because of the way it ended?”

“I found out a long time ago that it’s better that way. Cleaner.”

His arm still held her close, belying the distance in his words. “But emptier.”

“The present’s full enough for me,” he countered.

“Is it?” She tore her gaze from his long enough to look around the crowded club, to take in some of what he’d built before meeting his gaze again. “You fill it with people like the brunette in the red dress and that’s all you need?”

His mouth quirked. “You jealous of the brunette?”

“Oh, please.” Irritation spiked because, yes, she had been jealous, even if it hadn’t lasted long. “If those boobs are real, I’ll eat my pretty new dress.”

He laughed out loud and the sound of it rolled over the music and settled over her like a blessing from the past. God, she’d loved the sound of his laughter. And his smile had always been enough to light up every corner of her heart. How could she have forgotten? Self-preservation, that’s how, she reminded herself. If she’d spent the last ten years remembering what she’d given up, she’d never have been able to be happy.

“Ashley Strong is a very nice woman.”

Debbie gasped and looked past his shoulder as if she could spot the woman. “That was Ashley Strong? The actress?”

“You didn’t recognize her?”

“No.” And she didn’t see her now. Debbie’d been too busy being sickened by the woman’s blatant attempt at seduction to pay much attention to who she might be. She looked up at Gabe. “But now I know for sure those boobs aren’t hers.”

He laughed again and swept her into a wide turn, his hand firmly on the small of her back. “Damned if I haven’t missed that smart mouth of yours, Deb.”

“You missed me?”

His smile faded and the shutter over his eyes snapped into place. “For a while, I missed you with every breath I took. But it’s different now.”

“Maybe,” she said, and held on to his shoulder tightly. “You say your present’s very full. Yet I watch you working the crowd, Gabe, and I see you surrounded by all of these people, but you’re not actually connected to any of them.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you. You’re here, but you keep yourself separate from everyone else. I can see it in your eyes.”

He frowned at her now and the arm around her waist eased off just a little. “You used to know me, I grant you that. But it’s been a long time, Deb. I’m not the man you knew. You should trust me on that.”

The music ended and without another word he guided her across the floor to the owner’s table, set in the shadows along the far wall and closed off from the rest of the guests. She slid in, then watched him as he took his place beside her. There was an open bottle of champagne chilling in a silver ice bucket waiting for them. Gabe reached for it, filled two crystal flutes and handed one of them to her.

“So what do you say, you let go of the past and take me as I am today.”

“I thought I was.”

“Not really.” He turned the flute in his long fingers, stroking the fragile crystal stem with concentration enough to make Debbie remember how it had felt to have those fingers moving over her skin. His gaze turned to hers. “You see me, but you also see the shadow of a man who once loved you.”

Those words jabbed at her insides like thorns pricking her skin.

“I’m not that man anymore.”

“I know that.”

“I wonder.”

She took a sip of champagne, letting the icy froth caress her dry throat. Around them, the club patrons partied, oblivious to the whispered conversation flowing in the shadows.

“Oh, I know you’re not that Gabe.” Debbie looked at him and said, “If you were the man I remember, you would have been doing more to help me out of this mess.”

He eased back against the red-leather banquette. Lifting one arm to drape along the back of the booth, he turned in his seat to face her completely. His features were smooth, even, betraying nothing of what he was feeling. “I told you it would take a few days.”

“You haven’t heard anything new?”

He paused, took a drink of champagne, then shook his head. “Nothing.”

“And you haven’t tried.”

“Are you under the impression I’m trying to keep you here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Debbie admitted. “But I know there’s more going on than you’re telling me.”

“You’ve a suspicious mind,” he quipped. “Strange, I don’t remember that about you.”

“And that’s not really an answer,” Debbie countered, tipping her head to one side to study the elegant, sexy man sitting so close to her. “You talk, but you don’t really say anything. I don’t remember you being so…flexible.”

He laughed shortly, set his glass down and leaned in toward her. His eyes became the world. Those deep, green eyes that had once captivated her, that had once held all of the world she’d ever wanted.

“What do you want from me, Deb?”

“Your help.”

“You’ve got that,” he said easily, letting his gaze sweep briefly to the swell of her breasts. “Anything else?”

Her mouth watered and a flicker of heat licked at her insides. There was too much she wanted and couldn’t have. Mostly, she thought, him. She wanted him every bit as much as she once had. “Gabe…”

He reached for her hand and smoothed his thumb across her palm. She shivered, closed her eyes and hissed in a shaky breath.

“This isn’t about the past, Debbie,” he said. “This is about now. About tonight. About us and what we could share together.”

Tempting. So tempting. To forget about all the worries niggling at her. To forget that she was trapped by losing herself in Gabe.

“You’re thinking again,” he said, a small smile curving his lips.

“And I shouldn’t?”

He lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed the palm, nibbled at her skin and Debbie felt herself melting. Heat swamped her, need crashed through her and her brain short-circuited. If he’d been trying to keep her from thinking, he was doing a good job.

Sliding toward her on the booth seat, he pulled her close, wrapped one arm around her and looked into her eyes as he said, “Sometimes, it’s better to just shut down your mind and let your body take over.”

God knew, his own body was more than ready. Since the moment he’d seen her again, he’d wanted her. And now, as Victor had reminded him only that afternoon, Gabe was running out of time. Soon enough, he’d have to let her go. But not before he’d had her again. Made her regret ever walking away from him.

Her blue eyes were wide and easily read. There was passion and confusion and enough desire to turn the burning embers inside him into an inferno. Gabe stroked his fingertips along the nape of her neck and felt the tremors that rocked her move through him, too.

Just touching her inflamed him. She was the only woman he’d ever known who could make his body hard with a look. His plan to seduce her and then discard her was suddenly taking on a life of its own. He wanted her now more than he ever had. Ten years ago, he’d had her for his own and lost her.

Tonight, he would reclaim her.

“Stop thinking, Deb,” he whispered, and bent his head to kiss the curve of her neck. She shivered, and sighed a little, the tiny sound slipping inside him.

The taste of her filled him. The scent of her surrounded him. And there in the shadows, he felt a surge of need he’d never known before. Pulling her in closer, he wrapped his arms around her, lifted his head long enough to look down into her eyes. Then slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. One brush of his lips across hers and her breath puffed out on a half sigh.

“Gabe…”

“Shh…” He slid his left hand down her rib cage, following the line of her body, feeling her breath shudder in and out of her lungs. She went limp in his grasp as she leaned into him and Gabe knew he had her. Knew that she wanted him as much as he needed her.

His mouth claimed hers. He used his tongue to part her lips and at the first taste of her, he felt the years roll back. And the crowded club became a lonely beach in California. She moved into him and her body fit with his as well as it ever had. As if they’d been made for each other, two pieces of the same puzzle. Two halves of the same whole.

And yet, even as those thoughts rushed through his mind, Gabe forced them away. This wasn’t about kismet. Fate. Love. This was about revenge, pure and simple.

He wanted her gasping, writhing beneath him. He wanted her hot and needy, and when he took her to the precipice and over, he wanted her trembling for more. Only then would he be able to walk away, knowing that she would be the haunted one now. Knowing that she would spend the next ten years thinking about him, wondering what might have been.

She tore her mouth from his. “Gabe, I-”

“No thinking,” he reminded her, sliding his left hand up now to cup her breast. Her nipple was hard, pressing against the cool silk fabric and responding to his touch eagerly. His thumb and forefinger tweaked and pulled at the so-tender bud of flesh and Debbie twisted in his grasp. Her eyes closed on another sigh as she moved into him, losing herself in the shadows. Giving herself up to his touch.

“That feels…”

“Amazing,” he finished for her, then took her mouth again, this time with more need than tenderness. With more hunger than care. He needed, so he took. He wanted, so he claimed. His tongue clashed with hers, his breath mingled with hers. Her sighs became his as he devoured her, taking all she offered and demanding more.

He slipped his left hand beneath the bodice of her dress to cup her bare breast in the palm of his hand. He kneaded her flesh, tugging at her nipple until she groaned into his mouth and arched into him.

Shadows danced around them, fed by the candlelight, softened by the whirl of bodies on the dance floor. There was a partition, separating his table from the rest of the club, but Gabe knew it wasn’t enough. The crush of the crowd was only a few feet away.

For what he wanted from Debbie, he required privacy. He needed her naked and moving beneath him. Her hand cupped his cheek as he kissed her and the simple feel of her hand on his face fired his blood and brought an ache he hadn’t known in years to the corners of his heart.

At that stray thought, he instantly pulled back from her. He didn’t want his heart touched. He wasn’t looking for affection. For love. All he wanted from her was the physical. The slide of her body over his. The taste of her flesh in his mouth. The sound of her sighs in his ears.

“Gabe,” she said a little breathlessly, “is everything all right?”

“Fine,” he lied. “But we need to get out of here.”

She licked her lips and his gaze fixed on that simple, innocent action. His body tightened and his blood rushed through his veins.

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go. Now.”

Just what he wanted to hear.

Sliding from the booth, he held out one hand to her and when she slipped her hand into his, he tightened his grip and tugged her to his side. He hooked his right arm around her waist and held her close as they started through the crowded club.

He led her through the mass of people, threading his way with a single-minded determination that had stood him in good stead over the past ten years. He knew what he wanted and how to get it, and never let anything get in his way.

Tonight was no different.

He told himself the rush of expectation filling him was no more than the knowledge that he was about to get his revenge on her. And he was sticking to that story.

When they were free of the club and headed across the lobby to the bank of elevators, the concierge called out to him. Gabe waved him off, tucked Debbie even closer to him and hurried his pace.

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

He glanced down at her, saw the shine in her eyes and the high flush on her cheeks and nearly kissed her. But once he started kissing her again, he wouldn’t stop. His fingers pressed into her side, sneaking up to stroke the side of her breast. She groaned quietly, bit her bottom lip and gave him a shaky smile.

“I know just how you feel,” he said, and quickened his pace even further. The heels of their shoes clicked rhythmically against the tile floor and sounded, to Gabe’s fevered brain, like a clock ticking off the seconds until he could have her naked and panting beneath him.

Past the bank of guest elevators was the private car that went directly to the owner’s suite. Gabe pulled his key card from his breast pocket, swept it through the reader and then pulled Debbie into the elevator as soon as the doors parted for them.

When the door swept quietly closed and the elevator began its climb, Debbie moved into his arms. He pulled her in tightly to him, wrapping his arms around her middle and holding on as if the touch of her meant life.

She moved against him and he remembered vividly, wildly, how out of control and frenzied their lovemaking had always been. He’d never found that passion with anyone else. Never known again the flashing heat of desire that overpowered all of a man’s senses at once.

With Debbie there was heat, fire, explosive need. She slid her hands beneath his tuxedo jacket and ran her palms over his shirtfront. Even through the fine linen fabric, he felt the sizzle of her skin on his and relished the flames, knowing that she was burning for him. Knowing that she was feeling exactly what he wanted her to feel. He walked her backward until she hit the wall, and took her mouth with his in a fierce kiss that demanded and gave and demanded again.

Her breath puffed against his cheek. She leaned into him, arching her hips into his as if looking for the release that was so very close.

He tore his mouth from hers, tasted the line of her throat and felt her pulse pounding erratically. He had her. Had her hungry for him, wild for him.

What he hadn’t counted on, though, was his own need. His own desire nearly swamping him. He had counted on the fact that he could reach her as he once had. But he’d never expected to feel any stirrings himself. He’d thought only to have her, ease his body’s ache and make her whimper for him.

But there was more going on here. There was more pushing through him and he didn’t like it-didn’t want to admit it, despite the clamoring of his own blood and the hammering pound of his heartbeat.

No, he told himself. He was in this for one reason.

Payback.

“Now, Deb. Right here, right now.” He couldn’t wait any longer.

She looked into his eyes and whispered, “Yes, Gabe. Right now. Please, right now.”

He reached down, gathered up the hem of her sapphire-blue gown and lifted it, sliding his hand along her leg, higher, higher. She trembled, spread her legs farther apart in silent invitation and when he cupped her heat, he felt a jolt of surprise.

“No panties?” One eyebrow lifted as he cupped his hand over her again.

She gasped, then smiled and shrugged. “Panty lines.”

“Let’s hear it for tight gowns,” he said, and stroked the hard bud of her sex while she cried his name.

Six

Debbie’s brain shrieked, Mistake!! Stop now!!

But her body so didn’t want to hear it. This is what she’d been headed for since the moment she first saw Gabe at the tiny island jail. The passion between them was as rich and thick as it ever had been. Clearly, ten years apart had done nothing to lessen it.

His hands on her body felt like fire. His fingertips seared her skin and when he dipped one finger inside her, Debbie’s body roared into life.

She gasped, arched into him and tipped her head back, staring blindly at the ceiling of the elevator car. Her hips rocked into his touch. Rational thought dribbled away. His mouth at the curve of her neck fed the heat pulsing inside her and when his thumb flicked over the core of her, she shuddered in his grasp. Instantly a quick, greedy climax erupted, threatening to swamp her.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice muffled against her skin. “Now again.”

“Can’t.” She choked out the single word as the last of her tremors eased away. Shaking her head, she looked at him and whispered, “I can’t. It’s too much. Too fast. Too soon.”

“It’s never enough.” His gaze locked on hers and she fell into the green depths. “I want to watch you go over. I want to feel you shake for me.”

His thumb stroked her again and she whimpered as a pleasure/pain jolted across her too-sensitive flesh.

The elevator doors dinged and opened into his living room. The wood floors gleamed in the lamplight, the bright rugs scattered over the floor shone like gem-stones tossed to the ground. He set her on her feet, but her knees were like jelly.

Instantly he swept her up into his arms and Debbie hooked her own arms around his neck. Burrowing into him, she tucked her head against his chest and listened to the wild crashing of his heartbeat.

His long, hurried steps took them through the living room without a pause and when they entered the master bedroom, he didn’t waste any time. He stretched her out on the bed, but when she reached for him, lifting her arms to him in welcome, he held her wrists and slowly turned her around. She felt his fingers at her back and when he pulled down the zipper of her dress, the cool air caressed her heated skin like a promise.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, and bent to kiss her at the small of her back. She sighed and closed her eyes as his lips touched her in an intimate touch. Then as he pulled her gown off, his hands cupped her behind, his fingers squeezing, kneading.

Debbie groaned and twisted on the silken duvet, the cool slide of the fabric adding to the sensation overload slapping her system.

She burned for him all over again. It was as if her body hadn’t shattered at all just a few minutes ago. She ached to be taken again. Ached to feel his body invading hers. His lean but muscled body crushing down on her. “Gabe…”

“Right here, babe,” he murmured the words as he trailed nibbling kisses up and down the length of her spine. While his mouth teased her, his hands explored her. Dipping into every curve, exploring every inch of her body until Debbie could hardly breathe with the fire caging her lungs.

“I want…” You, she thought. You. She needed him desperately. Wanted him even more. Her mind was a whirling jumble of racing thoughts that splintered when she tried to catch hold of them. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to think.

Only needed to feel.

Only needed him.

She tried to roll over so that she could see him, touch him, do to him what he was doing to her. But he held her in place with his strong hands.

“Not yet.” He kissed the nape of her neck, scraping his teeth against her skin and she groaned softly. “Just let me touch you.”

She buried her face in the silky duvet and curled her hands into fists over the material, as if she needed a firm grip on the world to keep from sliding off. She twisted and writhed beneath him, her skin burning, itching for him, and when his hands stopped their exploration, she whimpered again and couldn’t even blame herself for the sighed complaint.

Looking back over her shoulder, she watched as he quickly tore his clothing off and tossed it to the floor to join her discarded gown. She licked her lips in anticipation as the pale, gold lamplight fell on his hard, muscled chest, his flat abdomen, his…He was big. Bigger even than she remembered. And obviously more than ready for her.

Her core tingled in expectation. Her body trembled with want. She rolled over to welcome him.

“Gabe…I need you. Now.”

“I know,” he said, and she saw a brief, half smile curve his mouth. “And you’re going to want me even more in a minute.”

He lifted her hips, and she wrapped her legs around his waist in invitation. “Gabe…”

“Trust me,” he whispered.

He stroked her behind, his fingers dancing over her flesh as if he were coaxing a beautiful tune from a concert piano. Debbie sighed and then gasped as his fingers dipped inside her again, exploring, stroking, goading her higher and higher on the climb to satisfaction.

Her hips rocked with the rhythm he set. Her breath hitched as he stroked her damp heat. She grabbed fistfuls of the duvet again as her hold on the world began to tumble from her grasp. And still, he pushed her higher.

“Please, Gabe…”

He shifted, the bed dipping with his movements. She blew out her breath, lifted her hips for him and sucked in a gulp of air when his body plunged into hers. The feel of him, thick and hard and eager, filled her. It was as if he was taking not only her body, but her soul. Pushing himself so high and deep within her that she couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t imagine existing without him being a part of her.

His hands slid up and down her sides, scorching her skin with his heat. She sighed and moved against him, taking him deeper still, higher. She needed to feel all of him within her. Needed to fill the emptiness within.

She’d spent ten years denying what this man really had meant to her. Ten years where she’d talked herself into believing that the connection between them hadn’t been as deep and all-consuming as she remembered. Ten years where she’d convinced herself that life without Gabe was just as good as life with Gabe.

She’d even lied to herself enough that she’d accepted a marriage proposal from a man who had never touched her heart as Gabe did without even trying.

And in that one crashing moment, she recognized the lies she’d told herself for what they really were. Cold comfort to take the edge off of what she had walked away from.

He moved within her, taking her, staking a claim, and Debbie gave herself up to the glory of it. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out with the pleasure jolting through her and closed her eyes to hide the tears of completion welling there. He rocked against her, over and over again. She heard his heavy breathing, felt the tension coiled in him and reaching for her. Felt the amazing, soul-satisfying hum of their bodies moving as one and knew…finally knew that she loved him.

Desperately.

Eternally.

She loved Gabe Vaughn and nothing could change it. Not time. Not her own foolishness.

Nothing.

She moved eagerly, frantically, twisting against him, and heard him groan in reaction. That soft, helpless sound urged her on.

“Enough.” The word came out on a strangled growl. He pulled his body free of hers and before she could complain, took a jagged breath and looked down into her eyes.

Green. Forest-green and filled with shadows, his gaze moved over her in a hot sweep that shook her right to her bones. Then, leaning to one side, he snatched open the drawer of a bedside table, grabbed up a condom and ripped the package open in a frenzy. He sheathed himself in a second and then loomed over her again, bracing himself on his hands, placed at either side of her head.

She stared up at him and saw the man she’d dreamed of for ten long years. She cupped his face between her palms and whispered, “Come to me, Gabe.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. She read all she wanted to know in his eyes. The flash of hunger. The spark of something deeper. The gleam of need. It was all there.

Then he slid into her heat and Debbie nearly gasped. She held him deep within her. Reveled in the hard, solid weight of him atop her. Loved the feel of his body locked inside hers.

When he rocked his hips, pushing himself deeper, she gave herself up to the magic she’d only ever found with him. She matched his rhythm, moving with him in a dance that seemed as new as it did familiar. She ran her palms up and down his back, scoring his skin with her nails. She inhaled the scent of him and dropped a kiss at the base of his throat before meeting his mouth with hers.

His tongue pushed inside, tangled with hers and as they devoured each other, his body continued to plunge inside. Fiercely, passionately, he claimed her again and again, taking her higher, faster, than she’d ever been before.

The first twist of release spun out inside her and Debbie gasped, lifting her hips into his, tipping her head back on the bed, holding on to him as though he were her only remaining link to the world.

And then it was more.

It was everything.

Her body splintered and her mind shattered. She shouted his name, held him tightly and rode the wave of amazing sensation that carried her into oblivion. And when he called her name and followed her, Debbie was there, waiting to catch him as he fell.

Gabe rolled to one side of her and then pushed off the bed. He needed a little distance from Debbie. A little bit of room so that he could catch his breath and congratulate himself on a job well done.

After all, that’s what this had been about. Seduction. Sex. Payback. It had worked like a charm, he told himself. He had her right where he wanted her. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked briefly at Debbie, stretched out across the duvet, practically purring in contentment.

And he wanted her again.

That hadn’t been the plan, but plans were meant to be changed, right? Just because he’d had her once didn’t mean the game was over. Until she left-until he let her go-she was his.

“That was…” Her voice trailed off as if she couldn’t quite find the right descriptive words.

“Yeah.” He knew how she felt. Damned if he could come up with a word to describe what that experience had been like, either. So he put it out of his head, forced his voice into a casual tone and said, “You want a drink? I want a drink.”

He walked naked from the bedroom into the living area and headed straight for the bar. Soft lamplight spilled across the room, chasing shadows into the corners. The sheer drapes across the open French doors lifted and danced in a whisper of a breeze that carried the scent of the ocean into the room.

At the bar, he opened the under-the-counter refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay. Debbie liked white wine, he knew, and it would do for him, as well. He opened the bottle and had the first glass poured before she strolled out of the bedroom wearing only his black bathrobe. He didn’t want to think about her naked body beneath the silk fabric, so he swallowed hard and asked, “Wine?”

“Thanks,” she said, and crossed barefoot to him to accept the glass.

Gabe tossed back his drink as if it were medicinal, then quickly poured another. He stared down into the gold liquid, willing himself to settle. It wasn’t working. Blowing out a breath, he crossed the room and stepped through the fluttering curtains and out onto the terrace. Didn’t matter here if he was naked or not. This was a private balcony and couldn’t be seen from anywhere else on the island.

The cool ocean air caressed his skin and did a good job of banking the embers still warming inside him. How could he want her again so quickly?

“Aren’t you cold?” She stepped up beside him, laid one hand on the stone railing and took a sip of her wine.

“No.” He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want to know what she was thinking and he sure as hell wasn’t up to having one of those post-coital conversations all women seemed to thrive on. Damn it, what he wanted to do was to throw her down on the terrace and lose himself inside her again.

Lowering to admit that he was getting tangled up in his own damn trap.

“Gabe…”

He turned his head to look at her. The soft breeze ruffled her hair. Her eyes were shining and her mouth looked too damned delectable for safety. So he kept his voice tight, his tone grim as he said, “Don’t start.”

“Start what?”

He snorted, took a sip of wine. “You know what. Have sex with a woman and she wants to talk about the future, for God’s sake.”

She blinked at him, frowned and said, “I wasn’t going to talk about the future at all.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Then let’s talk about the past.”

Stupid, he thought. No reason to bring up what’s long dead and buried. But when her mouth flattened into a grim line, he enjoyed it too much to stop. “You want to talk. So talk.”

“What’re you so pissed about?”

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, taking another long drink of his wine.

“You know, you used to be in a better mood after sex,” she said through gritted teeth.

“I used to do a lot of things differently.” His gaze locked on hers and for several humming seconds, neither of them said a word.

“Unbelievable,” she said quietly. “You can stand there and be all snotty and standoffish after what we just did together?”

“It was just sex.”

“It was more than that,” she countered.

“Not to me.”

“Liar.”

“You don’t know me, Deb. Not anymore.”

“You’re wrong,” she said and set her wineglass down on the stone railing. Lifting her chin, she stared up into his eyes and challenged him with a hot glare. “I do know you, Gabe. You haven’t changed that much in ten years. And for some reason you’re supremely pissed off-not at me. At yourself.”

He choked out a laugh and looked away from those blue eyes because damned if they weren’t seeing too much. Staring out at the moonlight scattering across the ocean’s surface, he said, “Now you’re a psychologist? Well, you’re wasting your time analyzing me, babe. I’m a happy man. My life is just the way I want it. Can you say the same?”

“Mostly.”

“Yeah? What about your bigamist boyfriend?” He shot her a hard look. “That make you happy, did it?”

Her bare foot tapped against the stone floor as she inhaled sharply, deeply. Then blowing the air out of her lungs in a rush, she said, “Made me happy to lock his ass up.”

“Uh-huh.” He turned, leaned one hip against the railing and watched her now, relishing the sparks flashing in her eyes. “And just how’d that happen? You catch him with his other wife?”

“No.” She took a drink of her wine and then she was the one who shifted her gaze out to the ocean and what lay beyond. “I got a call from someone wanting to book a ’round-the-world cruise. She came to the agency to talk it over, but she wasn’t there to book the trip. She had another woman with her. Both of them were Mike’s wives. They showed me pictures. Marriage certificates. And they wanted me to go with them to the police to file charges.”

He watched her and though her voice was clear, steady, he saw the dregs of pain and humiliation in her expression and didn’t enjoy it as much as he might have thought he would. “Must have been rough.”

She shrugged it off, as if it were nothing. “Rougher on them. They had kids with him. The bastard.”

He picked up her wineglass, handed it to her, then took another drink himself. “Here’s to lucky escapes, then.”

“Yeah. Real lucky.” But she drank, then shifted a look at him. “Why so interested?”

“Curious, that’s all. Wondered what kind of man it was you said yes to.”

She swallowed hard, stared into her wine as if looking there for a script to read. “I didn’t want to walk away from you, Gabe.”

“Really?” he asked, irony coloring his tone even as a wry smile curved his mouth. “Because you didn’t seem to have any trouble with it at the time.”

“We had nothing,” she said quietly.

“We had everything,” he argued.

She finished off her wine, then held the empty glass between both hands as if needing something to hold on to. “We were in school, still. No money, no prospects.”

“We had plans,” he reminded her, feeling again the long-ago sting of realizing that she hadn’t believed in him.

“It wasn’t enough.” She pushed one hand through her hair, scraping it back from her face as she looked up at him. “Don’t you get it? I told you then that I had to finish school. I needed to find a stable career. One that I could depend on. I couldn’t take a chance-”

“On me?”

Her eyes filled with tears she blinked to keep at bay, but he wouldn’t be sucked into feeling sympathy for her.

After a long moment or two she sighed heavily and said, “I told you about when I was a kid…”

He nodded, remembering. He’d had a family. Security. And it had been hard for him to identify with what she’d gone through, but it hadn’t mattered. All that had mattered for him then, was her.

“About how my mom lost her job and for a while, we even lived in our car.” She sucked in a breath as if it were her last and said, “We had nothing. No home. No money. Nothing.” Turning her gaze back to the sweep of ocean, she said, “Then, later, when Mom was back on her feet and she got so sick, we couldn’t afford a damn doctor.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and glistened like silver in the moonlight. “I watched her die by inches, knowing that if things were different, if we’d had insurance, or savings, we could have found someone. I don’t know. A specialist, maybe. Someone who could have helped her. Saved her.”

“So you walked away from me because I didn’t have money.”

“It wasn’t about money,” she said hotly. “It was about security. Stability. Easy enough for you to dismiss it when you never had to wonder if you were going to eat that day or not.”

“I loved you.”

“And I loved you.”

“You just didn’t believe in me.” And that still stung. Still gnawed at him at the odd moment.

“Do you think it was easy for me to leave? To turn you down when I loved you so much?”

He turned from her and walked back into the living room because he couldn’t stand beside her and not touch her again. And, damn it, he didn’t want to touch her at the moment. “I think your idea of love was wrapped up in the wrong things.” He spun around and faced her as she followed him. “You said yes to this Mike guy. What? He have a good job? Insurance? Savings accounts?”

“He wasn’t rich, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“But stable?” He laughed. “A stable bigamist. Good call, Deb.”

“Easy for you to throw stones, isn’t it, Gabe?” She waved both arms out, as if to encompass the entire resort. “You’re the king of your own little empire. What do you know about it?”

Fury exploded inside him. He took one long step closer to her then forced himself to stop. Glaring at her, he said, “Let me get this straight. When I didn’t have a dime, you dumped me. And now I’m loaded and you’re still giving me a hard time? What is your deal, anyway?”

She fisted both hands at her hips and leaned in toward him. “You never understood. You still don’t. It wasn’t about money, Gabe. It was never about money. It was about being safe. I never wanted money so I could run barefoot through it. I just wanted to know that the rug wasn’t going to be pulled out from under me again.”

“You should have trusted me,” he said, his voice a low throb of old hurt and new fury. Irritated the hell out of him that this should still be bugging him. He’d thought he’d put the past and her behind him years ago. Apparently, though, there were still a few things that needed to be said. “Should have had faith in me. In us. Yeah, your life was hard, but I was there. I loved you. I would have taken care of you.”

“Don’t you get it?” she countered. “I needed to take care of myself.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

She pulled at her hair. “You are the most irritating, frustrating man I have ever known in my life.”

“And you are the most distrustful, mercenary…”

“Mercenary?”

“You heard me.”

“You jerk, I just tried to explain-”

“I’m a jerk?” He laughed shortly. “Right. Whatever helps you sleep nights.”

“You know what’ll help me sleep nights?” She stepped up closer, planted both hands on his chest and shoved. Didn’t budge him an inch. “Getting off this damned island.”

He grabbed her wrists and held on tight. “Yeah, well that ain’t gonna happen.”

“Why not?” She tried to pull free, but his grip was too strong. “You don’t want me here. Despite what just happened between us. So just help me leave.”

No. That single word echoed over and over again in his mind. He took her chin with his fingers and tilted it up so that she met his gaze. “It’s because of what happened between us that you’re not leaving. Not yet.”

“What?” She pulled out of his grasp.

“You heard me.” He rubbed his fingers together as if he could still feel the touch of her face. “We don’t have a future and the past is gone. What we do have is the present. Here. Now.”

“And that’s it?” she asked, shaking her head and backing away from him. “Just sex. That’s all we’ve got?”

He speared her with a cold, hard look. “What else is there?”

“I guess you were right, after all,” she said softly. “I don’t know you anymore.”

Seven

“What do you mean, Culp and Bergman canceled their contract?” Debbie leaped up out of her chair as if she’d been electrocuted and tried to listen to her manager’s voice through the roaring of her own blood.

She’d just talked to her manager the day before and everything at home had been fine. But then again, just yesterday she’d only been Gabe’s captive. Not his lover/captive. Oh, what a difference a day made.

“Just what I said, Deb,” Kara Stevens told her over the phone. “The CEO’s admin called this morning, said they’d decided to use another agency.”

Debbie’s stomach pitched and rolled. It wasn’t enough that she’d spent most of the night before miserable that she was in love-again-with a man she had no future with. Oh, no. Wasn’t enough that Gabe had used up her body and dismissed her heart.

Now she had to find out that her travel agency’s biggest client was leaving her for someone else.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she sputtered, stalking around Gabe’s living room.

“I know. I was totally stunned, too. Yesterday, I sent over the papers for their company cruise, just like you told me to. Everything was peaches and gravy, you know?” Kara was babbling, words tripping over each other as she rushed to get all the bad news said at once. “And then this morning, I get the phone call and they’re dumping us. They didn’t say why or anything, either, and I swear I didn’t do anything wrong, Debbie. Honestly. Worked up the papers just like last year’s, but…”

“This can’t be happening.” Debbie moved onto the stone terrace and stood in a slice of brilliant sunshine. She squinted against the glare and watched colorful sailboats glide across the ocean through narrowed eyes. It was a postcard kind of day at Fantasies.

Yet here in Debbie’s little world, it was midnight and howling with a bitter wind.

Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach and sent cold, thick tendrils out to freeze every square inch of her body. She swallowed hard against the knot of nerves lodged in her throat. “Did they say who they were going with instead?”

“Nope,” Kara answered quietly. “Just that they were through with us. God, Deb, I’m so sorry. I feel so totally bad right now, you don’t even know. I mean this is just such a class-A bummer and everything…”

Bummer?

This was way bigger than a simple bummer.

Kara didn’t know the half of it, Debbie thought. Without Culp and Bergman, Debbie’s travel agency was going to be on shaky ground. She’d been building her business slowly over the last several years, but the corporate account she’d snagged with C and B had really been her main source of income for two years.

The fact was, there were so many people booking trips online these days, that no one thought they really needed a travel agent anymore. They were wrong, of course.

Sure you could book your own trip. But what if an airline went on strike while you were vacationing in Ireland? What if your luggage was lost in Istanbul? What if you needed an emergency ride home and couldn’t get online?

A good travel agent could take care of any problems. She’d saved her clients all kinds of aggravation over the years. But did anyone care about that when they could just click and buy? No.

“So what do you want me to do now?” Kara was asking.

“Nothing,” Debbie said, curling her fingers around the railing. There was nothing Kara could do. Heck, nothing Debbie could do, trapped as she was in la-la land. “Don’t do anything until I get home.”

“And when’s that gonna be?” Kara’s voice shifted from worried to complaining in a blink. “I mean, I know I agreed to manage the place while you were gone, but you were supposed to be home like a week ago, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Debbie said as frustration churned and frothed in the pit of her stomach, making an ugly mix. She should be home right now, dealing with this. If she were, she could go to C and B herself. Get to the bottom of things. Maybe strike a deal. But no…“Something came up here and I can’t leave yet.”

“Until when?”

“I’m not sure,” Debbie admitted, wishing she had the stupid jewel thief in front of her. She’d give that woman such a kick. “Soon, I hope.”

“Well me, too, cuz I don’t think I’m cut out for being the boss, Deb. This is just way too stressful.”

Debbie groaned, let her chin hit her chest and rolled her eyes. Kara was nice, good with people and had a sharp eye for details. But her stress-o-meter was a lot lower than Debbie’s. Kara tended to freak first, ask questions later. Of course, this was the perfect situation for a little freaking.

This went beyond problem into the scary realm of disaster. With a capital D. If Debbie couldn’t get C and B back in the fold-or find another corporate client-her business would fail. She simply couldn’t make a living on walk-in customers.

Now fear chewed at her insides, making the frustration she’d felt only moments ago feel like a walk in the park in comparison.

“I know,” Debbie said, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to ease the sudden and ferocious pounding there. “And I’ll get home as fast as I can, Kara. Trust me. You’re gonna have to hold down the fort a little longer, though. Can you do that?”

“I guess…”

Filled with confidence, Debbie hung up, tucked her phone into the pocket of her jeans and tried to see past her own panic. What the hell was she going to do? She’d spent the last five years building up her business, nurturing it, growing it until it was something she could be proud of. Something she felt safe about. Something that made her feel secure in a sometimes scary world.

And now, that world had just gotten a lot shakier.

She should call C and B herself. Talk to the admin. Find out what was going on. Beg. Plead. Whine. Whimper like a kicked dog.

“Okay, not a good idea.” Debbie blew out a long breath and dragged in another one trying to find calm. “I can’t call her yet. I’ll just wait until I’m a little more zenlike-shouldn’t take more than a year or so…oh, God. I’m so dead.”

Dropping into the nearest chair, she pulled her knees up and rested her chin on top of them. Her brain raced as she tried to find a solution. She could call Cait or Janine to whine. But then, her best friends would instantly offer to loan her money or whatever. And they couldn’t afford it, either.

Their new fiancés could, but Debbie sooo didn’t want to be borrowing money from Jefferson Lyon or Max Striver. Besides, borrowing money wasn’t a long-term answer. And that’s what she needed. She had to find a new corporate client. Someone bigger than Culp and Bergman. A company that would not only make her little travel agency solvent, but help it grow.

“Sure,” she whispered, “no problem.”

God. She rested her head against the back of the cushioned chair and stared up at the brilliantly blue sky. Twists of white clouds strung across the expanse like spools of ribbon unwinding. From a distance, she could just make out the sounds of muted music and laughter.

The land that Gabe built.

Where sunshine and sensual pleasures combine to make a magical world where troubles just couldn’t find a place to roost.

Well, apparently except for her.

Gabe.

His name rolled through her mind, but she shook her head before the idea could take root. Stupid. Impossible. And yet…If she could arrange for a packaging deal with Fantasies, her travel agency could become the hottest agency in California. Maybe the United States.

She sat up a little straighter and stared out past the railing toward the ocean where the wind whipped white caps on waves that rolled perpetually toward a white sand beach.

People would line up at her door to get hold of an exclusive discounted package to Fantasies. She could be the only agent around to be able to offer those deals and her business would be saved.

But even as the thought rolled through her mind, Debbie was shaking her head. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go to Gabe and ask a favor. God. How could she? She’d turned down his marriage proposal back when neither of them had a dime and now, because he’s rich, she asks to use him?

Oh, no.

There had to be another way.

And she’d find it.

But first, Gabe or no Gabe, she had to get off this damn island.

Later that afternoon Deb had had enough. Fine. She couldn’t leave the island because she was a suspect. She could almost deal with that. But she wasn’t a felon yet. So why was a big burly security guy following her all over Fantasies? This was so not her imagination. Everywhere she turned, there he was, blending into the crowd with all the success of a redwood attempting to look like a rosebush. Not that he was trying to hide or anything, because if he was, wearing that red security jacket was a bad idea.

She made a quick right turn near the bank of elevators off the lobby and when her “shadow” showed up, she stepped out from behind a potted palm. “Okay,” she demanded, “what is it you’re trying to find out about me?”

He stared down at her for a long minute and Debbie momentarily regretted the impulse to face him. He was huge. And strong. With features that looked as if they were carved from stone. Until he smiled and his expression shifted into one of admiration.

“Nicely done.” Even his voice was huge. Deep and rolling like thunder.

“Thanks,” she said, relaxing just a bit, since it didn’t look as though he was about to cuff her and throw her in a dungeon. “Now, who are you and why are you following me?”

A couple of guests approached, loaded down with shopping bags from the village shops. Debbie watched them with more than a little envy. She was trying to avoid jail and, hey, save her livelihood. All they had to worry about was their Visa bill.

When the couple disappeared into an elevator, the big man spoke up. His voice rumbled out around her and she realized exactly why he was in security. Who would try to get anything past this guy?

“The name’s Victor Reyes. I’m chief of security here on the island.”

“Aren’t there more important things to take care of than following me?”

He shrugged. “I have my orders, miss.”

So, was Gabe trying to keep her safe or was he trying to find out if she really was the stupid jewel thief? Didn’t he know her better than that? Didn’t their night together mean a damn thing? “And you’ve been ordered to follow me around?”

He only nodded.

“I’m not a thief.”

“Glad to hear it, but that doesn’t change my orders, miss.”

“No,” she said, disgusted more with Gabe than with the poor guy just doing his job. “I guess it doesn’t. But I’m going to go talk to someone who can change them.”

“Mr. Vaughn isn’t in his office,” the big man said as she started toward the elevator.

Stopping dead, Debbie turned to look at him. Sunlight slanted in through the wide windows, splashing the red-and-white decor with a golden light. The thick, sweet scent of flowers caressed the air and under any other circumstances, Debbie would have been enjoying the ambience. As it was…

“Then where is he?”

“He’s judging a surfing contest on the beach.”

Stunned, Debbie couldn’t even think of a thing to say. She was being treated like a criminal and Gabe was off judging a surfing contest? What had happened to his offer of help? Where was the concern? Where was the trust?

“That’s just perfect,” she muttered, and headed past her guard dog at a fast clip. “You don’t have to follow me. I’m not going to do any permanent damage to surfer boy.”

He chuckled, but fell into step behind her. She sighed, then let it go. She couldn’t stop him and at least, Debbie thought grimly, he was keeping his distance.

Clearly, Gabe wasn’t exactly working his tail off to help her out. So, fine. If Gabe wasn’t going to help her, she’d do this herself.

She’d call Cait. Call Janine. Call the National Guard if she had to. She couldn’t afford to sit around and wait for island authorities to decide she was innocent. She had to get home. Like, now.

Her sandals clacked on the tiles and her vision was going red at the edges. Probably not helpful to be this darn mad, but she didn’t see how she could help it. She hit the automatic front doors and kept walking, cutting across the neatly tended lawn, moving from sun to shadow and sun again. She hardly saw her surroundings, but she was alert enough to glance over her shoulder and note that Mr. Security was tagging along after her. “Honestly, shouldn’t he be putting his efforts into actually finding the real thief?”

“What do you mean, he can’t help?” Debbie’s voice hitched near hysteria as she listened to Caitlyn try to calm her down.

“Jefferson’s got his lawyers looking into getting your passport returned, but apparently it’s going to take some time before we can clear this up.”

Debbie tripped on the edge of the walk leading down to the beach and hopped on one foot as she gritted her teeth through the pain of a stubbed toe. “Well, what the hell kind of no-good lawyers does your boyfriend have working for him, anyway?”

“Way to keep calm, Deb.”

“Calm?” She shot a look over her shoulder. Her own personal mountain was still following her, but he was staying far enough back from her that she could at least speak freely to her friend. “I can’t believe this. I’m living in a soap opera.”

“It’s not that bad, honey.”

Cait could only say that because she didn’t know the whole story. Debbie hadn’t told her about the disaster looming over her business. But heck. Wasn’t the rest of this mess enough to elicit a little sympathy? “Hello? Suspect. Security guard following me around like a starving pit bull looking for a snack.” The pain in her foot ebbed back a bit and she hissed out a breath. “I can’t leave the island and, oh yeah, Gabe is my jailer.”

“Yeah,” Cait murmured, “that part sucks. Janine told me he still looks hot.”

Hotter than he should, that was for sure, Debbie thought. Because even when she was furious with him, all she had to do was to think about him and that long, amazing night together and her blood pressure shot out of orbit. “That’s not the point, though, is it?”

“No, but it could be worse.”

“How?”

“Well, you could be in jail instead of Gabe’s place.”

“True…” Debbie sighed, stepped out of her sandals and walked onto the warm sand. It shifted beneath her feet, squeezed up between her toes and made walking just a bit more difficult. There wasn’t much of a crowd on the beach, but those that were there made plenty of noise. The cheers and shouts for the surfing competitors lifted into the air and hung there like limp flags.

Instinctively, Debbie headed away from the crowd. She didn’t really want to see Gabe lording it over his guests and she could hardly hear Cait when she talked.

“But staying with Gabe has its own problems,” she said when she was far enough from the crowd. “And besides, I’ve got to get home. I’ve got a business to run.” Save, she added silently. “And a supposed life to live and-”

“And it’ll all be here for you when you get back. Jeez, Deb. You’re in a place most people only dream about visiting. Sure, there’s a couple of flies in your soup at the moment.”

“Big damn flies, if you ask me,” Debbie muttered.

“But the soup is still pretty fabulous.”

Debbie lifted her face into the kiss of the wind and looked at the endless sweep of ocean stretched out in front of her. Sailboats, surfboards and body surfers littered the water, and on the horizon, dark clouds were gathered up like soldiers preparing an attack. She wanted to take a moment, let her worries slide away and see the upside like Cait wanted her to.

But the point was, there were much bigger flies in her soup than Cait knew. Debbie didn’t have a clue what to do next. Where to turn. Who to tell what to. And in that frenzied moment of wild thinking, she heard herself blurt, “I slept with him.”

“You what with who?”

“Gabe. Slept. Well…” Debbie hedged as she kicked at the sand. “Not so much slept with as rode like a pony for hours.”

A humming silence filled her ear for several seconds and Debbie almost smiled as she imagined Cait’s look of complete shock.

“This is huge. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Cait finally shrieked, her voice hitting a note that had Debbie yanking the cell phone away from her ear in self-defense.

“I just did tell you.”

“Yeah, finally.” Cait grumbled a bit, then said, “Was it great? Was he great? Ohmigod, I can’t believe you’re together again.”

“Whoa.”

“What?”

“We’re not ‘together.’”

“But you’re sleeping with him.”

“Only the one night.” Three or four times, but she didn’t need to say that. Debbie quickened her pace, riding the hot flush of something sizzling through her system. She headed straight for the edge of the water and stood in the cool, wet sand. A froth of lacy, cold ocean slid up to shore, covered her feet and buried them in the sand. And still, she felt heat building inside. Gabe was way too powerful, even in memory, to be doused by a little icy water.

There was silence for a long minute, then Cait asked, “And you’re okay with this?”

“Not like I’ve got a choice or anything, you know? Gabe’s…”

“Still pissed. Yeah, Janine told me.”

“It’s more than that,” Debbie admitted, and walked a little closer to the ocean. Now the water slapped at her ankles even as the sun poured down on her from above. “It’s like he’s determined to not feel a thing for me.”

“Do you blame him?”

Debbie pulled the phone away, stuck her tongue out at it, then slapped it to her ear again. “Thanks, pal.”

“Well, come on, Deb. Men are so easily bruised and you really crushed him back in the day.”

“At the time,” Debbie pointed out, “I seem to remember you telling me I did the right thing.”

She swung her right leg through the water, splashing it higher. The wind kicked up suddenly and tossed her hair into her eyes.

“Of course I said that,” Cait told her. “I’m your friend. That’s my job.”

“So you lied?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I can’t believe this,” Debbie said tightly. “I thought you understood. You said you did.”

Cait sighed. “I never really understood why you’d dump a guy who so clearly loved you and who you were so obviously nuts about. Shoot me. I was trying to be supportive.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Debbie said. “And why didn’t you understand? I explained it to you and Janine both.”

“I know, honey, and I know you really believed it. But-”

“But?” She turned her head and stared down the beach, where the surfers were riding lazy waves to shore.

“But love isn’t about security, Deb. It’s about risk. About taking chances and hoping for the best.”

“That’s not exactly logical.”

“Who says love has anything to do with logic?”

Love. She had loved Gabe desperately and it had almost killed her to walk away from him. But her fear had been stronger than her love and that was something she didn’t like admitting, even to herself.

“You still love him, don’t you?” Cait asked, then added quickly, “And don’t bother to lie, because I know you too well. You don’t sleep with a guy unless you care for him. And this is Gabe we’re talking about. The love of your life. Your dream man. Mr. Perfect.”

“The guy who wants nothing to do with me, you mean?”

“Well, yeah. There is that.”

“Cait, I don’t know what to do. I need to get home. I need to leave. But if I leave, I’ll never see him again, I know it.”

There it was. Fear upon fear. She had to go home, try to save her business. But once she left the island any connection with Gabe would be gone. And if she tried to maintain a connection, forge a business alliance, then she’d only look like she was trying to use him.

“The flies in my soup are doing the backstroke.”

“Maybe it’s time to toss out the soup and order something different.”

Debbie choked out a laugh. “Could we stop talking in food analogies?”

Cait laughed. “Sure. All I’m saying is, why don’t you actually try to talk to Gabe? Tell him how you feel.”

“And give him the chance to shut me down like I did him once upon a time?”

“I said it was a risk.”

Yes. But was it one she was willing to take?

Eight

Two hours later Victor Reyes was standing in Gabe’s office making his report. “She’s a little jumpy if you ask me.”

Gabe leaned back in his desk chair, looked up at his friend. “Not surprising.”

“Surprised the hell outta me that she’d confront me like she did.”

Gabe smiled. He wished he’d seen her jump out from behind a palm to face down the man following her. Like a mouse standing up to a hungry cat. She’d always been confident, sure of herself. Even when she’d walked away from him ten years ago, she’d done it fast and clean, as if she’d known that it was the right thing to do.

Even though it hadn’t been.

Damned if he hadn’t missed her. Hell of a thing to be forced to admit ten years after he’d seen the last of her. But there it was. Having her here with him was supposed to be punishing her. He didn’t want to enjoy her. Didn’t want to want her.

“She’s got guts.”

“Yeah, she does. Debbie never did have a problem expressing herself.”

“You might not want to hear this, boss, but I like her.”

No, he didn’t want to hear it. Worse yet, he didn’t want to understand Victor’s reasons for saying so. Frowning now, Gabe said, “Yeah, me, too.”

“So when are you going to tell her they caught the jewel thief?”

“Well now, that’s a good question.” Gabe picked up a pen from the top of his desk and idly tapped it against the sleek, red-leather blotter. They’d gotten word just a couple of hours ago, via fax, that the jewel thief had been caught and jailed in Bermuda. Not that the arrest mattered since it wasn’t the reason Gabe had held Debbie on the island in the first place. But she would expect to be able to leave and he hadn’t decided just yet how to squash that notion.

“She’ll hear about it soon enough. It’ll make the news and even if she doesn’t see it there, people talk.”

He scrubbed one hand across his face, pushed his hair back from his forehead and said, “I’ll worry about that when it happens.”

“Your call, boss,” Victor said, already turning for the door. “But if you want my advice…”

“I don’t.”

“Like I said. Your call.” He opened the door and stopped. “You want me to keep following her?”

“No.” Gabe leaned back in his chair and tossed the pen aside. “No point. Besides, maybe she’ll start wondering why you’ve stopped.”

Victor laughed shortly. “Gotta say, you two make a hell of a pair.”

When he was gone, Gabe thought about that for a long minute, then dismissed it. Once upon a time, Victor might have been right. But that was long ago. Today, they weren’t a pair. And Gabe had no interest in changing that fact.

Debbie paced the living room of Gabe’s suite, avoiding the scattered chairs as she wound in and out. Stepping from glossy floor to jewel-toned rugs, her sandals sighed and clicked in turn.

She held the phone to her ear and hummed along to the annoying wait music playing on the line. How anyone could play an oldie rock tune like the Rolling Stones’ “Satisfaction” in violins was beyond her. But so not the point.

The point, she reminded herself as her stomach jittered and her mouth went dry, was to talk to the admin at Culp and Bergman. Find out why they’d cancelled their account with her agency and see what she could do about wooing them back.

Maybe she shouldn’t have called them yet. Maybe she should have given it another day. More time for her to settle. Or, on the other hand, more time for an ulcer to develop and turn her into a gibbering idiot.

“Ms. Harris?”

When an actual human voice broke into the music, it took Debbie a second or two to respond. “Yes. I’m here.”

“What can I do for you?”

Frowning now, Debbie bit back on her impatience. The woman knew exactly why she was calling, but apparently they were going to play the game. But that was all right. Debbie’d been dealing with the coldly efficient Ms. Baker for two years now.

“I spoke to my manager at the agency yesterday and she tells me there’s a problem with the renewal of our contract with your company.”

“No problem,” the woman said, her tone clipped and businesslike. “We’ve simply decided to go with someone else.”

“Ms. Baker,” Debbie said quickly, “we’ve worked together now for two years and I think we’ve done very well by each other and-”

“Yes, but times change, Ms. Harris,” the other woman interrupted, her tone going even brisker. “We at Culp and Bergman felt that to meet all of our travel needs, it would be better to go with a bigger agency.”

“Bigger?” She couldn’t compete with bigger. That was the whole point. The fact that she was a small, independent agency had been her selling point when she’d landed the C and B account two years before. A smaller agency gave more personal attention. “Bigger isn’t always better, Ms. Baker. And I think you’ll have to admit that in the last two years, my agency has handled your company’s work in a timely, efficient manner and-”

“Yes, of course.”

The patient tone in the other woman’s voice had Debbie rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth. “I should be back in Long Beach within the week-” Please, God “-and if you’d allow me to fax over a revised contract, I’m sure we could come to terms that would satisfy both of us.”

“I’m very sorry, but a new contract has already been signed with Drifters. There’s really nothing more to be said, Ms. Harris. Now I’m afraid I’m very busy, so if you don’t mind, thank you for calling.”

The hum of the dial tone in Debbie’s ear seemed to vibrate right down to her toes. Drifters. One of the biggest travel agencies in the state, they were probably able to offer C and B all kinds of discount travel packages and who knew what kinds of incentives, and there was simply no way Debbie could compete with a company like that.

She was sunk. Literally. She could almost hear her business sliding down the tubes. Slowly, she closed her cell phone and wrapped it in one tight fist. Debbie felt as though she’d taken a punch in the stomach. Sort of light-headed and woozy.

She stared around the room as if she wasn’t quite sure where she was. Sunlight splashed through the wide windows and lay in brilliant slices across the floor. The sheer drapes at the French doors fluttered in a wild breeze and the scent of the ocean wrapped itself around her.

Yet she hardly noticed any of it. Instead she was concentrating on breathing. Pushing air in and out of her lungs. A hard ball of ice settled in the pit of her stomach and Debbie was afraid she was going to have to learn to live with it.

Without Culp and Bergman, she wasn’t going to be able to keep her company running. Unless she could find another corporate client, she would lose everything.

“Gabe will probably get a charge out of that,” she muttered.

“Speaking of Gabe,” a woman’s voice said from right behind her. “Where exactly is he?”

Debbie spun around so fast, she caught her foot on the leg of a stupid chair, lost her balance and nearly fell face-first onto the floor before she caught herself. Staring at the gorgeous brunette watching her through curious eyes, Debbie put her at about thirty, with pale white skin, dark-brown eyes and a killer lemon-yellow silk suit. She looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of a magazine.

“Who’re you?” Debbie finally said as the woman dropped her purse onto a chair.

“I’m Grace Madison and now that you know my name, perhaps you’ll tell me who you are and what you’re doing in my fiancé’s suite.”

Gabe looked up when a short, blond tornado roared into his office. Her long hair was flying loose around her shoulders and the pale-blue tank top she wore bared an inch or so of her tanned belly just above her white shorts. But before he could enjoy the spurt of pure lust that shot through him, he shifted his gaze to hers.

Debbie’s eyes were shooting blue fire and he had no doubt at all that if looks could really kill, she’d have him six feet under in an unmarked grave.

Being a wise man, his first instinct was to take a wary step back from a woman that furious. Instead, though, deliberately casual, he kicked his legs out, crossed his feet at the ankle and folded his arms behind his head. “Deb, nice of you to drop in.”

“You jerk.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. Nothing quite as entertaining as Debbie in a fury. “If you’re going to call me names, you might want to close my office door.”

“Gaaaahhhh…” She growled an inarticulate sound, spun around and crossed back to the door. When she got there, she slammed it hard enough to have several of his framed paintings rattle on the wall.

Chest heaving, eyes bright with rage, she shook a finger at him. “You’re engaged.”

He’d forgotten all about Grace’s impending arrival. Still, it didn’t change anything. He and Grace had an arrangement. One that suited them both and had nothing at all to do with Debbie Harris.

“Ah. Grace must have arrived.”

“That’s it?” she practically howled. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“What would you like to hear?” he asked, straightening to lean his forearms on his desk. He watched her as she stalked back across the room and stopped just opposite him. Damn, she looked good when she was pissed. And what kind of twisted SOB was he that he wanted her right now?

“What I want to hear you say is that she’s not your fiancée.”

“She’s not.”

Debbie jerked upright, sucked in a gulp of air, blinked at him and said, “What?”

“Not officially, at any rate,” Gabe said. “I haven’t asked her yet, but unlike the last time I proposed to someone, I’m expecting a yes.”

“You…you…”

“Yes?”

“You can just sit there and tell me that you’re going to marry some other woman after we…we…”

“Having trouble stringing those sentences together, are you?”

“We had sex!”

“We surely did,” Gabe mused, and stood slowly, his gaze never leaving her. The flush of rage on her cheeks, the short, sharp breaths making her breasts heave, the fire in her eyes, and the furious twist of her mouth were all combining to make him hot and hard and so damn ready for her. He didn’t think he could wait another second without having her.

“You had sex with me and you’re going to marry her.”

“Eventually,” he agreed as he walked past her and continued to the door. There, he threw the lock and turned around to look at her again. “Did you think I didn’t have a life before you showed up on my island?”

She scowled at him, still furious, but riding a much colder rage than she had been. “No, but-”

“Did you seriously believe there’d been no other women for me since you?”

“No. Of course not.” She folded her arms over her chest and tapped the toe of one sandal against the floor.

He tipped his head to one side and studied her. Objectively, he tried to figure out just what it was about this one particular woman that got to him like no other since her. Then he dismissed that thought because it didn’t matter. “Did you ever think that I didn’t much care for the idea of you sleeping with your bigamist?”

“I didn’t do it when I was having sex with you.”

Gabe shrugged and started toward her. “And I haven’t had sex with Grace in months.”

“And that’s supposed to make it all right?” Debbie backed up as he advanced but he caught the spark in her eyes. The hitch in her breath. She was as ripe as he was.

“I didn’t owe you an explanation, Deb. Still don’t,” he reminded her, and came around the edge of the desk to grab her. “But the truth is, Grace and I made a business decision to get married.”

“Business?”

He shrugged and tightened his grip on her upper arms so she couldn’t slip away from him. “Neither one of us is interested in ‘love’ and we’d both like a family. Her family owns a cruise line…good business to have a merger.”

“Well, that’s cold,” Debbie muttered.

“No, that’s business.”

“And what’re we?”

“Good question.”

She tried, briefly, to pull free again, but after a moment or two, she simply looked up at him. “You could have warned me that she was coming. That she existed.”

“Yeah. I could have.”

“Wow.” She sighed and shook her head even as she lifted both hands to his chest to try to push him away. “That’s such a great apology. You should have that sewn on a pillow.”

He laughed. Damn it, nobody else had ever been able to make him laugh in the middle of a fight.

“I’m not apologizing for how I live my life.”

“What about to Grace?” she demanded. “You going to apologize to her?”

“No,” he said, and lifted one hand to stroke the side of her face. “She wouldn’t expect an apology.”

Debbie sucked in a breath at his touch and held it for a long moment before exhaling again. Then she batted his hand away. “She’s a damned sight more understanding than I am.”

He laughed and touched her again, dipping one finger beneath the edge of her top to stroke her bare skin. “Honey, Genghis Khan is more understanding than you.”

“Funny.” She glanced down at his hand, sliding down to cup her breast and even when she inhaled sharply, she blurted, “No way are we going to have sex again. Not with your fiancée right upstairs in your suite, so if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, you might as well-”

“Shut up, Deb,” he whispered, and leaned down to kiss her. It started off slow, soft, and quickly became a kiss of hunger so raw, so basic, it stole his breath. This Gabe hadn’t counted on. This he would have avoided if he could have. But damn if she didn’t touch him in places he’d thought long since closed off.

And damn if Grace’s arrival was going to make him stop wanting Debbie. What he and Grace had was more of a business arrangement. There was no love and therefore no cheating. And besides, they weren’t engaged yet.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she said when she tore her mouth from his a moment later.

“But we are.”

She looked up at him, cupped his face between her palms and said, “Oh, yeah. We are.”

Then Gabe stopped thinking. He pulled her tank top off and tossed it to one side. She was yanking his shirt up and over his head and at the same time, running her palms over his chest, his abdomen. His body was hard and tight and he knew if he didn’t have her in the next few seconds, he would simply explode. He’d never known such a ferocious need like he did with Debbie.

Quickly, they tore off the rest of their clothes and then Gabe was lifting her, sliding everything off of his desk and sitting her on the edge of it before moving in to tear her shorts off her body.

The desktop was cold on her skin, but she was hot everywhere else. He entered her and Debbie felt her heart stop. Felt her brain click. Thoughts slide into place and she knew, bone-deep, that this was where she belonged. With this man.

And that knowledge bloomed and died with an unspoken sigh, because she also knew that she couldn’t have him. That he didn’t love her anymore. That he never would. That the woman he was planning to marry for all the wrong reasons was upstairs and just what did that make Debbie to be down here, making love with a man who belonged to someone else?

She shut down her mind because the answer to that question was just too painful. Instead, she concentrated on the feel of Gabe’s body sliding in and out of hers. On the hush of his breath, on the raging hunger ensnaring them both. Because she knew this would be the last time she would be with him. She couldn’t make love with him again, knowing that there was nothing more than lust fueling it. Couldn’t have him and know she would lose him.

“You’re thinking again,” he said, cupping one of her breasts in his palm. His thumb and forefinger tweaked her nipple and she sucked in air greedily.

“I’m stopping now,” she swore as his body plunged into hers, jolting her with a pleasure so rich, so deep, it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Good idea,” he whispered, and kissed her, taking her mouth with a fierce passion that wrapped itself around her in a silken net of desire.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted her legs to hook around his hips and held on while the man of her dreams, the man from her past, made her present dissolve into a mass of shimmering light and color.

Nine

“This has got to stop happening,” Debbie muttered as she snatched up her panties and stepped into them.

“Yeah?” Gabe laughed, reached over to slap her behind and laughed again when she shouted at him. “Why’s that?”

She swung her hair back and out of her eyes and fixed him with a glare that should have set fire to him-if he’d had the slightest sense of decency! Naturally, he didn’t.

Grabbing her shorts, she tugged them on, then looked around for her bra. While she searched, she sent a quick glance at Gabe. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Pretend everything’s great. Normal. That we’re just an average couple and you don’t have an almost-fiancée right upstairs.”

His features went cold and stiff as he picked up her bra off the back of his desk chair and tossed it to her. “We’re not a normal couple, Deb. And the fact that Grace is here has nothing to do with what’s between us.”

She slipped into the bra and tried to understand how he could go from blazing hot to Arctic ice in a heartbeat. Tossing her hair back from her face, she grabbed her tank top and didn’t speak again until she was wearing it. “That’s just so much bull, Gabe. You know it and so do I. Something’s going on here between us and-”

“The only thing going on between us is sex. Amazingly good sex, but that’s it.”

His words slapped at her and stung like tiny darts tossed at her heart. How was this possible? How could he look right at her and lie so easily. Because he was lying. She knew it. She felt it. There was more between them than he wanted to admit. Otherwise, she never would have fallen in love with him all over again.

But if he didn’t acknowledge their connection, she had nothing.

“I can’t do this, Gabe. I can’t stay with you, sleep with you all the time knowing that it means nothing to you.”

“I didn’t say that,” he allowed quietly. “What I’m saying is that what we’ve got in bed together has nothing to do with my life.”

“Oh, well then. Okay.” She staggered back a step and stared at him as though she’d never seen him before. And this Gabe, she really hadn’t seen. Didn’t know. “As long as your life doesn’t get disturbed then all is right with the world?” While she talked, her temper spiked and burned as though her chest was on fire.

“Pretty much,” he said, and had the nerve to smile at her.

“You really are a bastard, aren’t you?”

“Just figuring that out?” he said with a smile.

She took a long, deep breath and counted to ten-okay, five-before trusting herself to speak again. If all that they had was what she was feeling, then Debbie was finished.

“That does it, Mr. Island-Owner-King-of-the-World. I want you to give me back my passport and get me the hell off this island.”

He looked at her for a long minute and Debbie realized she couldn’t read any of what he was feeling in his eyes. And that hurt more than anything.

“You don’t always get what you want, Deb. You should know that. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get back to work.”

Dismissing her, he bent to pick up the papers and things he’d tossed off his desktop.

Debbie, though, wasn’t going to be ignored anymore. She stomped around to the far side of his desk, bent and grabbed up a stack of papers and slammed them down onto his desk with a slap of her hand. “There. Nice and tidy. So you have room to talk to me. You have time to tell me why, if you feel nothing for me, you’re not working harder to get me off this island.”

“Don’t get it, do you?” He leaned in close until his mouth was just a breath away from hers. His gaze speared into hers and she felt a chill beneath the fury she saw pulsing there. “This was never about protecting you. This was about punishing you.”

Punishing…a light began to dawn and Debbie didn’t much care for it. Could she really have been so wrong about him? Did he really feel nothing more for her than a lingering fury over a decade-old injury?

“Ten years ago,” he said, bringing life to her thoughts, “you used me up and cut me loose. Well, payback’s a bitch, babe. And this time it’s your turn.”

She shook her head and stepped back from him, unwilling to be so close to the hard glint in his eyes. “You’re doing all of this, keeping me here, holding me captive, just to hurt me?”

“You expected different?” he asked, standing now and shoving both hands into the pockets of his white slacks. He laughed shortly and shook his head. “Hell, if that jewel thief thing hadn’t come up, I’d have found another way to keep you here just to make sure I got a little of my own back. God, Debbie, did you really think I was carrying some torch for you? That this would all end up in some Hollywood version of happily-ever-after?”

“No,” she said, though damned if a part of her hadn’t actually been hoping for something along those lines, despite the fact that he’d claimed to not return what she felt for him. To protect herself, she lifted her chin and lied. “I suppose you thought I was going to fall madly in love?”

“Didn’t you?” he asked slyly.

Yes, she thought, but said only, “Oh, please.”

He nodded, staring at her as if trying to read the thoughts racing through her mind. Finally he smiled. “Nice try, babe. But you forget, I’ve seen you in love. I know what it looks like on you.”

Debbie squirmed uncomfortably. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And from where I’m standing it seems you’ve gone to a whole lot of trouble over a woman you claim to care nothing about.”

He scowled at her, then turned his back to stare out the window at the resort he’d built. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Deb. I’ve told you that before, too.”

“No,” she said, weary now, right down to the bone. What had begun a few weeks ago as a dream escape had slowly turned into the vacation of the damned. “But you might want to try to explain it to yourself, Gabe. Maybe ask yourself what you get out of this.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I get the satisfaction of keeping you here against your will.”

Her jaw dropped. “Once they catch that jewel thief, I’m out of here.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. This is my island, Deb.” He turned to face her. “If I say you don’t leave, trust me on this, you don’t leave.”

“Gabe, I have a life. A business. You can’t keep me here indefinitely.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“You’re not some feudal lord, Gabe.”

“Might as well be, as far as you’re concerned.”

Debbie shook her head. “So, me being suspected of being a felon really worked out well for you, then.”

“I’d have thought of something else if that hadn’t happened along.”

“I don’t even know you anymore, do I?”

“You got that right.”

“I had no idea you hated me this much.”

He blew out a breath. “I don’t hate you, Deb. But I’m not the guy you once ripped apart, either.”

“I won’t let you keep me here.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Debbie walked up to him and poked her index finger into his chest. “I do. I’ll call the police.”

“Already told you that won’t work.”

“I’ll call my friends.”

He laughed. “O-oh. Now I’m worried.”

Anger shot through her and seemed to dazzle even her vision so that she was looking at Gabe and seeing him blurred out. “This is over, Gabe. This…whatever it is between us. You’ve had your revenge or whatever. Congrats. Kudos to you. So now that we both know where we stand, why don’t you call the authorities in Bermuda and tell them I’m not the thief.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh, well then.”

He walked away, turning from both her and the conversation. She couldn’t believe this. Any of it. Only a few minutes ago, she’d been having sex with this man. On his desk, for pity’s sake. They’d been as close as two people could possibly be and yet now, it was as if they were on different planets.

Heck.

Galaxies.

“And what about Grace?” she whispered.

“Grace is none of your business.”

“Shouldn’t she be yours?” she countered.

“How about you stay out of my life?”

“How about you let me get back to mine?”

“When I’m ready,” he said, “not before.”

“And that’s when, exactly?”

“When I’m tired of you.”

Debbie sighed, fought past the pain, the humiliation of the moment, and tried to gather up the fast-unraveling threads of her mind. When she thought she could speak again without shrieking, she tried reason on him. “Look, Gabe. I don’t just want to leave. I have to. My business is in trouble,” she added, though it galled like hell to have to admit this to him of all people. “If I don’t get home and do some damage control, I could lose everything.”

He sat behind his desk, leaned back in the chair and folded his hands atop his abdomen. Tipping his head to one side, he studied her as he asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

She swallowed hard. God, wasn’t it bad enough that she’d been humiliated already? No, it wasn’t. Because until they caught that stupid jewel thief, Gabe was the only guy who could convince the authorities that she was innocent. Not that it looked as though he was in any hurry to do her any favors…but she had to try. Keeping her voice level, she tried not to feel the sting of failure as she said, “I lost my corporate client.”

God, it sounded hideous when she heard it said out loud. “I’ve got to find a replacement for them because the walk-in business isn’t enough to keep it going. And my assistant can’t handle it on her own, because she doesn’t know the business like I do and besides, the responsibility for the agency is all mine, anyway, and-”

“So let’s see if I understand this,” he mused, cutting off her stream of consciousness. He sat up straight, then leaned his forearms on the desktop. “Ten years ago, you walked out because I had nothing. Because you wanted ‘security.’ Now, I’ve got all the security you ever dreamed of and more and you’ve got-what? A failing business? A bigamist fiancé? That about sum it up?”

Debbie lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes on him. “Fine. Yes. You’re fabulous and I’m a loser. Is that what you needed to hear? Now are you happy?”

“You have no idea what I’m feeling,” he said quietly.

“So why don’t you tell me, Gabe.” She walked toward the desk, planted both hands on the edge and leaned in. “You’re the one keeping score. You’re the one who keeps dragging our past up to throw it in my face. Why don’t you tell me what you’re feeling right now? Get it said. Then maybe we can both move on.”

There was a slow sizzle of temper in him. That was easy enough to see. His green eyes flashed and his mouth worked as though he were biting back words fighting to get said. For a couple of tension-filled seconds, Debbie was sure he would say exactly what was on his mind.

Then the moment passed and a shutter dropped over his eyes even as he shook his head and said, “I’ve got work. As a ‘businesswoman,’ you should appreciate that.”

“Right.” She nodded and stepped away from the desk. Away from the man who was behaving as if she’d already left his office. “I’ll let you get to that, then.”

She walked to the door and looked back at him. He was ignoring her, but she knew he was still paying attention. “This isn’t over, Gabe. I’m going to get off this island. With or without your help.”

A few hours later Debbie took a seat at the bar, ordered a raspberry martini and while she waited for her drink, let her gaze sweep the crowded casino while her freaked-out mind took a little break. After all, she’d been doing nothing but trying to think of a way out of this situation for hours.

And while she was all tense and tied up in tight little knots, the rest of the crowd gathered at Fantasies looked to be having a great time. Elegant couples in tuxedos and jewel-toned gowns drifted across the glossy floor, sat at gaming tables and fed hungry slot machines. The ceiling was shot through with neon and flashing lights in dizzying bursts of color that pulsed in time with the rock music pumped through stereo speakers high on the walls. The air fairly shimmered with a party atmosphere and Debbie, watching them all through tired eyes, felt like a balloon with a slow leak.

Torn between hurt and anger, she wasn’t sure what her next move should be. She could call Janine or Cait. Involve the police. Heck, call the United Nations or something. The Marines! Do whatever she had to do to get off this stupid island and away from Gabe.

But was she willing to have Gabe arrested to make her escape? “Yes.”

No.

Not really. It wasn’t as though she hated him or something. She loved him. Not that that was doing her any good. The big jerk.

So, she thought, let’s recap. Held prisoner by an ex-lover. Trapped on an island paradise. Suspected of being an international thief. About to go into bankruptcy.

“Yep. Been a hell of a month so far,” she muttered, and somehow managed to keep from banging her forehead on the bar.

“Sounds like you need this,” the bartender said, sliding her drink toward her.

“You have no idea.” Automatically she reached for her purse, but the bartender shook his head. “No charge for you, Ms. Harris. Boss’s orders.”

She smiled, though inside she was quaking. The boss. He did like giving orders. And taking charge. And holding hostages. And…

“Is this seat taken?”

She turned her head and looked up at Grace, Gabe’s almost-fiancée. The woman was gorgeous in a dark-red gown that clung lovingly to generous curves. Even in her own sapphire-blue dress Debbie felt like the ugly stepsister at the ball.

Well, isn’t this a perfect end to a perfect day, she thought.

Grace watched her coolly, as if she knew exactly what Debbie was thinking. And why shouldn’t she?

“No, feel free,” Debbie said with a half smile, and waved a hand at the stool beside her.

Grace slid onto it, signaled the bartender and ordered champagne. While she waited, she turned to Debbie and said, “I thought we should talk.”

Ten

Smiling, Grace nodded at the bartender when he delivered her drink, then she picked up the crystal flute and took a sip. “Ah. That’s better.”

Might’ve been better for her, but Debbie was feeling a little antsy. After all, what could she possibly say to the fiancée of the man she was in love with? Debbie groaned and winced inwardly. She could hardly believe herself that she was still in love with a man who was virtually holding her prisoner. Could there be a more awful moment?

Grace sat on her bar stool, crossed her legs and took another sip of champagne while watching Debbie over the rim of her glass. There was something very like amusement flickering in the woman’s dark eyes and Debbie took a slightly less flustered breath before speaking.

“So, this is awkward.”

“Not as much as you might think,” Grace said, still holding her champagne flute in one graceful hand. “I understand that you and Gabriel have become quite the item.”

“I didn’t know about you,” Debbie told her.

Grace shrugged. “Nor I you. But I did speak with Gabriel.”

“Really?” Debbie watched the other woman and wondered out loud, “What’d he have to say?”

“That you two are old…friends.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Debbie sipped at her martini, paused a moment and said, “I want you to know something. Before I came here, I hadn’t seen Gabe in ten years. I don’t want you thinking that we’ve been having an affair or something right under your nose.” She took a deep breath, then a long drink of her raspberry-flavored liquor. “A. I would never do something like that, I’m just not that kind of person, though I guess from your perspective, you might not believe me on that. But Gabe wouldn’t do it, either, and you probably know him well enough to believe that, because you are going to marry him, so of course you know him, though not me, at all, I mean. I’m a stranger who can’t seem to stop talking…”

“Is there a ‘B’?” Grace asked when she paused for breath.

“I can’t remember.”

“Doesn’t matter, really. I only came to see you to let you know I’m leaving.”

“Because of me?”

“Please.” The woman chuckled and shook her head. “No. While Gabriel is certainly a diverting man…”

Oh, diverting was a good word for it.

“I’ve decided to marry someone else. I only came here because I wanted to tell him my decision in person.”

Yikes. “How’d he take it?”

“Quite well.” She gave Debbie a quick but thorough up and down look. “With you here, he’s obviously otherwise occupied, anyway.”

“Look, Gabe and I…”

“Are none of my business,” Grace said, taking another sip of her drink. “I’m going to be married in three months.”

“Congratulations.” Debbie had one fleeting thought, wondering what kind of man would be interested in tying himself forever to a woman who seemed chillingly cold. And then wondered if Gabe realized what a lucky escape he’d had.

She couldn’t imagine Gabe married to this woman. He was so easygoing, so, enjoy-life-every-minute. Well, he used to be. As she’d found out all too recently, she really didn’t know this new Gabe very well at all. From what she’d seen of the man Gabe had become over the last few days, maybe Grace was exactly the kind of woman he wanted.

“Thank you.” Sliding off her bar stool, Grace stood, smoothed one hand down the front of her gown and gave Debbie a brief smile. “Now, I’ll say good-night. Oh,” she added as she turned to leave, “good luck with Gabriel.”

While the crowded casino hummed with activity and sound, it was as if a small bubble of silence had been erected around the two women. Neither of them was aware of anything going on in the background. Each of them was instead focused on the odd situation they found themselves in.

“I don’t have Gabe,” Debbie pointed out.

Grace quirked her head to one side and said, “Well, good heavens. You love him, don’t you?”

Debbie stiffened. “Oh, let’s not go there.”

“This is surprising.”

“You’re telling me.” Seriously, could there be a weirder conversation? How hideous it was to be in love alone. Even with all she and Gabe had said to each other in the last few days, she knew that a part of her would always miss him. Ten years ago, she’d walked away, thinking she had known what was best-for both of them.

Leaving Gabe then had nearly killed her-but now it was going to be so much worse. She was older now. Knew more about herself and what she wanted-needed. And she knew that losing Gabe this time was going to haunt her for the rest of her life. Yet there was nothing to be done about it.

“You got a gorgeous women you’re holding captive on this island and you’re sitting here having a drink with me,” Victor said on a short laugh. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

Gabe scowled at his friend, tossed back the last of the Scotch in his glass and asked, “Don’t like my company?”

Victor leaned back into the sofa in his suite of rooms and stared at his boss. “Didn’t say I was complaining, just wondering why you’re here instead of with your blonde?”

“She’s not my blonde.”

“What about Ms. Madison?”

“Gone,” Gabe said, and didn’t want to admit even to himself that he was relieved about Grace leaving the island. Hell, until he’d found Debbie again, he’d been willing to settle for a loveless “arrangement” of a marriage. But once he’d felt the fire again, the thought of marrying Grace had become an impossible one.

Just as well she’d found another man.

Gabe reached for the bottle of Scotch sitting atop a coffee table and splashed more of the amber liquid into the crystal tumbler. How his pal could be confused as to why Gabe would rather be here, drinking with a friend, rather than talking to the woman currently making him insane, was beyond him.

Studying the Scotch like a man looking for answers in all the wrong places, Gabe was remembering the look on Debbie’s face as she’d walked out of his office. He could still clearly see the hurt, and it shocked him that he wasn’t enjoying this more.

Hey, mission accomplished. He’d set her up and knocked her down. So why the hell wasn’t he celebrating? Damn woman never should have come back into his life. He’d had it all a few short weeks ago. He’d been happy.

He took a long drink before saying, “To answer your question, the reason the blonde came to mind first is, she’s the one irritating me at the moment.”

“Uh-huh, and how’s she doing that?” Victor asked. “Complaining about being held prisoner, is she?”

Flashing the other man a dark look, Gabe demanded, “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours, boss.” Victor held up both hands in mock surrender.

“Damn straight. Somebody sure should be.” Gabe kicked his legs out in front of him, crossed his feet at the ankles and glowered into his glass of Scotch. Didn’t seem to matter how much he drank. He couldn’t wipe Debbie’s image out of his mind. And he wanted to, for God’s sake.

He didn’t owe her a blasted thing.

“Saw Grace heading into the casino a bit ago,” Victor said.

“Yeah?” Jesus, he was being a miserable bastard.

“Your blonde’s in there, too. Thought you should know the two of them looked like they were going to be comparing some notes.”

“Great.” With the two women talking, God only knew what would happen next. Lifting his gaze to his friend’s, Gabe asked, “Just how did my life go down the toilet so fast?”

“Man,” Victor mused, setting his own glass of Scotch onto the table, “what makes you think your life was so great before all this happened?”

Gabe squinted at him. “It was. Everything was fine before Deb showed up.”

Victor laughed shortly and shook his head. “You didn’t notice that whenever Grace arrived you got suddenly busy?”

“No.” He took another drink of Scotch, letting the liquor slide down his throat in a fiery trail.

“Well, I did.” Victor took a sip of his own drink, sighed and said, “Not that Grace went looking for you much, either. Seems to me, if you’re going to marry somebody-even if it’s a business arrangement-folks usually want to spend some time together.”

“What’s your point?”

“You know my point.”

Gabe blew out a long breath. Yeah, he knew what his friend was talking about. Hadn’t wanted to think about it, and still didn’t, come to that. But Victor was right. He and Grace had had an arrangement for a marriage that both of them were settling for-though neither of them was exactly anxious for it.

Probably hadn’t been a good idea in the first place, Gabe allowed silently. No point in getting married unless you were in love, and he sure as hell wasn’t in love-or planning to be.

“My point is, since the day that curvy little blonde showed up on Fantasies, you’ve been different.”

“Like hell.” A little tense maybe. A little pissed, and who could blame him? But he was still the same ol’ Gabe. Debbie hadn’t affected who he was at all. She was his past. That’s all she was.

“Say what you will, boss, but the blonde got to you like nobody else I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t care about Debbie. And hadn’t for a very long time. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you from the beginning that this was a game. To set her up. None of it meant anything.”

“Then why’re you still so pissed off when you should be happy?”

Just the question he’d been asking himself. And he still didn’t have an answer. Didn’t need one. “Doesn’t matter.”

Victor stood, looked down at his boss and said, “If you say so. But I’m wondering something.”

“If I’d known you were going to be such a talker tonight, I’d have gotten drunk in my own damn room,” Gabe muttered.

Victor only laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re here trying to avoid the blonde, remember.”

True. He’d come to Victor’s suite looking for a friendly ear and a little peace and quiet.

“Damn women muck everything up,” Gabe said, and took another sip of Scotch. “Debbie. Grace.” He shook his head then let it fall against the back of the chair. “I had a great thing going here, Vic. Built my world just the way I wanted it to be. Worked damn hard for a lot of years to make this place what it is today.”

“Yeah. You told me once. When you and the blonde broke up, you set out to make a fortune.”

“And I did it,” Gabe said, lifting his glass in a toast to himself.

“You did. But you gotta wonder…”

“What?”

“Well, if the blonde hadn’t made you so damned mad all those years ago, would you be here now?”

Gabe grumbled a little, sat straighter and eyed his chief of security. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Victor shook his head and shrugged. “Not saying you wouldn’t be. Only said that the blonde pissed you off enough to work your ass off to build this place. This life. Who knows where you’d be if she’d said yes ten years ago.”

Frowning, Gabe stared at his drink, then reached out and set it down onto the coffee table. Thoughts tumbled through his mind as he considered Victor’s words and tried to weigh them honestly.

“I’m going to head downstairs,” Victor said. “Do a sweep of the place. Check in with my guys. You stay as long as you like, boss, and I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” Gabe hardly noticed his friend leaving but when the other man was gone, Gabe wandered over to the French doors leading to a small balcony off the living room of the suite. He opened them, pushing them wide and was instantly slapped in the face by a fierce wind sweeping in off the ocean.

That sharp breeze seemed to scatter the fog in his mind and as he looked out at the kingdom he’d built, Gabe had to ask himself if Victor had been right. If Debbie hadn’t cut him loose ten years ago, would he have had the same drive and determination to succeed? If they’d been married when he’d asked her, how much different would their lives be now? Would he even be the man he was?

He liked to think so. Liked to believe that he would have accomplished all that he had with or without the motivation of the anger she’d churned in him so long ago.

But the simple truth was, he didn’t know.

Gabe had used his anger to fuel him. He’d channeled his hurt and fury into a single-minded goal. Succeeding. Making himself into the kind of man that Debbie would never have considered turning down.

So really, without Debbie…he very well might not be the king of his own little island.

“And ain’t that a kick in the ass?”

“He was engaged?”

Janine sounded so outraged on her behalf, Debbie wanted to reach through the phone line and give her friend a big hug. Instead she settled for grumbling. “Yes. To this super-elegant, absolutely gorgeous woman.”

Two hours after leaving Grace in the hotel casino, Debbie was back upstairs in Gabe’s suite, pacing the room frantically, as if she could actually walk away from here if she just put enough energy into each step. Calling Janine had been grabbing onto a life rope in a churning sea. But, hey, that’s what friends were for, right?

“That’s so evil, I can’t even come up with anything sufficiently cutting to say,” Janine admitted. “What was Gabe thinking? I mean, he’s all over you and neglects to mention the fiancée?”

“Technically, not a fiancée,” Debbie allowed, and why she was trying to make the situation sound better was beyond her. “An almost-fiancée who is now the fiancée of somebody else, anyway, so that’s over really and I don’t know why I’m still freaked about it but-”

“Breathe,” Janine ordered.

Debbie walked across the living-room floor and opened the French doors onto Gabe’s terrace. Instantly the ocean wind slapped her in the face and forced a breath into her lungs. “Right. Right, I’m a little over the top.”

“Yeah,” Janine agreed. “Just a smidge.”

“The worst part, though,” Debbie said, leaning on the balcony railing and closing her eyes to the wind, “is that the ex-fiancée was absolutely right about something.”

“Which is…”

“I’m in love with Gabe.” Oh, God. She’d actually said it. Out loud. And now that it was out there in the universe, there was no pulling it back again.

“Well, to coin a phrase, duh.”

“Huh?”

“Honey,” Janine said, her voice dropping into a soothing, sympathetic tone, “you’ve been in love with Gabe for like, ever. Pretending you weren’t didn’t actually change anything, you know?”

Janine was right, Debbie thought, and let her chin hit her chest. She’d always loved Gabe. Even when she’d broken it off with him, refused to marry him and hurt both of them desperately, she’d still loved him.

It was only her fears that had gotten in the way.

But wasn’t it too late to do anything about that now?

“Deb?” Janine prompted. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, going back inside while leaving the terrace doors open to the night air. “I’m here. I’m just not sure where here is, exactly.”

Eleven

A few hours later Gabe was still considering everything Victor had said. All the thoughts that had been stirred up. And he wasn’t happy about it, either.

He’d like to think that he would have made a success of himself without the fury he’d felt at Debbie driving him. But the truth was, Gabe admitted ruefully, he’d never really know for sure.

He shoved one hand through his hair, swiped his card for his private elevator and when it arrived, got in. He had at least come to one conclusion tonight, despite trying to drown his thoughts in too much Scotch.

He was damned relieved Grace had called off their “arrangement.” How the hell could he marry one woman while dreaming about another? He wasn’t saying he was in love with Debbie, but damn if the woman wasn’t still in his blood.

When the elevator doors opened, he stepped into his suite, glanced around the dimly lit room and finally spotted Deb, curled up sleeping in a dark-red chair near the now cold fireplace. Her head was tucked into the wing of the chair, her eyes were closed and her long blond hair fell softly about her face.

Something inside him twisted and though he didn’t want to admit it, Gabe knew he had to let her go. For both their sakes. She needed to get back to her life and he needed her away from him. Better for both of them if they just forgot all about the last week or so.

He walked closer, his steps nearly soundless on the rug-strewn floor. He stared down at her and when his heart gave a twinge, he told himself it was nothing more than the echoes of memory. It was the past coming back to give him one more ache. One more kick. To remind him that he never should have started this little game.

Outside, the wind keened and the sheer white drapes hanging across the open French doors danced and writhed like ghosts somehow chained to the earth. The scent of rain came in on the wind and he moved to close the doors before the storm arrived.

When they were latched, he heard Debbie ask from behind him, “What’s going on?”

“Storm blowing in.” He turned, looked at her as she pushed herself to her feet and fought the instant, almost primal reaction he felt inside. She looked soft, and vaguely disheveled, like she’d just rolled out of bed and he wanted her in his bed. Now. Didn’t matter how often they came together. How much he touched her. He knew in that one blinding moment that he would always want her.

That’s why she had to go.

“Pack your stuff,” he said suddenly, shoving both hands into his pants’ pockets. “You’re leaving.”

“What?” Her eyes popped open wide as she stared at him.

“You. Leaving.”

“When?”

“Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever.”

“Just like that?” She came around the edge of the chair and walked toward him, stopping just a few feet away.

A small distance, but it might as well have been miles.

“Now you’re complaining because you can go?” He forced a laugh that felt like it was strangling him. “A few hours ago, you were demanding to leave.”

“And you said I couldn’t because the jewel thief hadn’t been caught.”

“I lied.”

“What?”

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and silently handed it to her. Gabe watched while she unfolded it and quickly scanned it. When she lifted her head to glare at him, he met that cold stare with one of his own.

“You knew,” she said. “You knew earlier today that the authorities caught that jewel thief in Bermuda.” She stopped, took a breath and accused, “Were you going to tell me?”

Gabe shrugged. “No. I wasn’t. Not yet, anyway.”

“What is wrong with you?” she shouted, and balled up the paper in one fist before throwing it at him. The crushed paper bounced off his chest and onto the floor.

There was more than anger in her eyes. There was hurt and the sting of betrayal. “Because I didn’t want you gone yet.”

“Why?” She whispered the word. “You at least owe me that much. Why?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Right,” she said, nodding slowly. “To punish me. So why are you telling me this now? Letting me go now?”

Why did she have to look so damned good? Why was her voice so soft, her eyes so wide and beautiful? Why did he keep remembering how good they used to be together?

And why didn’t he just stick to the subject at hand?

He shrugged, pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest. “What difference does it make? You want to leave. I want you gone. We finally agree.”

“Why the big change of heart all of a sudden?”

“God, you’re like a pit bull with a bone.”

“And that’s not an answer.”

“You want an answer? Here it is. Game over, that’s all. I’m done with you and I want you gone.”

She actually winced and he felt an answering ache inside him. Just another reason for her to go. He didn’t want to feel for her. Didn’t want to care what she was feeling, thinking.

“So the king has spoken.”

“Basically.”

“Great.” She scraped her hands up and down her arms as if she were suddenly cold. “So you’ve gotten your jollies, kept me prisoner here long enough that my business will probably go belly-up and-”

He jumped on that statement. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know that?” He stopped, looked at her for a long second as a small, niggling doubt took hold in his mind. “Is that why you really came here?”

“What’re you talking about?” Her voice was tight, strained, as if she were desperately trying not to shout.

“You. Your precious business. Your thing with security above all else.” He smiled, but it felt like more of a grimace. “You knew I owned this place when you came here, didn’t you?”

“Oh, sure.” Nodding, she looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “I deliberately set myself up to be held prisoner.”

“Why not?” He was thinking now, one thought after another screaming through his brain, and the more he thought of it, the more it all made a twisted sort of sense. “Your business was in the toilet before you came here, wasn’t it? Hell, that’s why you came here. You were going to use me to save you.”

“I what?”

“Why else?” He asked the question, but didn’t expect an answer. Now that this had occurred to him, it all made a sort of bizarre sense. And, hey, no more twinges of guilt for him. She’d come here with a purpose. He’d just been able to use her before she could use him.

He shoved his hands through his hair, scraping it back from his face before letting them fall to his sides again. “You figured to somehow cash in on our past to save your future.”

“Are you crazy? I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t know my business was going to get into trouble. I didn’t-”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Debbie argued. “Have I once asked you for anything except the right to leave?”

He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to believe that she was telling the truth. It was easier to tell himself that Debbie had tried to run her own scam.

“You’ve been playing me since the beginning.” It made sense. It was logical. And besides, if it were true, then he really did have nothing to feel guilty about.

“You’re not serious about this.”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured her, “I am.”

“Then I’m a bigger idiot than I thought I was.”

The expression on her face was a blend of disappointment, regret and anger. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and he was coward enough to be grateful she was holding them back. He didn’t want to see her cry. He didn’t want to know he’d hurt her. Didn’t want to have to regret another thing about Debbie Harris.

He just wanted his life back.

The way it had been before she’d returned and made him think about what-might-have-beens.

“We’re done, Deb. Let it go.”

“Right. You know what, Gabe?” she said finally, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the howl of the wind slapping at the windows. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Oh, please.”

“I do. You’ve got everything you ever wanted,” she said, waving both hands to encompass the suite, the resort, all of it. “But you can’t see beyond it. You think I’m the one who’s focused on success? It’s you now, Gabe. All you can think about is this place.”

“And that makes me different from you how?”

“Because I wouldn’t use you-and you did use me.” Her bottom lip quivered, but she made a steely effort to firm it. “You lied to me. Made me think I was about to be arrested. Held me against my will. Took me to bed and made me think-” She stopped suddenly and then added again, “You used me.”

He walked toward her and stopped within arm’s reach from her. He closed his hands into fists at his sides to keep from grabbing her, because damn if he didn’t want to be holding her. “We used each other.”

“You keep thinking that,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “But the truth is, all of this was your doing, Gabe. I would never have asked you for anything for my business. See, I discovered something while I was here. I wasn’t going to tell you-God knows it surprised the heck out of me. But now, I want you to know. Want you to know that this time, it’s you walking away.”

Looking into her eyes tore at him, but he told himself that it was all an act. She’d come here to use him, and she was pissed she hadn’t been able to pull it off. “Say what you have to say, then.”

“I love you.”

He choked out a short laugh and felt those three words slam into what used to be his heart with a force that rocked him on his heels. He kept his expression blank, his eyes shuttered, despite the fact that he felt as though he were reeling. “You expect me to believe that.”

“Nope, I don’t. Like I said, it surprised me, too, when I realized it. You haven’t exactly been Prince Charming over the last week, in case you hadn’t noticed. You’re irritating, infuriating and downright cranky most of the time. And for some strange reason, I love you anyway, so color me stupid. If you think I’m thrilled by this, you’re way wrong. Especially at this moment,” Debbie said, shaking her head again as she stared up at him. “I don’t expect anything from you, Gabe. I just wanted you to know. Ten years ago, I walked away-and it’s something I’ve always regretted. But today, you’re the one turning your back and I want you to remember that.”

“Fine. I’ll remember.” Damn if he didn’t know that this moment would replay over and over again in his mind for years. But he’d learn to live with it. Because he wasn’t going to take a chance again. Wouldn’t allow himself to love again.

“Now,” he asked, “don’t you have some packing to do?”

“Yeah. I do,” she said. “I’ll pack and leave in the morning.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

He stared at her and told himself to take a long look because once she’d left the island, he wouldn’t be seeing her again. So he carved her image into his brain. Her sleepy eyes, her lush mouth, her tumbled hair and the thin strap of her tank top dipping off one shoulder.

And the echo of three little words still hung in the air between them like a tattered pennant that neither warring army could claim.

Debbie woke up to a furious storm rattling the windows. The wind shrieked under the penthouse eaves and whistled as it spun around the edges of the building. She stared out the windows openmouthed and watched tall, somehow elegant palm trees bend nearly in two. Their lacy fronds were tattered and torn by the force of the storm and rain lashed at the resort as if heaven had been storing water for decades only to dump it in one fell swoop.

“So,” she murmured. “No leaving today.”

She turned around and looked at the empty suite and wondered, not for the first time, just where Gabe had spent the night. He’d left the suite at the end of their latest blistering argument and she wondered if he’d gone looking for female company.

“Isn’t that a lovely thought?” She tells him she loves him and he heads off to find anyone else. What a fabulous life she was leading. And now, she was in a storm that looked like the one Dorothy and Toto had starred in.

The resort tower almost seemed to sway in the buffeting winds and a chill snaked quickly along Debbie’s spine. This couldn’t be good.

When the phone on the bar rang, she nearly sprinted across the room to grab it. “Hello?”

“You okay?”

“Gabe. Yeah. I’m fine. Where are you?”

“In my office. I stayed here last night.”

Ridiculous to feel the relief that was sweeping through her. But there it was.

“Your flight’s been cancelled,” he added unnecessarily.

She turned around to look out the windows across the room from her and said, “Yeah, I figured that out. What’s going on?”

“Hurricane,” he said. “Was supposed to pass us by, but it looks like its shifting direction.”

Scowling, she said, “You knew I wouldn’t be able to leave, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“That’s why you were so accommodating last night.” She should have known Gabe wouldn’t give in so easily. “You knew the hurricane was coming.”

“What am I, a weatherman, now?” he argued. “For God’s sake, Debbie, believe it or not, you’re not at the top of my list of worries at the moment.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, forgetting about the spurt of anger as she reacted to the concern in his voice.

“I’ve got a hotel full of people to protect. People who want to get off the island almost as much as you do, and nobody’s going anywhere.”

“Can I help?”

There was a long pause, as if he were surprised by the offer. Then he said, “Yeah. You could, actually. The staff is gathering up the guests, taking them into the main club room. It’s the most easily protected. If you could help keep people calm…”

“I’ll go now,” she said, tearing her gaze from the wind-whipped scene outside.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

And all it had taken, she thought, for the two of them to be polite to each other was a natural disaster.

Gabe lifted both hands for quiet and waited while the muttering and shouting slowly died away. He couldn’t blame any of these people for being a little on the hysterical side, but it surely wasn’t helping the situation any. Then he looked out over the crowd of people and started talking. He kept his voice pitched just a bit over normal, knowing that people were more likely to keep quiet in an attempt to hear him.

“I know you’re all anxious and you’d like to leave…”

“The storm isn’t here yet,” a man in the back of the room shouted. “Why can’t the planes leave before it arrives?”

Several others took up that refrain and Gabe was forced to wait again until they all settled down.

“The airfield was closed late last night as the winds began gaining in strength. The planes left while they still could.”

“We’re trapped, you mean?” A woman’s voice carrying the rising edge of hysteria called the question out.

“Not trapped,” Gabe said, smiling widely now, hoping to instill confidence. “Stuck. But at least,” he added, “you’re here at Fantasies, where your comfort is the main concern. We’ve got plenty of supplies. The hotel staff will be setting up cots here in the club and the chefs will keep us all well fed. All we really have to do is settle in and wait it out.”

“For how long?” another man at the side of the room said.

Gabe spotted him and aimed a look right at him. “For as long as it takes. The weather reports still aren’t sure exactly where the hurricane is heading. At the moment, it could keep on course for Fantasies or sheer off.”

“And if it hits here?” a woman demanded, and Gabe sighed.

He searched the faces of the people looking to him for reassurance. These people were his guests. They’d come here to his home, looking for some fun, relaxation and a good time. Now they were being forced to face something none of them wanted to think about. And they were his responsibility. It was up to him to keep them all safe and calm and as happy as possible.

“If it hits,” Gabe said, keeping his voice easy, casual, “then we’ll deal. The resort is as safe a place as you’ll find. And we’re going to make it safer.”

“How?” A few people shouted the single word.

“We’ll be boarding up the windows in here,” he said, waving one hand at the busboys who were already carrying in sheets of plywood and the tools they needed to safeguard the wide windows.

A murmur of discontent swept the crowd and he knew they were all thinking about being shut up inside a single room for who knew how long. It was going to be hard enough being part of a crowd confined in one room. But when that room had boarded-up windows and became more or less a plush jail cell, it was going to be even harder.

He was just trying to figure out a way to make this seem less frightening when someone stepped up beside him on the small stage.

Stunned speechless, he could only stare as Debbie lifted both hands and smiled at everyone. She looked happy, relaxed and completely in control.

“Hi, everybody,” she said, and instantly the crowd quieted. “I know you’re all nervous, but really, you don’t have to be. Fantasies is safe. Mr. Vaughn and his staff are going to be doing everything they can to make this whole situation as easy as it can be on all of us.”

“Who the hell’re you?” A deep voice from the back of the room sounded out.

“My name’s Debbie Harris,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly. “I own a travel agency in California and I can tell you firsthand, I’ve been in situations just like this one in far less favorable circumstances and I’m still here to tell the tale.”

Someone laughed nervously and while Gabe watched with interest, Debbie kept talking. “I’m going to be helping Mr. Vaughn out as much as possible.”

She glanced at Gabe and shot him a smile bright enough to light up every shadow inside him. Admiration for her filled him and he had to admit that the feel of the crowd had really eased up since she’d joined him on the stage. There was just something about her that reached people.

Including him.

“I’m a guest here, too,” Debbie was saying. “Just like the rest of you. I know none of us signed up to work on our vacations, but I’ve found that keeping busy in stressful times helps us all to feel safer. And, if we all work together, we can get through this with as little trouble as possible.”

There was some muttering, but mostly, Gabe noticed, the people in the crowd were more relaxed. Some of them smiling, some of them nodding. All of them listening.

“Now, if some of you guys would go to the windows and help the busboys with the plywood, that’d be great,” Debbie said. As a few men moved off, she continued. “And we can use more help, setting up the cots, arranging a temporary kitchen-” she looked at Gabe and he pointed to the far corner “-over there. We’ll need people to help serve, set up chairs, to pass out supplies, make lists and, oh, lots of other stuff.”

She grinned at them all again, as if she and the crowd were sharing a secret and Gabe saw just how well it was working. Before there had been nerves, fear and a humming energy that could have turned ugly. But in just a few minutes Debbie’s easy smile, professional savvy and knowledge of human nature had turned it all around.

“So how about it?” she asked. “You guys willing to pitch in?”

Applause started, slowly at first, and then catching on and rising into a wave of sound that roared into the closed-up room. And while the guests cheered, Gabe looked at Debbie and felt his heart turn over.

Twelve

The storm raged all day and long into the night.

Debbie became the unofficial cruise director-initiating games, sing-alongs, even, in desperation, a marshmallow roast over the chef’s open flames. She’d done anything she could think of to keep the crowd relaxed. She hadn’t had a moment to just sit all night.

Gabe and his staff had been just as busy.

Silently, efficiently, they went about the business of keeping everyone safe. The windows were boarded, security guards were on hand to keep people from stealing outside to watch the storm and Gabe himself seemed to be constantly in motion. She watched him work the crowd, smiling, chatting as if this was just another weekend on Fantasies. His easy manner and quiet confidence instilled a sense of well-being in everyone he passed and Debbie had to admire him for it.

Gabe really was in his element, she realized. This place was more than his kingdom. It was his home and here, he was both host and touchstone.

Wandering the darkened room, Debbie walked around the edge of the club, moving as quietly as she could. People were stretched out on the cots and mats provided by the hotel, and some of them were even managing to sleep, in spite of the howling wind and the rain slamming against the boarded-up windows. A few muffled sobs reached her, too, and she knew that fear was still high as the world outside seemed to tear itself apart.

All she really wanted was a place to collapse. She was bone-weary but too wired to sleep. Besides, she didn’t think she’d be able to close her eyes while the wind was screaming like some wild creature just outside the room.

Grabbing a cup of coffee from the chef’s table, she held it between her palms and carried it with her to the far side of the club. There, she gratefully eased down to the floor and leaned against the wall.

Sipping at her coffee, she tried not to listen to the storm. Tried to ignore the hundred or more terrified people in the room. Tried not to let her own fear, that she’d been successfully blocking all day, suddenly take up life in the pit of her stomach. She tried, anyway.

“Mind some company?”

Debbie looked up at Gabe and shook her head. “Not at all. Pull up the floor and sit down.”

His mouth quirked into a half smile as he eased down beside her. Pulling one knee up, he rested his forearm atop it and stared off across the room. “Long day.”

“Yeah, it really was.” She took a sip of coffee, then held the cup out to him.

“Thanks.” He took a sip, sighed, then handed it back to her. “And not just for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome,” Debbie said, then laughed a little. “Wow. We’re actually being nice to each other twice in one day.”

He leaned back, stretched out his legs and folded his arms over his chest. “A record for us.”

“Didn’t used to be.” Debbie looked at him, his profile softened in the dim light, and her heart filled with both want and regret. “There was a time when we were great together.”

“A long time ago.”

In the dark, in the relative quiet in their little corner of the room, she said softly, “I didn’t want to say no to you ten years ago, Gabe. I loved you so much.”

He turned his head to look down at her, but with the light behind him, she couldn’t really see his eyes. And she wished she could. She’d always been able to look into those eyes and see love.

God, she missed that.

“You should have had faith in me, Deb,” he said, and his voice sounded tired. “Faith in us.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, thinking back to the girl she had once been. The girl who had been so scared. Scared of loving too much. Scared of never being safe. Scared of taking a chance-a risk. “Maybe I should have, Gabe. I don’t really know anymore. But since we’re being so honest here, do you think you’d have done all this if we had stayed together back then?”

“Funny,” he said after a long moment or two. “Someone else asked me that just yesterday.”

“And?”

“And, I don’t know.” He blew out a breath. “Guess I’ll never know. I was so damn mad at you for so long…”

Blindly, she reached for his hand and when his fingers closed over hers, Debbie clung to the warmth of him as he continued. “I loved you then, Deb. Enough that it almost killed me when you walked out.”

“Gabe-”

“But I won’t love you again.”

Debbie’s heart broke at his quiet words because she knew they would never have the second chance together that she wanted so much. Maybe the brass ring really did only come around once in a lifetime. And if you missed your shot at it, then it was just too bad for you.

“We got lucky,” Gabe said late the next morning as he studied the windswept grounds stretched out in front of him. “If the hurricane hadn’t veered off sometime last night, we’d be in much worse shape.”

“I suppose so,” Debbie said from right beside him. “But, Gabe, everything looks…”

He knew what it looked like. A war zone. Trees had broken and lay splintered across the ground like toys discarded by a petulant child. The pools were filled with dirt and leaves and God knew what else. Awnings were ripped, signs torn from their posts.

But there hadn’t been any injuries, so he called it a win.

And now that the storm was over, it was time to get things back to normal. All the way around. He blew out a breath. “We’ll get it cleaned up within the next few weeks. But with any luck, the airfield should be clear in a couple of days. You can catch the first plane out.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then said, “All right.”

He turned and looked down at her. They’d come through the storm and having survived it, they were both a little stronger, a little more sure of themselves and a little further apart. That bothered him a hell of a lot.

He’d seen her in action and knew what an amazing woman she really was. When things were toughest, Debbie had come through. Having her with him had made everything easier. She’d helped him when he needed it most and now that she was leaving, he could do the same for her.

Even things out between them as best as he could.

Then they’d each have a clean slate. No guilt. No…unfinished business.

“There’s something else,” he said, his gaze locked with hers.

All around them, the resort was slowly coming back to life. Workers hustled, cleaning up debris, guests staggered out of the main club like shipwrecked survivors getting their first glimpse of land, and the sun spilled down on all of them.

“What is it?”

“You came through for me during the storm-”

“You already thanked me,” she said quickly.

“This is something else.” He smoothed a strand of her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “When you get back to Long Beach, I want you to draw up a plan-a travel package plan. Fantasies will offer discounted vacations through your company.”

She took a step back and stared at him in stunned amazement. “Gabe, are you sure? That’s huge. Why would you do that for me?”

Because he didn’t want to worry about her. Because he wanted her dreams to come true. Because maybe she and Victor had been right and he really wouldn’t have had this success without the nudge she’d unconsciously given him ten years ago.

“It’s good business,” he hedged, not wanting her gratitude. “We’ll get guests we might not have had otherwise and the packages will save your company.”

“More than,” she said. “I’ll be the only travel agent in the country with a packaging deal for the most sought-after resort in the world.”

He gave her a half smile and shrugged. “Good business. Like I said.”

Reaching out one hand to him, she whispered, “Gabe…”

He took her hand, squeezed it, then let her go. “I’ve got to get to work.” He walked off, then stopped and said, “You can stay in the suite till you leave. I’ll bunk in my office.”

He left her standing there amid the rubble that had once been his only dream.

And he didn’t dare look back.

“He did what?” Janine demanded.

Debbie gripped her cell phone a little tighter and told her friend about Gabe’s offer again.

“That’s amazing, girl,” Janine said with a low whistle of appreciation. “Okay, I’m feeling a little more charitable toward good ol’ Gabe again. This’ll make your little agency the hottest one in the state. Maybe the whole country.”

“I know.” Debbie wandered through Gabe’s suite and stepped out onto the terrace. The suite was too empty without him. And knowing that he’d be avoiding the place until she was gone only made it-and her-feel emptier.

Below, the golf course was looking a little wind-blown, but she could see teams of employees out there now, working to bring it all back to rights. Everyone on Fantasies had been working like maniacs all day to restore the resort to its pre-hurricane splendor. It might take a few weeks to get it all back to what it had been, but she didn’t doubt for a minute that Gabe would pull it off. Heck, he’d probably make improvements and have Fantasies even better than before.

The man was unstoppable.

“You’re not jumping up and down with excitement.”

“I should be,” Debbie agreed, tilting her face up into the sunlight. “This is the answer to everything. It’s more than I’d even hoped for.”

“Yet…”

She smiled at Janine’s coaxing tone.

“Yet,” Debbie said with a sigh, “this packaging deal with Gabe just doesn’t seem as important to me as it once would have been.”

“Because you’ve got your much-loved security but you don’t got Gabe?”

“Nice grammar, but yeah,” Debbie admitted. “That’s about the size of it.”

“Well, yippy-skippy,” Janine said with a hoot of laughter. “It’s about time.”

“So happy to amuse,” Debbie said, frowning at the phone in her hand. “Care to explain?”

“Love to-” Then Janine broke off, held her hand half over the receiver and called, “Max, please don’t help the movers, you’ll break that lamp and-” The sound of splintering glass came through the phone just before Janine sighed. “Never mind.”

“Which lamp?” Debbie asked, smiling as she opened her eyes and stared out at the horizon.

“The glass one with the faux Tiffany shade.”

“Bummer.”

“Yeah, well, Max is great, but careful he’s not. Sorry, honey.” The sound of a kiss came across the line, then Janine was talking again. “Okay, Max is outside, directing the movers, which I’m sure they totally appreciate, so now back to you.”

“Oh, goody.”

“Hey,” Janine reminded her, “you wanted the explanation, remember?”

“Fine,” Debbie said, and dropped down to the stone floor to sit. No point in trying to sit on one of the chairs. The red-and-white cushions were waterlogged and filthy. At least the stone floor had had enough time to dry out. Besides, she didn’t want to be inside, in that empty suite. “Explain why you’re so pleased with my misery.”

“Not your misery, Deb. But I’m loving the epiphany.”

“I didn’t mention an epiphany.”

“Sure you did, you just didn’t recognize it. Think about this,” Janine continued in an oh-so-patient tone. “You’ve got the deal of a lifetime. One that’ll not only save your business but probably make you stinking rich, right?”

“Yeessss…”

“You’ve got built-in security. Even enough for you, my slightly crazy friend.”

“Thank you so much, but, yes, I get what you’re saying and I still don’t see the epiphany.”

“Here it is. You’ve got security, but it doesn’t mean anything without the love.”

She groaned. “Janine…”

“Deb, security’s overrated.”

“So says someone who’s never lived in her car.”

Janine ignored her. “It’s good, sure, but you can’t count on it. Life happens, Deb. Businesses rise and fall. Don’t you get it? The only real security is love. The kind of love that doesn’t let you down. The kind you can count on no matter what else happens in this wide, weird, crazy world. That’s the only security that’s worth a damn, girlfriend. And, I think you’ve finally figured that out.”

Everything her friend said chimed inside Debbie like a clear bell of truth. Hadn’t she pretty much come to these same conclusions in the last twenty-four hours herself? Hadn’t she already felt the hard fact that even with a Fantasies contract, without Gabe, she would never be truly happy?

Was it all so easy, then?

So simple?

“Hello?” Janine said. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” Debbie answered, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’m here. And I get it. I love Gabe.”

“Yep.”

“But how could he ever believe that I love him for himself and not for what he’s become?”

Not surprisingly, Janine didn’t have an answer. And that, Debbie thought, was the saddest part of all. She loved a man she couldn’t have. A man she’d had and lost ten years ago. A man who only the night before had told her flat-out that he wouldn’t love her again.

Two days later Debbie was at the airfield. The place still looked ragged but the runway was open and planes were lined up on the tarmac, waiting to take weary passengers home.

She turned her back on the field and looked at the road leading to Fantasies. To where Gabe was. It seemed like years since she’d first arrived here, determined to have the vacation of a lifetime.

Now she was going home and so much was different. She’d found Gabe and lost him again. Her business had crashed and then risen like a Phoenix. She’d survived a hurricane and had had an epiphany much too late to change anything for the better.

Now, she had to leave, though she’d never wanted to do anything less. But in this, she was as trapped as she had been when Gabe had first captured her. She had to leave because he’d never believe she was staying for the right reasons.

Heck, she hadn’t even said goodbye to him. What would be the point? They’d already said everything.

A blurred voice came over the loudspeaker and Debbie listened to it with a heavy heart. That was her flight and she’d run out of reasons to stay on the island. Tearing her gaze away from the road that would lead her back to Gabe, she turned and headed for the boarding gate.

A half hour later the small commuter plane had its engines up and running for the short flight to Bermuda. From there, Debbie would catch her flight to LAX. Once home, she’d start trying to put Gabe behind her.

Again.

“I apologize, ladies and gentlemen.” The soft, smooth voice of a flight attendant carried over the plane’s loudspeaker. “There will be a slight delay in our takeoff time.”

“What now?” someone muttered.

A woman two rows up from Debbie started crying, the sound quickly escalating into a wail. Apparently nerves were still frayed from the hurricane.

The flight attendant forced a smile as the door behind her was wrenched open and said, “Someone else is boarding, it will take a few minutes to sort things out. I do apologize, but ask you to be patient.”

Debbie couldn’t have cared less. She stared bleakly out the small porthole window at the tarmac and the island beyond and tried not to think about all she was leaving behind.

“Debbie!”

She blinked, turned her head and stared up the long, narrow aisle. Gabe stood at the front of the plane, sweeping his gaze across the faces of the passengers until he spotted her. Then, with long, hurried strides, he headed to the back of the plane. Everyone watched him, spinning around in their seats so they wouldn’t miss a thing.

“Gabe?” She looked up at him as he stopped in the aisle beside her seat. “What’re you doing?”

“You’re getting off this plane.”

“No, I’m not,” she argued, and slapped at his hands when he reached down to undo her seat belt.

“You’re coming with me.”

“Stop this!” She snapped her belt shut again when he flipped the latch. Then he undid it again and she sighed. “What’re you doing, Gabe? Just stop, all right?”

“Miss,” one of the passengers, a tall guy with a sunburn, said from across the aisle, “do you need some help?”

Gabe shot him a murderous look and said quietly, “Stay out of this.”

“Gabe.” Debbie’s heart pounded hard in her chest and a sheen of tears blurred her vision. “You can’t make me leave this plane. Besides, haven’t we said enough? Haven’t we already hurt each other enough?”

All around her, her fellow passengers seemed to take a collective breath and hold it, clearly unwilling to miss anything. Debbie, though, could only stare into Gabe’s eyes, wondering why he was putting them both through a goodbye scene that could only cause more pain.

Keeping her gaze locked with his, Gabe deliberately calmed himself, then held on to her forearms and pulled her to her feet. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Gabe-” One wild, sputtering sparkler of hope went off in her bloodstream but she was afraid to nurture it.

“No,” he said, cutting her off and ignoring the interested crowd watching him. His gaze moved over her face and Debbie felt that look like a touch. “I thought I could do it. Let you go. Live without you. I thought that’s what I wanted. But the past couple of days have been hell, Deb. And knowing you were on this plane, about to fly out of my life forever, damn near killed me.”

A female passenger sighed heavily.

Debbie couldn’t spare the breath to sigh. “Gabe-”

“No.” He cut her off neatly. “Just listen for a minute, okay?”

She nodded, unable to speak anyway.

“Maybe you were right ten years ago, I don’t know anymore. Maybe we weren’t ready. But we’re sure ready now, Deb.”

“Are we?”

Looking down at her, he said, “Of course we are. You love me. And I love you.”

She blinked, smiled and felt a single tear slide down her cheek. “You do?”

“Hell, you know I do, Deb.” He lifted both hands to cup her face in his palms. “You’ve always known. Why the hell else would I kidnap you?”

That same woman sighed again, a bit more dreamily this time.

“Ten years ago, I asked you a question…”

“Yes…” She waited, wanting to hear him ask that question again. Now that she was ready for him. For the life they could build together, she wanted to give him the answer he’d expected so long ago.

“This time, I’m not asking,” he said. “I’m telling you. Get off this plane and marry me.”

“Excuse me?” Not exactly the kind of proposal most women dreamed of, but looking into his eyes, she knew it was exactly the right one for her. Not that she was going to let him know that.

“You heard me,” he said with a smile. Taking her hand, he turned and started back down the aisle toward the open door. “We’re getting married. Today. Now.”

Someone started applauding and a moment later others joined in. The flight attendant was smiling and a hearty cheer went up from the people on the plane.

Debbie stumbled after him. “At least let me get my luggage back!”

He stopped dead and Debbie plowed into him. But his arms came around her like steel bands and when he lowered his head to kiss her, bending her over double, she felt her heart do a hard gallop and everything else inside her go into a slow melt.

When he lifted his head, he winked at her. “Trust me when I say you’re not gonna need your clothes.”

Somebody whistled and the applause reached a thunderous roar as Gabe stood, tucked his arm around Debbie’s waist and lifted her off her feet. Then he looked at the plane’s passengers and said, “Give your names and addresses to the flight attendant. To apologize for the flight delay and to celebrate my marriage-” He grinned and gave Deb a quick kiss. “You’re all invited back for a week’s stay at Fantasies. On the house.”

As the celebration roared out around her, Debbie planted both hands at the small of Gabe’s back. She grinned and waved to everyone on the plane as he carried her off to their new life together.

A life where they would make every day a Fantasy.

Maverick by Joan Hohl

One

All things considered, she was a traffic stopper.

Tanner raised a questioning eyebrow at the breathtaking woman standing beyond the threshold of the apartment door he had just opened at the buzz of the doorbell.

“Mr. Wolfe?”

A tingle attacked the base of Tanner’s spine. Her voice had the effect of warm honey trickling down the length of his back. Her eyes were the color of brandy, her hair a rich, deep, glossy burgundy wine. Combined, they warmed him as if he’d imbibed the drinks themselves.

“Yes.” He was rather proud of the steady, almost bored sound of his voice, when bored was the last thing he was feeling. Hot, yes. Bored, no. He lifted one brow. She stood there, all five foot nine or so, slim and classically beautiful, dressed casually but expensively.

One deep, dark eyebrow arched, mirroring his action, as she asked, “May I come in?”

The tingle he felt grew into a sizzle. Damn, it had been a long time since a woman had had such a strong effect on him at first meeting. Come to think about it, no woman had ever had this strong an effect on him.

“Do you have a name?” He injected a droll note into his voice.

“Brianna Stewart,” she answered, extending a slim-fingered hand to him. “Now, may I come in?”

Curious-about the woman’s courage in entering the apartment of a stranger and about several other things-he took her hand, repressed a shiver, then nodded and stepped back, swinging the door wide as he did so.

“Thank you.” Head high, spine straight as an arrow, she walked past him into the neat-as-a-pin living room, her stride relaxed, easy. The late-morning sun’s rays slanting through the wide window struck fiery lights off her slightly-redder-than-auburn hair.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Stewart?” he asked. Other than sweep you up and carry you to my bedroom. Telling himself to grow up, he repressed the errant thought.

“May I sit down?” She made a graceful move of one hand to indicate his favorite plush leather recliner.

“Yeah, sure.” What else could he say? “Would you like a cup of coffee?” He wasn’t about to impart the information that it was the first pot he’d brewed since rolling out of the sack a half hour before she rang his chimes, so to speak. Hell, his hair was still damp from his shower.

“I’d like that, yes, thank you.” She smiled.

He suppressed a groan. As slight and polite as her smile had been, it dazzled his senses. What in blazes was wrong with him? he chided himself. She was just another woman. Okay, another gorgeous woman. Wasn’t she?

“You’re welcome. It’ll only take a minute.” Avoiding his mental question and telling himself to pull it together, Tanner escaped into the kitchen. Well, he had hoped to escape.

She followed him into the room. “I hope you don’t mind, but we can talk in here just as well.”

That’s easy for you to say. Keeping the thought to himself, where it belonged, Tanner said, “No, I don’t mind. Have a seat.” He flicked a hand at the retro yellow-and-white chrome-and-Formica kitchen set. “Would you like something with your coffee…some cookies, a muffin, a scone?” Me?

Knock it off, Wolfe.

Sliding onto a plastic-covered chair, she started to shake her head but hesitated, saying, “What kind of scones do you have?”

“Blueberry,” he said, removing two diner-type mugs from a wall cabinet.

“Yes, I would. Thank you again.” She smiled as if amused at herself. “Blueberry is my favorite.”

Damned if her full-blast smile didn’t cause a ripple along his nervous system. Lord, the woman was lethal. There was no way he’d admit to her that blueberry was his favorite, too. Even though it was likely obvious, as that was what he had to offer. “Want it warmed?”

“Yes, please.” She dazzled him with another smile.

Tanner grabbed two scones into paper napkins, shoved them into the micro and pressed the buttons for twelve seconds. He set the steaming mugs on the table while the micro hummed. The timer beeped while he was setting a carton of milk, a sugar bowl and two spoons on the table.

“Want butter or jam on that?” he asked, going to retrieve the pastries.

She shook her head, swirling the smooth red mass around her shoulders. On the spot, Tanner decided he loved red hair. It was a bit of a surprise, as he had always thought he preferred blondes…even though he didn’t consider himself much of a gentleman.

Settling his six foot four inch frame opposite her, he bluntly got to the point. “Okay, now, what brings you to Durango, and what can I do for you?” he said, certain she wanted something from him. The question was, what?

“I want you to find a man for me,” she said, her voice calm, almost serene.

What’s wrong with me? Tanner didn’t give voice to that thought, either. He knew what she meant. “Why?”

Her voice went hard. “Because he needs to be found.”

He smiled-almost. “Why, and by whom?”

Her eyes went as hard as her tone. “By my sister, my father, my mother, me and the law.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “The law?” Right up his alley. “For what?”

She drew a deep breath, as if to contain a long-simmering anger. “For the rape and murder of one young woman and the attempted rape of another.”

“Who sent you to me?”

Brianna raised her eyebrows. “You are a very well-known bounty hunter with an excellent reputation.”

“Uh-huh.” This time he did smile, wryly, repeating, “Who sent you to me?”

“Your cousins.”

He gave her a bored look. “Honey, I have a lot of cousins. Give me some names.”

She exhaled a weary-sounding, much-put-upon sigh. “Matt and Lisa.”

“Ah, the Amazon twins.” He smiled fondly at the memory of his six-foot, gorgeous, only female cousins, the former cop, Matilda, called Matt, and the legal eagle, Lisa. His smile vanished as quickly. “How do you know them?”

“Lisa’s my lawyer. She introduced me to Matt,” she explained. “But I already knew your mother. She was my history professor in college.”

The fond smile hovered once more, while his eyebrows rose in question. “You’re from Sprucewood?” It was his hometown in Pennsylvania, before he’d moved out west to Colorado. His mother, the history fanatic, taught the subject at Sprucewood College. His father was chief of the Sprucewood Police.

“No.” She shook her head before clarifying. “Not really. I’m from the, er, suburbs.”

Tanner wondered about the slight hesitation but let it pass for the moment. “And the man you want found is Jay Minnich. Right?” Before she could respond, he said, “Are you the attempted-rape victim?”

“No.” She set her hair rippling again with a sharp shake of her head. “My younger sister, Danielle. The young woman he murdered was Dani’s best friend.”

“So I read.” Tanner nodded.

“Will you find him for us?” Her soft voice held a tinge of pleading. “There’s a bounty,” she quickly added.

“I know-ten grand.” His tone was dismissive, as though ten thousand dollars was nothing. “Posted by your father, the founder and president of Sprucewood Bank.”

She frowned at his tone but responded mildly. “Yes, but my father has raised the bounty.”

“When?” Surely Tanner would have heard about the bounty being raised if it had been announced. It hadn’t.

“Now.”

“Say again?” He felt he had somehow missed something.

A small, slightly superior smile touched her soft mouth. “Let me explain.”

“Explain away,” he invited, raising his mug to his lips and staring intently at her over the rim.

“Dani is an emotional wreck.” Her voice was low, sad. “Ever since the…awful events, she has withdrawn into herself. She’s terrified that terrible man will come back, find her and kill her, as she was the one who identified him. She won’t go out of the house…ever.” She paused to sigh before continuing. “In fact, she seldom leaves her bedroom, which she keeps locked at all times. Even her family members have to identify ourselves before she’ll open the door. She locks it again after we enter.”

“That’s too bad,” Tanner said sincerely. “It’s a horrible experience for any woman to go through, especially a woman her age.” Having read everything about the case, Tanner knew the girl was not long out of her teens. And he knew, as well, the woman seated opposite him was a few years older.

“Yes.” Brianna paused a minute, then went on. “Although we feel hopeful the law will eventually find this monster, for Dani’s peace of mind we want him found and incarcerated as soon as possible. That’s why my father entrusted me with finding the best bounty hunter and offering a higher bounty.”

From information he had gleaned here and there, Tanner suspected the felon was holed up somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, a big territory to scour. Although recently there had been a rumor the man had been spotted in and around Mesa Verde and the San Juan mountain range. That was still a lot of ground to cover. Tanner had previously considered hunting down the man, but he had been bone-tired from his last hunt. Still, he could always use the cash. But then, who couldn’t?

“How much higher?” he finally asked, a thread of skepticism in his voice.

Her soft voice hardened. “A million dollars.”

A cool mil was worth a man’s time needed to comb through that rugged terrain, however tired, Tanner decided. The thought of a million bucks was enough to reenergize a man. If that made him ruthless, tough. Nice guys seldom wound up catching the badasses. Hell, even cops had to be ruthless at times. He should know; there were enough of them in his family.

“Well?” A mixture of anxiety and impatience strained her voice and expression. “Will you accept the job?”

“Yeah,” he said in flat tones. “I’ll go scour the mountains for him.”

“Good.” She exhaled the breath he couldn’t help noticing she was holding. “I’m going with you.”

For a moment Tanner was on the verge of exploding, showering her with heated refusals. Instead he let loose a roar of ridiculing laughter.

“I don’t think so,” he said when his laughter subsided. “I’m not babysitting a rich man’s daughter in stilettos as she traipses around those mountains.”

Tapping the toe of one stiletto-clad foot, Brianna smiled serenely. “Mr. Wolfe, I don’t need a babysitter, thank you. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, right,” he mocked her. “In a fine restaurant or an upscale dress shop. Go home to Daddy, baby,” he advised. “I hunt alone.”

“I don’t think so,” she shot back at him. “This time there’ll be two hunters in the mountains.”

Tanner laughed again.

He should’ve kept his mouth shut.

Brianna sat ramrod straight across from Tanner Wolfe, her coffee and scone cooling, her gaze meeting his stare for glaring stare. There was no way he’d keep her from going hunting with him. Not when her sister’s life and happiness depended on capturing her offender.

Brianna wasn’t about to sit idly by and leave that to someone else. She had to take action, be a part of the hunt. It was the way she had been raised and the way she lived her life. One put family above all else. Besides, back in Pennsylvania, at the university, that was the way she ran her research library. Always in charge.

It didn’t matter that this wasn’t as routine as finding obscure facts for a student’s thesis or a professor’s lecture. This was a life-or-death situation-and it could very well be her own death.

But she was doing it for Dani.

She gave Tanner her iciest stare and waited for his reply.

“I said no, Ms. Stewart.” His eyes had narrowed to glittering dark stones. “I won’t be responsible for anyone else. I always hunt alone.”

“Why?” Deliberately, with a show of nonchalance, she raised her mug and took a deep swallow. “I would think two hunters would be better than one.”

“Why? Because you’re a woman, that’s why.”

A woman indeed. Brianna fought back a sneer. The man’s arrogant, superior tone was getting to her. “I’ve heard there are women bounty hunters.”

“There are,” he said, raising his own mug and draining it. “But they’re tough, not sleek and pampered daddy’s darlings.” His smile was no longer gentle. “Even so, I won’t hunt with any one of them, either.”

Now Brianna was getting more than annoyed. She set down the mug to keep from flinging it at his thick head. She detested a condescending male attitude. She drew a deep breath before educating him.

“Mr. Wolfe, I don’t know about women bounty hunters, but this ‘daddy’s darling’ knows how to take care of herself. My father, an avid hunter, began teaching me about firearms when I was twelve. I’ve followed him up one mountain and down another. I’ve trekked beside him in Africa. And, although I hunt with a camera, I’m an expert shot with both a rifle and a handgun.”

“I’m impressed.”

He sounded bored.

Damn him, Bri thought, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming at him. “I’m not finished,” she said, her voice tight. “I’ve also had training in the martial arts and Krav Maga. I know how to defend myself.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He didn’t sound at all glad; his voice carried a thread of impatience. “A woman should be trained to protect herself. But that changes nothing. I still hunt alone.”

He was a Wolfe, all right, spelled wolf, pure alpha male, self-contained and confident. That was certain despite his appearance.

Not that there was anything wrong with the way he looked. It was just that he didn’t seem to fit the rest of the Wolfe clan.

Her friends Lisa and Matt were twins, blonde and gorgeous. Bri had never met their parents, but she had met their father’s brother, the Sprucewood chief of police, and she had seen pictures of several of the other Wolfes, uncles and cousins. They were all tall, blond and handsome. She had not seen a picture of this particular Wolfe cousin.

Tanner Wolfe was different from the rest. For one thing, he didn’t have the same blond hair as the others. While he was every inch as tall as the rest of his family, that’s where the resemblance ended. The other Wolfe males, while handsome, looked the role of tough law-enforcement officers.

The only descriptive word for this Wolfe that had flashed through her mind when he’d opened the door was saint. Tanner Wolfe had the face of a saint, with soft brown eyes and a gentle, if possibly deceptive, smile. His hair was wavy and shoulder-length, light brown with red-gold highlights, very clean and shiny.

When she’d first seen him, he had literally taken her breath away. Her immediate thought was that she had rung the wrong doorbell. This saintly-looking soft-eyed man could not be a tough bounty hunter.

But he was. In spades.

Tanner Wolfe was believed by many to be one of the very best criminal hunters in the business.

Incredible.

“Did you fall asleep?”

His softly voiced question drew Bri from introspection. Blinking, feeling foolish, she naturally bristled.

“No, of course not,” she denied too strongly, but she sure wasn’t about to tell him she’d been doing an inventory of his attractive male attributes. Nor that she’d felt an immediate physical attraction to him.

“Then what were you doing?” Amusement now tinged his soft voice, irritating Bri enough to blurt out the truth-or at least the partial truth.

“I was wondering how someone who looks as nice as you could be so intractable.”

“Intractable?” He laughed.

The sound did funny things to her insides, making them kind of quiver. She didn’t like the sensation.

“Yes, intractable,” she said. “You know, you’re being unreasonable by refusing to let me go with you.”

“Unreasonable?” He was no longer laughing. In fact, he scowled at her. “Tracking a man is hard, dangerous work.”

Bri heaved an impatient sigh. “So is tracking a wild boar or a rogue tiger. But I’ve tracked both. I’m not a fool, Mr. Wolfe. I’m fully aware of the danger.”

“In that case, run along home to Daddy and let me do what I get paid to do.”

“No.” Sliding back her chair, Bri stood up. “Let’s just forget it. I’ll find another hunter, one who will allow me to go with him.”

“No.” Tanner literally sprang out of his chair. “I’m telling you it’s not safe.”

“And I’m telling you I can take care of myself, possibly even help you.” Bri raised her chin, tilting it at a defiant angle. “And I’m telling you I am going-with you or without you. It’s up to you, Mr. Wolfe.”

“You really are a spoiled brat, aren’t you?” he said, his soft voice sounding edgy with frustration and anger. His eyes and mouth were hard. The saintly appearance was gone now, replaced by the hunter.

“No,” she calmly denied. “I’m really not. What I am is confident of my abilities and determined to help catch this monster.” She drew a deep breath, steeling herself for the blast of fury she expected him to hurl at her. “I’ll say it once more-I am going, either with you or with another hunter.”

He didn’t speak for long seconds, staring at her with narrowed eyes, as if warning her to be careful. His look was absolutely deadly.

Gritting her teeth, Bri managed to hold his gaze, her pulse racing, her heart thumping. She felt like running but stood firm, resolute.

Bri had never allowed any man to intimidate her. Damned if she’d back down from this one, even if he did scare the breath from her body. “A woman.”

“What?” Although she had thought Tanner’s stare couldn’t possibly become any more fierce, it did. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bri managed a halfway credible shrug. “I mean, I’ll look up a woman hunter.”

“You will not go after that killer with a woman hunter.”

“I’ll go with whom I please,” she said, her voice calm, resigned.

Although his eyes flashed with anger, he exhaled a quiet sigh of concession. “Okay, you win. I’ll take you with me. But I’ll have one thing understood before we go any further with this.”

“And that is?” Bri had a hard time containing her sense of victory, along with a thrill of excitement.

“I give the orders.”

“But-”

“And you will follow them, at once and without protest or question.”

Bri went stiff with outrage. Just who did this guy think he was? she railed in silent frustration. Unable to keep her feelings inside, she shot back, “I am not a child to be ordered around. Who do you think you are?”

“I’m the bounty hunter you want or you wouldn’t have sought me out in the first place.” He smiled, stirring all kinds of emotions inside her. His gaze skimmed her from head to toe, flooding her body with heat. “Just for the record, I’m well aware you’re not a child. However, those are my demands.”

Defeat was a bitter pill to swallow, but Bri knew she had little choice. She had deliberately sought him out, and not only on the advice of her friends or his cousins.

Bri was thorough in everything she did. She had done her research. She had pulled the information that not only was Tanner considered one of the best bounty hunters around, many believed him to be the best at finding his man in rough terrain like mountains.

“All right,” she reluctantly agreed. She thought she should feel steam spewing from her ears; instead she felt…protected? She gave a mental shake of her head. No, Tanner Wolfe wasn’t feeling protective of her; he was very likely feeling superior.

“Good.” He flicked a hand at the table. “Have a seat. We’ve got a lot of plans to go over.”

Wary but resigned, Bri slid onto the chair she had vacated moments before. She picked up the mug, took a sip, made a face and set it down again.

“That’s gotta be cold.” He grabbed the mug along with his own and turned away. “I’ll get us refills.” He raised his eyebrows. “What about your scone?”

Bri shook her head. “No, thank you. It’s fine this way.” Raising the pastry to her mouth, she took a bite. “It’s very good.”

“Whatever.” Shrugging, he turned away.

Chewing another bite of the scone, she watched him, studying him from the rear. It was a very nice rear, narrow, firm and taut. His back and shoulders weren’t bad, either, broad and muscular, not in a pumped-up way, but more lean and rangy.

Mugs refilled, Tanner returned to the table, giving her another chance to more closely examine the front of him. That was even better.

His flat, muscled chest veed to a slim waist. His legs were long, straight, his thighs nicely straining the denim of his jeans as he arranged his tall frame in the chair. He regarded her in calm, watchful silence.

Quiet and composed, his features appeared sculpted from marble, sharply delineated. His nose was straight, cheekbones high, jawline defined, square and hard, as if the sculptor had carved it lovingly. If it weren’t for those soft eyes and that tender smile, he’d look like a statue. That tiny flare of excitement flashed inside her again. Why? The question hammered at her mind. Bri couldn’t find the answer, and that seriously bothered her.

“What are you staring at?” His quiet voice jolted her out of her reverie.

Damn, once again he’d caught her brooding, staring. What in the world was the matter with her? she chastised herself. She had never been so strongly affected by any man. The closest she had ever come to feeling so drawn to a man had been a disaster, for he had proven to be a handsome, charming son of a bitch, a practiced user of young, susceptible women. At the time, she had been both.

“You,” Bri admitted, but that was all she intended to admit. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

He grinned. “How are you making out?”

“Not too well,” she said, deliberately grinning back at him. “You’re not easy to read.”

“Don’t feel bad,” he said, growing serious. “I can’t figure you out, either. You’re sure not what you appear to be.”

Bri raised her brows. “How do I appear to be?”

He studied her a moment. “My first impression of you was of a beautiful woman, very well dressed, well-bred and educated.”

Despite her suspicion of easy compliments-the SOB had been extremely easy with them-Bri felt her cheeks grow warm, flushed not only by his words but by the open admiration in his eyes. “I-I don’t know-”

Tanner silenced her with a quick shake of his head. “Don’t get all flustered. I doubt you’ll be as pleased with my opinion of how you’re different from my snap impression.”

Bri raised her mug to her lips to sip at the hot brew, looking relaxed, while in fact she was steeling herself for whatever he said next. “Go on.” How in the world she had managed a cool tone, Bri hadn’t a clue.

“I think you have been spoiled rotten,” he said with blunt honesty. “You want what you want, when you want it. I read you as self-centered, self-confident and too damned sure of yourself.”

Why Tanner Wolfe’s assessment of her personality should hurt her, she couldn’t imagine, but hurt it did, like the very devil. Odd, usually she wasn’t so sensitive to anyone else’s opinions of her. Since the episode with the silver-tongued weasel, she thought she had grown a thick skin.

“Now you want to take a shot at me?”

“Of course,” Bri said. “But first I’d like to know how you managed to come to that conclusion in such a short time with me.”

“Easy.” Tanner laughed. It sounded relaxed, genuine. “I recognized the traits because they’re very similar to my own.” He paused to laugh again. “The only difference is I’m not beautiful.”

Two

“You’re spoiled?” She couldn’t help laughing, thinking he was wrong on one point. He was beautiful, just in a different, masculine way.

“Sure,” he answered, laughing with her. “I have great parents. While instilling morals, values, ethics, good behavior and good housekeeping skills into their sons, they also spoiled the hell out of us. In a good way,” he quickly added, grinning.

“You have two brothers, both older than you, right?” she asked, although she knew the answer.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Justin’s the oldest, now thirty-two. Then Jeffrey, thirty. And lastly, yours truly, twenty-nine.” He grinned again. “There’s also a slew of cousins.”

“So I’ve heard.” She grinned back at him.

“How old are you?”

Well, no one would ever accuse him of being hesitant. The thought brought a smile to her lips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“You’re too young to risk your life traipsing around in the mountains, looking for a killer.”

Bri rolled her eyes while heaving a sigh. “I believe we’ve already plowed that field, Mr. Wolfe. I’m going, period.”

“I know, but I had to try one more time.” His sigh was heavier than hers. “And the name’s Tanner. It would get pretty tiresome hearing Mr. Wolfe over and over for who the hell knows how long.”

“Okay…Tanner,” she agreed. “My friends call me Bri.”

“That’s too bad.” He smiled at her startled look. “I like Brianna better. It’s a lovely name and fits you perfectly. Like you, it’s classy.”

Bri grew warm with pleasure. He thought she was beautiful and classy? Though many men before him had called her beautiful, his compliment left her speechless for a long moment. Finally she found her voice, if rather weak and a bit breathless.

“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling herself grow warmer. “That was very nice of you.” Oh, gag me, she thought, disgusted with the inanity of her response.

“You’re welcome.” Tanner’s lips twitched, betraying his urge to grin.

She didn’t blame him. She joined him, laughing easily at herself. “Pretty lame, huh?”

He shook his head. “No, surprising. I would have thought you’d be used to compliments.”

“Well, yes,” she said. “But-”

“But what?” His eyes gleamed with a teasing light.

“Oh, let’s just forget it,” she said, certainly not for a moment about to admit he flustered her simply because she felt a physical attraction to him. A strong attraction.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” She frowned. “Because it’s getting silly, that’s why.”

“Too bad.” He sighed. “I thought it was just getting interesting.”

Bri rolled her eyes. This man is impossible. Gorgeous, sexy as hell, but impossible. “I think it’s time to get down to the business at hand.”

He gave another, deeper sigh. Boy, this guy was some actor, Bri thought, struggling against the urge to laugh, amazed at how much she was enjoying their banter, not to mention his company, his appeal. No, let’s not go there again, she told herself. As they were going to be spending a lot of time together, it would be in her best interest to avoid thinking about his appeal.

“Are you sulking?” she asked after several long moments-moments in which she had thought about nothing but him.

He smiled. “I never sulk. Children sulk. And, just on the odd chance you hadn’t noticed, I’m a man, not a child.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” she said, thinking she had noticed too damn much.

He smiled again. “Oh, I’ve noticed you, too.”

His smile was an invitation to sheer temptation. Pull it together, Bri told herself, fighting to control her rapid heartbeat and leaping pulse. You’ve had one go-round with a sweet-talkin’, overconfident type. That encounter was one too many.

But Tanner was an attractive, sexy man. And she was every bit as susceptible as any other normal woman. Why did the devil have to look so angelic?

Tanner smiled-a devilish, suggestive and too damned appealing smile.

Now Bri not only felt warm, she felt hot all over. And tingly. And funny inside. Stop it, she told herself. As if that helped.

“Uh…um…business,” she said, stumbling a bit over her words-something she had never done. “I really think it’s time to get down to business.”

“Too bad.” Tanner shook his head, looking or trying to look sad. His gleaming eyes gave him away. “But, if you insist, we’ll get down to the nitty-gritty.”

“I do. And that is?”

“Set a day to leave and gather the supplies needed for this hunt.”

“I can leave tomorrow.”

“I haven’t told you yet everything we’ll need to take with us,” he said. “So how can you be ready by tomorrow?”

She shot him an impatient look. “If you’ll recall, I did tell you I have been hunting since I was a kid. I know how and what to pack.”

“Okay, kid,” he said, heavy on the kid. “But I think I’ll do a list, just to be on the safe side, make sure we’re on the same page, so to speak.” Getting up, he walked to the counter and pulled open a cabinet drawer. He took out a pencil and a pad of paper, then hesitated, turning his head to glance at her. “More coffee?”

“No, thank you.” Bri shook her head and shot a glance at her watch. “How long is this going to take?”

His lifted one brow. “Why? Are you in a hurry?”

“No, but the only thing I did was check in to the hotel and get my room card. I left my stuff with the bell captain and came right here.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Lisa told me.” She smiled, maybe a bit smugly. “She spoke to your mother last night, who told Lisa you had called and said you had just returned.”

Tanner scowled.

Bri rushed to clarify her statement. “Your mother knew I was coming here to try to hire you.” She drew a breath and went on more normally. “She told Lisa she would let her know as soon as she heard from you.”

“Women.” He heaved a sigh and shook his head.

She bristled at his dismissive tone. “What’s wrong with women?”

Tanner slid a wry look at her. “Most of the time, like children, they should be seen and not heard.”

Stunned, Bri was speechless for a moment. Though sorely tempted to explode all over him, she forced herself to remain calm, icy calm. “Mr. Wolfe, that is the stupidest, most sexist remark I’ve ever heard. What century are you living in?”

“Honey, I’m right here and now,” he said, every bit as calm and icy. “I may not be politically correct, but I’m honest. I’m a women jabber. Simple as that.”

“Forget it.”

“Gladly. Now…”

“No,” she shook her head, sliding her chair back and rising. “I mean forget about finding that poor excuse for a man. I’ll hire someone else.” Before the last word was out of her mouth, she turned to leave. “Or hunt him myself.”

“No, you won’t.” His voice was sharp with command. “I’m going, with or without you,” he repeated her earlier ultimatum back to her. “Now, Brianna, sit down and let’s get down to business.”

Bri hesitated, telling herself that if she had any sense or pride, she would tell Tanner Wolfe to go to hell, walk out of there and look up another hunter. Her sense must have deserted her, for she sighed and swallowed what was left of her pride. In the final analysis, she was determined Minnich would be caught and she wanted the best mountain hunter. So, still glaring at Tanner, she reseated herself.

“Smart girl.” He offered a slight smile. She refused the offer. Instead he shrugged. “Okay, let’s get it done.”

Smart girl. Yeah, right. She had caved to the caveman, dammit. She soothed her tattered composure by reminding herself Dani’s well-being was worth her pride.

“Guns.”

Bri blinked herself out of her musings. “What?”

“You said you had your supplies,” he said patiently. “What kind of weapons do you have?”

“Oh.” Bri felt flustered and foolish. Telling herself to get with it, keep up with him, prove she was a smart girl, she replied, “I’ve got a.270 rifle with a three-by-nine scope and a.357 hunting revolver.” She arched her brows at his sudden intent expression. “What do you pack?”

“A.30-06 and a 7mm rifle with the same scope, and a.44 mag.” He looked impressed. “And you really do pack some heavy-duty heat.”

Not as much as you do, she thought, referring not to his weapons but to his body. “I told you I knew what I was doing,” she said, working at not sounding too smug or too breathless. “Anything else?”

His lips twitched, evidently amused by her. “Clothes, backpack, sleeping bag?”

“Yes.” Now her lips twitched. “All of the above.”

He smiled. “Wanna tell me about them? Just a hint?” His smile grew into a grin.

Bri gave a mock sigh, fighting the smile tickling the corners of her mouth. Darn him, why did he have to be so attractive? “I have clothes suitable for mountain terrain, including a ski jacket neatly packed in my backpack, along with other necessities. My sleeping bag is the best available and waterproof. I lay it on a nearly weightless ground sheet. Now are there any other questions?”

“As a matter of fact, there are,” he said. “What about food? Have you thought of that?”

This time she gave him a droll look. “Of course I have, but I didn’t bring much with me. I figured we could get what we needed here in Durango.”

He nodded. “You figured correctly.” He pushed the chair back and stood. “Let’s get lunch. We’ll take my truck.”

“Wait a minute,” she protested while standing and following him from the kitchen. “Who said anything about lunch?”

“I just did.” He shot a glance at the big redrimmed clock on one wall. “It’s nearly one. I’m hungry for something more substantive than a scone. Aren’t you?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted reluctantly, because she was feeling too attracted to the arrogant Neanderthal. “Why not take separate vehicles?”

Tanner paused, holding open the door for her. “You know your way around Durango?”

She had never even been to Durango, Colorado, before. “Well, no, but-” She was about to mention the restaurant in her hotel, but that’s as far as she got before he cut her off.

“That’s what I thought. We’ll take my truck.”

Bri had no intention of doing so. She shook her head. “I want to go to the hotel and freshen up a bit. Give me directions. I’ll meet you at the restaurant in a half hour.”

The restaurant Tanner had directed her to was done in Western decor, not honky-tonk but with style and ambience. Now, in early afternoon, there were few patrons, so the place was quiet.

“This is very nice,” she said to Tanner, seating herself in the chair the host held for her. She smiled at the man. “Thank you.”

“Wait till you’ve tasted the food,” Tanner said.

She looked over the long list of dishes offered on the menu. Her glance halted at shrimp and pasta in a light herb dressing. On the spot, she dumped the idea of her normal luncheon salad.

She placed her order when the waitress came, then looked up at Tanner. She felt certain he would order red meat, like a rare steak. He surprised her. A talent he seemingly had in abundance.

“I’ll have the pasta, as well, but with chicken.”

The server no sooner turned away when a young woman came to an abrupt stop at their table. She was blond, petite and more than pretty. Her big blue eyes sparkled with surprised pleasure. Her teeth gleamed in a brilliant yet sensuous smile.

“Tanner, honey!” Miss Sunshine exclaimed, moving into his arms when Tanner stood. “I haven’t seen you in ages. What have you been up to?”

For some inexplicable reason, everything about the young woman annoyed Bri, from her cooing voice to the possessive way her arms curled around his neck. For a few seconds Bri was even more annoyed at the way Tanner smiled down at the small woman clinging to him. Her annoyance fled with his drawled response.

“Well, Candy, I’m up to the same six feet four inches I was at the last time I saw you…‘ages’ ago. What has it been-all of a week or two?”

Somehow Bri contained the laughter bubbling up inside her at his reply. And her name! Candy. It certainly fit, all right. She was arm candy for hungry males.

The thought sobered Bri. Was Tanner one of the hungry males? She was so startled, so bothered by the very idea of Tanner being that predictable, she almost missed him setting the woman from him and turning to her. She quickly rose.

“Brianna, I’d like you to meet Candy Saunders. She’s from back east, too-”

“The Hamptons,” Candy was quick to arrogantly insert, rudely cutting Tanner off. All sweetness and light were gone, her eyes and smile calculating as she swept a dismissive glance over Bri.

Looking bored, Tanner rolled his eyes at Bri, a wry smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “Candy of the Hamptons, meet Brianna Stewart of Pennsylvania.”

Candy gave a delicate sniff, obviously not impressed. “How nice. Are you visiting someone here in Durango?” She arched one perfect bleached eyebrow. “One of Tanner’s friends, perhaps?”

Bri didn’t know whether to laugh or slug the overbearing woman. She did neither, of course. Instead she answered drily, “No, I’m not visiting. I have business with Mr. Wolfe.”

“Really?” Both eyebrows went up.

“Yeah, really,” Tanner said, now sounding as bored as he looked. “If you’ll excuse us?” He indicated a table toward the back. “I think your friend is getting impatient for you to join him.”

Candy turned back to him, instantly changing to Miss Sunshine again. “Yes, of course, darlin’,” she cooed, raising a small hand to lightly drag her dagger nails down his face. “Toodles,” she said, drawing her hand away and wiggling her scarlet-tipped fingers at him. “Call me.” Without so much as a glance at Bri, she sashayed away.

“Toodles?” Battling another bubble of laughter sparked by the drama queen, Bri resumed her seat just as the server approached the table with their meals.

“That’s Candy,” he said, shrugging.

Yes, Bri mused, but did he like candy? Mentally dismissing the oddly disturbing idea, she asked, “A good friend of yours?” The question was out before she could stop herself. Dammit, she didn’t give a rip either way…did she?

Tanner saved her from her self-condemnation. “No.” He shook his head, setting his long waves rippling, brushing his shoulders. “She’s a bit of an airhead, I’m afraid, and calls every man ‘darlin” in that cloyingly sweet voice.” He shrugged. “But she can be polite and even amusing at times.”

“I see.” Bri hid a frown of dissatisfaction by lowering her head to inhale the aroma wafting from the steaming plate the server set in front of her.

The food was delicious. The conversation, which didn’t include candy of any sort, ranged from favorite foods to favorite movies to general likes and dislikes. Bri relaxed, let her guard down.

It was a mistake she rarely made.

On leaving the restaurant, feeling mellow-too mellow-she soon realized she had been led down the conversational garden path, so to speak.

“Where are you staying?” Tanner asked as they headed for their vehicles.

“The Strater Hotel. It’s lovely.”

“Yeah, a landmark, built in 1887.” His tone held a tiny note of the proud resident. “You know, Will Rogers stayed there. And Louis L’ Amour wrote several of his Western novels while he was staying there.”

“He must have stayed a while,” she said, smiling at his instructive tone. “Or written very fast.”

He grinned.

Bri felt something inside go all squishy. Why did he have to have such a sexy grin? She swallowed a sigh of self-disgust-or was it longing?-and was relieved when they came to her rental SUV. “This one’s mine.”

“I’m right behind you.” He moved his head, indicating the much larger, kick-ass SUV. “I’ve got some calls to make before I go for the food supplies and some loose ends to tie up tomorrow. Suppose I pick you up the day after tomorrow? I want to get an early start. Is five okay with you?”

In that instant Bri became wary of his intentions. “You will be here, won’t you?”

At once, his pleasant expression changed, his features growing taut. “Didn’t I just say I will?” His voice carried both anger and insult.

“Yes.” Bri was not about to apologize. “But I want to be certain you won’t take a flit on me.”

“A flit…” He shook his head. “What are you getting at? Do you believe-” As he paused, she pounced.

“That you’re going to take off on your own, leave me cooling my heels here in Durango?” she finished for him. “Oh, yeah, Mr. Wolfe, that’s exactly what I think you might try. I guess I should have listened to your cousins. They warned me you were a loner, a maverick who went his own way alone.” He started to speak, but she charged on. “And that’s what you intend to do to me, isn’t it?”

“Okay, I admit I prefer to do my hunting alone, as I always have. But I had agreed to your going with me, so why in hell did you get the idea that I was planning to take off without you?” Now Tanner sounded angry, and his features had hardened, turning the saint into the bounty hunter.

Bri wasn’t impressed by either his voice or the hard look of him. At least she worked to appear unimpressed. In truth, she was shaken, trembling inside. But that was because she was just as angry.

“Oh, couldn’t be because you now seem eager to get rid of me while you get your stuff together, now could it?” She didn’t wait for him to ditch the stunned, speechless look, but continued, “It might even have worked except for one minor detail. You forgot that I’m carrying the check.”

“I didn’t forget a damned thing.”

Whoa. If she had thought he was angry before, she was now seeing real anger. More like fury. And furious, Tanner Wolfe was downright frightening.

“Good, because even if I’d have bought into your softening-up routine in the restaurant-” he again opened his mouth to interrupt but she held up her hand, keeping him still while she rushed breathlessly on “-and you skipped off on your own and brought in that bastard, you wouldn’t have gotten anything but the original ten thousand bounty.”

“Finished?” His cold tone was chilling.

The tremor inside Bri turned into an icy shiver she was hard-pressed to hide from him. “Yes.” How she had managed so calm a tone amazed her.

“Feel better for having your little rant?” There was something new and dangerous in his voice that froze the icy shiver solid.

Bri stiffened her spine and raised her chin to a defiant angle. “I was not ranting.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he drawled. “And there was no softening-up in the restaurant. I guess I’m not too bright, because I thought we were having a nice time getting to know each other.” He gave her a quizzical look. “What made you think I was setting you up, anyway?”

How did one explain a feeling, a sudden onslaught of intuition? she asked herself. A hard lesson learned from another man who’d been a pro at stringing along women?

“I’m not quite sure myself,” she admitted. “When we were talking, I relaxed, and the next minute I began to feel suspicious.” She told herself the sudden feeling had nothing to do with how he had allowed that man-eater Candy to step into his embrace.

At the back of her mind, another unsettling suspicion niggled at her. The suspicion that he might have been in a hurry to send her packing so he could go back to the restaurant to indulge in some after-dinner candy. Then he would collect his stuff and head into the mountains without her.

Bri brushed the suspicion off, not about to recognize it. There was no way she would voice it to Tanner. His heavy sigh dissolved her uncomfortable reverie.

“Do you want to spend the next two nights with me?”

Yes, she thought at once. “No,” she said in firm denial of her first response.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to trust me.” He smiled quite like a chess player who had his opponent checkmated. “That is, if you still want to go with me.”

“You know I want to go with you,” she snapped, angry at him, at herself for stepping so blindly into his game of strategy. “As long as you remember who holds the purse strings.”

Tanner shook his head as if in pity for her. “I don’t forget details, Brianna, even when they are recited by a spoiled little rich girl.”

Bri simmered over his parting shot at her the rest of the day and all through the next, all the while she wandered around, checking out the shops closest to the hotel.

She’d show him what a spoiled little rich girl could do.

Three

Damned if she wasn’t wearing killer heels.

Tanner stared in amazement as he brought the SUV to a stop in front of her hotel. It was early, still dark, not so much as a hint of gray on the eastern horizon. But standing in the well-lit entranceway of the hotel, leaning indolently against the brass handrail, he spotted the incongruous heels at once.

At any other time, the so-called shoes-consisting of two narrow straps across her toes and ribbons wound around her ankles, paper-thin soles and those slim, long, spiked heels-would have looked sexy. Worn with jeans and a field jacket over a green camp shirt, they looked ludicrous…and sexy.

Brianna stood there waiting for him, her gear piled next to her left leg, the strap handle of a rifle carrier in her right hand by her side. To his chagrin, her gorgeous mass of auburn hair was tucked away inside a New York Yankees baseball cap. He felt plain, ordinary and underdressed in black jeans, a black leather jacket and sturdy boots. He also had pulled his hair away from his face, tied it with a leather thong at his nape.

Stepping from the SUV, Tanner circled around the back to open the trunk lid. The hotel doorman stashed the gear next to Tanner’s. Before he could dip into a pocket to tip the man, Brianna handed him a couple bills and uttered a soft, “Thank you.”

“Good morning,” Tanner said to her.

“Mmm,” she hummed in reply, turning away to get into the front passenger seat.

It would appear she was still ticked off at him. Tanner sighed and slid behind the wheel. Mentally shrugging, he drove away from the hotel, heading out of Durango.

“I love your shoes,” he drawled. “I can just imagine you tromping around rough mountainous terrain in them.”

She laughed. “I’d hoped you’d appreciate them.”

“Oh, I do. They’re spectacular, and the color is perfect. Glittery gold straps go great with jeans, field jackets and caps.”

“I thought so.” She laughed again when he flashed her a grin. “I’m sorry to have to disappoint you, but I won’t be wearing them to tromp around any rough terrain. I do have hiking boots with me.”

“Aw, gee, that’s too bad,” he said. “I was looking forward to watching you try to keep up with me.” Now the quick look he sent her was glittery with teasing. “Then again, I’ll likely still be watching you try to keep up with me.”

“In your dreams,” Brianna shot back. “What you’ll likely be watching is my back.”

Tanner couldn’t help himself; he roared with laughter. She was so damned sure of herself, so boldly feisty. He also couldn’t help but admire her. On the spot, he decided it was probably because she reminded him of himself.

“We’ll see,” he said, still chuckling.

“Yes, I guess we will.” She grew quiet, gazing out through the windshield and side window at the landscape as it changed from mountainous to flatter, barren desert.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Not far from Mesa Verde.”

“Mesa Verde? I thought you said our quarry was headed deep into the San Juan Mountains.”

“What I said was I had picked up a rumor that he was heading there.” He spared her a brief glance. “Before I go tearing into the mountains, I want to check out the rumor for myself.”

“And who are you going to check out these rumors with-the ghosts of the Indians who lived there?” Her tone held more than a hint of sarcasm.

“Clever,” he said, sighing. “Actually, I didn’t say we were going to Mesa Verde itself. The rumor I’d picked up was that he had been spotted around Mesa Verde before hightailing it to the mountains. I’m headed for a town where the rumor came from.”

“Oh, okay.” Brianna was quiet for a moment-a short moment. “I wouldn’t mind stopping in Mesa Verde.”

Stunned by her startling remark, Tanner nearly lost control of the vehicle. It went off the road, onto the rough shoulder, before he righted it.

“You want to do what? Have a look-see at Mesa Verde?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Brianna,” Tanner said between clenched teeth, “I thought we were out here to search for a rapist/killer, not go on a sightseeing jaunt.”

“Well, of course we are,” she said, abrading his irritation with her reasonable tone. “I meant someday I’d like to explore the cliff dwellings.”

“I’m sorry.” In truth, he wasn’t at all sorry. “I thought you wanted me to stop today to go crawling around the ruins, and we have no time to waste.”

“But you wasted all day yesterday,” she protested.

Tanner was on the sharp edge of impatience. “Brianna, I told you I had a lot to do yesterday. Besides having to make some phone calls to tie up a few loose ends, I had to get our food supplies, which I paid for.”

She sighed. “Okay, explanation accepted.”

“Big of you,” he drawled with a bite.

“I know,” she said sweetly. “And, of course, I’ll reimburse you for the supplies.”

“Damned straight you will, honey.” His voice had a hard edge he didn’t like. Get a grip, Wolfe, he warned himself, before you find yourself without a mission…and the company of the gorgeous but irritating Brianna. As he fully expected, she retaliated.

“Don’t go all predator on me. I’m not one of your prey,” she shot back at him. “And don’t call me ‘honey.’”

Predator? She thought of him as a predator? Tanner frowned, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or curse a blue streak. Hell, predators killed their prey, sometimes ate it. He worked hard not to kill his, even the ones who deserved it. And he sure as hell didn’t eat his prey, the mere thought revolting.

On second thought, he mused, gliding a quick glance over her body, he wouldn’t mind taking a nip of Brianna’s satiny-looking skin. The mere thought of tasting her was enough to stir his body. Get your mind back to business, Wolfe, he warned himself, where it’s safe. This ultrasuperior, haughty, independent woman was not for tasting, not by him. Damned shame, too.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he said, shifting in his seat to relieve an uncomfortable ache in that sensitive area. “You don’t call me ‘predator,’ and I won’t call you ‘honey.’ Deal?”

“Deal,” she said, shaking the hand he held out to her.

“How about ‘sweetheart’?” he asked, not missing a beat.

“Tanner Wolfe,” Brianna cried sternly, before she gave way to laughter. “You’re a…a…”

“Devil?” he asked, grinning in delight at having made her laugh instead of berating him.

She raised her hands in surrender. “I give up,” she said. “You win-for now.”

“Looks like a draw to me,” he said as he slowed down. “Good timing, too. We’re here.”

“So I see,” Brianna said, peering through the windshield as he drove into the town. “This is it?”

“Yeah, I know, not much to look at.”

“A little larger than other towns I’ve driven through.” She sat forward, as far as the seat belt allowed, to get a better look at the old town.

“Will we be here long enough for me to look for a coffee shop or diner? I need some caffeine.”

He parked the SUV in front of a small café. “You want to go traipsing around in those?” He sent a pointed look at her shoes.

Brianna shook her head. “Of course not.” She feigned shock. “I couldn’t walk around in public in heels and this attire,” she went on haughtily. “I’d never dream of committing such a fashion faux pas.”

Was she serious? Tanner stared at her for a moment, then laughed.

Brianna laughed with him. “I suppose it is time to change, isn’t it?” She flashed a megawatt smile.

Tanner felt something strange inside, a sensation unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was as if there was something coming alive, unfolding deep within him, a current of soft warmth. It was weird. He had experienced heated desire many, many times. But this feeling was different. And it was directly related to the woman seated next to him. He had to swallow, moisten his throat and lips before he even attempted to reply.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” He sighed, not even caring if she heard him mutter, “I’m gonna miss ’em.” Swinging open the door, he said in the most normal tone he could manage, “I shouldn’t be long. Wait for me inside.” Stepping out, he motioned to the place. “We might as well have lunch while we’re here. Then we won’t need to stop again.” He raised a brow. “Okay?”

“Fine.” She nodded, quickly calling after him as he slammed the door and started away, “I’ll need to get in the back to get my boots.”

He was lifting the trunk before she had finished. “Yeah, I know.”

Releasing the seat belt, she turned to look at him. He grinned, lifting a Western hat and settling it on his head. “I needed this, too.”

Bri felt her breath catch with his grin. Darn, what the devil was it about this man? What something did he have that no other man had ever possessed to make her heart race, her breath catch, her body go all warm and squishy? Her feelings were even more intense than they had been with-She cut her thoughts short, not even wanting to think that rotten man’s name.

“Brianna?”

His voice brought her to her senses. She blinked. “What?” God, she hated the confused, disoriented sound of her own voice.

Tanner frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered crisply. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“Beats the hell out of me.” He shook his head, still frowning. “All of a sudden you seemed…I don’t know…kinda lost or something.”

Sure, Bri thought, it was the something that got to her. “I was, er, just thinking.” Brilliant, Brianna, she chided herself.

“About?” He was frowning again.

About…about…jeez. “About maybe I should just go with you,” she said, wincing inside at the inanity and wondering how she could extradite herself from him so she could think clearly.

Fortunately Tanner performed that all by himself with two succinct words. “Think again.”

“Huh?” She smothered a groan.

“Brianna, I am not about to take you with me to talk to an informant. Somehow I feel said informant would very likely pretend he didn’t even know me. Understand?”

“Yes…yes, of course,” she said, feeling more ridiculous by the minute. Looking away from his curious expression, Bri undid the ties around her slim ankles, slipped out of the heels and tossed them into the backseat. “If you would please hand me my pack, I’ll change and then go…get some coffee.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you told me where the boots are so I can hand them to you?”

Smart-ass. Bri gritted her teeth to keep from saying the word aloud. “There’s a plastic bag attached to my backpack. They’re in there.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he drawled, his lips twitching with a smile.

Bri felt her own lips tickle, then she gave way to the laughter bubbling up into her throat. She couldn’t explain to herself why it was that when he laughed or smiled, she had to respond in kind.

The trunk lid slammed shut. A moment later he opened her door. “Your slippers, Cinderella.” His eyes danced with silent laughter.

“Thank you.” She took the sturdy boots from him. “And if you’re expecting me to call you Prince Charming, you have a long wait ahead of you.”

Tanner laughed out loud, tipped his hat respectfully at her and strolled away.

Now, she thought, that was charming. And disarming, thus dangerous to her peace of mind-never mind her libido. Brianna was not a child or a fool. She was a smart, well-educated woman. A woman with the appetites and desires of every healthy human, female or male. She was attracted to Tanner Wolfe, and he was attracted to her. It didn’t take a mental giant to figure that out. Human nature would have its way.

Yeah, she mused, pulling on the socks she had jammed into the boots, she had to be careful, on her guard, against herself as well as him. The two of them were going to be spending a lot of time together, closely together, in the mountains.

She had been hurt badly before and was determined she wouldn’t be again. She couldn’t emotionally afford to get involved with Tanner Wolfe, bounty hunter.

Groaning softly at the very idea, she yanked on the boots, grabbed her shoulder bag and stepped out of the SUV.

Drawing a deep breath, she strode out, determined to put off her ruminations until later. But her stride soon turned into a meandering stroll, while her mind raced ahead with what-ifs.

Bri knew full well the possibilities, knew they narrowed down to one. Her imagination drew a vivid picture of herself and Tanner, their limbs entwined, their mouths fused, his body-

Hold it right there, she told herself, blinking to erase the too-explicit scene from her mind. She was breathing hard and fast. Suddenly aware, she glanced around her to see if anyone had noticed her flushed cheeks, her forehead damp with perspiration. If anyone did, she’d blame it on the noonday sun directly overhead. In her jacket, no wonder she was so uncomfortably warm.

Her breathing slowing but still uneven, Bri turned on her heel to practically run back to where Tanner had parked the SUV in front of the café.

Pulling herself together and shrugging out of her jacket, Bri entered the café, her throat parched. Whether her thirst came from the heat or from her thoughts, she didn’t know; all she knew was she needed a cold drink to cool down her fevered mind.

She was seated in a booth, a large glass of ice water set next to a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, working at appearing cool, comfortable and slightly bored, when Tanner entered the café. His sharp gaze locating her at once, he strode to the booth and slid onto the bench across from her. Removing his hat, he set it on the bench next to him. “Hi.”

His soft, almost intimate voice sent tingles dancing along her spine.

“Hi, yourself.” How Bri had found her impersonal yet friendly tone she hadn’t a clue.

“The coffee looks good,” he said, indicating her cup with a swift movement of his head. “It’s warming up outside.”

“I noticed.” Bri immediately decided that had to be the biggest understatement of her life. “That’s why I asked for the ice water.”

“Hmm…and I’m parched.”

You’re telling me? she thought, taking a quick sip to cool her drying throat.

“Hungry?” she asked, not able to think of anything else to say.

Tanner didn’t respond for a few tense seconds, during which he slid a slow, intense look from her face to her waist. “Er, yeah.”

He didn’t have to say any more; Bri felt his exact meaning in every cell in her body. Oh, boy, she thought, watching his eyes darken as she thoughtlessly wet her dry lips with a glide of her tongue. Oh, yes, indeedy, she was in deep trouble.

“You?”

“What?” Try as she would, Bri couldn’t control the slight tremor in her voice.

“I asked if you were hungry. Are you?”

“Yes.” There was no way in hell she was going to run her gaze over him, no matter how much she wanted to do so. “And, as you said, we may as well eat now. I have menus.” She handed one to him.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

Damn him. Keeping the thought firmly inside her mind, where it belonged, she opened the menu and pretended to peruse the lunch specials even though she had already made her selection.

They didn’t talk much or tarry during the meal, and within forty-five minutes of Bri having entered the café, they were back in the SUV and on the road.

Bri contained her patience until they were at last heading for the mountains.

“So what did you learn from your informant?” she asked when he remained silent.

He slanted a grin at her. “I thought you’d never ask. You surprised me by holding out for as long as you have.”

“You have no idea how long I can hold out,” she shot back at him, leaving it up to him to decide whether her response contained a double meaning.

He slanted a sideways, contemplative look at her, his eyes alight with devilment. “Is that a challenge?”

Bri raised her eyes and fluttered her eyelashes, her expression one of pure innocence. “Why, Mr. Wolfe,” she said, her voice as close to a purr as she could make it, “a woman would have to be very brave to challenge you.”

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“You think I’m a brave woman?” Bri felt inordinately flattered even though she knew she was a brave woman. Her father had tested her, and she had passed his test of bravery and endurance. She had aced it, actually.

“Oh, yeah, you’re brave,” he said, sparing another glance at her. “You’re brave and a bit reckless and, I’m afraid, very, very dangerous.”

That last stopped her cold. She stared at him in astonishment. Her…dangerous? In what way? She had never deliberately harmed or intimidated anyone in her entire life.

“Dangerous to whom?” she asked, too bewildered by his remark to feel anything but puzzled.

Tanner sliced a smile at her that made her tingle all over. “I’d say you’re dangerous to every male between the ages of fifteen and a hundred and fifteen.”

Bri just couldn’t hold back; she laughed.

“You don’t think so, huh?”

“Of course I do,” she said as her laughter subsided. “I’m sure every male out there between those ages is just trembling in fear of running into me. Get real, Wolfe,” she said drolly. “I’m far from being dangerous to anyone of any age.”

He slowed down a bit to give her a dry look. “Does that include the man we’re on the hunt for?”

Bri stiffened. “That’s different.”

“In what way?”

“In the obvious way,” she retorted, getting really rattled. “He’s different. He’s a killer.”

“Yeah, he’s a killer and a rapist,” he agreed in an annoyingly reasonable tone. “But there are a lot of killers and rapists out there, and you’re not on the hunt, packing heat, for them.”

“No, I’m not,” she snapped, getting seriously angry. “And that’s because I’m not a hunter or a killer. But if we catch up to this…this monster, I will not hesitate a moment to use my weapon.”

“Wait a minute.” In an instant, Tanner practically stood on the brake, bringing the vehicle to a squealing, jarring stop. “You, me, neither one of us is going to shoot to kill him. Is that understood?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I’m warning you, Brianna, if you don’t give me your word on this, I’ll turn around, drive back to Durango and drop you at the Strater like you were on fire. I have never killed a man in my life and I’m not about to start now, and neither are you-not as long as you’re with me. Have you got that?”

Bri didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. She did neither; instead she calmly faced him. “I never so much as entertained the idea of killing the man, Tanner. I only meant I’d use my weapon to wing him, enough to bring him down. I don’t want him dead. That’s too easy.”

He frowned. “Then what do you want?”

She hoped Tanner could actually see the icy determination on her tight lips. “I want to see him rot in prison for the rest of his life, living with his conscience-if he has one-and the memory of every woman he killed or hurt. I hope he lives to be one hundred and every day is spent in fear some other convict will decide to mete out his own brand of punishment.”

Four

Tanner suppressed a shudder at the deadly, frigid tone of Brianna’s voice, her cold expression. Wow, he thought, when this woman hates, she puts every part of herself into the lethal emotion. On the spot, he found himself hoping she never decided to turn that emotion on him.

“You still haven’t told me what you learned from your informant.”

The change in her was startling. Her tone had thawed to conversational, her expression, while not exactly warm, had relaxed somewhat. Swallowing a sigh of relief, Tanner put the SUV into gear and drove forward once more.

“He was seen leaving town two days ago. Apparently he’s heading deep into the wildest section of the mountains. He left on horseback, leading a packhorse, and from the direction he was going, I suspect he’s making his way to the Weminuche Wilderness.”

Brianna frowned. “I vaguely recall having heard of it, but where and what is the Weminuche Wilderness?”

“The Weminuche is one of the largest designated wilderness areas in the country at somewhere around nine and a half thousand acres,” he said, keeping his eyes on the inclining road. “While many tourists hike and bike in it, there are sections that are nearly inaccessible. It seems our man is heading in that direction.”

“Well, if he is on horseback, leading a packhorse, I would think we could catch up to him in this SUV before he can reach one of those sections. Couldn’t we?” She sounded satisfied with her deduction.

Tanner hated having to burst her confidence bubble, yet he had no choice. “No, we can’t, Brianna. Even this vehicle can only go so far into the mountains. Later this afternoon, we’ll stop for the night and go on by horseback in the morning.”

She shot him a puzzled look. “But…How…I mean, where are we going to get horses out here?”

“I have a friend who owns a horse ranch tucked out of the way in a small valley.” He shot her a grin before she had a chance to question him further. “We can spend tonight there.”

By the quick glance he sent her, Tanner could tell by her expression she had questions, lots of questions, likely tripping over one another to see which one she could get out first. Within moments, she appeared to have sorted them out. She shot them out rapid-fire.

“How do you know your friend is there? How can you know we’ll be welcome to spend the night? How can you be sure he’ll have horses for hire? How-?” That’s as far as he let her go.

“I know,” he cut in, “because I know my friend. If he’s not there when we arrive, he’ll be out in the hills somewhere, and we’ll wait until he returns.”

“But-”

Tanner didn’t hesitate to cut her off again. “Brianna, you’ll have to trust me on this. We can’t follow our man in this SUV. It can go a lot of places but not into the roughest terrain in the mountains.”

“I understand that,” she shot back impatiently. “But you just sprang this other person at me out of the blue. Who is he, other than your friend?”

“His name is Hawk,” he began. Apparently she thought it was her turn to interrupt.

“What’s his real name?”

“Hawk.” He slanted a droll look at her. “His last name is McKenna. And, yes, he’s a half-breed.”

“I do not like that expression,” Brianna said in a clipped, stern-teacher tone.

Tanner was hard put not to laugh. “Neither do I, but that’s how Hawk refers to himself. He’s not ashamed of his heritage. Matter of fact, he’s proud to have both Scot and Apache blood in his veins.” Now he laughed aloud, softly, almost as if to himself. “I think you’ll find that Hawk is something else.”

“And what might that something be?”

“Different,” he said after a moment’s silence. “He’s one of a kind.”

“One of a kind of what?” Her tone was clear warning she was getting edgy again.

Tanner shrugged. “One of a kind of man, of human being. I don’t know how to explain it, he just is.”

“Does he live alone?”

“Usually.”

“Tanner…” There was a sharp note of impatience in her voice.

He laughed. “It’s the truth, Brianna. Hawk is usually alone, but now and again he has his sister staying with him. Cat isn’t as proud of her heritage.”

She frowned. “Cat? Hawk and Cat?”

Tanner slid a quick grin at her. “Hawk is just that-Hawk. He’s named after his maternal great-grandfather. Cat is short for Catriona, the Scot and Irish name for Catherine. She’s named after her paternal great-great-grandmother.”

“And she doesn’t like being of mixed racial parentage,” Brianna said, obviously choosing her words with care.

“No, she doesn’t. So every so often she runs away from the world by hiding out with Hawk.”

“Hiding out?” she nearly yelped. “Is he hiding out from the law?”

“No, Brianna, Hawk is not hiding from the law. He’s not a criminal.”

“Well, what is he, then? A hermit? Has he always lived away from society? How old is he?” She once again zapped the questions at him rapid-fire.

He shot the answers back at her in kind. “A man. No. Since he became an adult. I’m not sure-somewhere in his midthirties, I suppose.”

“Odd,” she murmured.

“Why?”

“Don’t you think it’s odd, a man deciding to live away from family, friends…women…at such a young age?”

Tanner shifted another glance at her. “I didn’t say he was a cloistered monk, Brianna. When he’s in the mood for company, he does see his family, friends.” He paused deliberately, as she had. “And he does see women.”

“You know-”

The SUV plowed over a natural speed bump, silencing her except for a startled, “Oh!”

“Sorry,” he said, biting back laughter. “I told you it was rough-and it’s going to get rougher.” He couldn’t hold back a slight grin. “A whole lot rougher.”

She glanced around at the terrain, the narrow shoulders bordering the macadam road, and the thickening forest beyond. She frowned and shifted in her seat. “You said we’d stop at sunset. The sun’s starting to track west now.” She glanced around again. “Tanner…”

“There’s a clearing up ahead,” he said, anticipating her question as well as the need causing her suddenly restless shifting. He swept a hand in an encompassing movement. “We’re in a national park area. Not only is there a clearing, there are restroom facilities.”

Brianna sighed in relief. “I’m glad to hear it.” She smiled. “I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of asking you to stop while I made a dash into the bushes.”

He laughed. “I know what you mean. I’m experiencing the, er, same pressure.”

“Don’t you dare make me laugh, Tanner Wolfe,” she said. “I would rather not embarrass myself, thank you.”

“Well, you’re in luck, Brianna Stewart,” he assured her. “The clearing is just beyond the bend up ahead.”

“Here we are,” he said moments later, pulling the vehicle into a spacious clearing by the side of the road. Along one side of the area, just beyond a posted sign reading Restrooms, was a good-size building. They headed toward it quickly.

Within minutes, they were back on the road. An hour and a half later, Tanner made a quick turn.

“What exactly-Oh!” she said, startled by the jostling of the SUV as he drove off the paved road onto a dirt, stone-strewn track undeserving of the name road. “Where are you going?” Bri demanded, glancing at the forest, which seemed to be closing in on them.

“To Hawk’s place.” He shot a flashing glance at her frown. “What? You expected Hawk to be living smack-dab in the middle of a superhighway?”

Bri’s frown turned into a scowl. “No, of course not,” she said, one hand gripping the edge of the seat, the other clinging to the dash in an attempt to keep from being flung back and forth within the confines of the seat belt like a rag doll.

“Just hang on,” Tanner said, his grip solid on the steering wheel. “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

“I…d-didn’t…think it c-could get any worse,” she finished in a rush.

“Ah, honey, you’re in for a bouncy surprise.”

She sighed, ignored the cramping in her fingers and glared at him. “I told you not to call me ‘honey.’”

Tanner laughed all the way down the track to the valley that spread away from it at the bottom. Tucked on the leeward side of the mountain was a one-story ranch house much like the ones seen in Western movies.

Hawk’s place was hardly the small, run-down outfit Bri had been expecting to find. In the waning afternoon light she could see several rail-fenced corrals, all containing horses, their coats gleaming in the slanted sunlight. But the ranch was the least of the surprises in store for her.

Bri was so distracted by looking around the property she never noticed Hawk McKenna standing in the shadows of the wraparound porch until he stepped out into the light. At his side stood the biggest dog she had ever seen. More like a pony.

Her startled gaze watched man and animal as they sauntered toward the vehicle Tanner pulled to a stop.

Hawk was not quite as tall as Tanner, but slimmer, rangier. Though older, McKenna was every bit as handsome as Tanner, if in a different, somewhat rougher way.

Where the younger man’s appearance was sculpted, Hawk’s features had a harshly rough-hewn look. His hair was even longer but as clean and well kept as Tanner’s. Most startling of all, it was the same shade of brown and, in the golden glow of slanting sun rays, shot with streaks as dark-red as Bri’s own.

Tanner got out of the truck and the two men hugged like long-lost brothers. The dog, not barking or whining, just stood beside his master as if waiting for his turn to greet the company.

As soon as the men were done hugging and slapping each other on the back, the animal moved to Tanner. When he greeted the dog, it jumped up, front paws on his shoulders, standing almost as tall as Tanner.

“Hey, Boyo. No kisses, not on my face,” Tanner said, laughing as he twisted his head to avoid the excited dog’s eager reception. “Yeah, the hand’s okay.” Still laughing, he ruffled the dog’s coat.

Boyo, Bri thought. What kind of name was that for such a large dog? He was massive, formidable, his silvery-gray coat marked by small streaks of black. Fortunately the dog appeared friendly or she wouldn’t have considered stepping foot from the safety of the SUV.

Tanner’s sudden appearance at her door broke into her concentration on the animal.

“Brianna, are you getting out?” He grinned, pulled her door open. “Or are your fingers locked on the seat and dash?”

Startled from her inspection of the dog, Bri gave him a dry look and a blatant lie. “I’m afraid to move, since I feel as if every bone in my body was disjointed during the ride down here.”

“I thought maybe you were terrified by the sight of Boyo.”

“That, too,” she admitted. “But I see he’s friendly.” She frowned. “What kind of name is Boyo for an animal his size?”

“It’s Irish for boy,” he explained, laughing again. “Come on, Hawk will protect you.”

Lord, Bri loved the sound of his laughter. Steeling herself against her feelings, she took the hand he held out to her.

His hand wasn’t soft, his nails weren’t manicured as were the hands of her father and most of the other men she knew. His broad, long fingers were used to work, hardened and rough.

An image flashed before her with sudden clarity. His rough hands caressing her body, gripping her bottom to draw him closer as he crushed his mouth to hers.

A tremor shot through her.

“Are you cold, Brianna?” Tanner frowned, placing the other hand at her waist to steady her as she jumped to the ground.

“No…” Bri took a quick breath, stalling for time to come up with a reasonable excuse. “I’m hungry.” Was that reasonable enough? “It’s been a long time since lunch, don’t forget. Aren’t you hungry?” She stretched and took a few steps, easing the stiffness in her back from sitting so long and being jarred on the drive into the valley.

“Plenty to eat in the house,” Hawk said.

“Come on, Bri. Come meet Hawk.” Tanner gently took her by the arm to lead her around the SUV toward his friend. “And Boyo.”

Hawk McKenna had a solid handshake and a winning smile. For some inexplicable reason, she instantly both liked and trusted him. Something inside told her this was a good man. Something about him reminded her of Tanner.

Wait a minute. Tanner…good? Trustworthy? She had to admit her mental jury was still out on that verdict.

Boyo stood by his master, his long, black-tipped tail swishing back and forth, his body trembling in eagerness to greet her.

Bri tentatively reached out a hand to the animal to sniff.

“You may touch him,” Hawk said, his deep voice edged with amusement. “He won’t bite you.”

She touched the dog’s muzzle and was promptly rewarded by a swipe of his tongue. Laughing, Bri caressed his head, scratched him under his wide jaw and ran her hand over his back. The rough, wiry feel of his coat against her palm surprised her; he had looked so sleek and smooth.

“You have a nice spread here, Mr. McKenna,” she said, glancing up at him, her compliment sincere.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her before sweeping the property with an appreciative look. “It’s home.”

He led them to the house, Boyo in step on the far side of him.

“Welcome,” Hawk said as he pushed the door open, stepping back and sweeping his arm in invitation.

Boyo trotted into the kitchen, and within moments they could hear him lapping up water.

“Thank you.” Bri smiled at him as she stepped into what was obviously the living room. She glanced around her at the sparse yet homey decor.

“This is very nice,” she said, turning to smile at Hawk. “Navajo?” she asked, indicating a beautifully woven blanket hanging on one wall.

“Yeah,” Hawk answered. “A gift from a friend.”

“It’s lovely.” Bri smiled, moving forward for a closer look. “You have nice friends. That blanket must be worth a small fortune.”

“It is. And I do.” Hawk nodded and glanced at Tanner. “And Wolfe, there, is the friend.” He smiled, slow and easy. “Wanna tell Ms. Stewart what you paid for the blanket, Tanner?”

“No.” Tanner shook his head but smiled back. “He earned it, Brianna,” he explained. “He helped me track a man, a real badass, two years ago. The jerk was a multiple killer with a big bounty on his head.” He shot a dry look at Hawk. “I wanted to share the bounty with him. He said no but that he’d accept a particular blanket. You see-”

“Wolfe,” Hawk said, a warning in his tone.

“You don’t scare me, ole son, so save your breath.” Tanner grinned at him.

Hawk narrowed his eyes. Tanner’s grin widened.

Fearing that any second they’d be at each other, fists flying, Bri held a hand in the air in the signal to halt. “Don’t start anything here, you two. This house is too beautiful to wreck it in a free-for-all.” Her voice was soft but stern. “If you’re going to beat up on each other, take it outside.”

Tanner and Hawk stared at each other a moment, then roared with laughter.

Bri placed her hands on her hips, glared at the two of them and tapped one booted foot on the hardwood floor. “I do hope you’re not laughing at me.” Though pleasant, her voice held a sting.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.” Hawk was obviously fighting to contain a grin.

“Never gave it a thought, ma’am.” Tanner didn’t bother to hold back a grin. He laughed out loud.

“O-kay. I’ve had enough of your silliness.” Bri was having difficulty maintaining the laughter rising in her throat. “I need a bathroom first, a proper bath and something to eat. Oh, and my pack.”

Hawk slanted a sober look at Tanner. “She always this bossy?”

Tanner nodded, sighing. “’Fraid so. It’s enough to drive a simple man to distraction.”

Bri rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to blast the two of them. She wasn’t fast enough.

“Yeah.” Tanner gave a slow head shake. “I just don’t know what to do with her.”

Bri was torn between amusement and annoyance. She was silent just long enough for Hawk to get in another shot.

“Oh, buddy, I’d know what to do with her.” Teasing laughter danced in his dark eyes.

“Well, yeah, but-”

That’s as far as she let Tanner get. “But you’re going to be too busy getting my gear from the SUV. Right?” Her tone held a definite warning.

“Er, yeah, right, I’m on it.” Softly chuckling, Tanner turned and strode out the door.

“And I’m gonna finish supper.” Hawk headed for the kitchen, clearly visible in the open floor plan, flicking a hand toward a hallway on the far side of the living room. “Bathroom’s the second door to the left.”

“Thank you.” Bri headed for the hallway, hearing Hawk ask Boyo if he was hungry, too.

She was washing her hands, grimacing at her appearance in the mirror, when a soft knock sounded on the door.

“I’ve brought your pack, Brianna. Should I leave it here, outside the door?”

“No.” She opened said door as he finished speaking. “I’ll take it. Thank you.” She rewarded him with her most brilliant smile, took the pack and then closed the door in his face.

“Whoa,” Tanner murmured on an exhaled breath, thinking Brianna had the most beautiful and arousing smile he had ever had aimed at him. His jeans were suddenly tight, chafing him in a delicate part of his body.

The sound of the shower reached him through the door. Tanner imagined her standing under the tingling spray, naked and wet, the water sluicing down her slim body. Not only did his jeans get tighter, his chest grew tight, too.

Damn, get away from the door, Wolfe, before you explode and embarrass yourself by having to listen to McKenna laugh his ass off.

Drawing deep breaths and telling himself he could control his own body, his automatic reactions to a beautiful woman, Tanner gathered up the gear at his feet and headed to the bedrooms. He opened the door just enough to place Brianna’s gear inside the room Hawk had designated as hers, the one Cat stayed in when she visited. From there he went to his room, the one he always used when he stayed at Hawk’s place.

By the time Tanner nonchalantly strolled into the kitchen, he, aided by a cold shower, had worked his mind over matter…at least enough that it didn’t show.

“Your lady friend is something, Wolfe,” Hawk said, leveling a hard look at Tanner. “But why in hell did you bring her along on a hunt?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he began, but apparently Hawk wasn’t hearing him.

“Are you trying to get that beautiful creature killed?” Hawk demanded.

Tanner sighed. “I told you, I didn’t have a-”

“Choice,” Brianna finished for him in a decisive tone. “I played the trump card.”

“Yeah,” Tanner muttered, turning to look at her. Brianna stood in the entrance to the kitchen area, her still-wet hair hanging straight down her back, her face free of makeup, but glowing from her shower.

“What trump card?” Hawk frowned, glancing between his two guests, who continued to stare at each other.

“Money,” they answered in unison.

Hawk arched his dark brows. “I like money,” he said, his voice laconic. “Though not enough to endanger a beautiful woman-or any woman, for that matter-by taking her along on a manhunt for a killer.” His gaze narrowed on Tanner. “How much money are we talking about?”

Tanner switched his steely stare to Hawk. “An impressive amount of money.”

Hawk smiled-well, almost-and turned his narrowed gaze on Brianna. “How much?” It wasn’t a question so much as an order.

“A million dollars.”

Tanner admired her cool composure. Not many people, men or women, could withstand that particular piercing look from Hawk. In the next few minutes, Brianna ratcheted up his admiration for her even further.

Hawk whistled. “That’s a lot of dollars.”

Flashing her traffic-stopping smile, she nodded in agreement. “Yes, it is.” The smile fled, replaced by a haughty expression. “I take it you disapprove.”

“I don’t disapprove of the money,” Hawk said with a quick shake of his head. “But I do disapprove of Tanner taking along a woman.”

“Yet there are women bounty hunters,” she retorted. “Are there not?”

“She used that same argument on me,” Tanner inserted, just to remind them he was still there.

Hawk flicked a look at him.

Brianna ignored him.

“I don’t approve of women bounty hunters, either. It’s too dangerous for a woman.”

“Indeed.” Brianna’s voice was icy.

“Yeah, indeed.” Hawk matched her tone.

Tanner grinned, not that either one of them noticed. They were too busy trying to stare each other down. This should be interesting, he mused, settling down in a kitchen chair to watch the battle of wills.

No one knew better than he that Hawk was nothing if not tenacious. On the other hand, Tanner had personal knowledge of how stubborn Brianna could be. Yes, indeedy, he thought, controlling an urge to laugh, this should prove very interesting.

Brianna sighed as if sorely tried. “As I pointed out to your friend, I have had excellent training. I am well equipped to take care of myself.”

With that, she had lobbed the ball into Hawk’s court. Tanner waited for the return volley.

Hawk slammed it back at her. “I don’t give a f-” He caught himself up short before finishing with, “freaking damn how well you’ve been trained. You don’t belong in the mountains, tracking a criminal.”

Whoa. Tanner stared at his friend in surprise. Hawk was losing his cool, and that didn’t happen often. Tanner decided it was time to referee this match.

“Okay, boys and girls,” he said, pushing himself from the chair to step between the two combatants. “Take a break. It’s time for a truce.”

“But, dammit, Tanner, it’s just not safe!”

“Save your breath, ole buddy,” Tanner said, shaking his head. “I went through all that with her, chapter and verse.” He shot a quick glance at her face, her expression one of detachment. “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“How charming, so complimentary,” Brianna coolly inserted. “But can we drop the subject now? I’m so hungry I could eat a…brick wall, maybe.” A smile teased her lips and danced in her bright eyes.

“Told you so,” Tanner said with a grin, chiding Hawk.

Hawk heaved a deep sigh. “I give up.”

“Good.” She rewarded him with a charming smile. Too soon.

“On one condition,” Hawk went on, challenge hard on his voice.

Bri narrowed her eyes. “What condition?”

Tanner frowned, wondering what Hawk was up to now.

“You take Boyo with you.”

“But…” she began in protest.

“Good idea, Hawk,” Tanner said, deciding it was time to end this match. “Brianna, Boyo is a good hunter. You know, the Irish wolfhounds were bred to hunt and bring down wolves and elk.”

“Wolves?” She shifted her gaze to the dog, who had cocked his head at the sound of his name. “Well, he certainly looks big enough and strong enough for it. But he doesn’t seem natured to do that. He’s as friendly as a puppy.”

“Of course he is,” Hawk agreed. “Here he’s a big, sloppy sweetheart. Matter of fact, most wolfhounds are simply house pets these days. But take him out hunting, turn him loose on a scent, and he reverts to breed and can be one mean son of a-” Again, he caught himself from cursing. “He can be rough.”

“But…” she began.

Tanner smothered laughter to interrupt her. “You may as well give in, Brianna. Hawk can be as stubborn as you, maybe even more so.”

“Oh, all right. We’ll take Boyo…but only if I get food-pronto.”

Hawk slid a look at Brianna, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “Man, you’re tough. But you win. Food’s ready. Let’s eat.”

Tanner lost it and let loose the laughter he had been holding back.

Hawk followed in kind.

Brianna looked from one to the other before her laughter blended with theirs. She was first to regain control. “Okay, you clowns, what’s for supper?” She gave a dainty sniff. “Whatever it is, it smells wonderful.”

Hawk sobered except for a lingering chuckle. “It’s chili. Hope you like it spicy.”

“Love it,” she said.

Tanner wasn’t surprised. He’d figured Brianna Stewart wouldn’t have it any other way.

Five

Bri sighed with contentment as she dabbed her lips with a napkin. The chili was delicious. And spicy. She had hungrily finished off two bowlfuls, along with several slices of Hawk’s homemade corn bread.

“That was a wonderful meal,” she said to her host. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Apparently pleased with her response, Hawk pushed back his chair and stood. “Are you ready for coffee and dessert now?” He glanced from Bri to Tanner.

“Coffee,” Bri answered without hesitation. “But I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“Just coffee for me, too,” Tanner said.

When they had finished their coffee, Bri stood up and began clearing the table.

“You don’t have to help,” Hawk said.

“I know. But I want to do it.” She shooed him away with a hand. “You two go relax or something.”

“You win. I don’t often get out of kitchen duty.” Hawk led the way outside to let Tanner choose the horses for the hunt.

At the door, Tanner paused to tell Bri how to find the room where he had stashed her gear. No sooner had he shut the door behind him when Hawk lit into him.

“Are you out of your mind?” he demanded, striding for the stables.

Tanner sighed. “Don’t start, McKenna. I had my fill arguing with Brianna back in Durango. I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

Hawk snorted. “In the mood or not, you’re getting an argument. Dammit, Wolfe-”

That’s as far as he got before Tanner cut him off. “Yeah, dammit. Hell, double dammit. What else was I supposed to do?”

Reaching the stable, Hawk yanked the door open and flicked on the lights to illuminate the dim interior. “How about making it clear you wouldn’t bring her. End of argument. Period.”

“I tried that.” Tanner gave his best friend a fierce scowl. “Didn’t work. She told me if I refused, I should forget it, she’d find herself another hunter.” He exhaled in a bid to ease the tension riding him.

“And you didn’t want to give up a big payoff?”

“Are you nuts?” Now Tanner was getting angry. “Hawk, you know me better than that. And you know as well as I do there are bounty hunters out there that will agree to any conditions, even to allowing a woman to hunt with them, if the price is right.”

Now Hawk sighed. “I know. But I don’t like this at all. Brianna is a beautiful woman. A nice woman.” He strode inside. “I’d hate like hell to see her hurt.”

“Don’t feel like the Lone Ranger. I feel the same way.” His mouth curved into a wry smile. “That’s why I’m not taking her along.”

Hawk narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Aah, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“You got it, ole buddy.” He grinned. “I’m leaving her here, in your capable hands.”

“But what the hell’s the difference if you leave her in Durango or here with me?”

“Hawk, you’re not thinking,” Tanner chided him. “If I’d have left her in Durango, she’d have either contacted another hunter or set out on her own.” He shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about that. Out here, with you, she’s stuck. All she can do is ask you to drive her back to Durango.”

“Where she will promptly look up and hire another hunter,” Hawk pointed out.

“I know, but by then I’ll be way ahead of the pack, so to speak.”

Hawk shook his head as if in frustration. “And when you bring him in and hand him over to the law, you know damn well she will likely hand you a check for the original ten grand posted.”

“I know.” Tanner nodded. “And I don’t care. Hawk, it’s no longer the money. It’s Brianna and her safety.” He paused before continuing. “I’m attracted to her. Very attracted. It was there from the minute I opened my door and saw her standing there.”

A small smile tugged at Hawk’s lips. “That’s understandable. Brianna’s gorgeous and sexy as hell.”

“Tell me about it.” Tanner shook his head. “She had no sooner walked into my place and I wanted to swing her up into my arms and…well, never mind. I’m sure you can figure it out for yourself.”

“Sure.” Hawk nodded. “I’ve been there.”

“I have, too, but not like this,” Tanner admitted. “This is stronger than-” He broke off. “The point is, I couldn’t leave her in Durango and I can’t take her with me. This Minnich creep is a killer. He’s killed at least one woman, and the law suspects there’s more. If anything happened to her, if he got a chance to harm her in any way, I swear I’d go berserk.” He shuddered at the very idea of Brianna injured. “Hawk, I can’t take her with me. I can’t take that chance.”

Hawk nodded. “There’s the hunter I know and love like a brother. You had me a tad worried that you had slipped a cog.”

Tanner laughed. “Not to worry. Now let’s look at horses.”

Hawk paused at the second stall inside the stable. “We’re going to have to play it cool, you know?”

“Yeah.” Tanner nodded. “We can’t take a chance of her getting suspicious. Leave the lights on in here when we leave. I’ll bring her out to show her the horses we’ve chosen.”

“Show her the mare.” Hawk indicated the chocolate-brown horse in the third stall. “She would be the logical choice for a woman.”

In no time, Brianna had the kitchen spotless and went in search of her room, musing on the idea that Boyo obviously liked her, for he padded after her.

Finding the room easily, Bri stepped inside, and immediately wondered if Hawk had frequent visits from lady friends. The bedroom had definite feminine touches, including a vanity table and bench, the surface littered with an array of skin-care products, makeup and a silver-backed comb-and-brush set.

Along the back wall was a queen-size bed, set between two windows through which the last rays of sunlight shone. Crossing the room, Bri drew back a sheer curtain panel to stare out at the vista. A huge meadow spread out from the side of the house and along the foothills of the mountain. She was puzzled for a moment by a large, flat, whitish circle on the ground a good distance from the house.

Then realization dawned. The white circle was a helicopter pad, right there on the edge of the meadow.

How convenient, she thought, smiling as she turned away from the window. A chopper would come in very handy when snow blocked the roadways in the dead of winter.

She had to smile. Boyo had made himself comfortable and lay stretched out on the foot of the bed as if it were his right to do so. Deciding it probably was, she walked back across the room, sitting down at the vanity to gaze into the mirror. Her hair, drying now, twirled into its natural waves. Her face appeared pale and dull. Bri was considering whether to retrieve her makeup case when she heard the front door open, close again and Tanner call to her.

“Brianna, Hawk’s making a fresh pot of coffee. Do you want some?”

Sliding off the bench, she went to the door and called back, “Yes, I’ll be right there.” Glancing at the dog, she said, “You coming?” Boyo lifted his large head to give her a soulful look, then his head plopped back onto the mattress.

Guess not. A soft smile on her lips, she glanced again in the mirror, shrugged and left the room, thinking the hell with the hair and makeup. If Tanner and Hawk didn’t like her bare face and unruly waves, they could just get over it.

“I like your hair down like that,” Tanner said as she strolled into the kitchen. He grinned. “All kinda wild and loose around your face.”

Bri gave him a droll look. “Thank you.” Might as well admit to the truth, she thought, smiling back at him. “I didn’t bother to brush it.”

“You didn’t need to bother,” Hawk said, placing two steaming mugs on the table. Crossing to the countertop to retrieve the third, he tossed over his shoulder, “You’re among friends.”

“I would hope so, as it’s two to one here.” She calmly glanced from Hawk to Tanner. “Not that those are bad odds, you understand, or that I couldn’t handle the two of you. But it could get ugly.”

Silence for a moment. Then both men broke up with laughter.

“I like this gal’s style, Wolfe,” Hawk said between lingering chuckles. “She might even be able to handle you, maverick that you are.”

“I wouldn’t bet the ranch on it, ole buddy,” Tanner advised in a slow drawl.

Could she handle him? Bri asked herself hours later as she lay in the wide bed, staring at the diffuse moonlight shimmering on the ceiling through the sheer curtains. That same question had played games with her mind throughout the rest of the evening.

As soon as they had finished their coffee, Tanner had taken her to the stables to show her the horses Hawk had chosen for their use. Tanner’s mount was a big roan with a shiny dark-red coat. For Brianna he had picked a brown mare, smaller than the roan but with a sweet temperament. The minute Brianna stretched out her palm, the mare poked her head over the gate on the stall.

Pleased with Hawk’s selections, Bri introduced herself to the horses, talking softly to each as she stroked their noses and long necks in turn.

“I noticed from the bedroom window that Hawk has a helipad in the back pasture,” she said later as they walked back to the house. “Does he own and fly his own personal helicopter?”

“No. He has the pad because he’s alone out here most of the time. Although Hawk is a careful man by nature, accidents can always happen-to humans and animals. He installed the pad for convenience and for a quicker medical rescue response if needed.” He tossed her a grin. “But, though he has lived here for a long time, he put in the pad only after Cat began using the ranch for a vacation getaway when she needed some space to be herself, breathe fresh air, roam free on the grounds.”

“I see,” Bri said, but then shook her head. “No, I guess I don’t see. I can understand her wanting to visit her brother, but you said before she uses Hawk’s place for a hideout. From what?”

“From the city, the crowds, the polluted air. Also from the jerks who get their kicks by making cracks about her heritage.”

Anger flashed through her like a bolt of lightning. “I detest that sort of thing.”

“Hey, don’t attack me,” Tanner said in a calming tone. “I feel the same way. But, like it or not, I’m afraid there are still some Neanderthals screwing up society. Men like the animal who attacked your sister and raped and killed her friend.”

“I know.” Bri nodded, exhaling to release the anger. “I have to deal with the crude type occasionally in the library.”

“You work in a library?”

“Yes. I’m a research librarian at the University of Pennsylvania.”

“The men come on to you, make suggestive remarks?” His voice carried an edgy note.

Confused by the sudden sharpness of his tone, she gave him a quick glance. His expression was bland, but his eyes were cold. Now what was biting him?

“Well?” he prompted, his voice now as cold as his eyes. “What did the crude jerks say to you?”

“Oh, the usual.” She shrugged. “You know, juvenile things like, ‘Oh, I’ve found the ice-queen types are always the hottest.’”

“Wonderful.” His lip curled. “How smooth. How very debonair.” He shook his head. “That line should have all the women falling on their backs for him. Stupid kids.”

Bri shot a droll look at him. “That particular line came from one of the professors.”

Tanner stared at her a moment, then laughed. “Some men never grow up, do they, no matter how smart and well-educated they are.”

“So it seems,” Bri agreed with him, smiling as they strolled toward the house.

When they reached the porch, he came to a stop, turning to face her, grasping her shoulders. “I guess I’m no smarter than the others.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice began to fade and her breathing grew erratic, strained, as he lowered his head to hers.

“Fool that I am,” he murmured, his lips barely a half inch from hers, “I’m going to kiss you, Brianna.”

“Yes…please…” Her voice was swallowed up inside his mouth.

Incredible. His mouth claiming hers was absolutely incredible. And exciting. His tongue slid inside, sweeping every nook, tangling with her own.

Bri curled her arms around his taut neck, moving her body closer to him, against him. His arms circled her waist, drawing her closer still. Something seemed to sizzle through every cell of her being as he ground into her, making her all too aware of his erection.

Good heavens! She had never been kissed like this. At the time she had believed Mr. Smooth and Charming had been good, but he was a novice compared to the man she was now clinging to as tightly as ivy clings to a brick wall.

She wanted to cry out in protest when he lifted his head. She swallowed to keep it inside. “That was some kiss,” she said, striving for normal, attaining something similar to a croak.

“Yeah, it felt like more.” Releasing her, he stepped back, shaking his head. “But I’m not that much of a fool…I hope.”

Bri didn’t know whether to feel insulted or flattered. She felt confused. Who wouldn’t be when a man called himself a fool for kissing her? Numb, she allowed him to lead her into the house.

From then on he was all business-except for the occasional brush of his arm or his hand against her. Bri had reached a point in her life where she believed there were no accidents. She knew his touches were deliberate.

But why? That was the question nagging at her tired and befuddled mind. Nevertheless, she and Tanner went through their gear, deciding, along with the occasional suggestion from Hawk and nose nudge from Boyo, what they should take.

Bri was relieved to learn they were taking a pack animal, which allowed her to take a few items more than the absolute essentials. One of those items was a bag of dark chocolate Hershey’s Kisses she had stashed in an inner pocket of her backpack.

“You can’t have any,” she murmured to the curious dog sniffing at the pack. She ruffled his wiry coat, lowering her head to whisper, “They can make you very sick, and that would make me very, very sad.”

The gear packed and ready for an early departure, Bri had excused herself and gone to her room, Boyo at her side. Once in the room, the dog again stretched out on the foot of the bed. Yawning, Bri curled under the plump comforter, as the night had grown much cooler.

Though it had been a long day, she couldn’t go to sleep. Her mind was restless, repeating the same thoughts over and over.

Could she handle Tanner Wolfe?

Did she want to?

Damned straight, she wanted to.

Tanner couldn’t sleep. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, an image of Brianna shimmered before him, teasing his mind, tormenting his libido. That kiss, that blazing, scorching kiss. Would he ever get the memory of it out of his mind, his senses?

“Damn,” he muttered, tossing aside the comforter to allow the chill night air to cool his overheated body. “Stop reacting like a damn fool nineteen-year-old kid,” he grumbled, shifting position. “You’ve got a job to do. Get your mind off the woman and onto controlling your imagination and your hormones. There’s a lot of money at stake here…if she even pays you more than the original ten thousand posted.”

That last animal-like growl silenced him. Money?

He hadn’t really given a thought to the money since explaining his situation to Hawk. When had the money become secondary? Secondary? Tanner’s now-overactive mind repeated. Secondary to what?

“Brianna.” He whispered her name like a prayer. Brianna. Her name echoed inside his head like a mantra. She was the most unlikely woman. A guntoting librarian. A woman of privilege who knew how to shoot and ride and track. Not at all the type he normally consorted with, he reminded himself, let alone fell for.

Jesus. When had she become so important to him? Not simply her safety but her, the woman? The woman he wanted more than he had ever wanted any woman before.

In that instant he knew without a doubt he would spend the rest of his life hunting down that killer, if necessary. Not for the money, Tanner thought, deciding then and there not to accept any, but for Brianna, for her peace of mind.

He would do it even at the loss of his own peace of mind…not to mention his sanity.

Tanner knew Brianna would not be there when he returned to Durango. He knew, as well, that she would never want to see him again.

Still, he ached for her, ached to be with her in the most intimate way a man could be with a woman. Tanner pulled the comforter around his body, which was both shivering and burning for Brianna.

Damn. What was the matter with him?

Tanner snorted. As if he didn’t know. Still, he wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself.

Six

A light tap and a murmured “Brianna” woke Bri. Frowning, her eyes barely open, she wondered why Hawk and not Tanner had come to wake her.

“I’m awake,” she muttered, raking her fingers through sleep-tangled hair. Other than a small night-light plugged into a wall socket, the room was dark, and she reached to the nightstand to switch on the light.

“Coffee’s fresh and hot.”

“Give me a couple of minutes.” Yawning, she tossed the cover back, grinning as Boyo lifted his large head, alert and apparently ready for anything.

“Hi, fella,” she said, ruffling his hair. “Go back to sleep, you don’t have to get up yet.”

Obviously Boyo wasn’t about to do any such thing as go to sleep. After stretching his legs, he jumped from the bed and padded to the door, waiting patiently until Bri opened it for him.

The hallway was well lighted, as was the living room beyond. Smiling, she wondered if Hawk had turned on every light in the house. That is, until she opened the bathroom door.

The bright sunlight filling the room jolted her like a shock. What the heck time was it? she asked herself, frowning as she entered the room. Hadn’t Tanner said he wanted to get an early start?

Puzzled, she nevertheless took a quick shower and ran back to the bedroom to look at the clock she hadn’t bothered to glance at before. The digital numbers flashed 8:45. Stunned, she pulled the heavy blackout drapes over the sheers aside, staring in disbelief at the blaze of sunlight pouring through the window.

Suspicion tickling the back of her mind, Bri quickly dressed, braided her hair and left the room, following the aroma of fresh coffee.

Hawk stood by the stove. Boyo had his nose buried in his food bowl. There was no sign of Tanner or the gear he had set by the door last night.

The tickle of suspicion expanded into certainty. “Where’s Tanner?” Her voice was cold, her stance stiff, her eyes narrowed.

“He’s gone…left about five,” he answered, warm compassion meeting her icy stare.

“Gone?” she repeated, voice rising an octave. “He left without me? That son of a-”

“Now, Brianna,” Hawk cut her off in a soft, calming tone. “Come have a cup of coffee and some breakfast and I’ll explain everything to you.”

Annoyance curdled her tone. “Don’t speak to me as if I were a child, Hawk.”

“I’m not,” he said, still soothingly calm. “I’m speaking to you as if you were an intelligent, mature adult. Now, please, come and sit down.”

Still stiff with outrage at the deceiving rat Tanner, she nevertheless moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table. What else could she do? Rant and rave? She could do that sitting down over coffee.

Mere moments after her bottom hit the chair seat, Hawk set a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and toast in front of her, followed by a steaming mug of coffee.

She sat there looking at the food, only sipping her coffee. She was way too angry to eat.

“I know you’re angry,” Hawk said, taking a seat across from her, “and I suppose you have every right to be. But not eating isn’t going to solve a thing. Tell you what-you eat a little something, and I’ll explain Tanner’s reasons for leaving without you.”

“I already know his so-called reasons. He doesn’t want me, any woman or anyone else hunting with him…the rat.” Her voice dropped to a deeper, arrogant tone, mimicking Tanner’s. “‘Like it or not, I hunt alone.’”

“Yep, that’s Tanner,” Hawk agreed, surprising her. “Well, now that we agree on that, suppose you attack your breakfast.”

Bri rolled her eyes. She drew a breath to tell him what to do with his breakfast, but in so doing got a whiff of the food, and her stomach growled. She gave in immediately.

To her surprise, Bri finished every morsel on her plate and every drop of coffee. Without being asked, Hawk refilled her mug.

“Thank you. Breakfast was delicious,” she said, taking a careful sip of the hot brew. “Now I’m ready to hear Tanner’s reasons for stranding me here.”

Hawk smiled. “First of all, Brianna, you’re not stranded. Second, he actually didn’t deceive you.”

Bri’s back went ramrod stiff. “What do you mean? He deserted me when he said he would take me with him.”

“And he did, in his way,” Hawk countered. “He took you out of Durango and brought you here.”

“That’s not funny.” She was getting steamed all over again. Suddenly her delicious breakfast lay heavy in her stomach. “He didn’t say he’d bring me here, dammit! He said he’d take me along hunting with him.”

Hawk was shaking his head. “He couldn’t, Brianna.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She glared at him. “He selected horses. Showed me the mare I was to ride. Stashed my gear next to his own by the door. And now you tell me he couldn’t take me. Why the hell not?”

Bri realized she was on the edge of losing it. She paused to breathe, calm herself down.

“He told me he could not-would not-expose you to the danger of possibly facing a killer.”

“And I told him I can take care of myself, and Tanner knows it.”

“I’m sure he does.” Hawk nodded. “But then, I’m also sure it makes no difference to him.” He gave her a gentle look. “Although I know Tanner’s feelings about hunting alone, there is more to it in this instance.”

“What?” Bri frowned. “What other reason, other than his pure, arrogant bullheadedness?”

Hawk sighed. “Your safety is important to him, Brianna. Very important.”

Bri felt a tiny flare deep inside. Could Hawk possibly mean that Tanner cared for her? Oh, she was aware of the physical attraction between them. All too aware. But could he feel something stronger than that?

The mere idea, the thought alone, caused excitement to dance along her nerve endings. Then she came to her senses, telling herself to grow up and face reality. Tanner didn’t care for her. He treated her the way he would any woman who wanted to hunt a killer.

But it was a lovely thought…for a moment.

Sighing softly, she lowered her head so Hawk couldn’t see the disappointment mirrored in her eyes.

“Okay,” he said, sliding his chair back and standing. “I’ll get these dishes cleared away and then I’ll drive you back to Durango.”

Bri snapped her head up. “I’m not going back to Durango,” she said with quiet determination.

“You want to wait here for Tanner to return?” He hurried on before she could reply. “Not that I mind, you understand, but-”

“No, Hawk, I’m going after him.”

“Alone?” Hawk stared at her. “Brianna, you should know it’s never smart or safe to hunt alone.” He shook his head. “This man is a killer.”

Bri blinked, shook her head. “No, no, I’m not going after Minnich. I’m going after Tanner.”

“It’s just as dangerous.”

“I’ll be careful,” she assured him.

“What if you get lost?”

Bri gave him a long look. “I do know how to blaze a trail, Hawk.”

“But-”

“No buts,” she said, shaking her head again. “I am going. Will you give me the use of a horse? I’ll pay you the going rate.”

“No.” Flat, final.

Nothing could have made her reveal the hurt his refusal gave her. “Okay, I’ll trek.” She moved to rise, but Hawk held up a hand.

“You don’t understand. I meant I won’t accept payment for the horse,” he explained. “You can take any one you like.”

Bri blinked against a rush of grateful tears. “Thank you, Hawk.”

“You’ll also need a pack animal.”

“No, thank you. Another animal would slow me down. I want to catch up with Tanner before he catches up to Minnich.” She started to leave the kitchen, but Hawk stopped her.

“Brianna, you’ll need supplies and food. You can’t go tracking Tanner without them.”

“I’ve got trail mix and beef jerky in my pack.” This time she did smile, keeping the chocolate to herself. “My father taught me early on to always carry some with me, just in case.”

“You’ll need more than that.” He sighed. “I’ll pack some food and water into saddlebags as soon as I finish up here.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you have all your stuff together?”

“All but the last-minute things,” she said, once again heading out of the kitchen. “It’ll take only a few minutes to get them.”

Fully aware of the passing of time-time in which Tanner got farther away from the ranch-Bri quickly gathered her toiletries. Then she made up the bed and strode back down the hall.

Hawk wasn’t there. For a moment Bri stood still, afraid she had been abandoned again. But common sense prevailed. Boyo sat by her backpack, glancing from the door to her and back to the door, obviously waiting for his master to return. She waited with him.

A few minutes later, Hawk walked back inside. “I saddled the mare Tanner showed you last night. Okay?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “She’s a sweetie.”

“I’ll get the saddlebags ready.” He went into the kitchen.

Bri knelt down to say goodbye to the dog. “You’re a sweetie, too,” she murmured.

“I want you to take the sweetie with you,” Hawk said, helping her to rise. “And no arguments,” he went on as she opened her mouth to do just that. “As I said last night, he’ll protect you to the death. And I’ve given him Tanner’s scent.” He smiled. “Boyo will find him, and you won’t need to blaze a trail. In case he doesn’t find him, he’ll find his way home.”

Circling her arms around Hawk, Bri gave him a big hug. “Thanks for everything,” she said, stepping back to smile up at him.

Hawk’s high-boned cheeks wore a flush of pleasure and embarrassment. “No-thank you, Brianna. You’re one to ride the river with.”

Aware of the old Western saying, complimenting her grit and suitability, Bri grinned. “Anytime, Hawk. Just give me a call and I’m there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, stepping around to open the door for her.

The mare Bri had decided to call Chocolate stood waiting, the reins draped over the rail near the porch. Hawk had fastened the saddlebags in place.

“That should keep you till you catch up with Tanner…or until you’re forced to give up the hunt for him and return here.”

“That’s not going to happen, Hawk. I fully intend to find Mr. Tanner Wolfe, big, bad hunter.” Circling around to the left side of the animal, Bri shoved her boot into the stirrup, grasped the saddle pommel and swung herself up and over the mare, settling into the well-worn seat. Leaning forward, she stroked the mare’s neck.

“Well, I see you know your way around horses,” Hawk drawled, grinning back at her.

“I should. I’ve been around them since I was a kid, riding, grooming and, yes, even mucking stalls.”

He laughed. “I don’t think you’ll have to do that on this trip.” Then he sobered. “Reminds me-there’s a sack of oats in the one bag, to supplement whatever grazing she can find, and food for Boyo.”

Now Bri felt her cheeks flush with chagrin. “Thank you. I should have thought of their feed.”

Hawk failed in covering a grin. “That’s okay. You were a mite upset.”

“No, I was a lot upset,” Bri said, owning up to her anger. Gathering the reins, she thanked her host again. “I appreciate both your hospitality and your help.”

“You’re welcome.” He tipped his hat. “Now time’s a-wastin’,” he chided, giving a light smack to the mare’s rump. “Go, Boyo. Find Tanner.”

The dog shot ahead of the horse to lead the way, beginning to weave back and forth, searching out Tanner’s scent.

With a final wave to Hawk, Bri set the horse at a trot, following Boyo’s lead. He quickly found the scent and settled into a lope. Keeping him in sight, Bri loped along behind him.

The day was long. Despite the bright sunshine, in the higher elevations the air was cool. It was a beautiful day to ride, but Bri wasn’t riding for pleasure. She was on the hunt for two men. With any luck at all, she’d find Tanner first. Bri still felt angry but also eager, anxious and a bit scared, as well.

She had trekked the plains and jungles, the savannas and all types of mountains. Through it all, she had never felt the deep expectation and thrill of the hunt her father and his hunting buddies savored. After a while, she’d decided that one mountain looked pretty much like another, some smaller, some higher.

But this mountain, this hunt, were different. She had never hunted alone. Not going out alone was the first tenet her father had drummed into her.

Now she was on her own, trailing a dog, her sole companion. Boyo was following the scent a small distance from a stream. Made sense; Tanner and Minnich would need water.

Having eaten a solid breakfast, Bri kept going until past midafternoon. By then, she was glad to dismount and stretch. After rubbing down Chocolate, she dropped a handful of oats near a patch of grass. Next it was Boyo’s turn. She scratched his head and under his long jaw and then put out the dried food Hawk had provided for him.

It was only then Bri took care of her needs. Digging into the backpack she had dropped to the ground, she pulled out a hand towel and headed toward the sound of the stream.

The rushing water foamed white around the bigger stones in the streambed. Clutching the limb of a pine tree, she lowered herself to her knees at the edge of the bank.

The water was as cold as the snow it had been at the higher elevations. Scooping handfuls, Bri cleaned her hands, rinsed her mouth and doused her face. The frigid splash took away her breath but refreshed her just the same. Drying her hands and face, she walked back to the animals and to what would be her makeshift camp for the night. The sun was lowering, and she had things to do before full sunset.

Entering the small clearing, Bri dragged a piece of a dead, dry log closer to the spot she had chosen for a fire. After gathering stones and placing them in a ring shape, she foraged for some kindling, which she ignited with a match. Once the twigs took flame, she fed the fire till the dry log began to burn.

Her growling stomach reminded her it was dinnertime. She searched the saddlebag to see what Hawk had packed for her and found two bottles of water, peanut butter crackers, two apples, a sleeve of cheddar cheese and another of smoked ham.

Not too shabby, Bri thought, smiling. In fact, it was all nutritious as well as appealing. Silently thanking Hawk, she dragged a short log closer to the fire and sat down to eat.

Not knowing how long the food-or the hunt-would last, Bri ate sparingly, enjoying every bite. She allowed herself three pieces of chocolate for dessert.

Because the sun was quickly sinking, the shadows lengthening, she readied her sleeping bag a short way from the fire. By the time darkness fell, the air had turned decidedly cooler, so she’d shrugged into her jacket.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, she was assailed by a sudden feeling of loneliness. Another emotion overtook her, too. A yearning for Tanner. For his kiss.

Damn him, why had a simple kiss wound her up so tightly? Maybe because it was more-much, much more-than a simple kiss, she reluctantly acknowledged. His kiss was everything, the sun, the moon, the universe.

The rustle and howl of the night creatures interrupted her thoughts, and Bri realized it was now full darkness. She needed to sleep, to restore her energy for the hunt. After pulling off her boots and jacket, she crawled fully dressed into the sleeping bag, Boyo’s impressive length stretched out beside her.

But sleep did not come. She lay awake for hours, watching the fire die down, while another fire roared inside her. The fire ignited by memories of Tanner and his kiss. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

Even as sleep finally claimed her, she could taste Tanner’s lips on her mouth.

Seven

A sound woke her before dawn. Shifting up onto one elbow, Bri glance around for the cause of the sound. It was Boyo, snuffling around on the ground.

“Hungry, boy?” she asked, grabbing her jacket before tossing back the bag’s cover. Shivering, she pulled on the jacket, then retrieved Boyo’s food and the oats for Chocolate. While the animals ate, she munched on a pack of peanut butter crackers between sips of water.

Within a half hour, Bri had everything together, Chocolate saddled and was on her way, once again trailing Boyo.

She made a brief stop around noon to give the animals as well as herself a break. Less than an hour later she was back on the trail. For the first part of their trek, they were following the stream upward. But slowly during the afternoon the ground leveled onto a fairly smooth plain. She let the horse pick her way through the trees and low brush while staying within sight of Boyo.

It was rough going. Once again, Bri stopped just past midafternoon. She was stiff and achy from being in the saddle so long. It felt wonderful just moving around on two legs.

After feeding the animals, Bri noticed Boyo beginning to roam. Certain he wouldn’t go far, she visited the bushes for personal business, then strolled toward the stream to wash up.

Her foot caught on a root protruding from the grassy patch edging the low slope to the stream and she stumbled. When she regained her balance and glanced up, what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. A man stood on the other side of the stream. He had changed his hair color and was wearing glasses, but Bri recognized him at once. Jay Minnich. In his hand he held a rifle hanging next to his thigh. And he was looking straight at her.

Even at that distance she could see the sick intent in his eyes. She took two steps back. He took three steps into the water, raising the rifle to his shoulder.

Bri froze. A lump of fear closed her throat, preventing her from crying out, although who she would have cried for she didn’t know.

Yes, she did.

For Tanner. Where was he now, miles and miles away?

Barely breathing, Bri took another careful step back. His finger curled around the trigger. Shutting her eyes tight, she steeled herself for the impact of a bullet slamming into her body.

In that instant, not a bullet but another body slammed into her, knocking the breath completely out of her and sending the two of them to the ground. Her eyes flew open as the report from the rifle rang out and the zinging sound of a bullet whizzed overhead, a few feet above their bodies.

Tanner. She could have wept with relief, but her glance caught sight of his outstretched arm, a pistol grasped in his hand. He fired a shot, so close it sounded like a cannon blast to Bri. He gave a stern command to Boyo to stay.

Then he was up and splashing through the water. He halted about halfway across the stream to call Boyo to him. The big dog leaped into the water, crossing to the other side with Tanner. Bri could see him talk and motion to the dog, and as if in perfect understanding, Boyo sniffed the ground for a few minutes, then came to a quivering stop, head high, looking forward.

Bri knew Boyo had caught the scent of the man. Together, man and dog splashed back to her.

“He’s gone,” Tanner said, reaching a hand to her to help her stand. He lit into her the minute she was upright. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” He didn’t give her time to reply but yelled on. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Bri wet her dust-dry lips, almost as frightened of him as she had been of Minnich. “I was trying to catch up to you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a damn good thing Boyo found me.” He heaved a heavy exhale. “If he hadn’t…” He trailed off, shuddering at the mere thought of the possible consequences.

“I won’t say I’m sorry,” she said, angling her chin in defiance. “I mean about tracking after you.”

He sighed again. “I never expected you to.” He turned away. “Let’s go.”

She hesitated. “Go where?”

“To my camp, of course, before it gets pitch-dark.” He raised an arrogant-looking brow. “Or would you rather spend the night here?”

“No.” She shook her head and made tracks to follow him when he strode away.

As Bri hadn’t really unpacked anything but the food for the animals, very little time was required to get her gear together. She was in the saddle, trailing Tanner, as the sun slid toward the horizon.

His camp was surprisingly close to where she herself had stopped. Tanner had it set up, a fire going in a stone-ringed pit. A three-man domed sleeper tent was set up to one side. A log much like the one Bri had found the night before had been rolled near to the warmth of the fire.

“Home away from home,” she said softly, sure he wouldn’t hear her. He did.

“Yeah,” he drawled a bit sarcastically. “Only we’re not on vacation. You shouldn’t be here at all.”

“But I am, so deal with it,” she retorted every bit as sarcastically. “As I told you I would be. You can’t say I didn’t give you an option.”

“Okay, let’s forget it. You’re here and that’s that.” He turned to the fire pit. “Could you use a cup of coffee?”

“Oh, yes.” She sighed. “I’d love one. But I have to wash up before it gets dark.”

“I’ll have the coffee and supper ready when you get back.”

“Thank you.” She made a beeline for the stream, energized by the promise of hot coffee and food.

After two days on the trail she felt so uncomfortable she stripped to the buff and rinsed herself all over, sorry she hadn’t brought her shower wash with her. Freezing but refreshed, she rubbed herself dry and quickly dressed, unfortunately in her same clothes. She practically ran back to the camp to warm herself by the fire.

Tanner was nowhere in sight when she entered the campsite.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, ducking his head as he exited the tent. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Bri admitted, hearing a low rumble in her stomach at the mention of food. “What can I do to help?”

“Not a thing,” he answered, moving to the fire to stir a pot set on one of the flatter rocks. “Everything’s under control.”

“So I see.” Bri glanced around the site. “How did you get it together so quickly?”

Tanner looked up. “I had started it when Boyo dashed into camp, to clamp his teeth onto my shirt and tug at me to follow him. Somehow I knew he was urging me on to find you.” He actually smiled at her.

“Hmm,” Bri murmured vaguely, her attention centered on the fluttery sensation his smile caused inside her more than on his explanation.

“How does soup sound for supper?”

“What?” Bri blinked herself out of bemusement. “Oh, soup, yes, that sounds good. What kind?”

“Vegetable. Hawk sent it along. It’s dried but good. I’ve had it on other hunts. It shouldn’t take much longer to get hot.”

“You said something about coffee?” she reminded him.

“Yeah, there’s some left in the thermos. Help yourself.”

Bri wet her lips in anticipation, thrilling to the way Tanner’s gaze followed her tongue. “Thanks.” The last word came out in a dry croak that had more to do with Tanner’s hot-eyed gaze than thirst.

He stood very still for a moment, staring into her eyes, then moved abruptly, striding for the gear to dig out the thermos when he realized she had no idea where it was. Pouring out a small stream of the coffee into the metal lid cup, he set it on the flat rock next to the soup pan. “Only take a minute.”

The dry sound of his voice made Bri feel a little less vulnerable. Apparently she wasn’t the only one affected by their proximity.

It was twilight by the time they ate their soup with chunks of dry day-old bread. For dessert, Bri took out her stash of chocolate and counted out four pieces each, to Tanner’s obvious amusement.

As night began to fall, tension was a living entity between them. Every nerve in Bri’s body quivered in a mixture of expectation and trepidation.

“There’s a little coffee left. Would you like it?” Tanner watched her over the rim of his cup.

“Yes, please,” she answered, grateful for an excuse to prolong the time to turn in. “What about Minnich?” she asked. “Do you think he might have crossed the stream with the idea that we would do the same?” Before he could reply, she rushed on, “I’d think he knows we’re looking for him. What do you think?”

Tanner handed her the hot coffee before answering. “I think you’re right.”

Taking a careful sip, Bri nodded, swallowed. “So, then, how do we proceed? Do we cross the stream?”

He gave a quick shake of his head. “No. That’s what he’ll think we will do. We’ll find out whether or not he crossed.” His voice was mild, his tone confident.

Bri wasn’t that certain. “How?”

“Boyo’s got his scent. If he’s crossed the stream, the dog will pick up his trail. And if he doesn’t cross, he’ll still follow it, because he knows damn well he’ll need water.”

“Of course.” Bri felt like a dullard. Hadn’t she seen Boyo finding the scent? Her only excuse was that she was so tense, so shaky inside about the deepening night, she wasn’t thinking clearly. She lingered over the quickly cooling drink, drawing out the inevitable for as long as she possibly could. But she could procrastinate only so long.

Tanner stood up. “It’s getting late,” he said, stretching his arms over his head, giving her a peek at the ripple of his shoulder and chest muscles displayed by his open jacket.

Bri shivered. It was time for them to crawl into the tent. Would he expect a replay of their first wild and lingering kiss of two nights ago?

Did she want that to happen again?

Yes.

No.

At the moment she was too scared to decide. She ached from wanting his kiss, wanting him. But he was becoming too important to her, his smile, his laughter, all of him too necessary.

Tanner spoke, jarring her out of her introspection. “I’ll clear away here and take care of the fire. You crawl into the tent and get undressed. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Bri froze for an instant. Undressed? Now was the time to tell him she wouldn’t…she couldn’t…

“Brianna, don’t freak on me.” His voice was soft, soothing. “I give you my word I won’t try anything you tell me you don’t want.”

“Yes, but-”

“Sweetheart, I have some control,” he said, shaking his head at her suspicious expression. “All I intend to do is sleep.”

“But you said get undressed.” Skepticism colored her tone and shaded her eyes.

“Down to your underwear. You do have long underwear, don’t you?

“Yes.” Bri hesitated another moment, staring into his eyes. Seeing nothing but caring there, she gave in with a quick nod and slipped inside the tent.

The interior was dimly lit by a small battery-operated lantern. The tent was roomy, plenty big enough for the two of them. But her breath caught when she looked at the sleeping bags already laid out for them. Tanner had zipped them together into one large sleeping area.

Oh, jeez.

“Brianna, I’m not going to be asking for anything you’re not willing to freely give. Not now, not ever,” he called to her as if somehow he knew she stood there, stock-still, staring at the bags. “Deal?”

“Y-yes,” she said, carefully laying her rifle and handgun along one side of the sleeping bag, as he had placed his weapons on the other side. Then she raised her hands to her blouse to begin unbuttoning it. It was sheer relief to get out of her trail-grimy clothes. Naked, she picked up the damp towel she had used to dry off at the stream and rubbed her body down once more. Now she felt much cleaner. Tossing the towel aside, she dug into her pack for her long underwear.

Bri was snuggled inside the surprisingly roomy and comfortable bed of sleeping bags when Tanner lifted the flap and stepped inside, ushering Boyo in after him. Murmuring, “Down, boy,” he pulled the zipper around the opening, enclosing the three of them inside.

Bri lifted her head. “Boyo is going to sleep in here with us?” She recognized the relieved tone in her voice.

Tanner’s smile told her he recognized it, as well. “Yeah, it’s getting cold out there and will likely get a lot colder by morning.” With that, he began to undress.

Brianna’s eyes flew wide, and he laughed out loud. “Don’t panic. I’m only stripping to my underwear, and it’s long underwear.”

“I have silk.” The words slipped out without thought. Bri was appalled at herself. She had sounded like a snit, the spoiled brat he had called her.

This time Tanner roared with laughter. “Okay, big deal. So have I.”

Embarrassed, Bri turned onto her side, away from him, groaning softly at the sheer warmth, comfort and sense of protection she was feeling. In the next instant, she stiffened when his body slipped in beside her in the makeshift bed.

“Relax, kid, I’m not going to attack you.”

She laughed; she couldn’t help it. He sounded oh so amused beneath his serious tones. “I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.”

His laughter was drowned out by Boyo, who stood, whining.

“I think he needs to go out,” Bri said.

“No kidding,” he grumbled. Getting up, he shrugged into his jacket, pulled on his boots. “Okay, okay,” he said to the dog. “I’m coming.” Unzipping the flap, he let Boyo outside. Pausing at the opening, he said, “I may as well check on the mare while I’m out.”

“Chocolate.”

He turned to stare at her through the dim lantern light. “You want chocolate now?”

“No.” Bri had to laugh this time. “The mare. I’ve temporarily given her the name Chocolate, as I never asked Hawk what her real name is.”

“Oh.” He dipped his head and exited the tent. She heard his chuckle as he walked away.

Tanner was gone for some ten or so minutes, during which Bri shimmied around inside the sleeping bags. Once again she turned onto her side, this time facing the side he’d been sleeping on.

When Tanner did return, he zipped up the opening and shrugged out of his jacket and boots.

After turning around in a circle several times, Boyo settled down across the opening of the tent. If anyone tried to enter during the night, they were going to have to walk over the big dog to do so.

Bri smiled at the very idea of anyone getting past the wolfhound and living to tell about it, possibly even if that someone were a bear. Her thoughts scattered when Tanner, smiling with her, slid in next to her.

“Are you warm enough?”

She nodded. The bed warmed her skin, but Tanner’s smile warmed her body inside and out. “What are you doing?” she blurted when he drew her close to him, cradling her in his arms.

“I just want to hold you, Brianna,” he said, his breath fluttering over her forehead. “Comfortable?”

“Hmm,” she murmured, snuggling closer, so close she could feel his chuckle before she heard it.

“Good. Sleepy?”

“Not really,” Bri said, stifling a yawn. “I’m just happy to stretch out, be warm and relaxed and off the back of a horse for a while.”

This time he laughed aloud. Bri loved the sound of his laughter. It seemed to surround her with a sense of warmth and security.

“So you’re not as tough as you thought you were,” Tanner said, teasing her.

“Yes, I am,” Bri said, pulling her head back to glare at him. “It’s simply that I haven’t been on a horseback trek in some time. I can handle it. It’s only a little stiffness.”

“I never doubted it.” Tanned did his best to look serious. The gleam in his eyes gave him away.

“Yeah, right.” She scowled.

He laughed again, cupped her head to draw her face closer to his and planted a gentle kiss on her temple. “I really didn’t doubt it, Brianna.”

Bri melted. She loved the way he said her name. “Okay, you’re forgiven.” Her temple was tingling where his lips had touched.

“Thank you.” Laughter danced along his voice. “Is that a blanket forgiveness, covering my having left Hawk’s without you?”

She hesitated long moments, smothering the anger she had been nursing since she had discovered him gone. “I suppose so,” she said, giving in, but only because she really wanted to do so.

“Grudging, but I’m grateful for it.”

They were quiet a moment, his breath teasing her skin, sending tingles from her temple to every nerve ending in her body. Desperately hanging on to her desire to have him kiss her, maybe make love to her, Bri raked her mind for something to say to break the feeling of sensual intimacy curling around them, seemingly drawing them closer to the precipice of no return.

To defuse the volatile intimacy, she said, “Tell me about yourself, Tanner, your life.” Her voice sounded ragged even to her own ears.

“Why do I have this sneaky suspicion you don’t trust me?” His tone was drily amused.

“It-it’s not that,” she said. “I do trust you.” Bri realized she truly did, that she would trust him with her life. Odd, she mused, after having known him such a short amount of time. But there it was. Then again, he had saved her life only hours ago.

“If it’s not that,” he said, “what is it?”

“Me.” Bri’s throat felt suddenly parched. “It’s myself I don’t trust, Tanner.”

“I don’t get it.” He sounded more than a little confused. “You don’t trust yourself about what?”

Once again Bri hesitated, unsure if she should explain her feelings. “You. I don’t trust myself with you,” she admitted, glancing up at him, her confidence bolstered by the fact that his face was in the shadows.

She could feel his body go completely still, feel the tautness in his arms around her. What must he be thinking? Had she unwittingly insulted him?

Frustration was sharp in his voice when he spoke. “Brianna, I told you, I won’t-”

“No, Tanner, please listen. You don’t understand,” she said, burrowing closer to him. “I know you won’t.” She sighed. “The problem is I’m not sure I won’t.”

“I see.” Enclosing her again in his arms, this time even more tightly, he kissed her ear, whispering, “You know something, Brianna? You’re a little nuts.”

No one had ever said anything like that to her before. Her reaction began with a giggle and grew from there to laughter that spilled out from deep inside. Burying her face in the curve of his neck, she laughed harder than she could recall having laughed in a very long time. Partly because she thought it funny and partly in sheer relief.

“You know something, Tanner?” she gasped through her dying laughter. “You’re right.”

His lips brushed her cheek. “That’s okay, kid, because I’m a bit nuts, too.”

Eight

She loved this man. The realization flashed through her mind like a sudden bolt of lightning.

Bri’s insides seized. What was she thinking? Love? She couldn’t have fallen in love this quickly. Could she? Abruptly her laughter died in her throat, but she kept her face pressed against his shoulder, inhaling the spicy, male scent of him.

“Amuse you, do I?” Tanner asked, laughter dancing on his own voice. “I really didn’t think it was all that funny.”

“Oh, Tanner, you have no idea.” Bri had to pause to take a breath, collect herself, get her thoughts back in line. “That’s one of the reasons I don’t trust myself with you. You’re so up-front and straightforward. So few people are today, it’s refreshing to find someone who is.” She was chattering, making it up as she rattled on, determinedly blanking all thoughts of Minnich and the L word from her mind. At least that’s what she told herself.

“Despite your PC phrasing, why do I get the idea you’re impugning my gender?”

Bri couldn’t help it; she smiled. If he had been trying to sound offended, he had failed completely.

“I’ll plead the Fifth,” she said, shooting a quick look at him.

“Right now I wish I had a fifth.”

At that, her laughter erupted. Even Boyo lifted his head at the happy sound of it.

Within seconds, Tanner joined her. The sound was music to Bri’s ears.

“What exactly are we laughing at, do you know?” he asked as his laughter subsided.

“At ourselves, I think,” she answered, drawing a deep, sobering breath. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Tanner was quiet a moment, doing some deep breathing of his own. “What do you want to know?”

“What?” His sudden question threw her.

“You said before that you wanted to know more about me,” he said. “So what do you want to know?”

“Everything.” The word burst out before she could hold it back.

“Oh, is that all?” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “That should take no longer than…oh, five, six hours. Of course, if I remember correctly, we went over our respective favorite things at lunch in Durango. Didn’t we?”

“Yes, I know, but I meant…well, other things.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever been in love?” Oh, damn, why was she having trouble with that darn love word? Nevertheless, she waited, not breathing, for his answer. If he would answer.

He didn’t hesitate. “I thought I was once.” His shoulder shrugged and she breathed again. “I was wrong. Have you?”

Bri wouldn’t allow herself to be less candid than Tanner. She even took it a step further. “Once. I was wrong, too. He was a handsome, charming snake, a cheat and a user.”

“Gee, could you be a bit more specific?” he said, his voice teasing.

“He was a rat,” she said, deadly serious. “I came back to the dorm one night from the library to find him in bed with my roommate. I threw him out first. Then, without a shred of remorse, I used my father’s influence to get her out of the room and into another dorm.”

“You are tough.”

“I was mad.” Memory anger colored her voice. “At least I didn’t do either one of them bodily injury.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “For an instant there I was afraid you were going to tell me you punched her out and took a skinning knife to him.”

“Son of a gun,” Bri deadpanned. “Why didn’t I think of that at the time?”

Tanner let go of a smile right before he brushed his lips over her mouth. “Next question?”

His breath bathed her lips, stole her breath, tangled her thoughts.

“Did you fall asleep?” His lips were now at her ear again, teasing, tormenting.

“No.” It was barely a croak.

“Are you out of questions?”

“No, I’m…thinking.”

“Does it hurt?” His tone was solicitous.

She gave him a look.

He grinned, unrepentant. “We could discuss favorite holidays. Mine’s Thanksgiving. The turkey and trimmings, you know. Anything else?”

“Well…” She hesitated a moment, then took the plunge. “I was wondering about Candy.”

He frowned. “The dark chocolate you’ve been doling out like it was gold?” He licked his lips, stirring a wish inside Bri that it were her lips being laved. “I love it, the darker the better.”

“No.” Bri shook her head in an attempt to shake off the sudden need of his mouth and quickly asked, “Would you like some now?”

“No, thank you.” He chuckled. “Was that one of your questions?”

“No, and I think you know it,” she said, suspicion growing. “I mean Candy of the Hamptons.”

“What about her?” She could almost hear his frown in his voice.

“She seemed…oh, I don’t know, kind of possessive of you. Are you…?”

“I believe I answered that at the time, Brianna.” Impatience rode his tone. “There is not now, nor has there ever been, anything personal between us.”

“I’m sorry.” Bri was quick to back off. “I know it’s none of my business.”

He sighed. “There is no business so far as Candy is concerned. I’m not interested in her the way you mean.”

“Personally, sexually?” Bri asked boldly.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not. Wouldn’t do me any good if I were. She’s engaged to the man who was waiting for her in the restaurant. Besides, she’s not my type. Too forward, too easy.”

Bri frowned. “What does that mean?”

“What you think it means. She’s been with too many men. Not that it’s any of my business. But I’m a lot more particular than some other men.”

Satisfaction swept through Bri like balm. “I think I knew that.”

She knew he shook his head as if in puzzlement, not only because she felt the motion but also because the strands of his long hair brushed against her cheek and tickled her neck.

“If you knew, why ask?”

Bri scoured her mind for a reasonable or at least plausible answer. “Uh…I’m nosy?”

“And a lousy liar,” he retorted. “You wanted to know because you didn’t like her on sight and thought asking me how I felt about her would give you some idea about my character-or lack of same.”

Smart-ass. Bri kept the instant thought inside her head, where it belonged. But, of course, he was right, so she supposed she might as well admit it.

“Yes,” she confessed, not at all contrite.

“Sneaky, Brianna,” he chided her, amusement lacing his tone. “Clever but sneaky.”

“Obviously not too clever,” she said wryly. “You were on to me at once.”

“Okay, then I’m clever.” He pulled her even closer to him.

“Yes, you are,” she said, trying and failing to swallow a yawn.

“Sleepy?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she answered, thinking it was pointless to deny what had to be apparent to him.

“Twenty Questions over for tonight?”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “Except…what’s your favorite color?”

“Well, it used to be blue, like in jeans,” he answered. “But now it’s auburn-red, like the gorgeous color of your hair.”

Said hair quivered at the back of Bri’s neck. “Thank you.” Her voice quivered, too. She was losing ground here, and fast. Bri knew if she didn’t call a halt now, she could happily whistle goodbye to her need for sleep for some time.

“What’s yours?”

Huh? Bri frowned in the dimness. Oh, her favorite color! What the heck was it? Biding for time to remember what should be obvious to her, she stifled a fake yawn against his neck.

“Don’t lose sleep over it.” His voice was both soft and tender. “You may answer and resume your third degree of me on the trail tomorrow.”

Bri heaved a deep sigh of relief.

He chuckled.

Bri sighed heavier, wishing he wouldn’t do that. “Oh, did you have to mention that? I was trying to forget I would have to get back on the horse tomorrow.”

“You’ll do just fine and you know it.”

“Yes.” She yawned again and stopped fighting her heavy eyelids. “Good night, Tanner.”

“Warm and comfortable?”

“Deliciously.” Her voice was slurring.

He chuckled. “Then go to sleep.”

“Okay.” The next instant, Bri was out. She never heard him say good-night to her.

As he had two nights before at Hawk’s place, Tanner lay awake for a long time after Brianna fell asleep, breathing in the smell of herbal shampoo in her hair, the elusive natural woman scent. It was a heady aroma, pure female, delicious. He’d love to taste her.

He drew another, deeper breath, trying to calm his senses. All it accomplished was to arouse them and him even more.

He lost himself in the fantasy of the smooth softness of Brianna’s skin as he moved his hands over her body. How he had wanted to caress her, kiss her, every inch of her, hold her close to his hard body.

He wanted her so badly, ached to be deep inside of her, become a part of her. Everything inside him clenched with need, and he pressed his lips together to contain the groan swelling his throat.

Damn. He needed to get away from her, if only for a few minutes. He needed to get out of the tent, into the air. Maybe the chill of night would cool his overheated body, his hungry thoughts.

Stealthily he slid from the makeshift bed. Hushing Boyo, he unzipped the door and slipped into the night.

The air was chilly but not cool enough. Tanner thought what he really needed was a cold shower. The stream. Without another thought, he grabbed a towel from one of the packs and was moving through the forest, along the path, following the sound of water. He hadn’t gone very far when Boyo loped up to pace protectively alongside him.

“You should have stayed with Brianna, boy,” he murmured. “I can take care of myself.”

As if understanding Tanner’s every word, the dog slowed to a near stop, cocking his large head to look up at him, waiting, watching.

“I’ll be okay.” Tanner’s voice took on a hint of command. “Go back, boy, make sure she’s safe in the tent.”

A second of hesitation, then the dog turned to trot back the way he had come.

Shaking his head in wonder of the animal’s obvious intelligence, Tanner continued on to the creek. The water wasn’t merely cool or even cold; it felt like melted ice, which was very close to what it actually was.

Pulling off his underwear, Tanner briskly waded into the stream. He caught his breath at the shock of the freezing water and, holding it inside him, he lay out flat to submerge his entire body.

He lasted all of a couple seconds before scrambling up and onto the bank. Scooping up the towel, he swiftly and roughly dried his shivering and thankfully no longer aroused body. Pulling on his underwear, he made his way back to the protection of the tent, the warmth of the bed…and the woman asleep in it.

Shivering almost violently, he slid between the layers of the sleeping bag, close to her warmth but not touching her until his underwear warmed and his body stopped shivering.

Sighing with relief and moving slowly so as not to wake her, he reached to the side to turn off the lamp but hesitated for just a few moments to gaze into her face. Smiling, he switched off the lamp.

Beautiful, beautiful, he thought, settling close to her again, her face nestled in the curve of his neck. Awake, laughing, somber, Brianna was beautiful. Asleep, she was even more so. She was exquisite.

She sighed and her warm breath fluttered over his skin. Tanner felt a twist in his chest. What was it about this particular woman that could make him ache, not only with desire but with admiration, caring and an urgent need to protect?

He had known many women, some intimately, some as pals, friends. He had cared for them, each and every one of them. He had even begun to believe he was in love with one of them. Yet none had ever affected him with the depth of feelings and emotion as Brianna.

“What is it about you?” Tanner whispered. Once again that twist curled in his chest. The descriptive word hovered in his mind, waiting to be recognized.

Love.

Tanner froze, rejecting the very concept. Love? He hardly knew her. And he had never believed in the fairy tales of love at first sight and happily ever after. He wasn’t sure he believed in love at all.

No, he wasn’t in love with Brianna. He couldn’t be. Not so quickly. Could he?

She made a murmuring sound-not a sigh but not an actual word, either-and snuggled closer to him. Was she cold? The thought had him drawing her tightly to his once again warm body.

Then she sighed. Her eyelids fluttered, and she softly kissed the side of his neck. Tanner stilled. Was she awake or nuzzling him in her sleep?

“Tanner…”

Her voice was soft but not sleepy.

“I’m here,” he answered.

“Will you kiss me?”

Everything went still inside him. Would he? He was dying with wanting to kiss her, make love with her. “If that’s what you want,” he whispered against her ear.

“Yes…” She murmured the word on a sigh and lifted her head, offering her mouth to him.

He gratefully accepted, claiming her lips with his own. Her mouth was sheer heaven and made him burn like the fires of hell. Tanner deepened the kiss, wanting, needing, desperate for more of the sweet, erotic taste of her mouth.

Brianna returned his kiss with a hunger that scorched him. The heat spread through his body, making him hard. With the last of his common sense, Tanner told himself to end it at once, before it was too late. But he had tuned out reason, not paying a bit of attention. Instead his mouth delved deeper into hers, savoring the nectar that was exclusively Brianna’s.

Getting desperate, Tanner shifted his hips to bring his body against hers, letting her feel his arousal, his desire to be one with her.

Instead of withdrawing, as he was certain she would, she tightened her arms around him and, clinging to his mouth, ground her hips against his, inflaming him more, burning his common sense to ashes.

“Brianna.” His voice was raw, roughened by passion whirling out of control.

“Yes.” That was all she said. That was all she needed to say. The needy arch of her hips into his said the rest.

“Are you sure?” He had to know now, before he went up in flames.

Brianna remained silent but answered by moving away from him. Tanner went cold, then immediately hot again as she sat up and pulled her top over her head, tossing it aside to land atop her weapons.

Tanner was tempted to laugh for an instant, thinking the most dangerous weapons were right there, in the form of her satiny skin, her beautiful breasts, her puckering nipples.

He sucked in a breath, aching to suck on her, taste the offering she made to him. He leaned forward to her, disappointment streaking through him when she moved away from him.

What the hell? The thought was a wisp, gone when he saw her wriggling out of her pants. His body throbbing with lust for her, he jackknifed upright and shucked out of his underwear.

At the same moment he slipped back into the sleeping bag, she opened her thighs in invitation. Tanner was not about to refuse. As he slid between her legs, thrilling to the silkiness of her skin, he captured one nipple and sucked it into his hungry mouth.

He thought he could feast on her forever, but he was wrong. It soon became obvious Brianna would not simply lie there like a sacrifice. She ran her hands all over his body, his chest, his back, his hips, his belly, his…

“Brianna.” His voice was ragged with strain. He exerted every ounce of control to hold back, just kissing her, caressing her, giving her the utmost enjoyment.

She was having none of his restraint. Releasing him, she drew him up and over her, seeking his mouth. “Don’t wait, Tanner,” she whispered against his lips. “I need you inside me now.”

Happy to comply, he moved into position and thrust his tongue into her mouth at the same instant he slid his body into hers.

She gasped. For a moment he froze, afraid he had somehow hurt her, but she grasped his hips, digging her nails into his flesh and arching her hips as she pulled him deeper into her body.

Tanner went wild. Still hanging on to a shred of control, he began to move, slowly, then faster, deeper. She moaned, arching high into each successive thrust, driving him on yet holding back until, crying out, she soared over the edge of utter pleasure. Tension became nearly unbearable inside him. He gave one final thrust and he was there, soaring with her in the most incredible completion of his life.

Bri lay beside him, her heart racing, her breathing harsh, her body sated and depleted. Never, never had she experienced anything so mind-shattering, so earthshaking, so absolutely wonderful. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. It had been so very beautiful.

“Are you all right?” Tanner’s voice was close to her ear, soft with concern. He lay beside her, his own breathing labored.

“Oh, Tanner,” she answered between gasped breaths. “That was so…so…”

“Yes, it was,” he murmured, kissing her earlobe. “It was even more than that.”

She sighed with satisfaction. “Thank you.”

“Me?” He sounded astounded. “I should be thanking you. Brianna, you are magnificent.”

Turning her head, she brushed her lips over his, whispering, “Yeah, I am, ain’t I?”

Tanner laughed. Then he was kissing her, her temple, her cheek, her chin and, finally, her lips. Her lips clinging to his, she drowned in his mouth.

Minutes later, curled against him, her head pillowed on his perspiration-slick chest, safe and secure in the cradle of Tanner’s arms, Brianna fell asleep. All thoughts of tomorrow had been swept from her mind by the release of her tension from their lovemaking.

Tanner lay awake, his mind playing with the idea of him and Brianna being, staying together. No, he thought. Damn. There was no way he could be with her. When their hunt was over, she would go home to Pennsylvania, her quiet library, her upper-class friends. He, on the other hand, would be here. Or there. Or wherever he needed to go, hunting down criminals for money.

They had had great sex one time. No, he corrected, they had made love one time. But one time did not make a relationship.

Brianna was above him.

Tanner shook his head. That was wrong. Her father may have more money than his folks, but that didn’t put her above him…not in any way other than where he placed her. In his mind he placed her if not on a pedestal then as the most important person in his life. And he knew, without doubt, if necessary he would lay down his life to protect her.

Why the hell did he bring her along instead of dragging her back to Hawk’s place? Certainly not for the money. He had already decided not to take anything from her. In truth, he really didn’t need the money-he liked it, but he didn’t need it. He had earned plenty enough in his chosen occupation and he had invested the bulk of it wisely. While Tanner wasn’t wealthy, he had a very comfortable nest egg.

But money didn’t have anything to do with his situation concerning Brianna.

Although she was experienced in the hunt, it was this hunt and this hunt only she cared about, and with good reason. She had told him she no longer liked trekking, even with a camera. She had an altogether different lifestyle in the world of books and normal activities.

Tanner felt certain Brianna considered his lifestyle abnormal. So where did that leave them when the hunt was over? He knew the answer. It left her on the East Coast and him in Colorado or parts unknown.

Brianna moved closer to him, one long leg sliding over his thigh. Tanner’s body hardened in response. Grimacing in discomfort, he drew a deep breath, exerting control. It wasn’t easy, but he shifted back an inch, away from temptation. The need raging inside him subsided a little and he released a long sigh of relief.

He ordered his body, his emotions, to forget the ifs and might-have-beens and focus on the long day ahead.

His inner voice had one piece of advice. Go the hell to sleep.

Nine

The first pale light of predawn tinged the horizon when Tanner woke her.

“Brianna,” he said softly. “It’s time to roll out. You have enough time to dress and wash up before the coffee’s ready.”

“Mmm,” she answered. Kind of.

Tanner chuckled. “Is that an ‘okay’ or a ‘get lost’?”

The warm sound of his soft laughter tingled Bri into full wakefulness. She yawned before saying, “Okay, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

She was true to her word…almost. It was a little more than a few minutes, more like eight or ten, and two of those minutes were used up simply getting her tired body out of the sleeping bag. Once she was upright, Bri pulled on jeans and a shirt over her long underwear and clean socks before pulling on her boots. By the time she finished, the soreness in her body from having sex after so long a time had eased to a mild ache.

After using her toiletries and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she repacked her bag and carted it outside. She dropped it next to Tanner’s, then made a dash for the bushes.

His soft chuckle followed after her. Trying her best to ignore a tingle in response to him, she concentrated on the urgent business at hand.

Finished, she cleaned her hands on a toss-away sanitary wipe, then followed the aroma of coffee back to camp.

She found Tanner squatting over the fire, preparing two cups of instant coffee. He held one up to her and she took it.

As he worked to put out the fire, his muscular thighs stretched the denim of his jeans, reminding her of how impressive they’d felt against her last night. When he looked up and she saw his face behind the curtain of his dark hair, she remembered how his eyes had looked down at her with passion. She promptly dropped her cup.

Boyo jumped up, barking at the sound of the tin cup hitting a rock. Taking up the charge, the horses whinnied and restlessly moved.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Tanner said, standing. “You’ve gone and spooked the animals.”

“S-sorry, I don’t know what happened. I’m not usually clumsy.” Nor did she usually get affected like that by a man.

Tanner handed Bri his own coffee and, after calming down Boyo, went to settle the horses.

Bri watched his easy gait, his tight rear, and once again felt unsteady. She had to force her eyes away from his body and onto the horses. From a sack he’d pulled out of the pack, he sprinkled some feed on the ground for the two horses. His diversion worked. The horses went immediately to their feed.

He was impressive with the animals. Gentle, firm when needed but always attentive, just as he’d been last night with Boyo in the tent.

And with her, said an inner voice.

She managed to ignore the images that thought conjured.

“We’ve got to eat and get going,” Tanner told her when he returned to the fire. “I’m sure Minnich isn’t out there lingering over breakfast.” Before she could agree, he handed her an oatmeal bar.

She was so hungry she downed it before Tanner had the fire out.

When he got up and noticed her empty wrapper, he seemed surprised. “Would you like another one?”

Embarrassed, she looked up at him from underneath her lashes. “If we have enough.”

Chewing his own bar, he retrieved another and gave it to her. “We’ve got to get packed now.”

She followed his lead, picking up her coffee cup and loading her saddlebag on Chocolate.

“Here, I’ll take that.” Tanner came up beside her to heft the other pack she held. “It’s heavy.”

“I can handle it,” she said, but the words got stuck in her throat when she turned and found his face mere inches from hers. He lingered there, and, too awestruck to move, Bri drew in the scent of him. He looked even better in the light of day than he had last night.

When she found her voice, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Tanner replied. “You’re the one who was batting those long eyelashes at me before. Are they fake?”

“Fake?” Bri nearly screeched but held back to not startle the animals again. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Wolfe, I have never in my life worn fake eyelashes…or anything else.”

Tanner’s face split in a grin. “I know. You’re the real thing,” he drawled as he ran a slow, heated look over her body from head to toe, allowing his eyes to travel where his hands had gone last night.

The slow burn in Tanner’s eyes gave Bri a hot flash. Steadying the uneven rhythm of her breathing, she croaked out, “Is there any water?”

Without stepping far from her, he pulled a bottle out of his saddlebag. She took it and gulped a mouthful. The cold water did nothing to calm her heated thoughts. Last night had been…everything. It was as if they’d suddenly become one…one body, one soul, one completed entity. Making love with Tanner had been the best experience of her life, and she couldn’t wait to do it again and again…

She couldn’t stifle the gasp that rose out of her throat. Oh, Lord, she was in big-time trouble.

“Are you okay?” concern shaded Tanner’s voice.

“Yes…I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “The breakfast bar must have gotten stuck in my throat.” At his skeptical look, she turned away, going to retrieve another pack.

Within twenty minutes they had their mounts ready, the packhorses loaded and were on the move.

They rode single file along the narrow track. When the path widened enough for two, Bri rode up alongside him.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Suppose Minnich doesn’t follow the stream but moves high into the mountains?” She’d forced herself to ignore Tanner and focus on the reason they were here.

“Unless he knows exactly where there is more water, he can’t afford to do that. He has food, but eventually he’ll run out of that. Now he can last a good while without food, foraging for edible early-spring plants and berries. But water?” He shook his head. “The way I see it, he’ll likely stay with the stream.” He sent a sidelong look at her. “Naturally I could be wrong. The melting snow is filling many small streams and creeks. If he knows his way around these mountains, he’ll veer off. But I’m banking he doesn’t know them that well.”

Bri nodded her understanding. “But I know you enough by now to be fairly sure you thought he would stay on this course. You didn’t hesitate, you deliberately chose this way. Why?”

“Because this way leads into the thickest section of the wilderness, the least traveled by tourists, hikers and backpackers. And because this stream is well marked on maps of the area.”

“Makes sense. I should have known better than to even ask such a stupid question.”

“No.” Tanner shook his head, swinging the ponytail hanging out from under the wide brim of his hat. “You can ask anything you want, Brianna. There are no stupid questions, just sometimes stupid answers.”

“Somehow I don’t think you give many of them.”

He smiled at her compliment. Already soft, Bri’s insides went all squishy. She gathered the loose reins to drop back again, but his hand snaked out, covering hers.

“Stay and ride with me, Brianna,” he said, keeping a light, disturbing hold on her hand. “We’ll be stopping for a rest and a quick lunch soon.”

Ridiculous as it seemed, with his hand lightly resting on hers, Bri had never before enjoyed riding so much, even with the ache in her rear end settling in once again.

From her position next to him Bri could now clearly see Boyo, moving in a wide area back and forth ahead of them, his head moving from side to side, searching.

“Boyo is a worker, isn’t he?”

“Boyo comes from a line of grand champion wolfhounds.” He turned to grin at her. “But he loves to hunt.”

“Hawk doesn’t show him?” She tried really hard to ignore the effects of his grin. It didn’t work.

“Hell, no.” Tanner laughed. “Can you see Hawk traipsing around a show ring, leading Boyo?”

Bri frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with showing dogs. They’re beautiful.”

“I know,” he agreed, to her surprise. “I watch the competitions on Animal Planet. But think, Brianna-can you really picture Hawk all duded up at a dog show?”

Bri tried to imagine it and soon gave up the effort. She smiled. “Not really.”

“Thought so.”

“Where did Hawk get Boyo?”

“He was a gift from Hawk’s father.”

“Is his father still alive?”

“Alive and well and raising champion wolfhounds in Scotland where he lives.” He chuckled. “He gave Hawk his pick of a litter and Hawk chose Boyo. His father was delighted because Boyo was the runt and he was certain he wouldn’t show well, anyway. Turns out, Boyo was the pick of the litter, the largest and the best, and would have made a great champion.”

“Way to go, Boyo,” Bri called, stretching her back and neck to catch a glimpse of the constantly moving dog. She winced at the pain that attacked her shoulders.

As usual, Tanner didn’t miss a thing. “Need a break?” he asked, moving his hand from hers to massage her tight shoulder.

Bri sighed for betraying herself to him. She felt like a greenhorn, a feeling she didn’t appreciate. “Yes,” she admitted, immediately adding, “I’m sorry if I’m holding you up.”

He slanted a scowl at her. “You’re not holding me up, Brianna. I could use a short break, too. And I’m hungry. That wasn’t exactly a filling breakfast this morning.” His scowl gave way to a teasing smile. “Also, I need a cup of coffee as much as you do.”

She laughed at the same time she saw her vision blur. What was she getting all misty-eyed over? She derided herself. A rush of tears just because he was being so caring and thoughtful of her? She heaved a silent sigh.

And she had asked herself if she could handle him? Dumb question, she chided herself. But then, she hadn’t expected to fall in love with him, either.

Foolish woman, Bri thought, bringing the horse to a halt in the small clearing he had chosen. Only a fool would blindly go along, falling in love with a maverick.

While Tanner unpacked the things for their lunch, Bri tried to walk out the stiffness in her legs from being in the saddle for hours. When he returned, she left him to go to the stream to wash her hands, splash water on her face.

Once again she followed the scent of coffee back to camp. But how could she smell it when he hadn’t built a fire? The answer was waiting for her at the edge of the small clearing where they had stopped. Tanner was holding a steaming cup, creamer added, for her. And there was no sign of a small fire.

“How did you make that?” she asked, glancing around the clearing.

“I made extra this morning and filled one of the thermoses,” he said, taking a careful sip from the cup in his other hand.

Duh. “I should have figured that out for myself,” she said, blowing gently on the liquid before taking a sip. He grinned. Bri felt the beginnings of that now-familiar melting sensation inside. Giving herself a mental shake, she grinned back at him. “What’s for lunch?”

“Come see. It’s all ready.” He led the way to the clearing, where they feasted on premade peanut butter sandwiches, apples and, of course, some chocolate.

They were back on the trail in less than an hour.

Bri hadn’t been back in the saddle very long before, out of the blue, she said, “I’m sorry.”

At Tanner’s invitation, she was still riding alongside him. Turning slightly in his saddle, he tilted his head to give her a puzzled look.

“About what?”

She hesitated, licked her lips, then blurted out, “I realize now I shouldn’t have forced you to take me with you, nor followed you when you left me at Hawk’s. I’m slowing you down and I know it.”

“Brianna…” he began.

She rushed on. “I haven’t been on a horseback hunt in ages. Hell, other than a jog in my father’s fields every so often, I haven’t been on horseback at all, at least not long enough to ache.” She barely paused to draw breath, not giving him time to speak, before babbling on. “Now I’m beginning to ache all over, and, and…”

“And, as I said,” he quickly inserted, “you’re really nuts.”

He smiled, so softly, so gently, she felt a twist in her chest. “First off,” he continued, “you didn’t force me into anything. Trust me, sweetheart, I don’t force easily. Secondly, we couldn’t go any faster without wearing out the horses, especially the one packing.” He smiled again, only this time his smile was sheer temptation. “And third, but most importantly, after a bit of consideration, I knew I wanted you along.”

For an instant Bri’s heart appeared to stop. No, everything inside her seemed to stop. “But you said-”

Once again he cut her off. “I know what I said. I changed my mind.” One dark brow lifted. “Did you think only women were allowed to do that?”

“No, of course not, but-”

“Wait.” Tanner brought his mount to a halt and reached out to halt her horse. “Look at Boyo.”

Bri swept her gaze around, almost missing the dog standing perfectly still in the underbrush. Even from the distance separating them she could see him quivering. Boyo spotted something and was ready to spring into action.

Ten

“Stay, boy.” Tanner’s low command told her he knew the dog was ready to bolt for whatever it was he saw.

“It couldn’t be Minnich already, could it?” Bri asked quietly. “He took off yesterday, but you had to wait for me. Could we have caught up already?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t know he was being followed until yesterday, and even then he might have thought we were just packers,” he answered just as quietly. “Why would we have spooked him?”

“Because you fired at him?”

“Maybe. But on the other hand, he saw you, apparently alone…”

“I was,” she cut in. “At least I thought I was.”

“Right, and so did he. So, yeah, it could be him. He’s deep in the wilds now, likely giving himself and the horses a rest. I’m gonna have to get closer.”

“We’re going to get closer?”

“We are.” Moving to the packhorses, he removed his gun belt from one of the packs and strapped it around his waist. Digging back into the pack, he retrieved his pistol, checked it and settled it in the holster. She couldn’t miss the pair of binoculars in a pouch on the left side of the belt. Walking back to his horse, he slid his rifle from the scabbard.

Bri turned to her horse to get her own rifle.

He frowned. “Do you really think you’ll need that weapon?”

“I’m taking it.” She allowed him a sweet smile. “But I’ll leave the pistol here.”

“Wonderful.” Sighing, he moved slowly, silently forward.

Boyo paced beside him on the left, while Bri matched his steps on his right. They hadn’t gone very far when Tanner and Boyo came to a halt. Bri stopped next to him.

Across the stream, some distance away, she could just make out a man standing on the other side. There was a small clearing near the bank, but the horses were tethered and a makeshift camp had been set up to the back, under cover of the tall pines, surrounded by brush.

Tanner took out the field glasses. He gazed through them a few moments, then slid them back in the pouch. “It’s Minnich,” he murmured, sounding positive.

Then all hell broke out, everything seemingly happening at once.

A shot rang out and Tanner’s hat went flying. In unison, they dropped to the ground. Tanner scooped up his hat and poked his finger through the hole in front. Bri vaguely heard him mutter, “Son of a bitch, I thought that only happened in the movies.”

With a bone-chilling yowl, Boyo took off running, as Tanner and Bri raised their rifles to their shoulders.

Another shot rang out. Boyo let out a horrible-sounding yelp and flew into the air, then crashed to the ground. At the same time, two more shots rang out. With an outcry of pain, Minnich went down.

“I got the bastard.” Tanner took off at a run toward the downed man, splashing through the stream.

“I got him,” Bri yelled, also running, but she was not running through the water but to Boyo.

She went cold at her first sight of the dog. He was lying still, not whining. Breath eased from Bri as she saw his chest move. He was alive.

She dropped to her knees next to him, gently running her hands over his wiry-haired body. Her hand came away wet with blood when she touched his shoulder. “Bastard’s too mild a word for the lowlife,” she mumbled, parting Boyo’s fur to examine the wound.

She sighed with relief when she saw the bleeding was not profuse, indicating a major artery hadn’t been hit. But had the shell gone through his body?

Even as the thought went through her mind, Bri was carefully sliding her hand beneath Boyo, feeling for a wet spot. There was none. The bullet was still inside somewhere.

She had to stop the bleeding. Not wanting to leave him even long enough to run back to the horses for the first-aid kit, Bri yanked her shirt from her waistband, popping buttons as she pulled it off.

Without a thought that she was sitting there with only her silk long undershirt on or the chill in the air, she began tearing the shirt into strips. Folding them into pads, she lay them on the wound, applying gentle pressure. She had just changed pads when Tanner loped up to her with the first-aid kit in hand.

Sliding around to give him access to the wound, Bri gently lifted the dog’s head to her lap. “You’re such a brave boy,” she murmured, stroking Boyo’s head as Tanner poured water over the pad before carefully removing it from the wound. The dog didn’t so much as whimper as Tanner dried and cleaned the ugly gash. Bri continued to soothe the animal with soft praise. “You risked your life for us, Boyo. You’re a genuine hero.” She stroked his head and muzzle, and every time she got close to his mouth, his long tongue flicked out to lick her hand.

“Why, thank you for the kisses,” she said, watching Tanner as he applied an antibiotic cream to the wound before pressing a sterile pad against it. Taking out a roll of gauze, he wound it around Boyo’s body, anchoring the pad. Then he took out a syringe, rubbed a spot on the animal’s leg with a sterilized pad and carefully slid the needle into the leg.

Bri glanced up at Tanner in question.

“For pain,” he said. “I didn’t want to waste time before we stopped the bleeding,” he explained. “He should rest easy now.” He raised his brows. “You must be uncomfortable. Do you want me to move him?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” It was a bald-faced lie. Bri was aching all over now, partly from tension, but there was no way she was letting him move the injured dog away from her.

Tanner smiled as if he’d known her answer before asking the question. “Okay. I’ve notified Hawk. He and a rescue helicopter will be here in a couple of hours.”

Bri frowned. “How did you reach Hawk?”

He smiled again, teasingly. “It’s called a cell/walkie-talkie phone.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed look. Then suddenly she remembered. “Minnich. Did you get him?”

Tanner nodded. “Took a couple of bullets, but he’s still alive. I carried him back to our horses. He’s in a lot of pain, so I tied him up real tight. Make him suffer for what he’s done.”

Seemingly picking up on her inner turmoil, Boyo licked her hand as if comforting her. “Do you think he might be thirsty?” she asked, nodding down at the dog.

“Probably.” Tanner nodded, handing her the thermos he had used to clean the wound. “There’s still some water in here. He can’t get up, but you can lift his head enough so he can lap up some of it.”

Bri was already pouring the cool liquid into the small cup and slowly lifting his head. “Come on, Boyo, help me here. You’ve got to be thirsty after all you’ve been through.” She barely noticed Tanner turning away.

“I’m going to check on Minnich,” he said. “Then I’m going to tear down that excuse for a shelter he threw together.”

What seemed like forever later, Bri was cradling Boyo in her arms, her head resting against his. She was still murmuring encouragement to him, every bone and muscle complaining in pain at the awkward position she was sitting in, when she heard the sound of the helicopter approaching. She’d have cheered, but she didn’t have the energy.

Boyo had been dozing from the effects of the painkiller, but he opened his eyes and moved his head enough to look up at the sky, golden now with the setting sun.

“Yes, baby,” she said, ruffling his wiry coat. “It’s the boss. He’s come to take you home.” For the first time, Boyo whined, but it had a happy sound to it.

Bri watched as the copter came into sight, then stopped to hover overhead. She saw the line with the rescue basket attached, Hawk in a harness, clinging to the line as it slowly dropped to the ground. Tanner was waiting to catch it.

Between them, Tanner and Hawk lifted an unconscious Minnich into the basket and motioned to have it hauled up. Before it was off the ground, Hawk was striding to where Bri sat cradling his wounded pet.

“So, then, laddie, you took a bullet for my friends, did you?” Hawk said, the contrived Scottish burr failing to conceal the concern in his tone.

At the sound of Hawk’s voice, Boyo’s tail began thumping against the ground. Bri blinked against the mist stinging her eyes.

Hawk dropped to one knee as another basket was lowered from the copter. “Okay, fella,” he said, sliding his arms under the dog. “Grit your teeth, ’cause I’m gonna lift you.” Slowly, very carefully, he rose to his feet. Cradling Boyo in his arms like a child, he carried him to where Tanner waited.

Gritting her own teeth, grunting, swearing to herself, Bri pushed herself upright and, moving stiffly, followed at Hawk’s heels. She saw Tanner remove a small cooler from the basket as Hawk approached.

After Boyo was settled into the blanket-padded basket, Hawk turned to Bri and drew her into his arms for a strong hug. “Thanks for taking care of him, Brianna,” he said in a suspiciously choked voice.

She stepped back to look at him with worried eyes. “Will he be all right, do you think?”

He gave her a nod and a shaky smile. “He’s a tough one. He’ll live to see his pups.”

“But…” she began, confused by his remark.

“Gotta go,” he said, turning to shake Tanner’s hand, then pull him into a quick hug. “Thanks, my friend.”

“Anytime, buddy.” Tanner stepped back. Hawk fastened himself into the harness and grabbed the line, and he and the basket disappeared inside the copter.

The hunt was over.

Bri watched until the rescue helicopter was out of sight. When she looked around the area, she saw Tanner had not only cleared away the makeshift camp but had set up their domed tent and brought the horses from where they had left them.

“I see you were busy while waiting for the helicopter,” she said, feeling a twinge at having not helped him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t any help…” she began.

He gave a sharp shake of his head. “I didn’t need any help. Boyo did.”

That quick, at just the mention of the dog’s name, Bri got all misty-eyed again. Just as quickly she felt Tanner’s arm around her, pulling her toward him in a comforting embrace.

“Don’t worry, Bri. He’ll be fine. He’s one tough dog. Now…” He slanted her a grin and wiggled his brows at the cooler Hawk had brought. “Let’s eat.”

“Hawk brought us supper?”

He nodded. “I guess he figured we’d be tired of trail grub by now.”

“And he was right. What did he bring?” she asked, suddenly ravenous.

Tanner began withdrawing items from the cooler. “Chili…French bread…and real brewed coffee.”

Bri sighed. “Be still my heart.”

“And he even packed desert,” he said, pulling out brownies.

“Wonderful,” she replied, her mouth nearly watering.

As evening was nearly upon them, chilling the air, Tanner built a small fire inside a ring of stones and they sat to eat.

“Getting chilly?” he asked, when he saw her shiver. Without waiting for her reply, he draped her jacket around her shoulders.

Sighing with gratitude from the warmth of the jacket and the fire, she smiled her thanks.

Everything tasted delicious, warming her inside as the fire and her jacket kept her warm outside. Bri silently thanked Hawk for everything, sighing in contentment over her second cup of coffee.

“Feel better now?”

“Much, thank you,” she answered. She stared into the fire letting her mind wander back to the action earlier that day. “Tanner, Hawk said something about Boyo living to see his pups,” she said. “What did he mean?”

“Just what he said. Hawk has a friend, a breeder of wolfhounds, and every so often he’ll agree to her plea for him to bring Boyo to impregnate one of the bitches she feels is champion-producing material. His pups are due any day now.”

Bri smiled, the first one since they had sighted Minnich. “I bet they’ll be beautiful.”

“So far, they all have been, and some of them have become champions.” He gave her an encouraging grin. “And I’m sure Hawk’s right-Boyo will live to see his litter and many others.”

Bri was quiet a moment, not sure she wanted to know or even cared, but she finally asked, “And Minnich?”

Tanner’s features went hard. “Oh, he’ll live to face a jury.” He was silent a moment before he added, “And by the way, we both got him. I hit him in the thigh, you got him in the shoulder. Now forget him. He’s not worth one more moment of your thoughts.”

“Right.” Bri nodded, swallowing against a sudden tightness in her throat, blinking against a sharp stinging in her eyes. “I’m beat. Let’s get this stuff cleared away so I can turn in.”

“Go,” he ordered. “I’ll do it.” He arched a brow. “Would you like me to warm some water so you can have a-” he grinned “-cup bath?”

“Oh, that would be wonderful, Tanner. Thank you.” She heaved herself up off the log.

He waved her away. “Go, get ready, I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

She was waiting for him in the tent, stripped naked except for a towel she had wrapped around her shivering body. Tanner stepped into the tent to hand her the bigmouthed thermos and cup.

“Take your time,” he said, lifting the flap to leave her alone. “I’m going to clean up at the stream.”

Although it was big for a thermos lid, bathing from it was more than a little difficult. Bri managed, at least enough to make her feel reasonably clean again. Though she was cold, she relished the feel of the water as the cupful sluiced down her body. She imagined it washing away not only the grime but the horror she had seen that day. The pain that she had endured while watching her sister suffer. It was over now, but somehow she couldn’t get it out of her system.

When the thermos was empty, she dried and dressed in another pair of long johns and socks she’d stuffed into her pack. She had just exited the tent when Tanner came back to camp.

“Better?” He was close enough for his breath to ruffle her hair.

“Yes.” She spoke true, to a point. Her body and clothes were clean, but she was tired and emotionally exhausted. Maybe that’s why the dam burst.

Tears welled in her eyes. Bri could no longer hold them at bay, nor the sobs clawing at her throat.

Turning away from him, she ran into the tent, and scrambled under the cover. Unable to stem the tide, she wept like a heartbroken child.

“Hey, Brianna, what’s this?” Concern deepening his voice, Tanner crawled into the sleeping bag next to her, turning her into his arms. “Honey, it’s over now,” he murmured, drawing her protectively closer to him. “Why are you crying?”

“I was thinking of Dani-” she sobbed. “Now maybe she’ll unlock her bedroom door and come join the family again for meals, start living again.”

“I’m sure she will.” Tanner stroked her hair as he tried to reassure her. “Maybe you and your parents can even talk her into seeking professional help.”

Bri nodded, the tears clogging her throat and blocking her voice. In his arms she wept and wept, for what seemed an eternity.

When the emotional storm passed and her tears had subsided, Bri managed, “Thank you.” She took Tanner’s hankie and wiped her eyes and cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She sighed. “Now I’ve got your shirt wet.”

“It’ll dry,” he whispered near her ear, softly, almost affectionately. “Now go to sleep.”

“One more thing.” She tilted her head up. He drew back to stare at her face with those heart-meltingly gentle eyes. “Since the hunt’s over, do we have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning?”

He laughed. “No, sweetheart, we don’t. You may sleep in an hour or so longer. But we need enough time to eat and collect our personal gear. Hawk said there would be a helicopter arriving to pick us up around midmorning.”

“But what about the horses?”

“Wrangler friends of Hawk’s will be along to take care of the animals and bring them in.”

“Oh, okay.” She yawned, so bone-tired now that she’d let out her suppressed emotions.

Tanner lowered his head to softly press his mouth to hers in a sweet good-night kiss.

But, as it had the night before, the kiss deepened immediately, setting off a firestorm of passion between them. Suddenly Bri was wide-awake, grasping his hair to pull him closer to her, returning his kiss with everything in her.

When he could, Tanner said, “Brianna, you’re tired. Are you sure you want-”

“Yes, I want,” she said, running her hands over his shoulders, down his already heaving chest. “I want your kiss, your body, all of you.”

“And I want you the same way,” Tanner muttered in a half growl of need.

After some hurried shuffling around, their clothes were gone, heaped on the tent floor on either side of them. Tanner was kissing her, her lips, her face, her breasts and lower. He kissed at the juncture of her thighs, and she cried out with pleasure. Before her cry faded, he was inside her, increasing her pleasure to near screaming point. This time when they climaxed, they soared over the edge of ecstasy together.

“That was lovely,” she murmured, curling against him. In the next moment she was sound asleep.

“You are lovely,” Tanner whispered. Fully aware she couldn’t hear him, he added, “And I love you.”

The helicopter dropped them off on the helipad at Hawk’s place. Bri lugged her gear to the house, eagerly waiting while Tanner unlocked the door with the key Hawk had given him. Hawk had remained in town at the animal hospital with Boyo.

The minute she stepped inside, she dropped to the floor everything but her backpack and took off for the bathroom.

“What’s the hurry?” Tanner called after her. “Don’t you want some lunch?”

“No.” Bri kept going so had to raise her voice. “I want to soak in a tub full of hot water for hours. Then I want some lunch.”

Tanner was laughing. She could hear him through the door of the bedroom she had slept in before. She practically tore off her dirty clothing, grabbed the one clean set of bra and panties she had left and made a dash for the bathroom.

Bri didn’t soak for hours. She remained in the water only until it got cold. Then she turned on the shower to rinse off before shampooing her hair.

Feeling wonderfully clean and refreshed, she returned to the bedroom, dressed and went in search of food. After a satisfying lunch, she hit the bed. It was beginning to get dark when a light tap on the door and Tanner’s voice woke her.

“Brianna? I’ve rustled up some supper for us. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” she answered with the sudden realization. The exercise of hot sex and emotional upheaval must have activated her appetite. “Give me five minutes.”

“Take ten.” Laughter danced in his voice. “It will keep.”

Nine minutes later, Bri entered the kitchen dressed in socks and the wrinkled but clean blue jeans and T-shirt she had put on after her bath. “What smells so good and spicy?”

“Pasta with marinara sauce.” Tanner smiled. “I poured you a glass of Chianti. Help yourself to the pasta.”

The meal was delicious, the Chianti the perfect complement to the pasta. The fresh-brewed coffee afterward was wonderful, and the slice of apple pie Tanner had found in the freezer and baked was just the right finisher.

“We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Tanner said when they’d finished.

Bri was relieved he didn’t suggest they start out that night, as she was still feeling tired and sleepy. It had been a long time since her last trek.

Together, they cleaned up the kitchen to the spotless condition Hawk kept it in, then shared a final glass of wine, exchanging mundane conversation until, rising and stretching, Tanner said he was ready to turn in. As Bri was every bit as ready, she washed their glasses and he dried them.

They were so tired they slept in separate beds that night.

Tanner woke her early the next morning. There was one difference, though. This time she was ready to get up, and most of the aches and stiffness were gone. They were on the road less than an hour later.

Bri was glad to be going back. At least that’s what she told herself. In truth, though, with each passing mile she felt more and more deflated, depressed. It was probably the sudden release of the tension of the hunt, she reasoned. It had nothing at all to do with her leaving Tanner and very likely never seeing him again.

“You’ve been awful quiet,” he said as they parked by the side of the road to rest and eat lunch. “Is something bothering you?”

“No.” Bri shook her head. “I, uh, I’ve been thinking about going home.”

“Oh.” He was silent for a moment. “I guess you’re anxious to see your sister and parents.”

“Yes, of course, even though they’ll have heard the news of his capture by know, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

The conversation between them was less than scintillating, more like desultory. Bri had a stupid urge to cry, which didn’t make a bit of sense. She was going home at last. She should be feeling elated, not darn near morose. Shouldn’t she?

Their lunch finished, Tanner didn’t start the SUV; he just sat there, gripping the wheel.

“I love you, you know.” His voice was flat, stark with an astounding note of pain.

Bri stopped breathing. When she could take in air again, she raised her head to look at him in wonder. He was so beautiful it made her heart ache. “I love you, too, Tanner.”

“It can’t work.” He looked and sounded sad, regretful.

Tears rushed to Bri’s eyes. She had to swallow before attempting to speak. “Tanner, couldn’t we find-”

He silenced her with a rough shake of his head. “No, Brianna, and you know it as well as I do. You belong back east, doing research in your quiet library. I belong out here, somewhere, wherever. I’m not going to change. I am what I do.”

“Couldn’t we work together?” she asked, a pleading note in her voice. “Was I such a drag on you?”

He gave her one of his gentle smiles. “No, love. I enjoyed having you along. But this was a short, fairly easy hunt. Most of them aren’t. And you were aching by the time we caught him. Sometimes I’m gone weeks, not days. It simply couldn’t work for us.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Tanner…”

“Brianna, don’t. You’re tearing me apart inside.” He pulled her close, shutting his eyes against the pain. “I wish it could be different, but wishing won’t change anything. This time with you has been wonderful, more than I probably deserve. But it’s over. We live in two different worlds, and mine is too dangerous to risk hurting the woman I love.”

Accepting his word as final, Bri remained still, miserable throughout the rest of the drive into Durango, with barely a word spoken between them. What more was there to say? It was late when Tanner pulled up to the Strater Hotel, where they were holding Bri’s room for her.

Her throat was tight with emotion she refused to reveal to him. She grasped the door release and softly said, “Goodbye, Tanner. I’ll have your check for a million dollars delivered to you tomorrow.”

“I don’t want it, Brianna. This one’s on me.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “No. The bounty is yours. You earned it. Don’t bother sending it back. Remember, my father is a banker. It would be easy for him to have it deposited into your account.”

“Okay, you win.”

Right. Bri wanted to weep. She didn’t, though; she turned to the door. He stopped her by curling one big hand around her nape and turning her to him, claiming her mouth with his own. His kiss was deep and passionate and tasted of urgency, desperation. When he let her go, he moved back behind the wheel, his face once again carved in stone. “Goodbye, Brianna.”

Bri almost stumbled out the door. Tanner’s voice stopped her as her boots hit the pavement.

“Take care of yourself.”

She couldn’t look back at him. “You, too,” she said over her shoulder and went striding for the entrance doors. As soon as she stepped inside, she heard his SUV drive away. Knowing he was taking her heart with him, she kept moving, not looking back.

Eleven

Bri was back in her own apartment two days, and the pain was still unbearable. It had seeped beneath her skin, soaking her insides, drowning her in misery. She had given in to tears again when Tanner called her.

“Hi, Brianna. How are you? And how was your flight back home?”

The sound of his voice, low, intimate, even asking such innocuous questions, set her pulse thumping. “I’m fine and so was the flight,” she answered, telling herself to grow up, while trying to catch her breath. “How are you, Tanner?”

“Fine.”

Bri frowned at the handset. Was that all he had to say?

“That’s good,” she replied. What else could she say, anyway? Make an ass of herself by admitting she missed him so much she ached? What good could come of that? He’d told her a relationship between them wouldn’t work.

“How is Boyo?” she asked, knowing she should have thought of the dog at once.

“He’ll be fine. He’s still in the hospital, but they removed the bullet, so all he has to do now is heal. And here’s more good news. His pups were born yesterday morning. Seven of them.”

“Lucky number. I’d love to see them. Have you?”

“No, not yet.” He paused. “How is Dani?”

“Better. At least she unlocks her bedroom door and joins our parents for meals. But she doesn’t go out much, and never alone.”

“It’ll take time.” Again he paused, as if having run out of things to say.

“I know,” she said. “One good thing-she has agreed to get professional help.”

“That’s good.” He paused again. “Uh, besides wanting to know how you were doing, I called to tell you I’ve accepted another job.”

For a second, when he said job, hope flared that he was referring to a regular nine-to-five kind. She should have known better, she chided herself. “Another hunt.” It was not a question but a statement.

“Yes, this time in the city.” He went on before she could ask. “An embezzler suspected of having gone to ground in a rough section of L.A.”

“Do you know the city well?” Bri was already worrying, and he hadn’t even left yet.

“Not like I know the mountains,” he admitted, adding, “but I’ll find him.” There was not so much as a hint of false pride or bravado in his voice, just certainty.

“I know you will.” Brianna drew a deep breath. “Will you try not to get yourself hurt while you’re at it?”

He laughed. “I’ll work on it.”

She tried laughing with him, but she couldn’t push one past the tightness in her throat. She didn’t want him to hunt-at least not without her along to watch his back, and having hers caressed with wonderful building passion.

“Brianna?” Concern shaded his voice at her silence.

“Yes?”

“I thought you had hung up.” There was another tight, strained pause, as if he were now having trouble finding words. “I, er, I’d better hang up. I’m leaving tomorrow and I still have to pack.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Tanner. Stay safe.” She wanted to hold him close, keep him safe. Foolish woman.

“I’ll give it my best.” He hesitated, then said softly, “I miss you, Brianna.”

He disconnected before she could reply. It didn’t matter; she wasn’t sure she could speak, anyway, not without sobbing. She stood there holding the phone, unaware of the low buzz on the line or the tears rolling down her face.

Brianna.

Tanner stood stone-still, gripping the handset. He closed his eyes against the ache throbbing through him, the need, the emptiness. He had never felt anything like the longing he was feeling for her, her laughter, the teasing light in her eyes at times, like when she was doling out her precious dark chocolate.

Damn, he thought, being in love hurt so badly, throughout his entire body, his mind, his soul.

Sighing for what could never be, he cradled the handset, telling himself to stop mooning like a kid and get his ass in gear. He had a job to do. Yet, try as he did, Tanner couldn’t shake the thought that he’d miss having Brianna working right there beside him.

The following weeks were a drag for Bri. Spring and the final exams at the university came and went, along with the majority of the students. Although there were always summer students, a lot fewer than usual roamed the campus library.

Bri was bored and restless and hungry with a hollow appetite that had nothing to do with food. When not at work in the library, she worked hard at staying busy. She turned down every invitation to go out with both her women friends and several men. There was only one man who interested her, and he was off hunting a criminal, putting his life in danger. She worked real hard not to think about that.

She spent most of her free time at her parents’ house, with her sister. Though improved, Dani still kept close to home and was now dreading the day she would have to testify against Jay Minnich, who had been extradited from Colorado to Pennsylvania. And even though the man was behind bars and not likely to be going anywhere soon, Dani was still afraid to go out alone, if she went out at all.

The mild weather of spring melted into the hot days of summer. While attempting to keep Dani’s spirits up, Bri felt as if she were being eaten alive inside with worry over Tanner, who hadn’t called again. Was he safe? Was he deliberately not calling to indicate a final break-off of their-What?-friendship? Relationship?

She cried a lot and slept little in her bed each night. And it was in the middle of one of those weepy, sleepless nights when the phone rang, startling and scaring her.

Was something wrong with her parents? Dani? Before panic could set in, Bri grabbed the handset to stare at the lighted caller ID window. It was a cell phone number, one she didn’t recognize. She hesitated before answering in a cautious tone.

“Hello?”

“Brianna?” His voice was low, muffled.

“Tanner?” A full range of emotions, primarily relief, flooded through her. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter.” She didn’t tell him she never slept. “Where are you? Your voice sounds strange. Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry,” he whispered. “My voice sounds strange because I have my hand cupped around the phone so no one can hear me. I’m still in L.A., in a twenty-four-hour grungy, hole-in-the-wall diner.”

“What in the world are you doing there?” Even as the words poured out of her mouth, Bri knew it was a stupid question.

“I’m sure as hell not enjoying myself,” he muttered. “I’m working, remember?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Are you getting anywhere with your hunt?”

“Yeah, I’m practically on this crook’s ass,” he answered with soft satisfaction. “But that isn’t why I called. You’ll be receiving a delivery sometime tomorrow. Since it’s Saturday, I hope you’ll be home.”

“A delivery?” Bri frowned. “I’ll stay home until it arrives, but what is it?”

“I don’t have time to go into it now.” His voice was lower, rushed. “There’s a letter with it that will explain everything. I gotta go now.”

“Okay, goodbye.” She swallowed a need to protest. “Please take care.”

“Always.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Goodbye, Brianna.” There came a pause, making her think he had disconnected, then with a sigh he said, “I miss you, Brianna. I love you.” A click. He was gone.

I love you.

Throughout what was left of the darkness, Bri held his words close, warming her heart, even as fear for his safety chilled every bone in her body. By first light she had made a decision. Like it or not-and Tanner very likely wouldn’t like it-she was going back to Durango, to him, to be his partner in everything.

Tanner claimed to love her, and she knew she was in love with him. So his work was dangerous. Bri knew she could deal with the danger so long as she was beside him, watching his back.

Rising with the summer sun, Bri began getting her things together, as many of her things that would fit in her car. She could send for the rest later. She decided she would keep the apartment for visits home. No, her home would be wherever Tanner was. She’d keep the place for visits to her parents and Dani.

By late morning her small living room was littered with suitcases, hunting gear and bags full of things she couldn’t fit into her cases. Gazing around her, Bri was wondering how she had ever collected so much stuff when the doorbell rang.

The delivery Tanner had told her to expect. In her flurry of activity, she had completely forgotten. She went to the door, opened it and stood, stunned, staring at the uniformed delivery man.

What in the…? Her thoughts scattered. In one hand he held the handle to an animal carrier. In the other a large shipping bag.

“Ms. Stewart?”

She nodded, numb with confusion. She could see something wriggling through the openings in the carrier. The deliveryman stepped inside, set both items on the floor and thrust a small clipboard at her.

“I’ll need your signature, ma’am.”

Bri signed on the line, managed a smile and a murmured “Thank you” and closed the door behind him.

Carefully she picked up the carrier, for the first time noticing an envelope taped to one side. She’d get to the letter later, Bri thought, but first she peeked into the opening and exhaled a soft, “Ooh. Hello, there, little one.”

The puppy inside gave a low whine, while the tail wagged in excitement. Though the dog didn’t look much like him, Bri knew it was one of Boyo’s litter, and it was adorable.

Setting the carrier back down on the floor, Bri tore the envelope from the side, ripped it open and began reading the letter from Tanner.

Brianna, this pup is not for you. I wrote this note before leaving for L.A. and gave it to Hawk, along with instructions. I’m sure you knew at once the pup is one of Boyo’s. She was the runt of the litter. I asked Hawk to take Boyo to see his puppies as soon as he was well and to pick out one of the pups. Hawk called to tell me he had done so, and Boyo had immediately singled out the little female runt. She has had her shots, but she doesn’t have a name. She is a gift for Dani-and her right to name. Inside the other package Dani will find food and supplies to get started. Also, there’s a booklet with information about the breed.

Tell Dani she doesn’t need to fear so long as the pup is with her. As you know, the pup will grow-not quite as tall as Boyo but tall enough. She will be loving, loyal and willing to give her own life for her mistress…as you know from experience. Love, Tanner

Tears were running down Bri’s cheeks by the time she finished his letter. Oh, how she loved this kind, compassionate, wonderful, sexy, beautiful and at times arrogant man.

Wiping her eyes with her fingers, Bri grabbed her purse, picked up the carrier and shipping bag and dashed out of the apartment.

Ten minutes later, she burst into her parents’ home. Her mother was coming down the stairs, surprise obvious in her expression. “Bri, what’s your hurry?”

“Dani,” she answered. “Where’s Dani?”

“Out by the pool, but-What do you have there?” she called after Bri as she headed for the sliding door leading to the patio and pool area.

“Come, come,” Bri called back, excitement singing on her voice. “Come see.”

At Bri’s hurried approach, Dani looked as puzzled as their mother. “Bri, what-” That was as far as she got.

“Look,” Bri said, holding the carrier out to her. “This is for you.”

“For me? But…Oh, my heavens! Bri, it’s a puppy.”

“I know.” Bri laughed. “It’s your puppy.” As Dani began fiddling with the latch on the door of the carrier, Bri quickly added, “Wait. Before you take her out, I have this for you.” She handed over the letter.

Dani began to read aloud. It wasn’t long before she was blinking against a sting of tears. It didn’t matter, because both Bri and their mother were also misty-eyed.

“Oh, Bri, what a thoughtful gift. Tanner sounds like a wonderful man.”

“He is…” Bri’s throat was so tight she could hardly get the words out. “Now you can take her out. And don’t forget-you must find a name for her.”

Dani carefully drew the dog from the carrier. “Oh, she’s beautiful!” She cradled the wiggly ball of fur close to her, laughing when the puppy tried to shower every inch of her face with kisses.

Laughing with sheer delight for the first time since her shattering ordeal, Dani looked up at Bri and their mother. “I don’t have to think about naming her,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time. “Just look at her. What else could I name her but Beauty.”

“Perfect.” Bri laughed. “Now hand her over and let me get some of those kisses.”

Bri stayed at her parents’ for dinner. Over an impeccable meal, with Dani at her side, she explained what she planned to do.

There were some arguments that her plan was hasty and there was more than a little concern from her parents. Though she didn’t say a word, Dani smiled and gave her sister a thumbs-up.

In the end, of course, Bri held firm. Early the next morning she stashed all her packed stuff in the trunk and backseat of her car and headed west.

Bri was going on a manhunt of her own.

It was late afternoon when Bri pulled her car into Durango after what seemed like forever on the road. Before signing in at the Strater Hotel, as she had done previously, she pulled into the first parking space she came across, dug her cell phone from her cavernous handbag and dialed Tanner’s apartment number. To her surprise, he answered on the second ring.

“Wolfe.”

Relief at knowing he was back safe washed through her. “Hello, Wolfe, how are you?”

“Brianna!” Could that be the sound of happiness she detected in his voice? “You got my message?”

Her brows wrinkled. “What message?”

“I called not ten minutes after I got home yesterday and I left a message on your answering machine.”

Bri groaned. She had checked her home phone for messages every day except yesterday and today. “No, I didn’t get it. I, er, I’m not at home, Tanner.”

“Where are you, then?” His tone now held a definite edge. Where the heck did he suspect she might be, and with whom?

“I’m right here in Durango, just a short distance from your apartment.”

He was silent for a moment. “Then get the hell here now. You hear me?”

She smiled. “Yes, Tanner, I hear you. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“You’d better be.”

Her smile widened into a grin. He’d actually growled at her, like the animal whose name he bore.

Bri took only two things with her from the car. She was holding one of them in each hand when she rang his doorbell. It swung open at once, and she burst out laughing at the sight that met her eyes.

Tanner stood with one shoulder propped against the door frame, his long, shiny hair draping his shoulders. In one hand he held a bag of dark chocolate-purple-wrapped Hershey’s Kisses. In the other he held the glittery gold cloth strips of the sandals she had worn the day he’d picked her up.

“Hi.” He grinned at her astonished expression and stepped back, allowing her to enter.

“Where did you find them?” she asked. “I’ve been tearing my closet apart looking for them.”

“They were stuffed under the front seat of the SUV.” He laughed. “If you’ll recall, you tossed them in the back when you put on your boots.”

“Thank you for finding them. They’re one of my favorite pairs.”

“Mine, too.” He eyed her hands. “And what have you got there?” He inclined his head, indicating the folded material she held in one hand and the large, round, old-fashioned hatbox in the other.

Bri was so busy drinking in the sight of him she had forgotten the items she held. “This, I believe, is yours.” She handed over the folded material, which he couldn’t help but recognize as his own hankie he had given her on their last night of the hunt.

“And this,” she said, handing the box to him, “is a present from me to you.”

He looked puzzled. “A present for me? Why would you buy me a ladies’ hatbox from a bygone day?”

She gave him a look and an impatient sigh. “Open the box and look for yourself, Tanner.”

Dumping the sandals, the bag of candy and his snow-white, neatly pressed hankie into her arms, he took the box and set it on the sofa. He untied the frayed laces holding the lid on and gave her a wary look.

“Nothing’s going to jump out at me?”

“Oh, good grief, Tanner!” Bri shook her head. “You’re a big, tough hunter. Open the silly box.”

Laughing, he lifted the lid. His laughter gave way to an expression of wonder. Slowly, carefully, he lifted the buff-colored Stetson from the box. “Brianna…Why?”

“That one doesn’t have a bullet hole in it.” She gave him a teasing grin. “I bought myself one exactly like it.”

“You’re something,” he said, plopping the hat on his head before pulling her into his arms and thanking her with a scorching kiss.

They broke apart for one reason-to breathe. When Tanner lowered his head to her once more, Bri raised a trembling hand to his chest to hold him back.

She drew a deep breath. “Tanner, wait. We’ve got to talk.”

“We can talk later.” He moved forward, backing her against the wall. “But first we’ve got more important things to do.”

“No.” She shook her head, bringing her other hand up to keep him a few inches from her. “No, Tanner. I didn’t come here for sex.” She gave a half laugh, qualifying her statement with, “At least not only for sex.”

His eyes narrowed. “Okay, what do you want?”

“You.”

“But you just said-”

“All of you, dammit!” She glared into those glittering eyes. “I want to be your partner…in every aspect of your life. In marriage, in work-and I do mean in the hunt-and, yes, sex.”

Arching a brow, Tanner took on that austere statue-of-a-saint expression.

She arched a brow right back at him, although she couldn’t match him for austerity. “And don’t give me that look. It doesn’t impress or intimidate me. Oh, Tanner,” she murmured, lifting one hand to caress his face. “I love you. I want to be with you.”

“It can’t work,” he said, shaking his head but covering his hand over hers to keep it where it was. “You’d be a nervous wreck sitting at home, waiting and worrying about me. And some jobs require me to be away for weeks. Hell, I was away over a month in L.A.”

“You’re not listening, Tanner.” She scowled at him. “I said I want to be with you in every aspect.” She slid her fingers slowly down his cheek, smiling as his tight expression softened. “That includes your hunts. You need someone to cover your back, and I intend to be that someone.”

“You do, do you?” He moved closer, his body pressing into hers. “A ring on your finger and one through my nose, huh?”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, smiling as she outlined his lips with her fingertip. “Nose rings are so yesterday.” She gasped as he caught her finger between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth. With his body pressed tightly against her, she could feel his readiness for her and knew he could feel her shivery response. Time to bring out her last weapon.

“Tanner, I love you. And I’ll continue to love you whether you’re here or on a hunt. I would rather die with you on a hunt than live without you near me.”

“You don’t play fair,” he murmured, dipping his head to taste her neck.

“Not when I’m playing for such high stakes.” She arched her body into his, feeling the hard fullness of him against her. “Give me an answer now or I swear I’ll be out of here in a shot.”

“No, you won’t.” He raised his head a bit to smile at her.

“No,” she admitted, snaking her arms around his neck to get closer still. “I won’t.”

He laughed. “You’re still a little nuts, but I like you that way. Brianna, my love, will you marry me…and cover my back on our hunts?”

“Oh, Tanner, yes, yes, yes.” She planted a swift, hard kiss on his smiling lips. When he reached for the buttons on her shirt, she caught his hand, held it still. “Wait, there’s one more thing.”

Tanner groaned. “Brianna, you’re killing me here. I’m ready to go up in flames.”

“Oh, my, we can’t have that,” she actually cooed.

“Then what is it?” He sounded like a man at the end of his rope.

“Could we please use a bed this time?”

Tanner roared with laughter. Sweeping her up into his arms, he strode toward the short hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, sweetheart, have I got a bed for you.”

It was a king-size. Just perfect for two nutty lovers.

Tanner made love to Brianna with his hat on.

Millionaire’s Calculated Baby Bid by Laura Wright

Prologue

One hour ago Mary had expected to lie back on the king-size bed in the most exclusive bed-and-breakfast in Long Lake, Minnesota, and let Ethan Curtis make love to her, with no emotion, zero response from her body. At that very same time, she’d wondered if he’d be rough, cold, like the unfeeling bastard she’d met in her family’s former offices a week ago-the offices he now controlled and ran like a well-oiled, profit-gouging, soul-sucking machine.

His mouth moved over hers, slowly, seductively coaxing her back to the present. Every time his skin brushed against hers, every time his teeth raked lightly over her neck or back or shoulder, she mewled so loudly with desire she was sure the entire inn heard her and knew exactly what she was doing.

Ethan Curtis might’ve been a bastard, but he was anything but cold.

Moonlight spilled into the room, making it impossible not to see Ethan’s face as he pushed into her again, his cut cheekbones, hard mouth, and tanned neck taut with exertion and damp with sweat. His cobalt gaze slipped from her eyes to her mouth, and he lowered his head. Mary’s heart hammered in her chest as she tried to force back the rush of desire in her blood when his full mouth found hers and nuzzled her lips open.

The reality of why they were here in bed together, so that her father was now free from any threat of prison, scratched at the door of her mind. She wished she could crawl out from underneath Ethan and leave the room, but her body continued to betray her. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been with a man in two years. Maybe she just craved the weight and the closeness and the surge of adrenaline, but she wanted this man so badly she ached with it.

Ethan drifted lazily from her mouth to her cheek, then to her ear. She felt the tip of his tongue against her lobe and shivered, her back arching, her hips arching, her body taking him deeper. Her ears were surprisingly sensitive, and she hated that he knew it, that he was having this power over her-yet loved it at the same time. His tongue flicked back and forth as though he were tending to more than just the lobe of her ear, and she trembled again with sudden spasms she couldn’t control. Outside their door, she heard voices, heavy footfall in the hallway, then a door closing. Had they heard her as she moaned with desire, her body begging him for more?

The urge to touch Ethan, grab his lower back and buttocks, sink her fingers and nails into his muscular flesh was almost overwhelming and she fisted the sheets at her sides. It was the one thing she’d promised herself-not to touch him. But the pledge was hurting her far more than it was hurting him, she imagined. His tanned, thickly muscled chest and shoulders had erotic voices of their own and were calling to her as he rose for a moment, then settled back against her breasts.

How could you sleep with a man like this? she heard herself say, though the only sound her throat produced was a deep moan of satisfaction as he lowered his head to her breast and suckled deeply on one hard, pink nipple. How could you desire a man like this?

He’s a demon.

Shuddering with the electric heat, she wrapped her legs around him and arched her back, pumping her hips furiously. She was close, so close. It had been two incredibly quiet years since she’d been with a man she’d dated for only a few months, two long years since she’d faked release before breaking it off and wandering back into hermit territory and remaining there as the eternal businesswoman. She’d felt the real charge of climax only in her dreams-those dreams of faceless strangers pleasuring her body until she woke up sweaty and frustrated. But there was no faking anything tonight.

Again her thoughts were seized and cast aside by Ethan’s touch. He slipped his hand between them, his fingers inching downward until he combed through the pale curls between her spread thighs. As he stroked her, flicked the tender, aching bud, Mary gulped for air. She didn’t want to give in to him. He didn’t deserve her desire, her complete and utter surrender. But her head fell back anyway as the heat of his hand and the skill of his fingers took her over the edge. She knew how loudly she cried out as he played her, as he sank deeper, but she didn’t care. Wounded, desperate and totally unaware of time, she clawed at the white sheets, pretending they were his skin.

Ethan watched her, his gaze feral yet brushed with uncharacteristic concern. Then with a growl of hunger, he pushed deeply inside her, his rhythm steady, his breathing anything but. The force of his release made him shake, made his body hard as iron, and when he dropped gently on top of her, he buried his head in the damp curve of her neck.

It was only moments before Mary’s skin started to cool and her rational mind returned, along with her anger. No matter how much her body craved this man, in the light of day this had been little more than a transaction.

A wave of nausea moved through her as she recalled the day Ethan Curtis had made her an offer she hadn’t been able to refuse.

“You’re one arrogant son of a bitch, you know that, Curtis?” she had said to him.

Ethan had sat back in his leather chair and regarded her with cold eyes. “I think we’ve established that. Are you going to take the deal or not?”

With his short black hair, sharp blue eyes and hooked nose, Ethan resembled a hawk more than a man. Mary had never seen a man with more arrogance or more presence.

She had stood in his massive office of glass and metal, with its hard, uncompromising edges, and tried to be as much of a hard-ass as him. “I told you I would agree to artificial insemination.”

“If I felt that you would actually honor-”

“Honor?” she said, appalled. “We’ve leaped way beyond that now.”

“True.” His sapphire gaze had missed nothing, especially the intense desire she had to thwart him in any way possible. “But to make certain your end of the bargain is upheld, we’ll do this the old-fashioned way.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

He’d looked amused. “You may even like it.”

She’d given him a derisive glance. “Maybe. But we’ll never know. I’m not going to bed with you, Mr. Curtis.”

The look of amusement had disappeared and he’d replied gravely, “You want your father cleared of all charges. I want a child. It’s very simple.”

Simple. The word now crashed around in Mary’s brain as the man who’d uttered it one week ago rolled off her in one gentle movement. Nothing was simple about this situation. She ventured a quick glance at him as he sat up, his back to her, ropes of thick muscle flexing as he moved. Was it possible to despise someone yet be intrigued by them at the same time?

His voice cut through her silent query. “Do you want me to go?”

Despite her efforts to remain indifferent, she felt anger bubble up within her. At herself and at him. “Yes.”

His jaw tight, he let out a slow breath. “I will see you again tomorrow.”

Without answering, she got up from the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. She wasn’t about to turn over and lie there, sheet pulled up to her chin like a naive girl who’d just been taken advantage of. She’d known exactly what she was doing and why, and had admittedly enjoyed herself.

She turned on the shower to drown out any sound of him getting dressed and walking out, then threw back the shower curtain and stared at the water as it dropped like rain onto the virginal white surface of the porcelain tub. She placed one foot over the tub, but quickly stepped back on the mat. Why the hell wasn’t she getting in there, getting clean, getting rid of any sign of him? What kind of woman didn’t want to wash off the scent of a man she had sworn to hate-a man who wanted her only to procure a blue-blooded child? Not any kind of woman she would respect.

Mary let go of the curtain and went to stand in front of the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. With nervous fingers, she ran a hand down her torso, over her belly. Had they made a child tonight? A shiver of excitement went through her, accompanied by an intense feeling of dread. A baby. She sighed. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to build a family of her own, but not this way.

Feeling ashamed, she looked away. Her priorities were what they had always been, ever since she was a child: to fix the lives of others before her own. And right now having all charges dropped against her father was the most important thing. She wasn’t getting a family out of this deal, she was keeping her father out of prison.

Her hands splayed on her belly once more and she shook her head. Impossible. The whole damn deal. She was a fool for thinking it would work, just as Ethan Curtis was a fool for thinking that if she did get pregnant, the baby would ever be raised by anyone but its mother.

One

Four Weeks Later.

“Whose idea was it to install a kitchen in the office?” Tess York inquired, the words slightly muffled by a massive bite of eggs Benedict.

Olivia Winston flipped a yellow dish towel over her shoulder and walked her petite, though incredibly curvaceous, frame over to the table with the grace of a movie star. “Ah, that would be me.”

“Well, you’re a genius, kid.”

Beneath a rim of shaggy brown bangs, Olivia’s gold eyes sparkled. “This I know.”

Tess laughed at her partner’s mock display of arrogance, her long mass of red curls hopping about her back like marionettes. “All I want to know is where my mimosa is.”

“No drinking before ten o’clock.” Mary Kelley sat across from Tess, her wavy blond hair falling about her face as she absentmindedly drew slash marks through the hollandaise with her fork. “Unless disaster strikes.”

“I’d say a two-week dry spell qualifies,” Tess said slyly, making Olivia laugh.

“It’s August.” Mary looked from one of her partners to the other. “We’re always a little slow at the end of the summer.”

“Slow, sure,” Olivia retorted, holding a piece of perfectly cooked bacon up like a white flag. “But we’re bordering on drought.”

Barring these two weeks in August, No Ring Required was normally buzzing with activity. The premier wife-for-hire company in the Midwest had zero competition and one hell of a brilliant staff. With Mary’s creativity and business sense, Olivia’s culinary skill and Tess’s wise budgeting and decorating style, NRR was a highly successful company. The problem, Mary had to admit, was that all three of them were such intense workaholics who cared nothing for a private life that they had no idea what to do with themselves on their downtime. And each time the end of summer came aknocking, the women panicked in their own ways.

“Well,” Mary continued, putting down her fork and dropping her napkin over an untouched plate of food. “Clearly this is no time to be picky about clients.”

“Yeah, Olivia,” Tess murmured with a grin.

Olivia raised her brows questioningly. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I think she’s referring to your problem with trust-fund clients,” Mary offered, laughing when Tess cleared her throat loudly.

Olivia scowled, then reached down and grabbed Mary’s plate. “I don’t like them, and nothing’s going to change that. Trust-funders are boorish, brainless, self-obsessed jerks, who think they not only own the world, but everyone else along with it.”

Tess flashed Mary a grin. “Tell us how you really feel.”

“Yes,” Mary agreed. “I’m not entirely clear on your opinion regarding the rich.”

As her partners chuckled, Olivia sighed. “It’s not the rich, it’s-Oh, forget it.” Clearly looking for a way to end the current conversation, Olivia glared at Mary’s untouched plate. “Mary, you’re not on a diet, are you?”

“What?” Mary said, sobering.

Olivia tossed her an assessing glance before she turned and sashayed back to her beloved Viking range. “You know that I feel as though diets are a total affront to all those in the culinary world.”

“I do know that.”

“Besides, there’s not a grapefruit or bowl of cabbage soup in my fridge, I’m afraid.”

As a shot of nerves zipped through her, Mary shook her head. “No diet, Olivia. I guess I’m just not very hungry.”

Tess paused long enough to swallow. “As much as I hate to side with Olivia, that’s been going on for a while now.”

“Yep,” Olivia agreed.

“And, well,” Tess began awkwardly, “we’re here if…well, you know.”

Mary nodded and forced a smile. “I know.”

Among the three of them, talking about business was an easy, playful and spirited adventure, but when the conversation turned to anything emotional or personal, the women of NRR seemed to transform into the Stooges-a bumbling, uneasy mess. From the inception of No Ring Required there had been a sort of unspoken rule between the partners to keep personal matters to themselves. Odd, and perhaps against every female cliché, for three women to abstain from discussion about history and feelings, but there it was.

“So, what’s on the agenda today, ladies?” Tess asked, pushing away from the table and a very clean plate.

“I have a meeting with a potential client,” Mary informed them, her gaze drifting over to the clock on the wall. Okay, five minutes were up. The test was done. The zip of nerves from a moment ago turned into a pulse-pounding elephant-sitting-on-her-chest type of situation.

“Maybe not such a dry spell after all,” Olivia remarked gaily, her good mood returning. “I also have a client coming in at two whose fiancée ditched him a week before the wedding and he wants help with what he referred to as a “screw her” dinner party.”

Tess laughed. “Should be fun.”

Mary hardly heard them as the muscles in her legs tensed painfully, as though she was on the verge of a charley horse. The pregnancy test was hidden behind fifty or so rolls of the insanely soft Charmin Ultra that Olivia insisted on buying. Would there be one line or two? One line or two?

“Big name or big business for you?” Tess asked, staring at Mary expectantly.

“Ah…both actually.”

“Sounds great.” Olivia set her own full plate down beside Tess, then promptly rearranged her silverware, napkin and water glass to their proper places, now ready to partake in her own breakfast.

Her heart slamming against her ribs, Mary stood and grabbed her purse. “I just have to hit the little girl’s room and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Good luck,” Olivia called.

Tess nodded. “Yeah, good luck, kid.”

If they only knew the double meaning in her good wishes, Mary thought, each step toward the bathroom feeling as though she was walking in quicksand. She had no idea what she wanted to see when she tossed aside all that toilet paper and pulled out the test. If it was positive, she’d have to make plans to get away from Minneapolis eventually, away from Ethan-that man would never let her walk away with his child. If it was negative, her father’s life was over. She felt a sickly sour feeling in her stomach. She had lives to protect, and she wasn’t altogether sure how capable she was.

She locked the door behind her, sat on the floor and opened the cabinets under the sink. The mountain of white rolls pushed aside easily as she reached inside and felt for the thin stick. Her pulse pounded in her ears. God, what did she want here?

Her fingers closed around the test and she yanked it back. With one heavy exhale she stared at the results.

It was three twenty-seven and Ethan Curtis was growing more impatient by the second.

He wasn’t used to being kept waiting. People arrived early for meetings with him, fifteen to thirty minutes on average. They would sit in his massive lobby until he was ready to see them. For six years it had been this way. He knew his employees thought he was an arrogant ass. He liked it that way.

He punched the intercom button. “Marylyn, when Miss Kelley arrives, have her join me on the roof.”

There was a slight pause on the other end of the line. Marylyn had never heard such a request, but she recovered quickly. “Yes, sir. Of course.”

Ethan glanced at the clock. Three thirty-one. Where the hell was she? He stalked over to the elevator and stabbed the button. Mary Kelley was a strong-willed, business-first, no-nonsense type of person-not unlike himself. But if she worked for him, she’d be fired by now.

He was not generally a nervous man. He didn’t pace, worry or stress before a deal was done. If a client didn’t perform or comply the way he wanted them to, he finessed the situation, made it work to his advantage. However, as he rode his private elevator the short distance to the roof, his gut continued to contract painfully, just like it had the day his father had informed him that his mother had taken up with a new man and wasn’t coming back.

Ethan walked out of the elevator and onto the rooftop, for which he had hired a world-renowned landscape architect and two botanists to transform into his escape three years ago. The courtyard opened to a Moroccan-tiled fountain and several ancient sculptures, while to the left was a sun terrace, complete with bar and circular planters filled with flax, pyracantha and perennials to keep the urban scene colorful year-round. Red bougainvillea covered several of the arched trellises, and cherry trees flanked the central walkway. It was a strange mixture of ease and exotic, and it suited Ethan perfectly.

He sensed her, smelled her, before he saw her. Fresh, soapy-yes, he remembered. The lower half of him contracted as his mind played the ever-present film of those nights in July over again. Ethan saw himself lying on top of her, buried deep inside of her, his mouth on hers as he breathed in her scent and she moaned and writhed like a wildcat.

He glanced over his shoulder to see her walking toward him. She was average height, average build, but Mary Kelley possessed two things that would make any man stop dead in his tracks and stare. Long, toned, sexy-as-hell legs that he could practically feel wrapped around his waist at this moment, and pale blue eyes that turned up at the corners, like a cat’s. “You’re late.”

She didn’t respond. “What’s all this, Mr. Curtis?” she said, looking around the garden seemingly unimpressed. “Your bat cave?”

As well as the legs and the eyes, she also had a sharp tongue.

“A sanctuary.”

Her brows drew together as she sat in the chair opposite him, the skirt of her pale blue Chanel suit sliding upward to just a few inches above her knees. The late-afternoon sun hit her full force, her blond hair appearing almost white. “And what do you need sanctuary from? All the people you’ve screwed over this week?”

Yes, a very sharp tongue, though he remembered that it could also be soft and wet. “You think I thrive on making life difficult for others?”

“I think it may be your life’s blood.”

There was no disputing the fact that she disliked him. No, he could see that clearly. What he couldn’t make out from her attitude was if she was carrying his child or not, and that was the one thing he desperately wanted to know.

He walked over to the bar. “Drink?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Anything in particular? Martini, soda?” That would give him his answer.

“Something cold would be nice. It’s pretty warm.”

“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“Would you really appreciate it any other way?” she said brusquely.

“Martini?”

“Lemonade would be great if you have it. I’m driving.”

“Mary-”

“Do you think you deserve an easy answer, Mr. Curtis?” she interrupted coldly. “Think back to how we got here.”

He had done nothing but, for the past four weeks, though not in the same way as she, clearly. “We made an agreement.”

She laughed bitterly. “Is that what you’d call it? You blackmailed me and I gave in. Maybe gave up is a better way to put it.”

Ethan abandoned the drinks and went to stand before her. Her cat eyes were blazing hatred, and her claws were out, but he didn’t give a damn if she was angry. He wanted one thing and one thing only, and he would go to any lengths necessary to get it.

“Are you pregnant?” he asked bluntly.

It took her a moment to answer. Several emotions crossed her face, and her breathing seemed shallow and slightly labored before she finally nodded. “Yes.”

Ethan turned away, his heart pounding like a jack-hammer. He’d wanted this but had never believed it possible. He had no idea how to react.

“You’ll drop all charges against my father,” Mary said, her tone nonemotional.

He stood there, his back to her. “Of course.”

“And you won’t interfere in my life until the baby is born.”

He opened his mouth to agree, then paused. He turned to face her again. “I don’t know if can do that.”

“That was our agreement,” Mary countered, coming to her feet, her gaze fierce. “Do you not even have one ounce of honor in your blood, Mr. Curtis? Where the hell did you grow up, under a rock?”

She didn’t know where he came from, couldn’t know, but her words struck him hard and he frowned. “I will keep my word.”

Seemingly satisfied, Mary grabbed her purse and started for the elevator. “Good.”

“But there’s one condition,” Ethan called after her.

She whirled around, held his gaze without blinking. “There were no conditions.”

“This has nothing to do with my child, Mary. This is business.”

“I was under the impression that the child was business,” she said dryly.

Despite the dig, Ethan pressed on. “I want to hire you.”

She looked confused for a moment, then broke out laughing bitterly. “Never.”

“You’d turn away business so you don’t have to be around me? I thought you were way tougher than that.”

“I have enough business. I don’t need yours.”

The foolishness of that statement made him smile. “Being the heads of two successful companies, we both know that’s not true.”

“Look,” she began impatiently, “my deal with you is done. Unless you plan to go back on your word and not drop the charges-”

“No,” he cut in firmly. “But perhaps you also want that sculpture your father risked so much to retrieve?”

“I couldn’t give a damn.”

“No, but your father does.” He gestured to the courtyard and the small sculpture of a woman and child that Hugh Kelley had almost gone to jail for. It had been a gift from the Harringtons, part of their courtship when Ethan took over the company. They’d hated him for buying controlling shares in Harrington Corp., but the company was floundering under their care, and because they still wanted to be involved, they’d forced themselves to act nicely. If Ethan had known the rare sculpture belonged to a family member, he probably would’ve rejected the piece. For as much as he wanted to be accepted and welcomed into the old money of Minneapolis, he hated family drama. He hadn’t been too keen on having Hugh Kelley arrested for wanting the sculpture back, either, but he also wouldn’t allow breaking and entering at his company for any reason.

“Why are you doing this?” Mary asked, her cat eyes inspecting him as though he were a pesky rodent. “Why would you care if my father has that sculpture back? You have what you want.”

A pink blush stained her cheeks. She was so beautiful, and her temper and passion only made her more so. She was kidding herself and him if she thought they were done with each other. Two things had come out of their nights together: a baby and the desire to have her in his bed again. Both would take time, but he’d get what he wanted.

“I want to be there,” he said simply. “I want to be around you and see what’s happening to you. I want to see this child grow. That’s all.” When she said nothing, he moved on. “I have several parties to give and to attend over the next month. And one trip-”

“Trip?” she interrupted.

“To Mackinac Island.”

“Not a chance.”

“You don’t travel with clients?”

“You’re not a client.”

“Listen, if it were simply a business meeting, I’d go alone, but I have to stay a few days and I’m planning on throwing a party as well.”

“And you could find someone to help you with that anywhere,” she said. “Some woman you know? And I’m sure you know several.”

His mouth twitched with amusement. “I do.”

“A girlfriend.”

“No.”

“How about a call girl then?” she suggested, flashing him a sarcastic grin.

“I want the best. A professional-and NRR has a sterling reputation. And, quite honestly, it wouldn’t hurt having a Harrington by my side to-”

“Right,” she said quickly, then shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

She was so damn stubborn. “Do you know the circles I run in?”

“I could guess.”

“The kind that are really good for your business.”

She shrugged, shook her head again.

He stepped closer, studied her, then grinned. “You’re afraid of what might happen if you’re around me.”

“Try concerned.” She walked away, over to the bar where she poured herself a glass of iced tea. “Listen, Mr. Curtis, I won’t deny my attraction to you, just like I won’t deny my abhorrence of you, either.”

“I appreciate your honesty. But that’s still-”

“A no.”

“Well your refusal doesn’t take away from the fact that I need help. I could ask one of your partners-”

She fairly choked on her tea. “No.”

Ethan hesitated. It was the first time he’d seen her ruffled during their conversation. Sex didn’t shake her up emotionally, and neither did money, business or the subject of her father, but just mentioning her partners at NRR had her sweating.

“You have two partners, isn’t that right?” he asked casually.

“They know nothing about you…or this,” she said in a caustic tone. “And I want it to stay that way.”

“I see.”

She put down her glass and stood at the side of the bar. “You want your eyes on me all the time…”

“For starters.”

She nodded slowly, as though she were thinking. “All right, Mr. Curtis. You get what you want once again. I’ll take the job.” She turned away then, and walked to the elevator. “But understand something,” she added as the door slid open. “What happened at the lake will never happen again.”

“Whatever you say, Mary,” Ethan said with a slow grin as the elevator door closed.

It was seven o’clock on the nose when Mary walked into the little Craftsman house at 4445 Gabby Street. She’d grown up there, happy as any girl could be with two parents who adored her and told her so every day. With two such gentle souls guiding her, she should have been a softer, sweeter personality, but clearly there was too much Harrington in her. Instead of hugs, she loved to argue and battle and win. Today at Ethan Curtis’s office she’d done all three fairly well. She’d won her dad’s freedom, though she’d paid a high price for it.

Mary walked through the house, then out the screen door. She knew where her father was. During sunset, Hugh Kelley always sat in the backyard, his butt in dirt and under a shifting sky, he patted the newly sprung string bean plants as though they were his children. He was sixty-five, but lately he looked closer to seventy-five, far from the strapping man he used to be. Today was no different. He looked old and weathered, his gray hair too long in the back. For the millionth time Mary wondered if he would ever recover from her mother’s long illness and death and the arrest that followed. She hoped her news would at the very least remove a few layers of despair.

He glanced up from his beans and grinned. “Never been late in your life, have you, lass?”

Her father’s Irish brogue wrapped around her like a soft sweater. “If there was one thing you taught me, Pop, it was punctuality.”

“What a load of crap.”

Mary laughed and plunked down beside him in the dirt.

“Watch yourself there.” Hugh gestured to the ground. “That suit will be black as coal dust by the time you leave.”

“I’m all right, Pop.”

He snapped a bean from its vine and handed it to her.

“And you know I haven’t been on time a day in my life. Neither had your mother. Not you, though. Born right on your due date, you were. Neither your mother nor I ever understood where your timeliness came from. Well, no place we’d admit to, certainly.”

Hugh wasn’t being cryptic, just matter-of-fact. The rift between Mary’s father and her grandparents was old news-though old news he loved to drum up again and again. Not that she blamed him. The Harringtons had never approved of him, and had made him feel like an Irish peasant from day one. Mary just wished things could’ve been different all around. Bitterness and resentment were such a waste of time.

She took a bite of her bean as the late-summer breeze played with her hair. “So, I have some news.”

“What’s that, lass?”

“Ethan Curtis has dropped the charges.”

Hugh didn’t look surprised. “So my lawyer informs me.”

“You already knew?”

“Yep. Teddy called me half an hour ago.”

Mary studied his expression. Unchanged, tired, defeated. She shook her head. “Why aren’t you happy, relieved, something?”

“I am something.” His pale blue eyes, so like her own, brightened with passion. “I’m pissed off.”

“What? Why?”

“I know you, lass. I know you better than anyone. What did you do to make this happen?”

Her heart jumped into her throat, but she remained cool as steel on the outside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mare.”

“Pop, I talked to the man.”

Hugh snorted. “Ethan Curtis is no man. He’s a devil, a demon with no soul.”

Mary was all set to agree when a memory of the cozy room on Lake Richard flashed into her mind. Ethan was a demon, yes, but there was another side to him-a deeply buried side that held a surprising amount of warmth and tenderness. She’d seen it when he’d talked about his child.

She closed her eyes. His child.

“Well he’s decided to let it go,” Mary forced out. “He agreed that the sculpture wasn’t really worth his time and is even willing to give it back to you. After all, it was just a gift from Grandmother, with zero sentimental value to him and-”

“A gift that old woman had no right to give,” Hugh pointed out gruffly.

Mary gave a patient sigh. “I know, Pop.”

The basket beside him strained with vegetables. No doubt he’d been out here picking for a few hours. Lord only knew what he was going to do with it all. “Promise me you’re not in any trouble.”

Mary’s chin lifted. She’d lied, yes, but she’d done what she had to do. She was no more pregnant than a box of rocks, but her father was free, and protecting him was all she cared about right now.

“I have nothing to fear from Ethan Curtis,” she said tightly. As long as he didn’t find out the truth, she amended silently, as she picked up the basket of vegetables and walked inside the house.

Two

Mary wondered for a moment if she’d fallen asleep and was, God forbid, snoring. Every once in awhile NRR got a client who was so dull one or all of the partners would actually find themselves nodding off while discussing contracts.

Today it was Mary’s turn to down a third cup of coffee and pry her eyes open with toothpicks. She shifted in her chair and focused on Ivan Garrison, a new client who had hired her to design a menu for a party he was throwing aboard his yacht, Clara Belle. For the past thirty minutes the forty-year-old wannabe boat captain had been sorrowfully telling Mary that he’d named the boat in honor of his dead wife, who he’d married for her “outstanding boating skill and formidable rack.”

It had taken Mary a good thirty seconds to realize that Ivan was referring to his wife’s chest and another ten seconds to contemplate passing him on to Olivia, since the job mainly consisted of culinary planning. But he was one of those trust-fund jerks who made Olivia’s skin crawl, and the risk of having her abide by NRR’s seventh vow, Do No Harm might be asking too much.

Who knew? If he took Olivia for a ride in his yellow Lamborghini and insisted she call him Captain like he did everyone else, Olivia just might bop him on the head the night before the party and serve him to his guests with an apple in his mouth the next day.

“The date for the regatta gala as you know is the twenty-fifth,” he said, touching the brim of the snow-white captain’s hat he had worn to both meetings. “I’ll have my secretary send over the guest list. Please make sure to refer to me as Captain on the invitation. That’s how my friends and business associates know me.”

Aye aye, sir! Mary nodded. “Of course.”

“I’d like to really pack this party. We always get enough entrants for the race, but the galas aren’t as well attended.”

“We could make it as a charity event,” Mary suggested.

“I’ll think about that.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Now, have I told you how I came to be called Captain?”

“No.” If Ivan was going to come around every week, she’d have to invest in some NoDoz.

“As you know, it’s not my given name,” he said. “When I was six-wait, no, closer to eight, my nanny, her name was Alisia and she was the one who bathed me-”

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

Mary glanced up and smiled thankfully at her partner. “No problem, Olivia. We were just finishing up here.”

Olivia acknowledged Ivan with a quick nod. “Hello, Captain.” Then she turned back to Mary. “Your next client is here.”

“I don’t have-” Mary stopped herself. What the heck was she doing? Her savior, Olivia had clearly noticed her drooping eyelids and coffee-stained teeth, maybe even heard the beginning of the creepy nannyand-the-eight-year-old’s-bath story and was giving her a way out.

“We can discuss the rest on the phone, Captain,” Mary said, standing and shaking his hand. “Or if you’d prefer, we could e-mail.”

The captain sighed wistfully. “My Clara Belle loved the e-mail. Did I tell you she had twelve computers, one for every bathroom? She wanted to stay connected. I haven’t had the heart to remove them.”

After one more minute of commiserating about the impracticality of expensive technology in damp places, Mary told Ivan where to find the little captain’s room and walked toward the lobby with Olivia.

Mary released a weary sigh. “Thank you so much.”

“For what?” Olivia asked.

“The ‘your next client is here’ save. I’m thankful for the business, but sadly Ivan is only eccentric and strange in an uninteresting way. There’s nothing worse.”

Olivia looked confused. “Mary, I’m always happy to help with tedious clients, but in this case, you really do have someone waiting.” She nodded toward the man sitting in one of the lobby’s artfully distressed brown leather chairs.

Mary’s breath caught at the sight of him, and she wanted to kick herself for the girlish reaction, but she walked toward him instead. Ethan Curtis wasn’t the kind of handsome you’d see on the pages of a Businessman Weekly. No three-piece suits or slicked-back hair, no calm, refined demeanor. He looked edgy and ready to pounce, his severe blue eyes alert and ready for a battle. Dressed in tailored pants and an expensive, perfectly cut black shirt, his large frame ate up the leather chair as around them the air crackled with a potent mixture of desire and conflict.

“We didn’t have an appointment today, Mr. Curtis,” Mary said in a gently caustic tone.

Amusement flashed in his eyes. “Yes, I know. But this is urgent.”

Obviously she wasn’t getting rid of him anytime soon. “Let’s go into my office.”

“No. I need to take you somewhere.”

“Impossible,” she told him sharply.

“Nothing’s impossible.”

“I can’t.” Didn’t he see that Olivia was still lurking around? If she overheard them, she’d get the wrong idea…well, the right idea, and Mary didn’t want that. “I have insane amounts of work-”

“This is work.”

Mary pressed her lips together in frustration. She felt caught in a trap. If she refused, made even the smallest of scenes, Olivia would be out here, wondering what was up. That could bring Tess, too. She eyed Ethan skeptically, lowered her voice. “You say this is work?”

“Of course.” He spoke the right words, but he stared at her mouth while he said them.

“Better be.” She tossed him a severe gaze before heading into her office for her purse.

Mary stepped into the world of trendy layettes and custom chintz toddler chairs and felt her heart sink into her shoes. It was the last place in the world she wanted to be. The fact that not only was she lying about being pregnant but that it would be a long, long time before she came into this type of store for any real purpose weighed on her like an anchor. She eyed the blue and pink bookcases and dressers with cute custom airplane and unicorn knobs.

“This is a baby shop, Mr. Curtis,” she said quietly, sidestepping a beautiful whitewashed Morigeau-Lepine changing table.

Ethan dropped into a pale-green gliding chair. “Can we drop the ‘mister’?”

“I don’t think so.”

He raised one brow in a mocking slant and whispered, “Hey, I’ve seen that tiny raspberry birthmark right below your navel.”

A wash of heat slipped over her skin and she could only mutter, “Right…”

“Come sit down.” He motioned for her to take the yellow duckie glider beside him. “You never seem to get off your feet.”

“I’m fine. I’ll stand.”

“Ethan.”

“Fine. Ethan,” she ground out. “Now, are you going to tell me why we’re in a baby shop?”

He picked up a lovely piece of original artwork from a nearby table and studied the drawing of two frogs sailing a boat. “I’m thinking we could add one more item to your workload.”

“Like?”

“A nursery in my house.”

Mary’s pulse escalated to a frenetic pace. “You want me to design a nursery for the…our…”

“Baby, yes. I may have unlimited resources, but you weren’t far off when you suggested I grew up under a rock. It was a trailer park actually. Dark, dirty and decorated with the curbside castoffs of the rich people on the other side of town. So, I have zero taste. And as you can see, I’m a guy.”

She stared at him, not sure how to feel about what he’d just revealed to her. She hadn’t meant to insult him with the “rock” comment. Well, maybe she had a little, but now she felt pretty damn snobby. Although, his need to be accepted by the Minneapolis bluebloods, have a child with one, made way more sense now. Not that his actions were in any way forgiven. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said…the rock thing-”

He waved away her apology with his hand, his jaw a little too tight. “It’s not important. What is important however is that my child has a place to sleep. So? Is this agreeable to you?”

This wasn’t a bizarre request for an NRR client. She’d designed over twenty nurseries and children’s rooms over the past five years. Single fathers, gay fathers who had to admit they had no taste, even busy moms on occasion.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” Ethan said, coming to his feet.

“Did you?” He wanted her to decorate her own child’s room. A child that didn’t exist.

She turned away from Ethan and closed her eyes, took a deep breath. What was she thinking? What was she thinking lying to someone about something so important, something as sacred as having a baby? This was getting out of hand. Yes, she’d had to protect her father, and now that he was out of danger, wasn’t it time to tell Ethan Curtis that he was not going to be a daddy, suffer his censure, his threats, and get on with her life?

Fear darted into her gut. But what if he refiled charges? That was entirely possible-maybe even probable given how angry and spiteful he’d be if he learned the truth. Her father couldn’t survive another arrest. No, there was no way she was allowing that to happen.

Mary fingered a swatch of green gingham fabric. It would work wonderfully for a boy or a girl. Tears sat behind her throat. She wasn’t the most maternal person in the world, but she wanted a child. Someday. With a man who loved her…

“Mary?”

She turned and looked at Ethan. “Okay.”

“Hello, there.” A very perky blond sales clerk appeared before them, her round brown eyes wide with excitement. “So, when’s our baby due?”

Before Mary could even open her mouth to say that they were just looking around, Ethan chimed in with “Early to mid April.”

Mary’s head whipped around so fast she wondered if she’d given herself whiplash.

Ethan shrugged. “I did the calculations.”

“A spring baby,” the salesgirl said, beaming at Ethan as though he were a candidate for father of the year already. “How about we start with a crib?”

Ethan gestured to Mary. “The lady’s in charge.”

The girl looked expectantly at Mary. “Traditional? Round? Any thoughts?”

“No thoughts,” Mary said, feeling weak all of a sudden. “Not today.”

The girl looked sympathetic and lowered her voice. “Mom’s tired.”

You have no idea, lady.

“I tried to get her to sit down,” Ethan said with a frustrated shake of the head.

The girl nodded as if to say, I’ve seen many a pregnant woman and understood their moods. “We can do this another day.”

Mary nodded. “Another day is good.” Another year might be good to.

Ethan checked his watch. “It’s after one.” He eyed Mary with a concerned frown. “Have you eaten lunch?”

Mary shook her head. “Not yet, but I’ll get something back at the office-”

“You need to eat now. You wait here. I’ll go get the car.”

“I have my car,” she said, but he was already halfway out the door.

To make matters worse, the salesgirl sidled up to Mary, clasped her hands together and sighed. “You’re so lucky.”

“Why?”

She looked at Mary as though she was crazy or just plain mean. “That man is going to make a great daddy.”

“If he can stop ordering people around long enough,” Mary muttered to herself.

“Excuse me?”

Mary smiled at the girl, shook her head, then followed Ethan out the door.

“You know, there was an iffy-looking Thai place next to that baby store,” Mary said, sipping lemonade and munching on perfectly tender chicken picata and fresh spinach salad.

Across from her, Ethan waved his fork. “This is better.”

Mary shrugged, a trace of a smile in her voice. “Well, sure, if you like quiet, great food and a killer view.”

Under the guise of work, Ethan had taken her to his home for some lunch. Worn-out from the experience at the baby shop, and more than a little bit curious about what kind of home a man like this one would choose, she hadn’t put up much of a fuss. And her curiosity was well rewarded.

She had expected Ethan’s home to mirror his office-glass and chrome and modern-but maybe she should’ve taken a clue from his rooftop garden instead. There was absolutely nothing modern about the estate. It was enchanting and secluded, complete with a charming wooded drive that led straight up to the massive French-country style home.

Inside was nothing less than spectacular, but not in a showy, uptight way. Though it was sparsely furnished, the rooms were warm and rustic with lots of brick and hardwood.

Mary sipped her lemonade, taking in the soft summer afternoon on the sprawling deck that nestled right up to the edge of a private lake.

“I thought you should see the space you’ll be working with,” Ethan said, finishing off his last bite of chicken.

Mary nodded. “You’re nothing if not helpful, Mr. Curtis.”

A breeze kicked up around them, sending pre-autumn leaves swirling over the edge of the deck into the water.

“Hey, I thought we talked about this back at the baby shop. You were going to call me Ethan-”

“I only agreed to that to get you to stop talking.”

“What?” he said, chuckling.

“You were bringing up the past and I wasn’t interested in going there.”

“The very recent past.”

She attempted to look confused. “Was it? Feels like ages ago, like it didn’t happen at all.”

He glared at her belly. “Oh, it happened, Mary.”

Heat flooded her skin, but she forced her expression to remain impassive.

His gaze found hers again and he studied her. “You’ve got quite an attitude on you.”

“With you, yes.”

“I’m sure I’m not the only one,” he said, one brow raised sardonically.

“Don’t you have a room to show me?”

He sighed. “Come on, Mary, can we make peace here? Maybe even start again? Friends?”

Inside the confines of his office, where she could remember who and what he was, Mary felt safe. She had her walls up, double thick. Even on his rooftop or at the baby shop, he still seemed arrogant and ever the dictator. But here, in his home, with nature and softness surrounding him, it was different. His skin seemed bronze and highly touchable, his eyes glistened like two inviting lakes beckoning her to jump in, and his clothes seemed highly unnecessary. Mary felt her defenses slipping. Forget being friends; she wanted him to kiss her again-just once so she could prove to herself that it wasn’t as good as she remembered. Sure, he had more depth than he let on, but she could make no mistake about it-Ethan Curtis was a selfish, misguided man, who was solely out for himself.

She put down her napkin and tried not to stare at the lush curve of his lower lip. “I won’t pretend that we’re friends, or even friendly.”

“Fine, but can you really despise me? For wanting a child?”

She laughed, shocked at how obtuse he was being. “Is that a serious question? Of course it’s understandable and wonderful to want a child-blackmailing a woman you know nothing about to get one is not.”

He leaned forward and with a trace of a growl said, “True.”

“You have no excuse for your behavior?”

“None whatsoever.”

They stared at each other in stubborn silence, sparks of heat, of desire, flickering between them.

Finally Ethan spoke, “Let’s go see the room.”

They walked side by side through the house and up the curving staircase to the second floor. Ethan had run these stairs a hundred times, alone of course. He hadn’t invited many people to his home, and the ones that had made it past the foyer had never been allowed upstairs. He normally took women back to their place after a date. Less complicated that way.

These upcoming parties were going to be the first time he’d invited a large group to his home, and the thought alarmed him somewhat, though he knew it was the right business decision. If a person was going to switch insurance companies for their billion-dollar business, they would want to see the man who’d be taking it over in his natural habitat-simple as that.

“I chose the room next to mine,” Ethan explained as they walked down the long hallway. “If he or she needs me in the middle of the night…” He paused at the door to the nursery and looked at her. “That’s how it goes, right? They wake up at night and you go to them?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor as she stared into the empty room with its beamed ceilings and white walls.

“Your womanly instincts must tell you something-” Ethan began, but was quickly cut off by Mary’s soft laughter. “All right, I’m a little nervous about this whole thing. I want a child more than anything, but I know absolutely nothing.”

“You’ll get help.”

“I don’t do therapists.”

She released a heavy sigh and turned to face him. “No, Ethan. Not that kind of help.”

“What? Like a nanny or something?”

“Or something.”

He shook his head. “All this child will need is me.”

“Two seconds ago you were saying you didn’t know a thing.”

“I’ll learn.”

“Maybe you won’t be able to give a child everything. I mean…”

“What? What do you mean?”

She gritted her teeth. “Well, you were just talking about womanly instincts. I mean, don’t you think that a child needs a mother?”

Ethan felt his whole body go numb at her query and tried to shake it off, but the more he tried to control the feeling, the anger building inside him, the harder it attacked him. He heard himself mutter a scornful sound, then say, “Not from what I’ve noticed.”

Mary’s face was impassive, except for the frown lines between her brows. “What have you noticed?”

His head was swimming, his thoughts as jumpy as his skin. But why, dammit? Why was he reacting this way? The truth was he’d done just fine after his mom ran off. Sure he got into trouble with the law, but he’d gotten a hold of himself, and look at where he was today-no thanks to a mother. No, he and his kid would do just fine.

Mary felt the conflict start deep in her gut. She didn’t want to give a damn about Ethan or his past or his feelings on his family, but the stark pain etched on his face was very telling and intriguing. She would never have imagined seeing the hint of a suffering boy behind the overconfident glare of the man. “Ethan,” she began softly. “I’m not going to push you on this, but-”

Turning away from her, he lifted his chin and stared into the nursery. He was not about to discuss his past with her. “What do you think of the room?”

“It’s great,” she said in a soft voice. “Perfect. Any kid’s dream.”

“I’d like to get started on it right away.”

“Sure.”

He looked down at her once again, his eyes so dark blue and impassioned she felt her breath catch. “Mary?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind…” He broke off, shook his head.

“What?”

“Can I touch you?”

Her self-control, always to be counted on, melted like the last bits of snow on a warm spring day. “We agreed-”

“No.” He moved closer, until they were nearly touching. “Your stomach.”

“Oh.”

He cursed darkly. “I know it’s ridiculous. Way too early. All of that. But, I…”

Her gaze dropped to her belly. “It is early.”

“I know, but I just…” His mouth was close to her ear, that sensual, cynical mouth.

“All right,” she heard herself utter foolishly.

Mary closed her eyes, afraid of what she might say or do when his hand gently cupped her stomach. Heat surged through the light cotton fabric of her shirt, and she was flooded with emotions. There was no child here, yet there was an ache so intense she thought she’d collapse if he didn’t move his hand up toward her breasts or down between her thighs. Frustrated weakness overtook her and she wobbled against him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, holding her steady.

She had never run from anything in her life, but at that moment she had to get out of his house, away from that room, far from him. “I have to get back to the office.”

“I’ll drive you back.”

She ignored the concern in his voice and pushed away from him. “I followed you over here, remember?”

“Maybe you should sit down for a minute. You seem-”

“The first party is Friday, correct?” she said, running her fingers through her hair, as if that would help quiet her shaking body. “If you can send me the guest list.”

“Of course.” He attempted to touch her again, but she moved away.

“Thank you for lunch, Ethan.” Brushing past him, she walked quickly down the hallway, down the stairs and out the front door, only remembering to breathe once she was safely inside her car.

Three

“What’s Olivia making?” Mary asked when she returned to the office later that day. Even in her sorry mental state, the scent she’d encountered when entering the lobby of their office building five minutes ago had made her taste buds come alive. Mouthwatering aromas wafting through their building weren’t an unusual occurrence during the week, they just made her want to run up the four flights of stairs to get to the source instead of taking the very slow elevator.

Poised at the front desk, with a full plate of beautifully arranged golden spheres, Tess tried to smile. Unfortunately, her mouth was full and she could only manage a chipmunk-like grin. “Scones,” she said on a sigh, pointing at the plate. “Cranberry. Have one.”

“I’ve actually just come back from lunch, so I’m pretty stuffed.”

“Seriously? Too full for one of these?”

Tess rolled her eyes, then grabbed one. “Devil.”

“Don’t blame the addict, kid,” Tess replied, reaching for another. “Blame her supplier.”

“Where is Olivia?”

“Trying out another scone recipe. Chocolate this time.”

“Great.”

“She has a high tea to plan. That angry groom wants something beautiful and classic to celebrate the loss of his fiancée.”

“How strange, yet lovely.”

“He has over sixty guests.”

“Lovely for us, too, then.”

Tess laughed. “So, where were you?”

Obviously Olivia hadn’t told her about Ethan.

“That new client Olivia was telling me about?”

Or not. Mary glanced through the mail on the desk. “Yes. Ethan Curtis. CEO of Harrington Corp. and old-money wannabe.”

“Harrington Corp.? Isn’t that your family’s insurance company.”

Mary nodded. “Was. Before Ethan Curtis took it over.”

“Interesting that he’d hire you,” Tess said nonchalantly, taking another scone, but only fiddling with it on her plate.

“I’ve got the blue-blood background he’s looking for,” Mary explained. “In many respects.

“Olivia said he was pretty good-looking.”

“I suppose he is.”

“A clean-shaven Colin Farrell with the body of a construction worker, is what she said, I think.”

“That’s incredibly specific. She saw him for like five seconds.”

“Just be careful,” Tess said, her tone serious.

Such a strong warning from a woman who rarely got involved in the personal matters of her partners made Mary’s defenses perk up. “He’s just a client, Tess.”

“Of course. Sure. But you know, it’s always better to be safe, kid. Expect an agenda and you won’t get hurt.” She picked up her scone and pointed it at Mary. “You never know the true character of a person or what they’re really after.”

Whenever Tess spoke in this cryptic way, Mary had the burning desire to ask her what she meant by it, and maybe where the cynicism was coming from. But the women of NRR kept their pasts in the past. As for Tess’s concern over Ethan Curtis’s character, Mary wasn’t flying blind-she knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. But her partner’s advice was sound. After what had happened today, how she’d felt standing so close to him, as though she were frozen solid and he was a very inviting campfire, she had to be careful-adopt the all-business facade she normally wore with such ease and comfort.

“I’ll watch my back.” She tossed her partner a reassuring grin. “But in the meantime, Mr. Curtis has given me five days to plan a very swanky event. I’d better get on it.” She paused over the plate of scones. “Damn that Olivia,” she grumbled, grabbing one and heading toward her office.

In the past Ethan had used a local catering company for his parties. A boutique-type place, very upscale and guaranteed to impress. Their food had always been good, though at times unrecognizable. But, in his opinion, the menu and service had always felt cold and impersonal, not really his speed. For years he’d gone along with the very fancy, tasteless hors d’oeuvres, prickly flower arrangements and silent waitstaff because, well, he’d been to several events with just that type of vibe and everyone had seemed to enjoy themselves.

Then he’d asked Mary Kelley to plan his event.

When she’d come to him with the menu and details of what she had planned, he’d worried. Would his stuffy clientele appreciate her vision?

Ethan glanced around his home. Clearly, he’d worried for no reason. In five short days she’d transformed the entire first floor of his home into a relaxed, candlelit lounge, and outside on his deck and lawn, she’d created a beautiful Asian garden. It was anything but showy. In fact, the feel of the whole party was classic and elegant and totally comfortable. Smiling, helpful waitstaff milled about with delicious alcoholic concoctions like wet-cucumber and ginger-passionfruit margaritas, and Asian-French treats like miso-braised short ribs, coriander-crusted ahi tuna and Vietnamese sweet-potato fries with a chili cream dipping sauce.

Surrounded by several clients and potential clients, Ethan felt in his element and ready to do business, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering where Mary was. Earlier in the night she’d slipped away to change and reappeared right before the first doorbell chime.

Ethan had been having a difficult time keeping his eyes off her since. His gaze scanned the crowd and found her chatting with two couples, looking at ease and incredibly sexy. Her makeup was smoky and sophisticated, and she’d slicked her blond hair back into a very chic ponytail. But it was the clothes she was wearing that really made his entire body jolt. She looked as though she’d just stepped off a runway in New York. The black crisscross halter top and white pencil skirt showed off her long, slim figure to perfection. Soon she wouldn’t be able to wear clothes like this, he mused thoughtfully. Her body would grow with their child, blossom with curves.

He continued to watch her as she gestured to one of the waitstaff carrying those very popular pale-green wet-cucumber margaritas. After serving the couple, Mary made her way over to Ethan and his insurance friends, her light-blue cat eyes bright with success and confidence. “Good evening. Is everyone enjoying themselves?”

The people around Ethan nodded and offered their host and hostess several enthusiastic compliments, then chuckled with amusement when Ethan declared he had to have what appeared to be the last piece of ahi and he was going to seek it out. Feeling oddly possessive in the large crowd of married and single men, Ethan led Mary out on the deck, where guests were waiting for a boat ride around the small lake.

“You haven’t said anything about-” she gestured around the room “-all of this.”

“Looks good,” he said distractedly. The light out on the deck was even more intimate than the candles inside the house. Her neck looked soft and white and he played with the thought of leaning in and kissing her, right where her pulse thrummed gently.

“Looks good?” she repeated. “Is that all I’m going to get from you?”

“Nice choice of words,” Ethan muttered, closing the gap between them so they were nearly touching, his chest to the tips of her breasts. Heat surged through Ethan’s blood, and Mary must’ve seen the desire in his eyes because she quickly restated her question.

“What I meant was, is everything satisfactory?”

Ten feet away, around the side of the house, there was an alcove, just dark enough for them not to be spotted. He wanted to take her there, watch her pale-blue eyes turn smoky as he removed her skirt. “The food is amazing, the house looks perfect…yes, all satisfactory.”

“Good.”

“Great party, Curtis. Really top-notch.” Downing a plate of short ribs as though they were going out of style, Ed Grasner, one of Ethan’s biggest clients, walked by, no doubt headed for the boats and his wife.

Like a brick to the head, Ethan remembered why his guests were here. It was not to facilitate a seduction-he could do that on his own time. He turned back to Mary, his game face on. “The success of this evening isn’t based on how much everyone eats and drinks or how great the house looks, it’s based on acquiring several new clients.”

Mary looked confused, as though she was watching a chameleon change colors. “Of course.”

Ethan nodded toward a couple in their late thirties, sitting at one of the candlelit tables by the water. “Isaac and Emily Underwood. The St.Paul Underwoods. Very old money.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of them.”

“They own twenty-five exclusive inns around the Midwest. Get to them, get to the rest of their family. Can your efforts tonight reel in prize fish like that?”

“Is this a business party or the hunting and gaming channel?”

“I want what I want. And ninety-nine percent of the time I get it.”

She shook her head at him.

He raised a brow. “I sound arrogant?”

“Arrogant, presumptuous, lacking in finesse.”

Her derogatory adjectives caused him to stiffen. “Do you ever not say what’s on your mind?”

“Once or twice. But it’s a rarity.”

Ethan had never been spoken to like this. At least not in the past fifteen years. He wasn’t used to it, but for some reason with her, it didn’t bother him all that much. In fact, her honesty and candor appealed to him.

“Mr. Curtis?” The pair that Ethan had just been talking about were walking toward him. The Underwoods were a handsome couple, very blond and tanned. Understated wealth oozed from them. They also appeared very much in love, their hands tightly clasped, only releasing each other when Ethan and Mary reached out a hand to greet them.

Emily gave Mary a warm, beautifully white smile. “I hear that you are the one responsible for this party?”

“I am,” Mary said pleasantly. “Are you enjoying yourself this evening, Mrs. Underwood?”

The woman looked confused. “Have we been introduced?”

“Not yet. But I’ve heard much about you and your husband, and of course your lovely inns, from my grandparents.”

“Your grandparents?”

“The Harringtons.”

The casual warmth from a moment ago morphed into a look of understanding and respect. “Of course. I should have noticed it before. You have your grandmother’s eyes. The shape.”

Mary smiled, but her stomach churned lightly as it did whenever someone found a similarity between her and her grandmother. She didn’t despise the woman like her father did, but growing up she had always been compared with her and had desperately wanted to be compared to her mother instead. But they’d looked so different it was almost impossible to see.

Ethan’s hand came to rest on her back and she instinctively leaned into him. “Have you had a boat ride?” he asked, gesturing toward the lake. When they nodded, he asked them if they’d tried the food.

Chuckling, Isaac spoke then, “The food is amazing, Curtis. Really. Both Emily and I have taken full advantage of your hospitality.” He turned to Mary. “We must have the name of your chef. There are a few things we’d love to add to our menus.”

“Of course,” Mary replied. “The chef is my business partner, Olivia. I’ll make sure to give you her name and number before you leave. But first, I see that the waitstaff are bringing out the desserts. You must try the pistachio crème brûlée with orange ice cream.”

“Sounds delicious,” Emily said with childlike enthusiasm.

Lowering her voice, Mary said conspiratorially, “Heavenly actually.” She gestured toward the house. “Let’s make sure you both have at least one.”

Emily giggled. “At least. Come along, Isaac.”

Before Mary could disappear, Ethan grabbed her arm. “Why are you sending them away? I wanted to speak with them about-”

“Relax, Curtis,” she said softly, her eyes bright with mischief. “They’ll be back. And because they want to, not because they’ve been hooked, yanked onto a boat and gutted.”

Equally shocked and impressed, Ethan studied her. “Very nice.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

Ethan’s gaze followed her hungrily as she walked off to feed crème brûlée to his guests.

Some men resembled excessively tall penguins in their tuxedoes. Some looked awkward and uncomfortable. But Ethan Curtis wore his like a second skin. As he stalked his estate, he looked like a predator in search of his next prey-and he seemed to take his targets down with amazing speed and assuredness. By the end of the night, several potential clients had verbally signed on to Harrington Corp.’s already thick roster, and as Mary had predicted, the Underwoods had come back to him in a sugar haze, asking for a meeting at his office the following Monday.

When Mary found Ethan he was in the kitchen, looking very pleased with himself, his bow tie undone and falling against his open white shirt. Beer in hand, he chatted with the on-site chef, Jean Paul, as the man prepared to leave.

Mary shut her eyes against the sudden and unbidden image of Ethan out of that tux, his heavily muscled, tanned skin pressing down into the cushion of a woman’s body-her body. She despised her reaction to him and to the memory of those nights together. Why couldn’t she get it through her thick skull that those moments were over? Yes, sometimes he looked at her with a flicker of desire in his eyes, but the moment was over in seconds and he was back to business. He hadn’t even commented on how she looked tonight, and she was really working it.

She grabbed her purse from the counter by the fridge. What did it matter? She was the one insisting that nothing romantic ever happen again. She faced him and spoke in her most professional voice. “Well, we’re done here. If there’s nothing else…”

Jean Paul discreetly returned to his knives, and Ethan regarded her with open respect. “I owe you a very big thank-you.”

“You’re welcome. It was a success, I think.”

“Completely.” He came to stand before her, his dark-blue eyes glittering with the satisfaction of a tiger who’d just bagged several hunters for dinner. His sensuous mouth turned up at the corners as he grinned at her, stealing her breath. “In fact, many of my guests are wondering what you’ll come up with next.”

“They’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I’m wondering, too.” One of his dark brows lifted. “Do I have to wait?”

If he came any closer, she was going to lose it. Feeling irritatingly light-headed, she reached out for the granite countertop to steady herself. “We could discuss the menus and themes at any time.”

“How about now? I didn’t get one of the boat rides.”

“I don’t know if the guys are still out there.”

His grinned widened. “I think I can manage to take you for a ride myself.”

“Ethan Curtis, where have you been?” The slow, whiskey-smooth female voice came from behind Mary, and she turned with a jerk to see a five-foot-nine Playboy playmate, dressed in an orange tank dress.

“Allison, where did you come from?” Ethan asked, sounding more annoyed than surprised.

“Didn’t you say eleven? I don’t wear a watch, but I could swear I’m right on time.” Her voice and body language just screamed sex.

Mary heard Ethan curse, but she didn’t dare turn back to face him, not with her neck turning red as she knew it was. He had a date. An after-party date. Of course he did. Why not?

“Wait for me by the pool, Allison,” Ethan said, his voice soft but commanding. “I’m not quite finished here.”

Finding her nerve at long last, Mary forgot about her red neck and gave the hot blonde a hotter glare. “Allison, is it?”

She smiled. “Two Ls and two Ns.”

Brilliant and beautiful, Mary mused dryly. What a combination. “You don’t need to go anywhere. Mr. Curtis and I are finished.” She turned to Ethan and gave him a fake smile. “I’ll call you in a few days, sir-to discuss the next function.”

Anger burned in her stomach and, as she walked swiftly through his house and out the front door, she called herself fourteen kinds of fool for even considering him in a romantic way. He was an egotistical, spoiled player who had no idea what he really wanted.

“Mary, slow down.” Ethan caught up with her on his driveway and grabbed her hand as she tried to open her car door.

She brushed him off. “I have work waiting for me at home and you have a Barbie twin waiting for you by the pool.”

“I made that date weeks ago. Before…well…” He pushed a hand through his hair. “This is awkward.”

“Damn right,” she retorted in a sharp voice. “So, I’m going to go now before it gets any more awkward.”

“No.”

“I’m not into threesomes, Curtis.”

“I didn’t even know you were interested in a twosome.”

Gritting her teeth, Mary stared at him. “Ditto.”

He took a moment to process her meaning. “If you think I don’t want to go to bed with you again, you’re wrong.”

“Who the hell could tell?”

“What does that mean?”

“You hardly looked at me tonight,” she said with a scowl. “Then the cover of Sluts-R-Us magazine walks in and your eyes pop out of-”

“I see you, Mary,” he interrupted hotly. “I remember every damn detail.”

“But?”

“Weren’t you the one who said that what happened those nights at the lake would never happen again?”

She hated when the truth was tossed in her face. “Yes.” She wrenched open her car door.

“And it’s complicated, isn’t it?” he continued. “What we did? What we made? Who I am.”

“Who you are? I can’t figure it out.”

“The bastard who blackmailed you…basically.”

His words shocked her. The easy admission of something so base and vile. She got in her car and slammed the door. “So, what? You feel guilty?”

“No.”

“Of course not. You see nothing wrong with what you did.”

“I don’t feel guilty, that’s true. But I do feel…” He cursed. “Conflicted. Protective.” He shrugged, as if the truth surprised the hell out of him. “Isn’t that the damnedest thing?”

“Protective? Of whom?”

“You.”

“You’re protecting me from you?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, stop it,” she said caustically, gunning her engine. “Sex doesn’t have to be any more emotionally significant than a really charged football game.”

The words exploded into the air like fireworks, but she didn’t believe them, and she knew that he knew she didn’t believe it. What was she trying to do? Why couldn’t she abandon this idea of him and her, one more time, or two or three? What was she? A masochist?

“Mary-”

“Go prove my point to Allison in there,” she said bitingly before shoving the car into Reverse and taking off down the quiet, wooded drive.

Four

Mary sat in Little Bo and Peep’s baby shop, up to her eyeballs in terry cloth, stretch cotton, bouncy seats and black and white mobiles. For the past twenty minutes, she hadn’t been able to pick out a single thing for the nursery. She knew exactly what clothes she loved, what crib and bassinet she wanted, she even knew the drawer pulls she would pick out if this were all real. But designing a nursery for a child that didn’t exist was next to impossible. She felt like a total fraud and she wanted to give up.

The doorbell over the shop entrance jangled merrily, and Mary watched a young couple come through the door with excited grins. They oohed and aahed as they moved from one quaint set of nursery furniture set to the next, hands clasped tightly, the woman’s round stomach looking like a sweet watermelon. She wanted that. A real relationship, a real baby…something impossible to have with Ethan Curtis. Mary’s mind rolled back to the party and how it had ended. For the past two days she’d thought of nothing but him and that blonde, and her own irrational need to be with him again. She’d wondered what had happened after she’d left. Had Ethan met her by the pool? Did they go for a swim together? Allisonn-two Ls, two Ns-hadn’t seemed like the kind of woman who thought swimsuits were all that important.

Beside her, the young mother pointed at a tiny Minnesota Twins baseball cap and squealed with delight, catching Mary’s eye in the process. Mary forced a smile, then moved on to look at bathtubs and safety accessories. Why the hell did she care what Ethan did? Or who he did, for that matter? She had to get over this.

The saleswoman walked by her again with that look all salespeople give a person when they think you’re lingering without purpose.

Are you stealing or just indecisive?

“Right, I get it,” Mary grumbled under her breath as she abandoned the bath supplies and headed to the front of the store. Nothing was going to happen today. She wasn’t about to do any work on the nursery in her state of mind. If Ethan asked her how she was progressing, she’d just have to stall and-

“Mary?”

Coming into the shop just as Mary was exiting was a very elegant woman in her midseventies, dressed in a thin crepe navy blue suit, her white hair swept off her mildly wrinkled face in a tightly pinned chignon.

“Grandmother? What are you doing here?”

Grace Harrington surveyed her granddaughter, her perfectly arched brows lifting at the sight of Mary’s plain black pantsuit and slightly scuffed heels. To Grace Harrington, clothes were like Ziplock baggies, only good for one use.

“Pearl Edicott’s granddaughter is expecting twins,” her grandmother said in a pinched tone. “Pearl has the most horrific taste. It’s a very good thing she knows it.”

“Very good thing,” Mary repeated, smiling in spite of herself. Grace Harrington was an over-the-top snob, and if Mary had any sense, she’d probably detest her. After all, Grace wasn’t all that warm either, more days than not she found something wrong with Mary’s clothing or hairstyle, and she treated her help like they didn’t breathe the same air as she did. And then there was the fact that she had cut Mary’s mother out of her life when she’d married Hugh.

Yet, with all of that, Mary felt a connection with her, a strange admiration that went far beyond her wealth. Grace was smart, well-read and a stickler for speaking her mind. Mary could really respect that. She and her grandparents were rarely simpatico, but they were her blood, and had always wanted to be a part of her life, and strangely Mary’s mother had never discouraged her from seeing them.

Grace picked up two twin chenille baby robes that cost a hundred dollars each and eyed them closely. “And what are you doing here, my dear?”

“Designing a nursery for a client.”

“Ah, yes, your business. How is that going?”

“Great.”

Grace forgot about the robes for a moment and focused on Mary, her lips pursed. “This isn’t for one of those two-father homes, is it?”

“Not this time.”

“A couple, then?” She didn’t give Mary a chance to answer as she clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “A mother who doesn’t want to create her own child’s room. How modern.”

Mary was about to ask her grandmother if she herself had actually designed her own daughter’s nursery or if she’d hired three or four interior designers to make it happen, but she knew she’d probably get an answer that resembled something like, “It was my vision. As usual, the help was only there to execute it.”

“The nursery is for a single father actually,” Mary told her.

“Anyone I know?”

Mary’s brow lifted. “Now how many single fathers do you socialize with, Grandmother?”

Grace gave her a blank look. “None…that I know of.” Spotting a beautiful pink-and-blue blanket draped over one of the handcrafted armchairs, Grace turned her back on Mary. “Well, this chenille is lovely. It reminds me of the very one your mother carried around for years. If the maid even spoke of washing it, she would…” Grace stopped abruptly and cleared her throat.

Mary was grateful not to have to see the woman’s face in that moment. Turning toward a row of onesies, she quickly changed the subject. “Babies are really no bigger than dolls, are they?”

“For a short time, yes,” Grace replied softly. “But before you even realize it they are grown and deciding what they will wear and who they will marry without any input from you.”

“There you are.” A booming male voice broke through all the femininity. “I called your office and Olivia said you’d be-”

“Ethan?” In the heaviness of her conversation with Grace, Mary hadn’t heard the bell over the door. If she had heard-and seen-who was about to enter the shop, she would’ve been out the door in a matter of seconds. This was not good.

Ethan spotted Grace and changed instantly from casual guy to cynical business mogul. “Mrs. Harrington. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I doubt that,” the older woman said dryly.

Before her grandmother could connect the single father with Ethan, Mary said quickly, “I’m organizing several functions for Mr. Curtis.”

“Is that so?” Grace said, pursing her lips as if she’d just gotten a whiff of rotting fish, or as if the thought of her blue-blooded granddaughter working for the upstart who had basically stolen her family’s company made her want to throw up. “When did he hire you?”

In other words, how long has this been going on and why was I not informed?

“Just a few weeks ago,” Mary replied.

“And he has a meeting with you in a baby boutique?”

“No.”

No doubt sensing that Mary was floundering, Ethan jumped in to save her. “We were supposed to meet at the restaurant next door, but I saw your granddaughter in here and wanted to start early. As you know, Mrs. Harrington, I have little patience and zero time. I was in the neighborhood seeing a client and there was something I needed to discuss with Miss Kelley that couldn’t wait. Luckily she agreed to meet with me.”

“Luckily for you she agreed to take you on as a client, Mr. Curtis,” Grace said frigidly.

He nodded. “Your granddaughter is very talented.”

“A fact of which I am well aware.”

“Knowing that your granddaughter is planning the event, maybe you’ll reconsider the brunch on Saturday.”

“Perhaps,” she said tightly, then turned to Mary. “I have to run, my dear.”

“But the gift for the twins…”

“This shop is a little too new money for my taste, and you know how I despise that.” She didn’t have to look at Ethan to get her point across. “Your father is out of harm’s way now, I hear.”

“Yes,” Mary said, surprised her grandmother would bring something like that up, much less care.

“Nasty business, that. But we were in no position to help, unfortunately.” After two air kisses to Mary’s cheeks and nothing whatever for Ethan, she left them.

“That woman couldn’t hate me more if I spit on her shoe,” Ethan muttered.

“Oh, yes she could, but I wouldn’t advise trying it.”

“You’d think I stole the company right out from under their noses.”

“Didn’t you?”

He gave her a haughty look. “Harrington Corp. was in trouble. Your grandfather was really slipping. Clients weren’t getting serviced the way they had in the past and many were threatening to walk. I didn’t steal anything. If anything I saved that damn company.”

“Pretty much the same as stealing it, to my grandparents.” Mary took her cell phone out of her pocket and showed it to him. “Now, you have my phone number, right?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t you have called me instead of tracking me down?”

“Why? Did I embarrass you?” he asked coldly.

“Don’t be so thick, Curtis. I’m in a baby shop. I had to dance fast with my grandmother about why I was here, then why you were here-”

“I danced fast on that one,” he interrupted.

She ignored him. “You know I want to keep this quiet. I thought we both did.”

“I never said I wanted to keep anything quiet-”

“Hello, there.” The saleswoman who had been watching Mary for the past thirty minutes in annoyance joined them, completely smiley-faced and enthusiastic at the sight of Ethan. “Daddy’s here.”

Ethan looked pleased with the comment and nodded. “He is.”

“Would you and your wife like some lemonade before you get started?”

Mary snorted derisively and said, “I’m not his-”

“Yes, we would,” Ethan said, cutting her off before following the saleswoman to a small refreshment area.

For the next twenty minutes Mary sat beside Ethan and watched as the saleswoman laid blankets and rugs, hats and booties, washtubs and soothing lullaby CDs at Ethan’s feet as though he were the sultan of Bruni.

Feeling close to exploding if she stayed in the shop one more minute, Mary leaned in and whispered to Ethan, “I have to get back to the office,” then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

He caught up with her, placing his hand on her arm. “We need to talk.”

“About?” she asked, trying to ignore the heat of his fingers searing into her skin.

“The brunch.”

“Call my office and we’ll set something up for tomorrow-”

“No, I’m the client. You can come to my office.” His jaw hardened, letting her know there was no denying his command. “Today, four-thirty.”

As she struggled to maintain her calm exterior, Mary fought the desire that simmered beneath. “Fine. Four-thirty.”

“You look exhausted.”

Not exactly the first thing a woman wants to hear when the man she finds overwhelmingly attractive opens his office door.

“Thanks,” Mary uttered sarcastically.

Ethan grinned, gestured toward the chocolate brown leather couch. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’re not going to discuss the brunch while you stand. This could take a while.”

“How long are you estimating?”

“Why? Do you have a date or something?”

Standing on either side of the coffee table, like two gunslingers, they stared at each other.

“Not the best joke I’ve made this week.”

“No.”

“Come on, have a seat,” Ethan said, dropping onto the plush leather and grinning.

On a weary sigh, she plunked down on the couch. “Okay, I’m sitting, now let’s start with the menu. I think we should go for a southern theme. Olivia has this New Mexican menu-Wait, what are you doing?”

Before Mary could stop him, Ethan had taken off her shoes and placed her feet in his lap. “I’m helping you to relax.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I’ll tell you why not. I’m here for business not for pl-” She came to screeching halt, which made Ethan’s eyes glitter even more wickedly.

“If this helps,” he began. “Rubbing your aching feet is business. echnically.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.”

“It’s my job, my duty-my business, if you will. Or so I’ve read.”

She looked surprised. “You’ve been reading books on…”

“Pregnancy? Yep.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Pregnancy, baby care, labor, postpartum, breastfeeding-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said, relaxing back into the couch as Ethan’s strong hands worked the tired knots in her arches. “Five minutes max.”

He laughed. “I’ve learned many useful things.”

“Like?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes open and the soft, cozy sound out of her voice.

“Like nausea and strange cravings are very normal in the first trimester.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So are leg cramps and exhaustion.”

“Yep.”

“And an unusually high sex drive.”

Her eyes flew open and she sat up, swung her legs to the floor. It took her a moment to tamp down the tremors of need running through her. She felt the urge so strongly, all she wanted him to do was continue touching her. She wanted his mouth on hers, nudging her lips apart with his tongue…“All right,” she said breathlessly. “Southern food, maybe Southwest or Cajun. What about having an autumn-barn-dance theme for your brunch?”

“A heavy sex drive is nothing to be ashamed of, Mary.”

She tilted her chin up. “I’ve never been ashamed of it.”

What she was saying dawned on him almost immediately, and his eyes lit with mischief, his lips parted sensuously.

“Now, can we get back to this?” she asked coolly.

He wouldn’t allow her to look away. “Nothing happened with Allisonn.”

Her heart skipped and she swallowed nervously. She wanted to tell him that she couldn’t care less about blondie, but he wouldn’t believe her. “This doesn’t sound like brunch discussion.”

“Mary…” he began, his voice the husky baritone she remembered from those nights at the lake.

“Listen, Curtis, what you do in your house, bedroom, pool, etcetera is your business. Let’s just get on with this.”

“Why are you so hard?”

“Bad genes,” she responded succinctly which made him laugh. “Not from my parents. They were angels. But they say attitude skips a generation.”

Shaking his head, he stared at her for a moment, then he stood up and reached for her. “Dance with me?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“We’ll make it business related. Show me what you’re talking about with this barn concept. There’s got to be some dancing involved on my deck, right?”

“Yes, but there’s no music.”

“I could turn some on, but I don’t think we need it,” He touched his temple with his index finger. “It’s all in here.”

Laughing, she took his hand and let him pull her to her feet and into his arms. “You have country music playing up there?”

He pretended to be insulted by her query. “Blues, baby. Only the blues for me.”

Her toes sank into the plush carpet and she sank into Ethan’s embrace. His hand gripped her waist, then slid to her back to pull her closer. She felt feminine and unsure, but she didn’t want him to release her.

“I don’t know how to dance,” she admitted.

“I’m not that great at it, either,” he said. “But I can manage a few turns and the side-to-side swaying.”

His eyes were so expressive, so full of life. They could leap from anger to lust to boredom to amusement in mere moments, but it was these times that made her toes curl, the times when he stared at her with unabashed longing.

As he rocked back and forth, as his hips brushed hers and his palm pressed possessively against her hand, Mary experienced a feeling so powerful, so new it made her heart thump painfully in her chest. She was enjoying herself, with Ethan Curtis, the man who had forced her into-A man she should never enjoy herself with.

Her thoughts dropped away suddenly as Ethan quickened his pace, twirling her first to the right, then the left. With a sinful grin, he grasped both of her hands and gave her a gentle push back, then he turned her and pulled her into his body, so her back was pressed against his chest.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled at the amusement in his eyes. “Tell anyone about this and I’m never dancing with you again.”

Laughing with delight, Mary let him sway them both to the right and left, then squealed when he dipped her. When he rolled her out toward the couch, she released him and dropped back on the brown leather cushions. Chuckling along with her, Ethan did, too. For a moment neither of them spoke, then they both turned to look at each other.

“We’d better be careful,” Ethan said.

“Why?” Mary asked breathlessly. “What do you mean?”

He reached over and brushed a strand of honey-colored hair from her cheek. “If we don’t watch our step we might have fun together-or worse, actually start liking each other.”

To Mary’s delight, the brunch fell on a glorious late-August day. The trees were starting to contemplate change, their green leaves making room for rich golds, ruby reds and pumpkin oranges. Mary had nixed the Cajun idea, but the pre-autumn Southern barn theme was there and looking fabulous. As she meandered through the guests, who had almost doubled in size since the last party, she took in her handiwork with a proud grin. The deck and surrounding land was decorated with an odd but interesting, contemporary rustic charm; hay bales in glass troughs like funky centerpieces, scarecrows dressed like runway models, Tom Sawyer-style rafts in the water, and on and on. Then there was the food. Pumpkin and sage soup in miniature pumpkins, fried catfish with a spicy green tomato relish, mustard greens with pancetta, watermelon and pecan pie tartlets.

Everyone seemed relaxed, the stuffy atmosphere of this crowd’s customary Saturday cocktail party forgotten. Diamonds still sparkled from ears, wrists and fingers, but the backdrop was denim and Ralph Lauren plaid.

Mary spotted five-star-inns’ Isaac and Emily Underwood coming toward her and smiled welcomingly. She knew that, as of last Monday, the couple were now Ethan’s clients. “Well, hello, there. Are you two enjoying yourselves?”

“Your creativity is astounding, Mary,” Isaac said, gesturing to the backyard.

“Thank you.”

“Yes, amazing,” Emily added.

Isaac dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Even though we don’t have to work, the feeling of success can bring great rewards, don’t you think?”

Mary’s brows drew together. Contrary to what the Underwoods believed was reality, Mary had to work for every penny. The Harringtons didn’t help her one bit, never had, nor had she ever asked them to.

“This is a great success,” Emily said, two-carat diamond studs sparkling in her ears. “Especially for Ethan. Invitations to his parties will be sought-after now.”

“Now?”

Heat spread across Emily’s face and she stumbled to explain. “Well, what I mean to say is…”

Isaac quickly covered for her. “Curtis is brilliant, and he has the client list to prove it, but as far as socializing…well, he’s not really one of us, you understand.”

She certainly did, and she had to resist the urge to grab the pumpkin out of Isaac’s hand and dump the contents over his head. Lucky for her and for them, the Underwoods spotted another group of snotty elitists over by the bar and excused themselves. Why did Ethan want to be a part of this world? she wondered, heading inside the house. She scanned the room looking for him, expecting to find him in the center of a group of wealthy people who were looking for free advice, but he wasn’t there. She sidled up to one of the waitstaff. “Have you seen Mr. Curtis?”

“I think he’s in the kitchen.”

“Alone?”

“No, there’s a full kitchen staff in there, Ms. Kelley.”

“I mean, was he with anyone? A guest?” she asked tightly. Like maybe a Tiffany-one F, two Ys?

The man shook his head. “Not that I saw.”

As she walked toward the kitchen, the sound of clanging pots and hustling staff was interspersed with a shrill, critical voice that Mary instantly recognized as her grandmother’s.

The door opened and as a mortified-looking waitress rushed out with a plate of food, Mary heard the older woman’s voice again. “You can take my family’s company, hire my granddaughter to act as your wife at parties and invite the top shelf as your guests, but that will never make you one of us.”

Interrupting the conversation didn’t sound like a good plan. She didn’t want to embarrass Ethan any further. So Mary watched through a crack in the door. The room was busy with waitstaff, chefs and to Mary’s horror, not only her grandmother, but two of her grandmother’s closest friends. Grace Harrington stood a few feet from Ethan, who had his back to the sleek Wolf range, her friends behind her like a scene from one of those movies about exclusive high school cliques.

“Breeding cannot be bought,” Grace continued, her tone spiteful and cruel. “Where and who you come from is in every movement you make. Make no mistake about it, Mr. Curtis, you wear your trailer-park upbringing like a second skin.”

The room stilled. The chefs stopped chopping, the waitstaff looked horrified as they tried to stare at anything but Ethan.

White-hot fury burned in Ethan’s eyes. “I know exactly where I come from, Mrs. Harrington, and I’m proud of it.”

“Is that so? Then why try so hard to impress us all?”

“My work makes enough of an impression to satisfy me. These events are a way to gain more clients. After all,” he said with a slow smile, “before I came along, Harrington Corp. was not only hemorrhaging money but about to lose seventy percent of their client base as well.”

Grace’s jaw dropped, and she looked as though she couldn’t breathe. Ditto with the geriatric sentinels behind her. Mary had never seen her grandmother bested before, and she felt oddly sorry for her, but knew the older woman had it coming to her. Grace Harrington could dish it out, and maybe now she would learn to take it.

Mary watched Ethan grab a beer from the counter and tip it toward the three some. “Good afternoon, ladies. I have every confidence that you can find the front door from here.”

And then he was coming her way, in ten seconds he’d bump right into her. Mary dropped back into a small alcove off the hallway and waited for him to leave the kitchen and pass by her. His jaw tight, his stride purposeful, he walked past her and in the opposite direction of the party. After waiting a moment for her grandmother and her friends to leave, Mary followed Ethan. She had a good idea where he’d be.

She climbed the stairs and walked down the hall, unsure of what she was going to say to him when she found him. The door to the nursery was closed, but that didn’t dissuade her.

Without knocking, she entered the room. Ethan was lying on his back on the floor, staring out the enormous bay window. Sunlight splashed over his handsome face, illuminating his pensive expression.

Mary sat beside him. Maybe he’d been right that day in his office, after their musicless dance, maybe they were becoming friends. God only knew why, after their history. But the fact was she understood him a little better now, understood what drove him. Her mother had felt some of the same feelings of not being good enough, not knowing where she belonged or who really cared about her for herself and not how much money she had.

“She’s right.”

Ethan’s words jarred her, brought her back to the present. “Who’s right?”

“Your grandmother. I’m not worth much more than the trailer I was born in.”

“That’s not exactly what she said.” Mary knew that she sounded as though she were defending Grace, when that’s not what she was trying to do at all. She knew her grandmother had been cold and cruel, but Ethan could be that way as well.

“That’s what she said, Mary. I’ve heard versions of that diatribe many times. From my ex-wife, from my own mother. Doesn’t seem to matter how hard I work.” He shrugged. “I’ll never escape it.”

“This self-pitying thing has to stop, Ethan.”

He sat up, stared at her with cold eyes. “What?”

“Why do you care?” she demanded.

“What?”

“Why do you care what any of them think?”

The anger dropped away, and he shook his head. Just kept shaking his head. “I have no idea.”

“Why can’t you be satisfied with the life you’ve created?”

The double meaning wasn’t lost on either of them, and in that moment, Mary knew it was just a matter of time before she confessed the truth about her pregnancy. She didn’t want to care about him. He’d forced her to make some abominable decisions…and yet…

She put a hand on his shoulder, and in less than an instant he covered it with his own. “Under that layer of pride and arrogance,” she said softly, “is a pretty decent guy. I can’t help but believe that.”

He leaned in until his forehead touched hers. “Even with everything that’s happened?”

“Yes.”

He tipped her chin up and with a soft groan his mouth found hers in a slow, drugging kiss. Mary opened to him, even suckled his bottom lip until he uttered her name and pulled her closer, his tongue mating with hers.

She protested when he pulled away from her, whispering a barely audible no.

With his face still so close to her own, he regarded her intently. “Are you pitying me, Mary?”

She wanted his mouth, his tongue, his skin against hers and no more questions. “Does it matter?” she uttered huskily.

A long moment of silence passed, and then Ethan groaned, a frustrated, animal-like sound. “No,” he muttered, closing his eyes, nuzzling her cheek until he found her mouth again.

Five

Despite the open window, the air in the room had become stiflingly warm. Mary’s limbs felt heavy, and she clung to Ethan for support. His mouth was hard on hers, his breath sweet and intoxicating. For a moment she wondered if she was drunk, but then realized she had been sipping seltzer water all morning. Mouth slanting, Ethan unleashed the full strength of his need, his tongue against hers, caressing the tip until Mary was breathless and limp. Whatever he wanted to do, she was a willing participant.

Without a word, Mary started unbuttoning her white blouse, her fingers shaking. Her skin needed to breathe, needed to be touched. As Ethan chuckled softly against her lips, she tugged away at her shirt, wishing she could just rip it off.

“Let me,” he uttered hoarsely.

“And this,” she practically begged, struggling with the hooks on her pale-pink bra.

“Tell me what you want, Mary.”

“You.”

“My weight on top of you? My chest brushing against your nipples?”

“Your mouth.”

His head was in the crook of her neck, his forehead nuzzling her, his teeth nipping at her skin. “On your mouth? On your breasts? Do you want me to suckle them like I did your tongue?”

“Yes,” came her ragged whisper.

Gently he pulled the straps over her shoulders, eased her bra to her waist. She felt as though she were falling, sliding down, down, until she landed against plush, fuzzy white carpet. Her back to the floor, Ethan poised on top of her, his dark blue eyes hungry, almost desperate, Mary struggled to catch her breath.

“Ethan,” she rasped.

Ethan paused, his body pulsing with heat. He’d never heard her say his name like that-desperately.

His body tight to the point of pain, Ethan slid his hand up her torso to her rib cage and gently cupped one breast. Instantly hungry for more, he brushed his thumb over her nipple until it stiffened into a rosy peak. His mouth watered. He’d tasted her before, but the memory had been little comfort over the past weeks.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, leaning forward into the warmth of her body, her skin, his mouth grazing the tender bud.

Gasping, she arched her back, her chest rising and falling rapidly, one hand fisting the carpet. Her skin was so hot, electric, and he couldn’t help himself, he covered her with his mouth and suckled deeply.

“Oh…” she uttered breathlessly, cupping her other breast. “Oh, Ethan, please.”

Ethan rooted between her ribs to her other breast, over her fingers until he found the sweet, taut peak in the center. Her body danced beneath his, her hips pumped as though he was inside her, and how he longed to be.

So caught up in the moment, Ethan gently sank his teeth into the pink flesh surrounding her nipple as he continued to flick the tight bud. Her breath quickened, and he could hear her heart pounding in her chest. He wanted to make her climax, just with his mouth on her breast, and she was close, so close. But then outside the window came the sounds of people laughing and talking, some loud enough to hear.

“Where do you think Curtis ran off to?” one said.

“Back to the office?” someone suggested, chuckling.

The conversation wasn’t lost on Mary or Ethan, and they stilled, looked at each other, their breathing labored. Then after a moment, Mary let out a frustrated sigh and rolled away from him.

Feeling like an ass, Ethan didn’t say anything as he watched her dress, but when she finally looked at him, pink-cheeked, slightly disheveled and, judging by her eyes, still on the verge of orgasm, he couldn’t stop himself.

“No farther?” he asked gently.

She shook her head, deep regret in her eyes, but from what, he wasn’t sure. “We have to get back to the party.”

“God, why?”

“They’re leaving.”

“I don’t care-”

“Yes, you do,” she said, coming to her feet, smoothing her blouse. “We need to make an appearance, say goodbye to those who remain. You don’t want people thinking that you completely disappeared.”

“I don’t give a damn what they think.” Desire still raged through him. He wanted to play caveman and drag her off to his bed and lock the door behind him. “I want to finish this.”

“Another time.”

He was about to tell her that he didn’t want to wait, but he knew that determined look on her face, knew better than to try to sway or push her. “I’m holding you to that,” he grumbled.

By the time they returned, separately of course, to the party, most of the guests had gone. There were a few stragglers milling about, and while Mary thanked and paid the staff, Ethan showed his face to the last of the guests.

He was in his office when Mary found him a half hour later.

“Well, the general consensus is that everyone had a good time,” she said.

“Everyone?” he asked pointedly, his gaze intense.

She bit her lip, which made his groin tighten painfully. “I should get going.”

“Stay until the end,” he said.

“This is the end. Everyone’s gone, even the wait and kitchen staffs have taken off.”

He sat back in his chair. “I meant stay until the end of the night…when it gets light outside and my housekeeper serves breakfast.”

“Ethan…”

“You could stay upstairs in my bed. Because you want to…this time.”

She sighed, let her eyes fall closed for a moment. When she opened them again, he saw the same look in her eyes as he had upstairs. She wasn’t finished with him or what they’d started, but she also wasn’t about to agree to stay with him, either. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.” Then turned and left the room.

Her ancient Betty Boop bedside lamp clicked on and Mary uttered a tired, “Man…”

Her father’s face, bed-worn and confused, stared down at her. “What are you doing here, lass?”

“Sleeping.”

“Why?”

She glanced at her matching Betty Boop clock, both it and the lamp presents from her parents for her twelfth birthday. “Because it’s four in the morning.”

Hugh sat on the bed and dragged a hand through his rumpled hair. “Why are you here and not in your apartment?”

Right. Mary glanced around her old bedroom. Not a thing out of place since she’d found her own apartment at nineteen. Same red-checked curtains and white dresser. She smiled halfheartedly when she spotted her Xanadu album in the corner by the old turntable.

Her father cleared his throat, and Mary looked at him sheepishly. “All right, I ran away.”

“Did you indeed?” he said, his shaggy brows lifting.

“From a boy.” Actually from a man, a gorgeous, fever-inducing man, who wanted her in his bed almost as much as he wanted the nonexistent child in her belly. Mary shook her head. What a mess. She burrowed deeper under her old, white down comforter.

“You won’t be telling me why you’re running from this boy, will you lass?”

Her lips pressed tightly together, she shook her head like a stubborn toddler. How could she possibly? Her dad wouldn’t understand what she’d done-the lengths to which she’d gone to protect him. Or worse yet, he’d understand perfectly, feel incredibly guilty and fall deeper into the chasm of despair he was already stuck in.

“You just need a bit of the old family house, do you?” he asked finally, shooing a tiny insect away from the lamp.

She gave him a grateful smile. “If you don’t mind, Pop.”

“You know you’re always welcome here, lass.” He paused for a moment, his eyes concerned. “I just don’t want you to be running away from your problems too often. You’ll never have time to sit down and take a breath if you do.”

“I know.”

“I love you, lass.”

“I love you too, Pop.”

When her father left the room, Mary lay back against her pillow and stared out at the same moon she’d watched change from sliver to crescent to full so many times when she was a kid. What had started out as the only foreseeable way to keep her father out of jail, or from a trial at the very least, had become a nightmare that she wanted to wake up from. She and Ethan had a meeting next week, and no matter how difficult it would be, she was not going to run away from the truth. She was going to tell him everything.

The wind off the lake whipped her hair from side to side, as though trying to make up its mind which direction to go. It was Sunday morning, a day Mary usually reserved for the newspaper, coffee and as many Danishes as she could eat without exploding, but when Ivan Garrison had called and asked her to see his boat, she’d readily accepted. The fact was, she was dying for some impersonal work to take her mind off Ethan.

After seeing his eighty-four-foot yacht, and having a quick discussion about where he’d like everything set up for the gala, the captain had asked her to take a sail on the very boat that he would be racing that day. Mary had been on very few sailboats in her time, and had been a little afraid of seasickness, but after popping a couple of Dramamine, she’d hopped aboard and found life on the water rather magnificent.

After they’d rounded the lake twice, Ivan headed back to the marina. Over the wind and the lapping of the water, Mary called, “This is great! I think your guests will be very impressed, Captain.”

Ivan grinned at her. “Not just by the gala, I’m hoping.”

Confused, she said, “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve decided to take your advice and make this a charity event.”

Mary nodded. So, the captain did have a soul after all. Shocking, he wasn’t just a Lamborghini-driving playboy. She’d have to tell Olivia.

“So all the entry fees will go to charity?” she called as Ivan maneuvered around in the marina, approaching the dock at a very slow speed.

“My financial advisors have told me that this will be a great tax write-off.”

So he wasn’t exactly Mother Teresa, but at least he had agreed to do something worthwhile. Maybe she wouldn’t mention this to Olivia.

“Have you decided which charity appeals to you?” she asked him.

“Cancer’s pretty popular.”

“True.”

Ivan slowly entered the slip, then placed the transmission in neutral and let the wind blow the boat back. “But which one to choose?” he called, securing the boat’s front dock line first. “Children? Lung? Breast?”

Mary removed her life vest and placed it beside her on the bench. “Well, how about the Cancer Research Institute? They pretty much cover it all.”

“Perfect.” Staring onto the dock, Ivan squinted, then frowned. “Is he waiting for you or me?”

Mary glanced up, saw what Ivan was seeing and felt her pulse jump inside her veins. Standing there, arms crossed and looking murderous, was Ethan. “That would be for me.”

Six

Ethan’s body tightened at the sight of Mary walking down the dock toward him. A white T-shirt, pink shorts and bare feet had never looked so dangerous on any woman. Visions swam in his mind, images of soft skin against his mouth and long legs wrapped around his waist, cute round buttocks cupped in his hands. This intense physical reaction was becoming way too famil iar, and he wondered if the only way he was going to get rid of it was to take her to bed again.

Ethan had known many women in his time, but his need for them had faded quickly. Why wasn’t it the same with Mary Kelley? Why had the desire to taste her, fill his nostrils with her scent, open her thighs and bury himself deep inside her only intensified over time? Was it the baby or something else, something more?

Her pale-blue eyes mocked him as she came to stand before him, a grin tugging at her mouth. “You are officially stalking me now, Curtis.”

“Well, one of us has to protect the baby,” he muttered grimly.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

He gestured to the water. “Out there on the open water, no life jacket, no nothing.”

“Open water?” she repeated, laughing. “Come on. This is a lake, calm as a sleeping kitten. There’s no danger here.”

Ethan eyed the man coming up behind her. “Isn’t there?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mary said as her sailboat buddy walked by with a smile and a wave. She waved back and called, “I’ll call you on Thursday,” then returned her attention to a very annoyed Ethan. “I was wearing a life jacket, and the captain-he’s just a client.”

“The captain,” Ethan drawled with derision. “Please don’t tell me that he makes you call him that?”

Mary regarded him incredulously. “Let’s not get into crazy demands from clients, shall we?”

“Fine,” he muttered darkly, following her down the dock and toward the parking lot.

As she dug the car keys from her purse, she asked, “Now, what’s brought you all the way out here?”

“Do you have a doctor?”

She stopped, turned to look at him. “Why? Do you have a medical emergency?”

Her joke was lost on him and he scowled. “Be serious for a second.”

“I have a doctor, Ethan.”

“For the pregnancy?”

Her gaze flickered to the ground then back up, and he wondered if that was too intimate a thing to ask her.

“Yes, I have a doctor,” she said finally. “A family-practice type thing. Why?”

He shook his head. “That’s not good enough. You need an Ob/Gyn.”

Exhaling heavily, she walked away from him toward the lot, but he was on her heels. “I’m serious, Mary.”

“I’m going to come to your house and take every one of those books away from you. Foot massage is one thing, buddy, but-” she fumbled in her purse again for her keys “-you’re getting way too knowledgeable on Girlfriends’ Guides and Mothering and You, and frankly, it’s making me feel a little weird.”

Ethan paused. He didn’t have those two books, but he made a mental note to get them. “Listen, I have a client whose wife is Deena Norrison.”

“Never heard of her.”

“She’s only one of the best Ob/Gyn’s in the country.”

When Mary reached her car and still couldn’t find her keys, she looked ready to explode. Undeterred, Ethan continued, “She’s agreed to see you.”

“I have a good doctor, Ethan,” Mary assured him, her hand stuffed inside her purse again, perspiration beading on her brow.

“Good is not great, and Deena’s the best. Doesn’t our child deserve the best?”

“Aha!” Mary held up her keys triumphantly, but her glee was short-lived when she noticed the stern look on Ethan’s face. She sighed. “When is this appointment? This week is swamped for me, and next week we leave for Mackinac Island.”

“How’s today?”

“Today,” she repeated, the blood draining from her face.

“Right now.” He took her cool hand in his. “There’s no reason to be nervous. I’m sure everything is fine.”

“Now?”

“I know. Isn’t that great? She’s a pretty cool lady. She’ll fit you in at four. Ultrasound and everything.”

Mary shook her head. “But-”

Ethan didn’t give her time to refuse. Once she saw the kid’s heartbeat and heard from the best doctor in the country that everything was just as it should be, she’d relax. “Come on,” he said, gently guiding her toward his car. “I’ll drive.”

Dr. Deena Norrison’s reception area looked like a photograph straight out of the pages of Victoria magazine. Surrounded by cabbage-rose wallpaper, clients sank down into soft and cushy deep-pink sofas with rolled arms. The love seats and chairs, Mary was certain, had down pillows.

Mary sat on one of the love seats, her purse perched on the Queen Anne table before her. The scent of flowers was dizzying and made her feel as though she was trapped inside an English garden at the height of summer.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked beside her.

“No. I don’t know.” The deodorant she’d put on this morning had disappeared, and she felt wet and uncomfortable.

“I can get you some water or something?” Ethan suggested.

The woman at the front desk stood, smiled at them and said in a polite whisper, “Mrs. Curtis?”

“Oh, jeez,” Mary muttered.

“We can correct that later,” Ethan assured her, then turned to the receptionist and said, “She’s right here.”

“We’ll be taking you back soon,” the woman informed them.

Mary saw it all in her mind: an examination table covered in a crisp old English linen sheet with exquisite crocheted trim and white slip-covered booties on the stirrups. She giggled a little hysterically.

“You need to relax,” Ethan suggested gently.

“Easy for you to say,” Mary uttered as the receptionist held out a clipboard with a flower pen attached.

“If you can just fill out this paperwork.”

Sensing that Mary was not about to move, Ethan retrieved the papers for her and placed them in her lap. “I could do this if-”

“No, it’s fine.”

As Mary filled out the forms, the words blurred together, and she had to stop and take a deep breath. The front door to the office opened and a woman came in. She was really far along in her pregnancy and looked exhausted. She dropped down in the chair beside Mary’s love seat and exhaled heavily. When she spotted Mary, she smiled. “Long way to go yet, huh? When are you due?”

“What? Oh…ah…” It was all she could get out. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and waves of nausea were hitting her every few minutes. She needed air, needed to breathe something other than that damn flower smell. Suddenly panicked, she stood, dropped the paperwork on the table and ran out of the office. She spotted a stairwell to her left and ran to the door. Down the stairs she flew, her shirt spotted with sweat, her breathing labored. She heard Ethan behind her, calling her name, but she didn’t stop. Once she made it to the lobby, she swung the front door open wide and ran to a grassy spot where a few nurses were eating their lunch.

Breathing heavily, she wanted to collapse on the grass, but instead she started pacing.

“Mary?”

She didn’t look at him, didn’t stop moving. “I can’t do this.”

“It’s okay.” His voice was soothing, and she hated him for his concern. He was the one who’d gotten them into this mess in the first place, damn him. “You don’t have to see her,” he continued. “Use your own doctor. I just thought it would be-”

“It’s not the doctor, Ethan.”

“Then what?” When she wouldn’t stop pacing, he grabbed her shoulders and held her against him, his tone worried now. “What the hell is wrong?”

His chest felt so strong and she wanted to sink into it, disappear inside of it, but he wouldn’t allow her to hide. Easing one hand from her shoulder, he tipped her chin up so she had to look at him.

“Tell me what’s going on, Mary.”

Miserably, she shook her head. “There is no baby.”

“What?”

“No baby, Ethan.”

He went white. “Did something happen…that boat ride…”

“No.” She stared at him, into those beautiful dark-blue eyes she’d believed for so long were soulless. What a damn mess. This whole thing. “I just wanted my father to be okay.”

He still looked confused, but after a moment, realization dawned and confusion was swapped for a fiercely accusing gaze. “You were never pregnant?”

Shame coiled in her belly and she shook her head. “No.”

“You were never pregnant,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry.”

Ethan stared at her, his eyes wide in fury. “Yes, you will be,” he uttered, his jaw knotted with the force of emotion.

“Ethan.”

“I should’ve known.”

“Ethan, please, I-” But her words fell on deaf ears. He had already turned his back on her and was stalking toward his car. Feeling as though she’d just assaulted someone, Mary dropped onto a hard picnic bench and watched his BMW leave the parking lot, tires squealing.

Seven

Twenty minutes later, Ethan entered the crumbling stone gates of Days of Grace Trailer Park. As he drove past the shabby office, muscle memory took hold and his BMW practically steered itself to the curb beside number fifty-three. The one-bedroom mobile home his father had sold just before his death looked as though it had been remodeled, as though someone were really trying to make the place a home, with fresh paint, a nice carport and fenced garden.

“About damn time,” Ethan muttered, opening his window a crack before killing the engine.

It was ironic. At sixteen, he couldn’t have gotten out of this park fast enough. He’d had big dreams, big plans, and he’d sworn to himself he’d never be back. But here he was, drawn to it like scum to bathroom tile. How was it that he felt infinitely more comfortable parked outside his father’s trailer than at his home or office? Why was it that he could breathe here? The air was stale and slightly mildewed; nothing had changed.

He shoved a hand through his hair. He should have expected Mary to lie to him. People were never honest, never to be trusted-including himself. Why the hell hadn’t he learned that in all this time? Maybe because he’d thought himself worthy of a family, good enough to make a child with a Harrington.

A large man in his early thirties wearing a baseball hat and ripped jeans came out of the house. When he spotted Ethan, he lifted a hand in a wary hello. Wasn’t the first time the guy had seen Ethan parked there, but he’d never called security. No doubt the guy knew he could’ve handled the situation himself if things got out of control. After all, he was pretty big.

Not looking for any more trouble today, Ethan gunned the engine of his sports car and took off back to his self-made world.

Mondays were usually Mary’s best day. She was well rested, coffeed-up and excited to get back to work. Today, however, she felt as though a semi had been driving back and forth over her body all night long. She felt jittery and exhausted at the same time-a wicked combination.

As she walked into the office, her hand shook a little around the double espresso she carried. The first person she saw was Olivia. The startlingly pretty brunette was sitting at the receptionist’s desk-something she liked to do before Meg, the receptionist, got there at nine. “Hey there, Miss Kelley,” she said in a chipper voice. “You’re here early.”

“And I’m not the only one.”

“I have some phone calls to return. I wanted to get to them early.” Olivia’s eyes narrowed as she stared hard at Mary. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

Mary sighed, placed her plastic coffee cup on the reception desk. “I think somewhere between four and six I dozed off.”

“Work…or-” Olivia hesitated, bit her full bottom lip “-something else?”

For a moment Mary contemplated blowing Olivia’s mind with the entire story of Ethan Curtis and her. She just wanted to unburden herself with a girlfriend for a few minutes, emotionally puke and have Olivia figuratively hold her hair back. But for good or bad, the partners of NRR just didn’t go there with each other-though Mary wondered if any of them wanted to but were afraid to ruffle the feathers of their business.

“I was working late,” Mary said at last. “The captain is very demanding.”

Olivia laughed at that, her dark eyes filled with mirth. “He seems like a semidecent guy, despite the millions and the bawdy reputation.”

“He is, actually. Did I tell you he’s donating all the proceeds from the regatta gala to charity?”

“Would it be uncharitable of me to say that he should?”

It was Mary’s turn to laugh, though the sound felt a little forced. “Ivan’s all right. Not much going on upstairs, though.”

“What a shocker,” Olivia said sarcastically. “Inherited wealth?”

“Yes.”

Olivia rolled her eyes as she stood up and headed into the kitchen. “Do you want something to eat? I made blueberry muffins, and, not to toot my own horn or anything, but both attorneys offices downstairs came up to ask where that amazing scent was coming from.”

Mary’s stomach rolled rudely at the thought of food and she headed toward her office. “Maybe later.”

“Okay. Oh, hey, Mary?”

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Curtis called.”

Mary felt a tremor of nervous energy move through her, and suddenly she felt unable to breathe. She hadn’t spoken to him since Saturday, since her breakdown in the parking lot.

She poked her head out of her office and gave Olivia a weak smile. “Let me guess. He no longer requires my services.”

Wielding a saucepan in one hand and an egg in the other, Olivia looked perplexed. “No. Actually, he asked if you could come by his house today at four-thirty.”

“What?” There was no way she had heard Olivia correctly.

“Four-thirty,” Olivia repeated. “His house.”

“Oh. Okay.” Well, sure. Why should he make the trip to her office to can her when he could do it in person? Her heart pounded so hard in her chest the movement actually hurt.

“Is he an inheritance jerk, too, Mary?”

Mary shook her head. “No, self-made all the way.”

Olivia nodded. “I thought so. He always sounds down-to-earth when he calls. That’s pretty refreshing.”

Mary went back into her office on unsteady legs and dropped into the chair behind her desk. She had to be ready to hear whatever he had to say. There was no doubt he was going to fire her, but what if he wanted to tell her that he was bringing her father back up on charges?

The queasy, dizzy, anxiety-ridden feeling she’d been having since yesterday came back full force, and she put her head down on her desk. Her eyes remained open, and even in the semidarkness of her self-made tent, Mary saw what she’d collapsed upon. The plans for Ethan’s nursery-a nursery she hadn’t even begun. With a groan she pushed the plans off her desk and into the trash can.

Ethan’s housekeeper, Sybil, who Mary had only seen twice before-right before the staff and caterers arrived for a party-answered the door with a vexed expression. “Hello, Ms. Kelley.”

“How are you, Sybil?”

The woman released a weighty breath. “Mr. Curtis is in the game room. Let me show you the way.”

“Game room?” Mary repeated, following behind the housekeeper. She’d been in Ethan’s house several times and she’d never seen a game room.

Glancing over her shoulder, Sybil rolled her eyes. “It’s where he goes when he’s brooding.”

Brooding? Mary tried not to register the shock she felt. First of all, she couldn’t imagine Ethan showing anyone his emotions-it just wasn’t his style. And second of all, did he know that the woman he paid to run his household talked about him this way? She’d bet not.

They passed the dining room and library, then rounded a curve into a hallway that Mary had never ventured down, or even remembered seeing. When they came to a door, Sybil knocked once, then said to Mary, “Here we are.”

“Should I just go in?” Mary asked when she heard no answer.

Sybil nodded. “He’s expecting you.”

After the woman walked away, Mary gripped the knob and pushed the door open. For a good thirty seconds after entering the large room, Mary thought she’d just stepped into kid’s fantasyland, Chucky Cheese. But since she didn’t smell pizza or see a large, furry gray animal with whiskers, she knew she must be in Ethan’s game room.

The room was a perfect square, with one wall devoted to windows that faced the backyard and lake. It was as if the room was meant to have a screen or drape down the center as a divider, as the right side was completely devoted to every arcade game imaginable. Being a fan of arcades from way back, Mary recognized skeet ball right away and smiled wistfully. There was also basketball, air hockey, pound the squirrel, racecar games and many more she saw but wasn’t familiar with. Then there was the left side of the room, which couldn’t have been more different. It was an office, with a very modern desk and furnishings in charcoal gray and chrome, and in the middle of it sat Ethan, reading the newspaper.

She had an urge to turn around and leave before he saw her, but instead she walked into the room and parked herself beside the foosball table. “Quite a setup you got here.”

Still hidden behind the New York Times, Ethan muttered a terse, “These are all the things I couldn’t afford when I was a kid. I wanted to have them now.”

Mary Kelley was no genius, but she sure understood his meaning: he’d had nothing growing up and was hoping to give this to his child. The child he’d thought was coming. The child he’d blackmailed a woman into creating with him.

She got it, and she felt Sybil’s pain, and she, too, rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t he have been in his library beside the bar drinking like any normal pissed-off male?

She fiddled with the handles on the foosball table. “Do you play?”

“I rarely play games,” he said, still masked by the Times.

Neither did she, and she was having quite enough of this one. “Listen, you wanted to see me.”

“Yeah.” The paper came down with a snap, and Mary saw his face for the first time since they’d stood outside the doctor’s office and she’d told him the truth. As he stood and walked over to her, he looked like a determined, really angry devil, his black hair slightly spiky and his blue eyes fierce with a need to hurt. He stood close, stared into her eyes and said in a punishing voice, “I have never felt such disgust with anyone in my life.”

It was a strange thing-in that moment, spurred on by those words, Mary’s nerves suddenly lifted and she was no longer afraid of what he was going to do about her and her father. The only thing she felt in the moment was the need to strike back. “I know that feeling. I had it about a month ago. But we were standing in your office, not your playroom.”

His eyes blazed. “What you did was beyond low.”

“You’re right.”

“And you have nothing to say.”

“Just this. Need I remind you that you basically forced me into-”

“I never forced you to do anything,” he interrupted darkly. “It was your choice-”

“Choice?” she repeated. Was he kidding? “What choice did I have? Tell me that?”

“You could have walked away.”

“And left my dad to…what? Go to jail. Never.” She glared at him. “But you don’t understand that kind of devotion, do you? You’ve never loved anyone that much-so damn much that you’d make a great sacrifice for them.”

His gaze slipped to her belly.

She shook her head, not about to pity him. “No, Mr. Curtis. That wasn’t a sacrifice. That was a need to be met, a blue-blooded medal to hang around your neck to make you finally feel worthy.” His nostrils flared, and he looked dangerously close to exploding, but Mary wouldn’t back down. “At least the child would’ve belonged to the old-money club, right? And maybe you, too, by association? No, it doesn’t work that way.” She was yelling now, frustrated at him, at herself. “They don’t care about association, they only care about blood. Can you get that through your thick skull?”

When she stopped ranting, they both stood there, face-to-face, breathing heavily. His eyes had lost some of their heat and she wondered if she’d finally gotten through to him. But he didn’t answer her, not that she expected him to. He had too much pride. Instead, he did as all highly successful business persons do-he went for the jugular.

“You’re wondering if I’m going to file charges against your father now, aren’t you?” he said evenly, his tone cool.

Mary wasn’t about to deny it. “Of course.”

“I’m not.”

Shock slammed into her and she actually stuttered. “Wh-why?”

With a casual shrug, he left her and wandered over to the air hockey table where he picked up a paddle and examined it. “I’ve decided to close that chapter.”

Mary couldn’t contain her relief. Her father didn’t have to worry about court or jail ever again. She wasn’t about to thank Ethan, but she could feel the tension drain from her body and she sagged against the foosball table.

“But I do want something from you.”

Ethan’s words sent a shock of alarm through her tired limbs. “What?”

“Mackinac Island.”

Oh, no. The trip to the beautiful Michigan island. She was supposed to have planned a party there, served as hostess, but how could that ever happen now? “You want me to recommend someone to take my place, right?” she asked hopefully.

“No.”

“You can’t be seriously considering-”

He slammed the paddle down and glared at her. “Believe me when I say I would rather bring a python with me on this trip. But your reputation has preceeded you, and I need that party to go off without a problem.”

No way. She couldn’t. There was too much between them. She shook her head. “No.”

“You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing,” she assured him, straightening up, forcing her legs to hold her weight and not buckle.

His voice dropped and his lips thinned dangerously. “Don’t think I wouldn’t reconsider opening that paternal book again if I have to.”

She shook her head, knowing she was cornered. “You’re really good at blackmail.”

He lifted one sardonic eyebrow. “I’ll protect my business any way I have to.”

“Clearly.”

“Just as you would, Mary. Mine is administrative business and yours would be personal business.”

The idea that they were in any way alike made Mary’s blood jump in her veins, but she knew when her choices were few. “This will be our final business endeavor together.”

He nodded. “After the last guest has left my party, Ms. Kelley, you and I can pretend that we’ve never met each other. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”

Eight

The airport was packed, but Mary maneuvered her way through the crowds with the fierce determination of a woman going to war. According to the itinerary Ethan’s secretary had sent over yesterday morning, the plan was to fly to Chicago, then to Pellston Airport in Michigan, then take a cab to the Mackinac Island ferry. After their declarations of mutual disgust for each other, Mary was more than a little shocked that she and Ethan would be traveling together. She could’ve easily caught her own flight and met him at the hotel, but he’d insisted they make the trip together.

After checking in and making it through security without a body search, Mary headed over to the gate to wait for Ethan. She winced as she slid her carryon bag off her shoulder and onto one of the hard plastic chairs.

The captain’s regatta gala had been successful yesterday, raising a huge amount of money for the Cancer Research Institute, but Mary had forgotten to apply a liberal coat of sunscreen and had managed to give herself quite a sunburn in the process. And the painful moments just kept coming as she spotted Ethan walking toward her, looking anything but the stuffy business traveler in a long-sleeved white shirt and jeans, his large frame and hawklike gaze sending people out of his way without a word from him.

“Ms. Kelley.”

Her body instantly betrayed her, her insides jumping with awareness at the sound of his voice. “Mr. Curtis.”

“You look well,” he said, barely glancing at her striped polo shirt and white cropped jeans.

“Ah…thanks,” she muttered with a touch of sarcasm.

Ignoring her tone, Ethan handed her a large envelope. “I’ve taken the liberty of providing a dossier on the potential clients we’re going to see. Their likes, dislikes, food preferences and hobbies.”

“Great.” Mary couldn’t help but notice all the wistful stares Ethan was getting from women walking past. No wonder he could be so arrogant.

“As far as staff to hire for the party goes,” he continued brusquely, “I have the name of the best-”

“I’ve already been in touch with several staff-for-hire agencies on the island,” Mary informed him proudly. “I know who I’m going to hire and have already spoken to most of the staff.”

The only sign that Ethan might be impressed by her actions was the slight lift of his brows. “You’re nothing if not on top of matters, are you?”

Mary couldn’t tell if his words were meant as a backhanded compliment or sexual innuendo, but she flashed him a defiant glance regardless. “I’m good at what I do, how about that?”

“Make-believe,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“A wife-for-hire agency, Mary?” he stated, as if that said it all. “What is that but pretending to be someone else?”

Mary was silent for a moment, her ire moderated by observation. “You know, I think there’s hope for you yet, Curtis.”

“I guess it’s my turn to say, excuse me?”

“If you can recognize the phony in me, you’ll be able to see it in yourself soon enough.”

Before Ethan could even react to her words, a woman approached them with a plastered-on smile. “Mr. Curtis, you may board now if you wish. The first-class cabin is ready.”

“Thank you.”

Ready to follow him, Mary shouldered her bag. “Should I go with you or are we boarding separately?”

A slow grin touched Ethan’s mouth, and he nodded at her boarding pass. “Better check your seat assignment first.”

Confused, Mary looked down at the ticket in her hand. When she looked back up, Ethan was already on his way toward the gate. How lovely, she mused. While he got pampered with warm towels and chocolate chip cookies in first class, she was going to share a bathroom with forty other passengers in coach.

“What’s wrong with your neck?” Ethan asked her once they were aboard the ferry and headed for Mackinac Island.

“It’s nothing,” she grumbled.

“Nothing my ass,” he countered as they walked the length of the deck and back again. “You’re moving like a robot.”

Ethan was just full of compliments, and she felt like socking him. “It’s just a pulled muscle. No big deal.”

“You can’t meet clients like that.”

“It’ll pass, okay? Relax.”

“How did it happen?”

The wind off the water whipped Mary’s hair around her neck as she tried to pick up her pace and shake off the stiffness in her limbs. “Do you really care? Why don’t you go inside and have a cup of coffee or a bourbon or something and let me work out these kinks myself.”

“I care, okay?” he said dryly. “What the hell happened on the flight?”

She sighed, stopped in her tracks and faced him. “A very large man decided to take a nap on my shoulder, and no amount of pushing and prodding and poking would wake him up. I was stuck in this insanely awkward position for two hours. I wonder if they have a chiropractor on the island.”

Ethan stared at her.

“What?” she asked.

“You poked someone?”

She sighed with heavy patience. “It was just with the eraser end of a pencil.” But, oh, how she had wanted to do so much more. “Little good it did. It only made him snore harder. And don’t even get me started with the lady on my right.”

“Did you poke her, too?”

“No, but I thought about it.” Mary pressed a hand to her lower back and stretched out her spine a little.

“Wanted to tell you her life story?”

“No. But that would’ve been okay, life story I could’ve handled. I can work up a good conversation with a stranger.” Her memory of the woman was pretty fresh and a wave of nausea hit her full-on. “No, this was a lack-of-deodorant thing.”

Amusement played behind his eyes. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

“Who asked you to?” she returned playfully, using every ounce of will to make herself start walking again.

“You belonged in coach.”

She gave him a mock bow. “I know that, Mr. Curtis. I’m an employee, and I’m cool with that. In work and in life I know who I am and where I belong, and I fully accept it.” She couldn’t help herself, the words just fell out. “Unlike other people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked as they reached the railing.

Only wanting to make a quick dig, not have a full-on fight, Mary glanced over the edge to the choppy sea below and tried to deflect. “Look at that water.”

Ethan wasn’t having any of it. Not that she expected him to. “Don’t go all female on me, Mary.”

Mary considered. “I don’t think that was as much female as it was passive-aggressive.”

“Whatever it was, just say what you’ve got to say,” he said impatiently.

She exhaled and turned to face him. “This is just a thought, but maybe if you’d stop trying to be something you’re not, you could actually enjoy your success. Maybe you wouldn’t have to resort to blackmailing people into doing what you want. They might come willingly.”

He grinned then, his gaze moving lazily over her. “If I remember correctly you came very willingly.”

“Don’t be crude.”

He shrugged, looking like a bad little boy. “I was talking about coming to work for me. But I like where your dirty mind goes, Ms. Kelley.”

“If you remember correctly, working for you was something I fought tooth and nail.”

“I remember you giving in pretty quickly, actually, as though you wanted to be as close to me as I wanted to be to you.”

Were they always going to end up here? Mary wondered. Bantering back and forth, both wanting to out-smart and outplay the other. And to what end…? It was only a few more days. “All I’m saying is that if you’d accept who you are and where you came from maybe you could be happy.”

“Who says I want to be happy?”

“Everyone’s looking for happiness, in some form or another.”

“Not me.”

She ignored him. “The problem is you’re going about it the wrong way.”

He gave his back to the water and lounged against the railing. “And you know the way to true happiness, Mary?”

No, but…“I’m trying. I’m sure as hell trying.” She cocked her head to the left to look at the island as it came into view and felt a searing pain in her neck. She groaned.

Ethan cursed softly. “You can hardly turn your head.”

“I’m fine. Nothing that a hot shower and a massage won’t cure.”

He touched her shoulder. “You know, I’d offer to help you with both of those forms of physical therapy, but-”

“But you pretty much hate me right now,” she answered, trying to ignore the heat from his hand.

“Nope, that logic doesn’t matter so much for a guy.”

She tried to look shocked, but laughter quickly bubbled in her throat. “Okay, so what is it, then? You can’t help me take a shower because I can’t stand you?”

He considered this for about two seconds. “Ah…no. A guy can get past that sad fact, too.”

She laughed again.

His voice lowered to a sexy timbre. “And you don’t hate me, Mary.”

His arrogance and unflinching confidence could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, especially when his assumptions were right on target. “Well, so what is it, then? Don’t tell me you won’t assist my shower time out of some misplaced sense of duty.”

“No.” He faced the coming island and looked pensive. “I’m just afraid it might make me happy, and as I said, I’m not looking for that.”

The Birches was an authentic 1890s Queen Anne Victorian, and when Mary first stepped inside the entryway, she thought she’d fallen asleep and woken up in a dream-or at the very least a movie. The nine-bedroom, six-bath original Victorian had beautifully restored hardwood floors, luscious paneled ceilings, three fireplaces, extensive property, and from the wraparound porch, a panoramic view of the Straits of Mackinac, Round Island, Mackinac Bridge and the Grand Hotel.

She couldn’t even imagine how much it cost to rent such a place. Harold, the real estate agent Ethan had used for their trip, gestured gleefully around himself. “Here we are, Mr. Curtis. Beautiful home, isn’t it.”

“Nice,” Ethan said unenthusiastically as he checked his Blackberry.

Poor Harold looked so dejected that Mary felt compelled to offer up her best smile. “Well, I think it’s lovely.”

He gave her a grateful look. “It was rumored that Rudolph Valentino and Nita Naldi stayed here at one time.”

“Really?”

“Right after Blood and Sand.”

“Wasn’t Valentino married?”

Harold nodded and said conspiratorially, “To two women, actually. He hadn’t yet divorced the other.”

“I hate silent films,” Ethan muttered, checking his e-mail.

Mary rolled her eyes at Harold. “So, where am I staying?”

Before Harold could even open his mouth, Ethan jumped in with, “I arranged for you to have the house next door.”

“What?” Mary looked from Ethan to Harold and back again. “A whole house? Come on, Curtis. I thought I’d just get a hotel room close by.”

Harold cleared his throat, his neck growing as red as a ripe tomato as he tried to make eye contact with Ethan. “Actually, sir, we had an emergency, and the family staying there had to remain on. But,” he said, brightening, “we have a lovely suite for Ms. Kelley across town at the Mackinac Inn.”

“That will be fine,” Mary said pleasantly, but she could feel Ethan already shaking his head.

“No, it won’t,” he informed her. “We have work to do, and you need to be here. Across town…” he said in a tone that sounded as though she were going to stay somewhere in Paris. “You can’t even get anywhere around here without a horse or a bicycle. It’ll take forever.”

“Sir,” Harold attempted deferentially. “I assure you that on an island so small, transportation is quick and very easy to-”

Ethan ignored him, his gaze hard and fixated on Mary. “You’ll stay with me.”

She was getting awfully tired of Ethan Curtis’s demands. “No way.”

“This house is large enough for ten people,” he said.

“Again. No way.”

He scowled. “You’re acting like a child.”

“I’m acting like a professional. Forget for a moment how it looks and feels to me, but how would it look to your clients if the woman you hired is also staying in the home you rented?”

He shrugged. “Practical.”

“No.” She lowered her voice as Harold pretended to inspect a wall sconce. “Like she’s also being hired for another purpose.”

They stared at each other, a haze of lust blanketing Ethan’s expression. Mary felt helpless, weak for a moment as a quick shiver shot through her. She tried to control the sudden pounding of her heart, until finally the look on Ethan’s face dissolved.

“You’re being paranoid,” he said roughly. “This is business. I’ll have offices here and so will you. You can take the entire second floor and I’ll remain down here. Barring business, we never have to see each other.”

Mary sighed. She didn’t want to argue the point anymore, and poor, miserable Harold had all but tried to crawl up inside the wall sconce and disappear. She would figure out her situation on her own. “All right, Harold. Can you show me upstairs?”

The man released a weary breath and started up the stairs. “There are some beautiful rooms to choose from and incredible views of the water.”

Before she followed him, Ethan put his hand on her shoulder. “Make sure you get that shower. You’re still walking like a robot.” Then he leaned in, whispered in her ear, “And if you need any help…”

Yes, she’d have to find another arrangement as soon as possible. Just the warmth of Ethan’s hand made her want to curl into him, nuzzle his neck and remove his shirt, but she detached herself anyway, and followed the agent up the stairs. “Hey, Harold, how old is this house did you say?”

“It was built in 1891, but everything’s been updated for your convenience.”

“Like the plumbing?”

“Of course.”

“And locks on the doors?”

“Every one of them, miss.”

She heard Ethan chuckle below, and the sound shot to every nerve, every muscle, every spot that ached for his touch.

Nine

Good thing he’d checked the house’s extensive property, or he might not have found her.

The historic barn was only about sixty feet from the main house and featured three horse stalls, food storage areas, tack room, carriage storage room, hay room and small living quarters upstairs. That last bit of information had tipped Ethan off when Mary hadn’t come downstairs after a shower and change.

Ethan scowled at her. “You’re the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

Wearing a white terry cloth robe that showed absolutely nothing except for her feet and about an inch of neck, Mary stood at the barn door, blocking his entrance. “Thank you.”

“That agent told you about this place, didn’t he?”

“His name is Harold.”

“Yeah, well, Harold clearly isn’t looking for a good word from me to his boss.”

“Don’t take it out on Harold,” Mary said, trying to force her hair into some type of halo style on top of her head with a couple of pins. She looked like a damn angel and Ethan had an intense urge to be saved.

“Are you going to show me around?” Ethan asked wryly.

Defiance glimmered in her pale-blue eyes, but she took a step back and allowed him to pass. “Do you promise to be good?”

“Are you kidding? Don’t you know me at all?”

She laughed, a soft, throaty sound that made him think of the nights they’d shared, the sound that would erupt from her throat every time she climaxed. Blood thrummed in his temples as he followed her past the neat tack room and unused stalls, up the short set of stairs to the loft. There he took one look around and sniffed derisively. “This place is microscopic and-”

“And perfect for one person,” Mary finished for him.

The walk upstairs had caused the ties on her robe to loosen, and the lapels were gaping slightly-just enough for him to see a curve of one pale breast. His mouth watered, and he tore his gaze away and glared at the bed. Warm light infused the room, kissing the pale-blue coverlet. It was a soft space, and he felt way too hard to belong there.

“I think it’s the best of both worlds,” Mary said, mis-taking his tense jaw and piercing gaze for annoyance instead of desire. “Seeing how we feel about each other.”

How they felt about each other. The idea made Ethan want to laugh. One minute he wanted to shake her, and the next he wanted to kiss her. What he did know was that he didn’t want to hate her-not anymore-didn’t want to feel pissed off at her. “I don’t like this.”

She sighed. “We’re close enough to work and far enough not to…”

“Not to what?” he asked, wondering how long it would take him to remove that robe. Two seconds? Five? Or maybe he’d want to do it slowly, just a shoulder first. Or maybe he’s start at her feet, work his way up to her calves, thighs…“Fall into bed again?”

Pink suddenly stained her cheeks, and she moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “Something like that.”

“It seems like a whole lot of trouble for nothing.”

Her chin lifted. “I seem to remember you comparing me to a python. Aren’t you glad that the python isn’t living upstairs?”

He didn’t answer. He walked over to the window and stared out. “There’s no view of the water from here.”

She sniffed. “I think I’ll live.”

“You’ll be up here day and night…alone.”

“Why do you care, Curtis?”

“I don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to.

“Business won’t suffer,” she assured him. “I can be up at the house in under five minutes.”

If he didn’t get the hell out of here right now, he was going to find out the answer to that robe question of his, and then Mary Kelley would have the upper hand on him and he couldn’t have that. He turned away from the window and stalked across the tiny space. “Thirty will be fine.”

She studied him, her brows slightly knitted. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”

“We have a few hours of good light left. Maybe…scouting a location for the party?”

She looked surprised. “I would’ve thought you’d want it at the house.”

“I’m not sure what I want,” he said tightly. “I’d like some options.”

Her expression now impenetrable, she nodded. “All right. Well, I’m finally going to take that shower I’ve been looking forward to since this morning, and I’ll meet you out front in thirty minutes.”

The thought of Mary naked under a waterfall of hot water had Ethan sucking in oxygen, but not enough: his lungs constricted with pain. She was going to take off that robe, not him. She was going to touch her skin, not him. Women could be masters at torture, but this woman had it down to a science. His gaze shot to the small bathroom to his right. So white and clean and sweet.

His entire body charged with electricity, Ethan turned away and headed back down the stairs.

“We could always walk into town,” Mary suggested as she sat in the back of a small black buggy, outside the gates of their rental house.

Glaring at the docile horse, Ethan slowly shook his head. “Nope.”

The carriage driver looked straight ahead, smart enough not to get involved, but Mary wasn’t afraid to incur the wrath of Ethan Curtis. The late-afternoon sun was starting to mellow into a stunning orangish pink and if they didn’t get a move on they’d be scouting locations for the party in the dark.

“Are you going to climb up here or not?” Mary asked as she watched Ethan sidle up to the chestnut mare.

“Just give me a minute,” he uttered crossly, reaching out to stroke the animal’s mane as he whispered something to her Mary couldn’t hear.

When he finally climbed into the buggy and dropped down beside Mary, she was curious as hell. “So, what’s up with you and Shirley?”

“It was personal.”

The driver clicked his tongue a few times and they were off down the dirt road. “Did you ask for her hand in marriage?” Mary asked, grinning. “Oops, sorry, I mean her hoof?”

“We were just having a little discussion, that’s all.”

“About?”

“Manners.”

Mary laughed. “Did you have a drink before we left the house?”

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and reclined back in his seat. “I don’t want her throwing us, that’s all.”

“The driver said she’s as docile as they come.”

“That’s what they’d like you to believe,” he muttered dryly.

“They?”

“The driver and…Shirley.”

Again she laughed. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“I’m not all that into horses, okay?”

“Oh, c’mon. Everyone loves horses. How could you not like horses? It’s un-American.”

“Okay, they don’t like me,” he grumbled.

“You need therapy,” she said as they passed another horse and buggy on their way to town. The air had chilled considerably since their arrival, and Mary scooted just a little closer to Ethan. “All right, I’m listening. Tell me the whole sad story.”

“What story?”

“Give me a break.” She inched even closer to him so their legs were touching. “You’ve got to be freaked out for a reason-what’s the story?”

On a curse, Ethan lifted his arm, dropped it around her shoulders. “I was ten. It was Sammy Bishop’s birthday party and this sweet and supposedly ancient horse named Izabo was there giving rides to all the kids. With everyone else, she walked slower than a turtle, it was almost funny, the parents were actually referring to her Iza Slow. But as soon as I got on her back it was Kentucky Derby time.” He lifted up his left forearm. “I fell and broke my arm in three places.”

Mary let her head relax against his arm, knowing full well how totally inappropriate they were both being. “That was a fluke thing and it happened one time. You can’t hold that against-”

“Then when I was fourteen,” he said as the buggy took a deep hole and they bumped against each other. “My girlfriend dragged me to the circus. Everything was fine until the horse and rider came out. Jezebel the Great freaked out halfway through her routine and stormed the stands.”

“No way.”

“Oh, yeah. And who do you think she headed straight for?”

“Okay, I’m beginning to see a pattern,” Mary said, laughing, the scent of lake water heavy in the air.

“I broke two ribs.”

Without thinking, Mary reached over and ran her fingers down the length of his rib cage only stopping when she heard his sharp intake of breath. “Feel fine to me.”

His heavy-lidded gaze held hers. “Well sure, they’ve healed now.”

It was a good thing that the driver stopped then, or Mary believed Ethan might’ve leaned in and kissed her, and she also believed she would have kissed him back. They got out in front of a fudge shop and started walking up Main Street, which had a similar architectural feel to New Orleans, though the scents in the air were totally different. As they passed shops, restaurants and art galleries, Mary missed Ethan’s arm around her, the strength of him, and she silently wished he’d take her hand, lace her fingers with his.

“You know what?” she said as they walked to the west end of downtown where the pedestrians were fewer. “I don’t think it’s really about the horses not liking you.”

“Oh, this should be interesting.”

“I think it’s a sex thing.”

A dark brow lifted over one eye. “Come again?”

“Izabo, Jezebel and Shirley,” she pointed out. “It’s a female thing. Females have this reaction to you.”

Ethan processed this for a brief moment, then burst out laughing. “How the hell did I get mixed up with you?”

She tossed him a taunting smirk. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

They continued down the street, passing a lovely old church, a library and a quaint soda shop-which Mary considered for the party, then quickly deemed too informal. Several blocks down, closer to the water, Ethan pointed to a lovely, small, intimate hotel called the Miran Inn. “What do you think of this place?”

Cocking her head to one side, Mary looked the inn up and down. “It’s beautiful, but hotels have been done to death. Not to mention the fact that three of the ten potential clients we’re throwing this party for own inns on the island.”

“Right.”

“Don’t you want something interesting and surprising? Something the spouses actually want to come to?”

“Yes.”

Mary had been contemplating something since they’d arrived here, and she wanted to pull it out now. “Let’s go.” Grabbing his hand, she tugged, urging him to follow her.

“Where?”

“Just follow me.”

Mary led him off the main street and down a short hill to a bluff, onto the sandy beach. Overhead the gulls were calling on each other to share their fish, and several tourists were taking pictures of a beautiful lighthouse in the distance. Releasing his hand, Mary walked down to the water’s edge and lifted her hands to the fading sun. “Perfect,” she called, turning back to face him. “A barbecue on the beach. Intimate, casual, great food-and no horses involved.”

Ethan glanced around, then slowly nodded. “I like it.”

“Great,” she said excitedly. It would be her first beachside barbeque and she was going to make it a day to remember.

Ethan came to stand beside her, a look of admiration in his eyes. “I have to admit, you’re great at what you do, you know that?”

Her hair whipped around her face. “Thank you.”

He tucked one thick blond strand behind her ear, then let his thumb retreat across her cheek. “Very smart, very intuitive. There’s just one problem.”

Her expression froze. “What’s that?”

“You’re too beautiful for your own good. A man couldn’t get you out of his mind no matter how pissed off he was.”

“Don’t you mean ‘is’?” He was too close. She could feel the heat off his body, and there was no denying the desire in his eyes.

His fingers left her cheek and slid down her neck, pausing at her collarbone. He didn’t move for a moment, and his face looked rigid, as if he was contemplating what he’d just done. Then he dropped his hand and shook his head helplessly. “I’m sorry. I…I have to get back.”

Electricity was shooting through Mary’s body like fireworks, but she fought for control and nodded once. “Of course.”

“I have a dinner meeting.”

“And I have a guest list to study.”

They walked side by side, up the bluff and back to Main Street to catch a cab.

“You’ll be all right on your own tonight?” Ethan asked as one pulled up in front of them.

Mary climbed into the cab and this time sat close to the door. “Have been for the past twenty-some years,” she uttered softly.

“What was that?” Ethan asked, not having heard her muffled answer.

She released a heavy sigh. “I said, I’ll be just fine.”

At night on Mackinac Island something wonderful happens. As the sun sets slowly and exquisitely against the water, the sounds of nature hum rhythmically through an invisible speaker. Forget expensive sound machines to soothe you to sleep, opening a window and stretching out on the bed was all Mary needed for a relaxing evening.

Well, that and some food…and a glass of wine.

With several pillows behind her head, Mary grabbed the delivery menus she’d garnered from the buggy driver and flipped through them. Beside her on the table was the guest list she now knew backward and forward, and she was ready to chill out. She paused on the page of an Italian menu that sounded pretty good and grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table. But before she had completed dialing the number, there was a sharp rap on the door downstairs.

She glanced at the clock. Would Ethan really be done with his dinner meeting by eight-thirty? Maybe it was Harold, come to discuss the history of each barn stall and let her know that Man O’War once sired a foal here. Laughing at her idiocy, Mary loped down the stairs and hauled back the barn door.

Ethan Curtis leaned against the door frame looking incredibly handsome in jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt, his sharp jaw dusted with stubble.

“Everything okay?” Mary asked, amusement in her voice.

“Yeah,” he began, then took it back. “Well, no. There’s a problem up at the main house.”

“Seriously? What is it? Did a pipe burst or something? These older houses are notorious for plumbing problems no matter how new the pipes…”

“No. It’s not the pipes.”

“Fireplace smoking?”

“No.”

She just loved it when he was forthcoming. “Well, what is it? Can’t figure out which bed to sleep in?”

His eyes darkened. “Something like that.”

Instinctively she took a step back, but only managed to knock her heel against a bucket and feel like a clumsy oaf. “How did your meeting go?”

“Good, fine, boring,” he said, his gaze moving over her. “They’re looking forward to the barbecue.”

Mary nodded, her mouth suddenly numb. If he would only just grab her, make this easy on both of them.

“Oh…” Ethan pulled a plastic bag from behind his back and handed it to her. “I thought if you hadn’t eaten…”

“Thanks. I was just about to order something.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

Many different ways of asking, “Would you like to share this with me?” popped into Mary’s head, but she rejected all of them. After all, he’d just come from dinner with clients. “Well, I’m going to go and enjoy this.”

“Okay.” He didn’t move.

She raised a brow at him and tried to apply a professional tone. “Do we need to discuss anything or can it wait until morning?”

He walked past her into the barn, his hand brushing over hers as he took the takeout bag from her. “You know what? I don’t think it can wait.”

Ten

Ethan hadn’t been kidding about the dinner he’d just had with two potential clients. The food had been ordinary, the conversation bland, and somewhere around the caprese salad, he’d hoped for a fire in the kitchen so an immediate evacuation would send him back to The Birches.

Mary followed him up the stairs to the loft, her tone warily playful. “Something tells me that inviting you in may turn out to be dangerous.”

“Perceptive,” he said over his shoulder.

“So if you come in, can we talk about the menu?”

“I’m already in, but sure.” At the moment, Ethan could care less about the menu for the barbecue. He was in Mary’s room, surrounded by moonlight and the subtle soapy scent of her. Hell, at this moment, he couldn’t care less about work, clients or good manners.

Her back to the wall, Mary gestured around the room. “Not many places to sit.”

Ethan glanced at the bed, then back at her. “No.”

Looking suddenly self-conscious in her pink tank top and matching boy shorts, Mary eyed the bathroom door. “I should throw on a robe or something.”

“Don’t go to any trouble for me.”

“I think I’m already in trouble,” she muttered, walking over to the bedside table and grabbing a yellow legal pad. “So, the caterer thinks-and I agree with her-that an all-American barbecue would be best. Ribs, burgers, barbecued chicken, sweet-potato fries, salads, pecan and apple pies. And maybe some local flavors like fresh cherried whitefish.”

Didn’t she get it? Ethan wondered, dropping the takeout bag on the window seat. She could move across the room, across the yard or all the way across the island and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. He’d still come for her, he’d still seek her out-his need for her was that strong.

“Some of the local menu items are interesting,” she continued, her breathing slightly labored as she spoke, as though she’d just ran the loft stairs. “We could have a tasting if you’d like.”

“I’d like that.”

His tone and meaning were clear as the night sky outside the window, and Mary shook her head, her pale-blue eyes uneasy. “We can’t.”

“We won’t.”

Mary’s skin suddenly felt very tight, as if she’d spent weeks in the sun without protection, and she tossed him a look that said, “Yeah, right.” They were leading up to something here, something inevitable, proven even further by the fact that Ethan was walking toward her right now.

“I swear I won’t even go near the bed,” he said. Ethan brought his hands up and cupped her face, the warmth of his skin melting all of her resolve in an instant. She leaned toward him as he dipped his head and covered her mouth in a series of soul-crashing kisses.

He was so warm as his mouth and his chest brushed teasingly against her breasts that Mary’s knees nearly buckled, and she wrapped her arms around Ethan’s neck for support. His body responding at once, Ethan groaned at the nearness and gently pressed her back against the wall, cradling her neck in his hand as he explored her mouth with teasing, drifting kisses until she opened for him, gave him a sweep of her tongue.

Mary tried to keep her head, tried to recall what they had said to each other just the other day, the rotten things they’d said, but each thought faded away like fog in the sun. She felt his hand delve under her shirt, felt his palm on her stomach and sucked air through her teeth, her back arching as she silently begged him to explore higher.

Pressing closer to her, Ethan reached around her with his free hand and unhooked her bra, setting her free while holding her captive with his mouth. Mary could hardly remain still. Her skin itched to be touched, and when his hand raked up her torso and covered one full breast, when he slowly rolled the hard peak between his thumb and forefinger, she cried out into his mouth.

The sound had Ethan backing off for a moment, his hungry gaze fixated on her. Thinking he was about to scoop her up and deposit her on the bed, Mary shook her head wearily. “You swore you wouldn’t-”

“Go near the bed,” he finished for her. “And I’m not.”

“Then…what are you-”

She never finished the sentence as Ethan lifted her shirt over her head and artfully cast aside her lacy bra. She stared at him, at his face, marveled at the need there as the lower half of her contracted and hummed.

“I wasn’t hungry until now,” he mumbled, dipping his head and nuzzling up one pale slope until he found the sustenance he required. His tongue circled her taut nipple slowly, desperately slowly, and Mary could only arch her back again and again, thrusting herself in and out of his mouth until finally he took her between his lips and tongue and suckled deep and hard.

“Oh, Ethan,” she whispered breathlessly, her knees weak and the small curve at the top of her inner thigh wet with desire.

Ethan drank from her, his tongue flicking the swollen bud back and forth until her hips began to move, to thrust forward and back looking for his hand, his mouth, something to ease the building tension within her-or maybe to build it even further. His mouth moved down, gently sinking his teeth into her belly and hip bones as his hands brought her shorts and underwear to her ankles, then off completely.

Mary felt a moment of embarrassment, being fully naked in front of him, standing there in slashes of moonlight, her breasts free, one nipple still wet from his mouth, and the lower half of her open and ready for whatever he was willing to give.

On his knees, Ethan spared her one wicked, hungry glance before taking what he wanted. “Open your legs,” he said, his warm breath so close to her sensitive flesh that Mary found it almost impossible to hold on to the climax she felt building just inches from his mouth.

She widened her stance and let her eyelids drift closed, tried to calm her body, ease the electric charges running through at a sprint, but when he spread the soft folds back with his thumbs, she couldn’t control anything anymore. When he lapped at her with his tongue, Mary groaned and pressed herself against him. When he suckled and nuzzled the tender bud beneath, she cried out his name, “Ethan, please, I can’t…”

She had no idea what she couldn’t do, if it was hold on to her climax or give in to him or both, her mind was adrift on a sea of all-consuming pleasure. Then his hands came around to her buttocks, squeezing the flesh as he found his rhythm, his tongue flicking the tiny nub over and over as Mary rocked her hips.

“I can’t hold on…” she uttered, her limbs weak, her body charged with electricity as the waves crashed and she stiffened-every part of her but her hips. She cried out and rocked wildly against his mouth, shuddering, giving in to release.

Mary sagged against the wall, her hips still bucking, but slowly now as she sucked air through her teeth and tried to force back rational thought to her mind. When Ethan left her to stand, she felt slightly cold, but he took her in his arms and held her against him, his heart thundering so powerfully she could feel it against her chest. More than anything, she wanted him to take her to the bed, rise up over her and sink down between her legs. For a moment she thought about pushing him back onto the bed and straddling him, taking what she wanted as he had just taken from her.

But she never got the chance. She was still shaking from head to toe when Ethan moved away from her. He walked into the bathroom and came back with her robe, which he gently placed around her. Then he found her gaze and uttered a gentle, “I’ll go.”

“You don’t have to,” she said boldly, not really giving a damn that she sounded needful and not the littlest bit desperate.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked uncomfortable, shaken…or was that angry? She couldn’t tell. “I really do.”

She quickly slipped her arms through the holes in the robe, then nodded at Ethan. What the hell else could she do? “So, tomorrow…”

“Ten. On the porch.” It was all he said before heading down the stairs and out of the barn.

Mary went to the window, watched him walk across the yard, her knees still trembling with aftershocks of her climax, the relaxing sounds of nature now replaced by the hum in her body-the need for more. If she’d had her way-and Ethan could’ve handled it, if he had the same unrelenting desire that she felt for him-he’d be poised above her right now, spreading her legs again, but this time for an entirely different purpose.

The image caused such intense shots of electricity to run through her body that she had to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Mary left City Hall with permits for the party and walked through town, hoping to arrive back at Ethan’s place just before their scheduled meeting time. She’d been up since five that morning, planning the party and keeping her mind focused on Ethan’s business goals as well as her own-basically anything except what had happened last night. As she passed Ticklers Fudge Shoppe, her cell phone rang, making several passersby frown at the disturbance.

She flipped open the phone and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Tess,” came the voice of her partner. “And Olivia,” chirped the other. “We’re conferencing you.”

Mary had been on several trips, business and otherwise over the past five years and had rarely missed hearing from her partners. This morning, however, she felt incredibly comforted by the sound of their voices. “Hey, there. How are things back home?”

“Same old, same old,” Olivia informed her. “And how is Mackinac Island? Insanely beautiful and romantic?”

“She’s not there for romance, Olivia,” Tess said, a bite of irritation in her tone.

“Of course she’s not. I just meant-”

“It’s lovely,” Mary said with a laugh, passing the small church that was about three-quarters of a mile from The Birches, making her heart jump nervously at the thought of seeing Ethan in a few minutes. “Lovely and incredibly picturesque.”

“Well, in that case,” Tess began, her business tone smartly in place. “Make sure you take plenty of pictures for our book.”

“I will,” Mary promised. “So, besides checking on the beauty of the island, anything you two want to discuss-anything going on I should know about?”

“Well,” Olivia said excitedly. “We wanted to tell you that we’ve gotten three calls from men who were at Mr. Curtis’s party last week. Two older gentlemen whose wives have passed and who have no idea how to run a social or home life. By the way, they were very impressed with what you did and are desperate to hold similar events for their companies. One of them is selling his home and moving to a waterfront estate-he’s terrified because his wife handled all of that type of detail.”

“Sounds right up our alley,” Mary said, very pleased that her efforts had brought NRR several more clients. “And what about the third?”

Olivia snorted. “One very arrogant thirty-something trust-fund baby.”

“Oh, your favorite,” Mary said, grinning.

“AndTess palmed him off on me,” Olivia added sourly.

Mary heard Tess groan in frustration, as though she’d had this conversation ten times already. “He needs your culinary skills.”

The wind picked up around Mary, bringing the scent of overcast morning and lake water to her nostrils. “What’s his name?”

“Mac Valentine,” Olivia told her.

Mary racked her brain for a mental picture of him, then recalled the handsome man Ethan had introduced to her at the first party. Oh, yes. Everything Olivia despised. Family money, total playboy, gorgeous and knew it.

Olivia sighed. “It’ll be fine. Just like the rest of you, I refuse to get sucked in by clients. Do my job and do it well, and that’s it.”

As she walked down the country lane, Mary spotted her “just a client” on the porch of the old Victorian home, mug in hand, and felt a shiver of awareness move through her. If the girls only knew what a mess she’d gotten herself into over this particular client, they’d probably kick her out of the business. “Got to go, ladies.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Tess said quickly. “Your grandmother has called here three times since you’ve been gone.”

“Why didn’t she try my cell?”

“She said she misplaced the number, so I gave it to her again. She sounded pretty agitated.”

That’s what came from not checking her messages at home or at the office. “She always sounds that way. Agitated is normal. Now if you said she sounded blissful or pleased, I’d be worried.”

Both women laughed.

“Thanks for the call. I’ll talk to you both later.” Mary dropped her phone into her purse and walked through the yard toward Ethan. A scant bit of sunlight had broken through the clouds and was taking up residence on the porch, playing with the coffee-brown highlights in Ethan’s dark hair. He looked serious and sexy, dressed in all black, the features in his face all angles and sharpness with a tigerlike stare. Her heart in her throat, Mary climbed the porch steps and sat beside him on the bench.

“Taking a walk?” he asked, his tone rigid.

“Just back from City Hall and a meeting with the caterer and waitstaff. They’re really thrilled with the barbecue.” She tried to ignore the way his gaze moved over her in a possessive, animal-like way. “The tasting you requested is today at one-thirty. If that works with your schedule.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need a tasting. I trust your instincts.”

“Last night you said-”

“I wasn’t talking about food last night, Mary.”

His words stunned her, and his reckless, impenetrable gaze had heat coiling through her. Since he had wanted so much to avoid talking about their situation last night, she’d thought to grant him the same courtesy today, but he looked anything but calm, cool and forgetful, so she lifted her chin and said, “Do we need to discuss what happened last night?”

“Only if you want to continue where we left off,” he said with a bluntness that matched hers.

Mary’s nerves dropped away completely, and the no-nonsense businesswoman with an attitude took over. She had been open to him in more ways than one last night, and he was the one who’d walked away. She didn’t want to play games anymore, back and forth and want and don’t want-it was b.s. “All I want right now is to do my job. The best damn job anyone’s ever seen.”

His eyes glittered with ire. “I have no doubt you’ll succeed in that.”

“And after I’ve finished this job, I want to leave here. I want to go back home and…” She paused, unable to finish her sentence. Why couldn’t she finish that sentence?

“And?” he asked.

She would go back home and work as she always had, with no more interruptions or complications. No doubt, just like Ethan.

The frustration in her tone was obvious. “Would you like the tasting or should I cancel it?”

“I’ll be there. One-thirty, right?”

She nodded and stood. “It’s going to be at Fanfare restaurant in town, right on Main Street. Easy to find.” She headed off toward the barn. Another shower sounded good, thirty minutes under hot water to clear her head and retune her attitude.

“I’ll come by the barn to pick you up at one,” Ethan called after her, making Mary stop in her tracks and whirl around to face him. “We can walk this time. No more horses.”

“We?” she uttered hoarsely. “No, I don’t need to be there. The staff will write down everything you like and don’t like and report back to-”

“I want you there,” he said, reclining on the bench, looking like the CEO of the world. “And at least until the end of the barbecue tomorrow, you work for me.”

Without realizing it, the catering staff at Fanfare had romanticized an event that should have been nothing more than a business meeting. On the walk over, Mary had imagined that she and Ethan would stand at one of the prep stations in the restaurant’s kitchen and sample a variety of dishes, writing down their thoughts on a piece of scratch paper in between bites, then they would thank the staff for their service and get out of there. Later, Mary would call the head chef and discuss what worked for the client and what didn’t.

This was normally how it was done on the mainland, but clearly things were taken to an entirely different level on Mackinac Island when a hotshot millionaire was throwing a party for the island’s upper crust.

On the restaurant’s cozy deck overlooking the lake, a table had been dressed with exquisite white linens, funky blue plates, silver, wineglasses and frosted beer glasses.

“I feel like I should’ve worn a tie,” Ethan said with a sardonic grin as he was seated at the table.

“Me, too,” replied Mary.

“No. You look too good in that dress.”

She smiled.

Taking in the elaborate scene before him, Ethan raised one dark brow at her. “Are you sure they’re going to be able to pull off a beach barbecue?”

She tossed him a mock frown as the waitstaff poured samples of wine and beer. “Are you questioning my abilities, Mr. Curtis?”

Lifting a mug, he gave her a silent toast. “I’d be a fool.”

“Damn right.” In spite of herself, she grinned at him as several dishes were set before them. “How about we taste and see?”

Amusement glittered in his eyes at the unintended double meaning in her words. “You make me crazy, you know that?”

“Right back at ya, Curtis.”

Each item the staff laid before them was whimsical and over-the-moon delicious. Grilled whitefish and chips wrapped in paper, sweet-potato fries with a killer dipping sauce, salads, pork, chicken, desserts. And they sampled it all, along with fresh-squeezed lemonade, interesting wines and rich beer.

At long last, Ethan sat back in his chair and sighed. “I approve.”

Mary laughed as she tried to get up from the table. “I thought you might.”

After thanking the staff, they walked back to The Birches, thankful for the exercise as they were both stuffed to the gills. Several times, Ethan reached out to take Mary’s hand, then stopped himself. They weren’t a couple. Sure, there was an intense sexual attraction between them, unfinished business that he wanted to see to, taste again-damn, he couldn’t get last night out of his head-but he was kidding himself if he thought they’d just been on a date, that they were starting a romantic relationship.

Once they were in the driveway, Ethan followed her to the barn and paused at the door. Mary’s cheeks were flushed and she looked relaxed and satisfied with their day. She took off her sandals and stood there in her virginal white sundress, the same need he’d seen last night in her eyes-the same need that was no doubt echoed in his.

“I think I’m a little tipsy,” she said, opening the door.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

She laughed. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Are you going to be operating any heavy farm machinery this afternoon?”

“No.”

“Then you’re fine.”

“Thanks for walking me to my door, so to speak, but I’m good from here.”

Cursing, he leaned against the door frame, feeling frustrated and dense. “Why the hell are we fighting this?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think I am.”

“Fine. Why am I fighting this?”

“Because you hate me?”

“No, I don’t think that’s true anymore.” He reached out and took her hand. “In fact I don’t think that was ever true. I think it’s quite the opposite and that’s why I’m fighting it.” He took her other hand and pressed them behind her back, leaned in and kissed her gently, sensually on the mouth. “Come on,” he uttered, leading her inside.

“No more games, Ethan,” she said, her tone fragile for the first time since they’d met.

“No.” He shook his head, led her up the stairs, but halfway there his need to kiss her, taste her, had him pulling her into his arms.

“The bed…” she uttered hoarsely.

Ethan nuzzled her neck, the curve of her ear, making her moan. “We’ll get there.”

Eleven

Somehow they stumbled up the stairs, clothes marking their way like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs. Mary clung to Ethan like a rag doll, covering his mouth and neck with hungry kisses as he led them into the bedroom and onto the down comforter. She only knew her shirt and bra were off when her warm back met the cool, soft down and when Ethan lowered himself on top of her, the hair on his chest tickling her, and the delicious, hot weight of him making her heart jump with excitement.

Her skin felt as if it was on fire, itchy, needy, and she couldn’t get him to touch her everywhere at once, so she had to force herself to relax as he lazily kissed her throat and breasts, nuzzling one nipple with his nose and cheek until Mary could hardly stand the torture and he finally gave in and suckled her deep into his mouth, tugging at the flesh with his teeth. She was in a dream-she had to be-but she didn’t want to be. No matter how she and Ethan had begun, there was real, honest-to-goodness affection here. She was really falling hard for him, and she desperately wanted him to make love to her.

He found her mouth again, and as his hands took over, kneading the undersides of her breasts, cupping them, feeling their weight, slowly circling the firm peaks with his thumbs, Mary moaned, plunging her fingers into his thick hair.

His jeans and the small scrap of cotton at her hips were all that separated them, and Mary couldn’t stand it. With deft fingers, she flicked the button and slid down his zipper, her hand delving inside to feel him, hold him, make him as insane with desire as she was.

Ethan sucked in a breath as her fingers wrapped the hard, solid length of him, and Mary smiled as he continued to kiss her. He was like silk, pulsating, hot, steel-hard silk, and she ached to have him inside her. As she stroked him, Ethan hooked his thumbs under the waist-band of her underwear and slipped them down far enough that Mary could easily wriggle out of them. This was no sweet love scene; they wanted each other in a primitive way. They wanted to be connected, and Mary reveled in the fact that she felt like a horny teenager at the ripe old age of twenty-nine.

Ethan broke away for one second to pitch his pants to the floor, and when he returned, Mary pushed him back on the bed. She felt sexy and strong and wanted to climb on top of him and take what she wanted, be in control, and Ethan lay back and allowed her that, his hands instantly finding her hips.

She kneaded his chest with her hands, rolled his nipples between her fingers until his erection looked like a marble pillar, then she lifted up off him, pressed her hips forward and sank down until the curls between her legs met the coarse hair at his center.

Ethan uttered a curse, a deep throaty sound that went with the thrust he met her with. “Mary, I don’t-”

“Want this?”

A deep, almost wounded chuckle escaped him. “Are you kidding? No, I don’t have any protection.”

“I do,” she said breathlessly.

“You do?”

She pushed off him, her smooth legs brushing against his hair-roughened ones as she grabbed a foil packet from the bedside table drawer. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t want this to happen,” she said, grinning down at him. “I came prepared.”

Ethan reached for the packet, but Mary wanted to do it herself, wanted to feel the latex as it slid over him, wanted to place him inside her again. After feeling so out of control for so long, she needed this, and for once Ethan let her take what she needed, let her slide back down over him, let her place his hands on her breasts as she rode him, her hips swiveling and thrusting as she tried to feel him from every angle.

“Tell me,” Ethan whispered, one hand trailing down her belly to the spot where they were joined, where wet heat made their movements quick and intensely pleasurable. “What do you want?”

Through gritted teeth, Mary cried out, “Yes, right there. Touch me there.”

Ethan’s fingers moved and played until Mary’s head dropped back and her breasts rose and fell. She let him take over, one hand gripping her hips, rocking her back and forth, deeper and deeper, the other hand nestled between them, his middle finger flicking the tender button hidden inside until waves of pleasure so intense Mary could hardly breathe washed over her. Her hands slipped to his chest as he pumped furiously beneath her, guttural sounds erupting from his throat as he followed her over the edge.

Exhaustion flooded her and she collapsed on top of him, tears filling her eyes. She lay there, her heart thudding against his chest, and wondered what she’d been doing for the past two years besides working and remaining separate from the world. She’d never realized just how lonely she’d been, spending her time, energy and focus on the business. She’d completely cut herself off from living.

Ethan slid out from under her, and she gave him her back so they were spooning. It felt so good, so right to be held like this by him. How that was possible, after all they’d been through, she didn’t know, but it was obvious to her that they might have a chance together.

Ethan trailed kisses down her back, down, down, raking his teeth against the sensitive spot right above her buttocks. Electric currents shot through Mary’s weak limbs, and she uttered a playful, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not done.”

“Not done with what…oh.”

He flipped her over and sat poised above her, staring down at her with eyes that glittered blue fire, his erection brushing against her leg, hard once again.

Laughing weakly, she grabbed the covers and hauled them up and over her head. “Can’t. Tired.”

“Mary,” he began wickedly. “Do you actually think a few inches of cotton is going to stop me?”

With a little pleasurable scream, Mary saw Ethan appear at the bottom end of the covers, his gaze ravenous as he started at her ankles and crawled toward her, his mouth planting soft, wet kisses up her calves, knees and finally her inner thighs.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” he whispered, his mouth poised between her now widespread thighs.

Her fingers delving immediately into his hair, Mary lifted her hips tentatively. How could she resist? His head was down, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he gripped her buttocks. His mouth was like heaven, his tongue…

“Ethan…”

He started slowly at first, just gentle laps at her sensitive sex, long, slow licks from hood to the opening of her body. But Mary’s body responded quickly, writhing beneath him, twisting, her fingers leaving his hair to find herself. Ethan said something sexy and dirty as she opened the slick, hot folds at her core, then nuzzled and suckled at the taut bud that ached so badly. Following her rhythm, his pace quickened, moving with the thrust of her hips, until she arched her back and called out raw, insatiable moans over and over again, shuddering against his mouth.

Completely exhausted now, Mary curled over on her side and released a heavy, satisfied sigh, even smiling lazily when Ethan lay facing her on his side.

“I want to stay,” he said.

“The bed’s too small,” she joked.

He draped one muscular thigh over her hips, pulling himself closer. “Is it?”

And they fell asleep that way.

The weather had been sketchy all morning, but miraculously by eleven o’clock the sun had pushed its way through the clouds and had started to warm the sand. Right alongside the staff, Mary helped set up tables, chairs, chaises and umbrellas, all in festive shades of blue-and-white stripes. The beach had been combed beautifully, leaving only the whitest, softest sand for their party, and when noon hit and the guests began to arrive, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the morning gloom and a night of amazing sex that had left her bone weary, she’d pulled it off.

Dressed in a simple though elegant navy-blue sun-dress and white hat, Mary walked from one station to another, making sure the drinks were flowing and the food was getting out in a timely manner. Barring one strange and obviously experimental plate of baked-bean custard that she immediately had the waiter send back to base camp, everything looked perfect.

Just as she was inspecting the barbecue grills and the delicious scents wafting from each, Ethan came up behind her and took her hand. She smiled instantly at his touch, and a warm sensation came over her heart as she recalled this morning, waking up together in a haze of touchy, feely, romantic sweetness, complete with breakfast and a killer make-out session at the door as they each complained about how late they were going to be but not really giving a damn.

“Twenty minutes into the party and I have two potential clients flying to Minneapolis next week for meetings,” he said, brushing a kiss to her ear. “You’re amazing.”

He looked calm, relaxed and deadly handsome in white pants and black polo shirt, and Mary felt a strange sense of pride, as if they were actually together. “It’s not me, it’s the mojitos,” she joked.

“No, it’s you,” he insisted, his blue eyes flashing with admiration. “Or maybe it’s me around you.”

“That’s a nice thing to say,” Mary said a little shyly, trying to ease her hand from his in case anyone was watching them. She didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, especially Ethan. She had never been the kind of woman to have expectations, and no matter how much she wanted to curl into this man and whisper her feelings against his chest, she wasn’t about to lay that kind of pressure on him. She may have come to a realization last night about what she had been missing, what she wanted now and how they’d both been stuck in a past that had ruled their actions. But Ethan might not have come to any realizations except that the two of them had just had great sex.

Whatever his beliefs, Ethan held firm to Mary’s hand as they walked over to the bar, greeting guests along the way. It was odd. In all the years Mary had been one of NRR’s partners, she’d never felt like an actual wife to a client, or wanted to be, until today. For brief moments she even caught herself imagining that she and Ethan were a couple as they circled the crowd.

“I should go and speak with the chef,” she told Ethan after about twenty minutes of crowd watching. “We’re running low on a few things.”

Ethan nodded but didn’t release her hand immediately. “Before you go, I have to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“I feel like an ass-a romantic ass.”

“A whole new thing for you?”

“You bet.” Chuckling, he drove a hand through his hair. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Pleasure circled her belly, and she grinned at him. “I seem to remember us agreeing to something…after the party ended.”

He gave her a mock scowl. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Should I refresh your memory?”

“If you say one word about that conversation, I’ll have to take drastic action.”

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she said, “After the party ended we were both supposed to-”

Before she could say another word, Ethan hauled her into his arms and kissed her hard and quick. “Don’t make me take this to an obscene level in front of all these people,” he warned against her mouth. “I’ll ruin my reputation.”

Mary laughed, a warm, rich sound that totally conveyed how happy he was making her in that moment. “Wasn’t I supposed to take off just as soon as the last guest departed?”

“Oh, you asked for it,” he said wickedly, taking her hand and slipping behind the bar where it was shady and devoid of party guests.

In seconds Mary had her arms around his neck as he kissed her with all the passion of the night before. When they finally came up for air, Ethan’s eyes were glazed and hot and his voice was ragged with emotion. “Whatever we have going here, I want more of it.”

All she could do was kiss him, passionately and without holding back.

He held her face in his hands. “Tell me you want that, too.”

“I want that, but I’m a little scared.”

“Of what?”

“All that’s happened.”

“That’s over, Mary. Can’t we decide to forget about it and leave it in the past?”

“I think we’ve both left too much in the past. Don’t you think it’s time to deal with it?”

His brow furrowed with frustration just as a loud trill erupted from Mary’s pants pocket. With a quick look of apology, she grabbed her cell phone and flipped it open. “Hello.”

“Mary, it’s your grandmother.”

“Grandmother, how are you?”

“Your grandfather has died.”

Her heart sunk into her stomach. “What?”

“The funeral is Tuesday. You’ll be here?”

“Yes, of course,” she said quickly, uncomfortable with her grandmother’s unemotional way of giving news. “How did it-”

“I will see you Tuesday,” Grace continued brusquely. “St. Agnes, downtown. 10:00 a.m.”

She hung up almost immediately after Mary said that she would see her at the church. Still in shock, Mary gripped the phone in her fist and stared at the sand.

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked gently.

“My grandfather died.” Why was she feeling so blown away? She and Lars Harrington had never been close, but for some reason the news of his death reminded Mary of her mother’s death, and of how short life really was.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said soberly. “How did it happen?”

“I have no idea.”

He didn’t push her for more. “When are you leaving?”

“Right away. Tonight.”

He nodded. “I’m going with you.”

“No,” she said quickly, not sure why she didn’t jump at the offer, but sensing in her gut that Ethan Curtis around her family right now might not be the greatest idea. “You have business to finish up here, people to see and deals to make. It’s the reason why we came to Mackinac Island in the first place.”

“All of that can wait a few days.”

She eased away from him, from his embrace and the intimacy they’d shared only moments ago. “And lose momentum? No way. It was our plan, anyway, that I was going to leave today and you were going to stay. Let’s stick with the plan, for now anyway.”

Ethan wasn’t a mysterious man; he said what he thought and didn’t apologize for it. With an understanding but not altogether amused grin, he said, “You’re almost as good at this as me.”

“Good at what?”

“Pretending you don’t give a damn.”

They said nothing further as they walked back into the eye of the party.

The cemetery looked like an English garden, with buckets of daisies and vases of tulips and roses everywhere you looked. The woman next to Mary at the grave site had been nervous about what to say to Lars Harrington’s granddaughter. She had bypassed the usual offers of sympathy and instead had gone on to explain that Sunday was the heaviest day for visitors to the cemetery, and that all the guilty relatives brought flowers. After a quick, tight-lipped smile to the woman, Mary had moved to the opposite side of the grave, to stand alongside her grandmother, aunt and cousins.

As the priest spoke, Mary gripped the stems of her lilacs-a flower her grandmother had always called “peasant flora” as they grew in just about anyone’s backyard-recalling the day that she and her father had buried her mother. The weather had been far better than today, full sunshine and a heavy breeze, but the mood felt similar and, Mary noticed, some of the same crowd was there. But no one except Mary and Hugh had shed a tear that day, no one had left that cemetery broken the way they had.

Staring at the casket as it was lowered into the ground, Mary wondered if she’d actually healed from that whole ordeal: the illness and the loss. She’d always been so worried about fixing her father and helping him to get over his grief that she hadn’t even looked at her own. No wonder she’d allowed herself to take that deal of Ethan’s-she’d been a little out of her mind.

Ethan. Warmth spread through her and she wrapped her arms around herself. She missed him, missed sparring with him, lying in his arms, feeling alive. It had been a few days since she’d spoken to him, since he’d kissed her goodbye at the ferry and returned to the island.

Mary glanced up and spotted Tess and Olivia standing next to the woman who’d voiced the inappropriate cemetery comment. The two women looked quiet and sad, and even though she hadn’t asked them to attend, Mary was thankful for their presence and support. And they weren’t the only ones offering their support, Mary noticed as she shifted her gaze to the back of the crowd behind her partners.

Conservatively dressed in a black suit and bright-blue tie, Ethan Curtis stood apart from all the others, staring at her, his gaze solemn as Bible verses were read. At first, Mary felt a jump of excitement at the sight of him, then beside her, her grandmother opened her purse and noisily slipped out a tissue, which she used to dab her eyes. This probably wasn’t good. Grace wouldn’t want him here and might create a scene.

As soon as the service ended, Mary hustled over to him. He took her hand and kissed it. “I thought you might need…something. I wasn’t sure exactly what, so I came instead.”

“Thank you,” she said, wanting to curl into his arms and let him comfort her. But she knew this wasn’t the time or the place, and she needed to get him out of there before he was verbally attacked by her grandmother.

But unfortunately she wasn’t quick enough.

“What is he doing here?”

It was as if a cold wind had blown in, encircling them like a tornado. Mary’s grandmother walked up to them. She stared hard at Ethan, a sneer on her weary face.

“He came as a friend, Grandmother,” Mary quickly tried to explain. “And-”

“He’s no friend to this family,” Grace snarled. “Your grandfather would be appalled.”

“Grandmother, please-”

“You don’t need to defend me, Mary,” Ethan said calmly, then turned to Grace. “I was offering a little support to a friend, that’s all.”

Her eyes narrowed into nasty slits. “The blue-collar trash that took his company from him.” She turned on Mary. “How could you allow this?”

“I didn’t. I’m not. I-”

“Don’t bother, Mary,” Ethan said with a mild sigh before turning around and walking away.

“I’m surprised at you,” Grace uttered to Mary when he was gone.

“And I wish I could say I’m surprised at you,” Mary said tightly.

“You will not speak to me in that tone, young-”

“I understand that today is a difficult day, Grandmother,” Mary said, feeling strong and in control with this woman for the first time in her life. “But I won’t allow you to speak to my friends that way anymore. If you want a relationship with me, you’ll need to restrain yourself in the future.”

Leaving her grandmother standing there, mouth open, Mary went after Ethan. She caught up to him on top of the hill overlooking her grandfather’s grave site. “I’m sorry. It’s her grief talking.”

“Then she’s been grieving for a long time,” he muttered.

“This is why I didn’t want you to come here,” she explained. “I knew she’d-”

“Stop trying to protect me, Mary. I don’t need it.”

“I’m not…” Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true.

“Aren’t you tired of it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Protecting everyone. Your father, your partners, your grandmother, me, yourself.”

She stared at him unable to speak, her brain running a hundred miles an hour. Had he read her thoughts last night? How could he know that all of her life she’d been doing exactly this, hoping her interference would bring peace where there was chaos-and having no life of her own in the process. She could plan her work, her business years in advance, but could never see her personal future because she didn’t think she deserved one.

“I have to go,” Ethan said, mistaking her silence for indifference.

“No,” she said sternly just as Olivia and Tess came toward them, waving.

“I’m so sorry, Mary,” Olivia said sympathetically, placing an arm around her friend’s shoulder. Then she noticed Ethan and gave him a curious smile. “Mr. Curtis. Hello. What are you doing here?”

“He took over my grandfather’s company,” Mary said quickly and without thinking. “But he was just leaving.”

When Ethan’s cold gaze found hers, she realized what she had said and how it had sounded. It was one thing to protect him, but to act ashamed of him…She wanted to explain, but with Tess and Olivia standing right there she knew it would have to wait.

Ethan nodded to both Tess and Olivia. “Ladies.” Then turned and left.

Mary’s heart sank.

“What happened here?” Tess asked.

Olivia grimaced. “Hope it wasn’t something I said.”

“No,” Mary assured them, knowing it was about time to come clean with her partners. “I’m afraid it was something I said.”

Twelve

“Yes, Mr.Valentine, I’ll be there.” Olivia rolled her eyes as she hung up the phone. “This is his third call in two days. The excessively rich can not only be bossy but paranoid, as well.” She swiveled toward Mary and gave her a sheepish expression. “Sorry, Mary. I don’t mean you.”

It was quarter to five and they were all sitting in Olivia’s office going over the appointments and events that were scheduled for the next two weeks. It was September and business was starting to really pick up.

As she sat beside Tess on the other side of Olivia’s desk, Mary crossed and uncrossed her legs. “Hey, I’m not rich.”

Tess looked up from her notes. “I thought your grandfather left you a small fortune.”

“It still doesn’t make me rich,” Mary said on a laugh that sounded incredibly forced. “Comfortable, maybe-but I’ve found that rich is an attitude.”

“I’ll say,” Olivia went on. “Just because this guy has a dozen or so women who’d do anything from shine his shoes to act as though they don’t know where Darfur is just so he can feel like the smart one, doesn’t mean he should expect the same from me.” She snorted. “As if I would forget a meeting. The nerve.”

“You’ll make sure he gets a clue, Olivia, I have no doubt.” Tess winked at Mary, who smiled in turn.

The three women had changed during the past several weeks-since the funeral and the three-hour dessert and coffee gab session they’d shared afterward. Exactly ten minutes after Ethan had walked away from her, Mary had broken down and confessed their relationship to Tess and Olivia.

The two hadn’t been surprised, but they had asked, no pressure, if she’d wanted to talk about it. She did, and she had. Not that it had changed the situation any, but it had been moderately cathartic and had made Mary realize what she’d been missing in a friendship.

Both Tess and Olivia hadn’t mentioned Ethan since, and she was beyond thankful for that because Ethan hadn’t contacted her for two weeks except to send a check to NRR for services rendered. There hadn’t been a note in the envelope, nothing that would make her think he missed her or had even thought about her at all. For her part, she’d called him to try and explain, but he’d refused to listen. Even so, she hadn’t stopped thinking about him.

Tess closed her book with a sigh. “I think that’s it. We’re all going to be incredibly busy this month, so take every opportunity to relax.”

“Agreed,” said Olivia pulling out her Rolodex. “And I know just how to start the relaxation process.”

Tess groaned. “I can’t take another one of those seminars on How to Cool Your Cooperate Stress.”

“Seriously,” Mary agreed wholeheartedly. “I fell asleep at the last one and the group leader actually tousled my hair to get me to wake up. It was very freakish.”

Shaking her head impatiently at both of them, Olivia explained, “I’m not talking about a seminar, I’m talking about Senõr Fred’s-tonight.” She wiggled her brows. “Spiciest salsa in town and dollar margaritas.”

“Oh, I’m so in,” Tess said without hesitation, standing up and heading out of the office. “Let me get my coat, finish up some paperwork and I’ll meet you at reception in fifteen minutes.”

“What about you, Mary?” Olivia asked. “I mean, can anyone really turn down a margarita?”

At that question, Mary wanted to laugh, but she didn’t feel merry enough to make it happen. She could turn down a margarita, and pretty much anything alcoholic for the next nine months. She was back to where she’d started, with a pregnancy test hidden behind the rolls of toilet paper under the sink. And this time, she’d actually missed her period.

She scrubbed a hand over her face. How was she going to tell Ethan, or not tell him?

“I’d love to come,” Mary said finally, feeling slightly sick to her stomach at the thought of salsa and chips and happy hour chaos. “But I think I’ll stick to soda.”

Olivia smiled and shrugged. “Okay.”

“But if you two end up completely hammered,” Mary said, gathering up her notes and grinning. “Consider me your designated driver.”

Dr. Eleanor Wisel was a kind, grandmother type of Ob/Gyn with cool hands and warm instruments and a penchant for delivering news with her eyes closed. Dramatic effect? Who knew, but it was exactly how she’d told Mary that yes, she was indeed pregnant.

With a prescription for prenatal vitamins stuffed in her purse and a small plastic bag of coupons, information and dates for future appointments hanging from her wrist, Mary walked out of the office building and across the parking lot toward her car. Her insides had stopped shaking long enough for her brain to start processing what all this could mean. She didn’t have to worry about money or a future for this child-she had her business and the trust. She didn’t have to worry about loving this baby, she already felt totally in love with him or her. But what she did have to worry about was the father. She had to tell him, of course, but things were so crazy right now, would it be better if she waited?

She opened her car door and was about to climb in when she heard her name being called across the parking lot. Her skin prickled and her heart raced, and she quickly tossed her free bag of goodies into her car and slammed the door. When she looked up again, he was there, looking incredibly handsome in jeans, a white button-down shirt and a gray brushed-wool blazer. She found herself fascinated with his features, wondering would her baby have his eyes or hers? His hair color or hers? His roguish smile or her quirky one?

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a tone he usually reserved for employees.

“Seeing a doctor.”

Concern etched his features and he took a step closer to her. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Why did he have to smell so good? All she wanted to do was fall forward, rest her forehead on his chest, tell him how much she missed him and that everything that happened the day of her grandfather’s funeral was a stupid misunderstanding. “I’m perfectly healthy.”

He looked relieved.

“And what are you doing here?” she asked, suddenly aware of the pregnancy packet laying on the back seat in full view.

“I had a meeting in the building next door, and I saw your car.”

“Right,” she said, patting the Mustang she’d have to get rid of now in favor of an SUV or something more child friendly.

“Well, it’s been interesting.” He looked ready to take off, but Mary was not about to let him leave without at least starting the groundwork for a decent future relationship.

“Ethan, I want to apologize for what happened at the funeral-”

He put up a hand to stop her. “No need.”

“No, there is a need. What happened was a misunderstanding.”

Beside them, a woman was getting into her car, tossing her purse and effects into the back of the car, just as Mary had done a few minutes earlier. But she was not just any woman, Mary realized, her stomach roiling sickly as she turned her head and tried to go unnoticed by the woman she had chatted with in the waiting room of Dr. Wisel’s office.

“Oh, hey, there.”

Too late.

Mary gave the woman a quick wave and a very tightlipped smile as she silently begged her not to say anything more.

The woman waved, utter glee in her eyes at having heard good news today, as well. “See you later, and good luck with your baby.”

Her heart in her shoes, Mary nodded as they woman got into her car and shut the door. “You, too.”

She didn’t want to look at him, afraid of what she’d see in his dark-blue gaze: horror, disgust, disappointment. It would be something she’d always remember, but she wasn’t a coward, and she faced her child’s father with a proud lift of her chin.

“Baby?” he repeated, his face registering utter shock.

“It looks that way. It’s very early.”

“But…how is that possible? I wore a-”

“I know.”

“And the first time we had nothing at all and…well, nothing happened.”

“I know.”

He looked away, scrubbed a hand over his chin. “God, a baby. Your baby.”

“Our baby,” Mary couldn’t stop herself from saying. She wasn’t about to beg, but she loved the guy and she wanted him to want this child and her, too.

“Oh, Mary,” he said with a softness she’d only heard when she was in his arms, when he kissed her. “Were you going to tell me?”

“Of course I was going to tell you,” she assured him. “But you weren’t taking my calls-”

“I would’ve taken this one.”

“I had some things to think about first, some decisions to make-”

He went white as paper. “You’re going to…to have it, right?”

Her heart leaped into her throat. How could he even think…“Yes.”

He released a heavy sigh. “But you were going to wait to tell me?”

Around them people slammed doors and cars pulled in and out of their spaces. “Ethan, again, we haven’t spoken in two weeks. I didn’t know if we’d ever speak again the way you were ignoring my phone calls.”

“I was pissed.”

“I know.”

“I had every right to be.”

He did. “Okay.”

“But that doesn’t mean my feelings for you changed.”

Mary felt her breath catch in her throat. What did that mean? What feelings? Besides attraction and a strange friendship?

He continued, “That doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every damn minute and want to be with you, around you, inside you.”

“Ethan,” she uttered, shaking her head.

“I have to know something, Mary.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ashamed of me, too?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What you did at the funeral-or what you didn’t do. Your grandmother treated me like dirt and you stood there.”

“You’re right. I was an idiot. At first. But after you left, I told her off.”

He didn’t look as though he wanted that answer, he was still so angry-at her, and maybe at his life and past. “You couldn’t get rid of me fast enough around Olivia and Tess.”

Sighing, she leaned against the car. “That had nothing to do with shame, Ethan.”

“What was it then?”

“I didn’t want my partners to know about you.”

He looked triumphant. “Exactly.”

“No, not exactly. I didn’t want them to know that I had allowed myself to be blackmailed by you, that I went to work for you afterward and then that I-” she swallowed “-fell in love with you in Michigan. If I’m ashamed of anyone, it’s myself.”

“For loving me?” he asked.

She studied him hard. “I’m coming clean here, Ethan. I’m admitting my failings, how I’ve screwed up. I should have found a different way to help my father, or allowed him to find a way out himself. I know that all I’ve ever done is try to keep the peace, take care of everyone else but myself. Then I used it as an excuse to stay away from relationships with people.” She looked heavenward. “But no more. I’m done with that. I have a child on the way, and I’m going to teach her by example to run headfirst into life and embrace it, and that the world’s problems are not hers to solve.” She looked at Ethan. “What are you going to teach her?”

Mary had hoped that her words, her own admission of past failures would jar him, make him see what a fool he’d been and how releasing the past was his only way to have a real future. But he wasn’t ready for that, and she had to accept the fact that maybe he never would be.

“I have plenty to teach,” he said proudly.

“The art of the deal?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being ruthless in business matters-”

“Business matters?” She shook her head, disappointed. “You still don’t understand what happened with us-or take any responsibility for it, do you?”

“If we’re talking about the bargain-”

“Of course we are.”

His chin set, his eyes blazing blue fire, he said, “I did what I had to do.”

Mary laughed bitterly as she opened her car door and climbed in. “You know, with how brilliant you are, I’d have thought that by now you’d have come up with a far more creative answer. That one’s getting a little tired, and frankly so am I,” she said before closing the door in his face.

Ethan Curtis wasn’t a big drinker, never packed up his troubles and headed to the nearest bar. Instead he preferred to solve his problems in a clear and rational way. Even in personal matters, this method worked well for him. Today, however, clear and rational just didn’t exist.

He drove through the stone gates of the Days of Grace Trailer Park and past the office to the mobile home he couldn’t seem to stay away from. The one-bedroom home seemed to stare back at him, wondering why he kept returning to a place that held such bad memories.

Ethan reclined his seat and shut his eyes, remembering the sound of his father cracking open another beer from his second six-pack, hearing the squeak of springs as the old man dropped down on the ratty couch before hurling beer caps at Ethan, along with a few choice words about how Ethan was the real reason his mother had left them.

Why the hell did he keep coming back here? Did he like torture? Did he feel he deserved it?

A loud knock on the window had Ethan awake and alert in seconds and he stared out the side window at the man who now owned the trailer. Still a little foggy with memory, Ethan pressed the button to his left, and the window dropped slowly.

The man had no baseball cap on this time and looked like a badass with his bald head, Iron Maiden T-shirt and sinister expression, but when he spoke there was no anger in his tone, only interest. “Is there a reason you like to park in front of my place or are you just a freak?”

“I used to live here.”

The man’s brows shot up. “Did you now?”

“With my mother and father-well, actually just my father.”

“Yeah, I know about that.” The man scratched his neck, said thoughtfully, “I got a boy myself. Teenager. Crazy at that age, but he’s real smart. All As, every subject. Maybe he’ll go to a good college and get a fancy car like yours.”

“Maybe.”

“That’s why I moved here,” the guy confessed. “For him, so he could go to the best public school in the city.”

Ethan stared at the guy. He didn’t have much, and he seemed to know the curse of a woman walking out on him or maybe never being around in the first place, and yet his biggest concern was his kid’s future. Ethan hadn’t had that kind of love and commitment from his own father, but he sure as hell wanted to be that kind of dad.

What the hell was he doing? Coming here, feeling sorry for himself when he had made a life that he should feel damn proud of. Mary had been right. He’d been lying to himself all along. The shame he felt for where he came from wasn’t about the trailer-that was an easy excuse, and an easy place to throw the blame when he just didn’t want to deal with the past. His shame came from a father who’d had no pride in himself and had blamed everyone else for his lot in life.

Kind of like Ethan.

He didn’t need blue blood to feel worthy, and he didn’t need to be accepted by those people to feel real success. His real success was growing inside of Mary right now.

Ethan eyed the guy outside his window as he gave a quick wave to what was probably his teenage son on the porch. He’d never known the kind of love this man had for his kid, had no idea what it felt like, so to get it he’d forced a woman to create a child with him by threatening the one thing she loved.

“What a damn fool,” he muttered.

“What was that?” the man asked, turning back.

“Just talking about myself, brother.” Ethan took out his wallet. “Here.” He handed the man a business card. “When your boy starts college, have him contact me.”

The man read the card, then looked up impressed. “CEO?”

“Wouldn’t have minded a leg up in the beginning,” Ethan said. “We always have internships available.”

“Appreciate it.” The man pocketed the card, then gestured to the trailer. “You want to come in? We’re just about to throw some steaks on the barbecue.”

“Thanks.” Ethan smiled. “But I think it’s time I got out of here.”

“Back where you belong?”

“That’s right.” He was only thinking about Mary and the baby when he said it.

Ethan drove away from the trailer park, knowing it was the last time he’d ever be back, realizing that if he wanted any future with the woman he loved and the child growing inside her, he had to leave the past where it was and look ahead to the future.

Thirteen

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandpa.”

Mary sat on the picnic blanket her father had laid out in the backyard beside the vegetable garden, a garden that was now going crazy with bushes of fragrant basil, vines of squash and pumpkin and rows of ripe cherry tomatoes.

“Well, it’s true,” she told him, taking a bite of her corned-beef sandwich.

He plunked down beside her, looking stronger than she’d seen him look in a year. His color was good, too, and when he spoke, his tone contained that rich, happy sound she remembered from her childhood. “Your mother would be so proud. I wish she could see…”

“I know. But she will, in her own way.”

“I like that.” He winked at her, then handed her a cookie. “I made these myself, chocolate chip.”

She took a bite and sighed. “They’re great. In fact, all of this food is wonderful. I may have to hire you to cater for the company.”

He chuckled. “Sounds good. But let’s wait until after I open my restaurant.”

“You’re opening a restaurant?”

“More like a roadside place. Sell my vegetables and offer some small meals, homemade ice cream, the cookies…” He grinned. “Who knows, it’s still in the planning stages.”

“Good for you.”

He nodded, then shifting topics. “So, what are your plans? Are you going to stay in your apartment after the baby is born? It’s pretty small.”

“It is.” She didn’t know exactly what her plans were, only that she’d be okay and that this child would be loved beyond belief. “Oh, Grandmother called.”

Hugh looked surprised. “Really? Even after the scene you told me about at the funeral?”

“She said she respects my choices-”

“She actually said that?”

Mary laughed. “I know. I was shocked, too. She even apologized and said my friends are my own business. Even after I told her who the father was. She wants me to move in with her, have the baby there.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Bet she wasn’t too happy to hear that.”

“No, but she said she understood and asked me to visit as much as I could.”

Hugh munched on a carrot. “Boy, she’s certainly changed her tune since her daughter married me.”

“I guess so. She wants to be a part of my life and the baby’s, and she said she was willing to let go of this feud with Ethan.” Mary shrugged. “I’ll believe it when I see it, but people have been known to change every once in a while, right? Even in small ways?”

“It’s been known to happen,” Hugh said, tossing aside his carrot and regarding her with serious eyes. “Did I say I’m not all that happy about the daddy myself?”

“You did.” The sun was high in the sky, must be around one o’clock, she thought, reclining back on the blanket. “He made some mistakes, Pop. Some big ones, but then again so have I. So have you.”

“Well, if sending that back to me was any indication of change, than perhaps you’re right, lass.”

Mary looked in the direction that her father was pointing. At the far end of the garden, where her mother had planted a circle of yellow roses, was the sculpture of mother and child that Hugh had risked so much in trying to get back.

“He gave that to you,” she asked, stunned.

Hugh nodded. “Brought it by himself. We didn’t say much to each other, but it was pretty decent of him.”

Mary smiled to herself, knowing that for Ethan, coming to her father’s house with that sculpture couldn’t have been easy. He’d made a grand gesture.

When she looked up, her father was watching her. “You love him.”

“Yes. I just hope that’s enough. He’s got some demons to exorcise, some new ideas to come to terms with and a life waiting for him. But I’m anxious to see what his next step will be.”

Hugh lifted one grayish-blond brow. “And if he doesn’t take a next step?”

“Then I’ll be very sorry-” she lifted her chin, trying to ignore the ache in her heart “-but I’ll survive.”

It was Saturday morning around ten-thirty, and all three of the women of No Ring Required were working, sans receptionist. Business was crazy right now, and Mary, Olivia and Tess were all working overtime to accommodate their clients.

Tess stuck her head in Mary’s office. She looked slightly anxious, unsure of how she wanted to say what she had come in there to say. “Mary, it’s Mr. Curtis.”

Her heart leaped into her throat. “Here?”

“No, he was on the phone.”

“What line?” she asked, breathless.

“He’s already hung up,” Tess explained awkwardly. “But there’s a message.” She handed a slip of paper to Mary. “He asked if you’d meet him there.”

“Asked?” Mary repeated.

Grinning, Tess nodded. “Good luck.”

After Tess went back to her office, Mary stared at the address on the paper, her pulse pounding in her blood. After all they’d been through, she didn’t want to go back to that place, especially now, but more than anything, she wanted to hear what Ethan had to say, so she stood up, grabbed her purse and headed out.

Ethan was actually nervous. Like a damn teenager asking out a girl he knew he was not even close to being good enough for. Thank God the baby shop wasn’t packed with customers or he’d probably have to pay the owner to shut the place down for a while so he could really talk with Mary in private.

The bell over the door jingled, and he turned to see Mary walk in, looking so beautiful Ethan almost couldn’t speak. Her blond hair fell in waves around her shoulders and she wore a cream linen pantsuit with sexy sandals and pale-pink toes.

He picked up a baby blanket from the railing of a nearby crib. “I think we should stay away from anything blue. Even if it is a boy.”

With wary eyes she regarded him. “What am I doing here?”

“Sit.” Grinning at the command that came so easily to him, he amended quickly, “Please.”

She sat in the rocker next to him and waited.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine. Curious.”

He nodded, knowing he needed to get to the point if he wanted to keep her attention. “Look, Mary, I get it now.”

Her brows lifted. “Get what?”

“My hang-ups. All seven hundred of them. I get it. I forced you into a situation that was impossible, all for the sake of feeling like I was worth something. You have every right to be angry with me. But you have no right to be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m glad.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “But thank you for saying that.”

“Oh, honey,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of her. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg as far as confessions go.”

Mary felt her pulse pick up speed as hope surged through her for the first time in weeks. Ethan’s heart was open to her, completely. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

He took her hand in his and kissed the palm. “I know after all I’ve done that asking you to love me again is asking a helluva a lot, but I’m asking anyway.”

Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You don’t have to do this. If it’s about the baby, you can be a part-”

“Mary, I love you. Finding out about the baby didn’t change that fact, but it did force me to face what I’ve done, what I thought I needed and a past I just couldn’t let go of.”

Completely overwhelmed, Mary shook her head at him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, kissing her hand again so tenderly, so reverently it brought tears to her eyes.

“I just never thought we’d get here.”

“But we did.”

“I know and I’m so thankful.”

“You wanted to know what gift I can give this child?” he said, reaching out to touch her belly.

Mary nodded, too emotional to speak.

“I can give the same gift our child’s mother gave to me-love.”

In that moment all Mary wanted to do was wrap her arms around Ethan and never let go. “I do love you, Ethan. So much.”

He kissed her neck, her cheek, her eyelids. “I love you, too. Marry me?”

She laughed, insanely happy and so sure of her future. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Ethan kissed her, a hungry, possessive kiss that she never wanted to end.

“Hi, there,” came a feminine voice from behind them.

Still clinging to each other, Ethan and Mary glanced up and smiled sheepishly at the saleswoman.

“Are we shopping for ourselves or for someone else?” she asked.

Ethan reached in his pocket and took out the most beautiful yellow-diamond ring. He grinned at Mary as he slipped it on her finger. “What do you think, my soon-to-be Mrs. Curtis? Shall we do a little shopping?”

Mary kissed him squarely on the mouth and said happily, “I think it’s about time.”

The Apollonides Mistress Scandal by Tessa Radley

One

Gemma Allen was back.

Forcing himself to snap out of the shock that held him rigid, Angelo Apollonides strode across the pale sand towards the woman who had betrayed him.

His staff had not lied. The nasty truth was that his beautiful former mistress stood on his beach, on his island admiring one of his sleek, double-hulled catamarans. And Angelo intended to find out precisely why she had chosen to return.

“What are you doing here?” Angelo fought to keep his voice even, to keep the string of ugly curses from escaping. “I never expected to see you again. Particularly not here on Strathmos.”

She turned, her tawny eyes wide and startled. The first week of November had passed, the evenings on Strathmos had begun to cool. The sea wind caught at Gemma’s dark red hair, whipping it across her face, hiding her expression for a beat of time. When she brushed it back, she’d recovered her equilibrium and her eyes were wary.

“Angelo.” Gemma’s voice was cool, composed. A world away from the alarm that had flickered in her eyes only seconds before. “How are you?”

“Forget the pleasantries. You have nerve showing up at the Palace of Poseidon.” Angelo pressed his mouth into a tight, forbidding line. “I couldn’t believe it when I was told you are performing in the Electra Theatre.”

She shrugged. “It’s a free world. I can work where I want.”

“Anywhere except on Strathmos. This is my world, run by my rules.” The island was more than his world; it was his home. The resort had been created from his dreams. Today he’d returned after a hectic month away to find that Gemma had already been working here for over a week.

“Do you really want to be faced with an unfair-dismissal action?” Her wariness had been replaced with attitude.

Angelo froze. He was known to be a fair employer, hard but just. He didn’t need the headache of an industrial action-and there was a good chance she’d succeed. Frustrated, he stared at the face that had grown more beautiful in the years since they’d been apart. Her hair was longer…wilder, her eyes glowed brighter and as for her mouth…that lush red mouth taunted him with fighting words. He jerked his attention away from her provocative mouth and gave her slender body an insultingly slow once-over. “Singer is certainly a step up from exotic dancer.”

“It’s been three years. Things change,” she pointed out.

“I haven’t changed.” He widened his stance and put his hands on his hips.

“No, you haven’t changed one little bit,” she agreed.

He assessed her through slitted eyes, not liking the bite in her tone. “So what do you want, Gemma? A second chance?”

An emotion he couldn’t decipher flitted across her stunning features. Gemma gave a brittle laugh. “A second chance? With you? You must be mad!”

He frowned, not liking the fact that he couldn’t read her any longer. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here to work…it’s a free world.” With a sweeping hand she gestured to the blue stretch of the Aegean Sea beyond the beach where the catamarans rested. “You-or rather your minions-gave me the job. The money was too good to pass up.”

“Aah. Money.”

“Don’t scorn the lack of it so easily.” Her eyes were flashing now. “Just because you inherited an empire of resorts that stretch across the Greek isles before you turned twenty-one doesn’t give you the right to look down your nose at me. I need the money.”

Angelo felt himself bristle. Her tongue had developed a razor-sharp edge since their last unforgettable encounter. “I worked damn hard to build a chain of family hotels into world-class resorts. And you never objected to the funds it gave you access to in the past.”

He felt her withdraw, even before her eyes went blank. Then she murmured, “If the recent tabloids are to be believed, you’re so far removed from us ordinary working mortals, you might as well inhabit Mount Olympus.”

“You should know better than to believe everything you read in the newspapers,” he snapped, shuddering at the memory of the latest batch of headlines about his breakup with Melina.

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not the playboy they portray you to be? You don’t wear a different rising starlet or supermodel on your arm every month?”

He glared at her, his frustration increasing to a rising inferno, fanned by her sharp words. “The media exposure is advantageous to both the women and myself.”

“So it’s all about glamour? About creating an illusion about the rich and famous, then? Nothing more?”

His brows jerked together. “Why are you so interested-unless you do want a chance to get back into my bed?”

She snorted. “I don’t want you back.”

His mouth slanted. “Didn’t anyone tell you that you should be nice to the boss? Three years ago you would’ve never dared speak to me as you just did.”

“Three years ago, I was a silly little goose.”

She shifted and her tank top rode up, revealing a strip of tanned midriff. Every male instinct went on alert. “But you don’t deny that you are interested?” Angelo moved closer.

Gemma glanced at her watch. “I can’t deny you’re a fascinating man.”

The bite was back. He gave a surprised laugh. “You don’t want me back…but you’re interested enough to admit you find me fascinating? What message are you trying to send me?”

For an instant she looked rattled. He noticed that goose bumps had risen on her arms. “Are you cold?”

“No.” She rubbed her arms briskly, not meeting his eyes.

He touched her arm where the fine hairs stood on end. Gently. With a fingertip. “If you are not cold, then what is this?”

She jerked away. Her gaze swung up to meet his. He read bewilderment…and something more. A stark, turbulent emotion. Fear?

Gemma stepped away. “Excuse me.” The smile she gave him didn’t reach the eyes that were stretched wide. “But I need to go. It’s nearly time for the show. I’ve got to get ready. Maybe you can come watch.” She flung the invitation over her shoulder. As she brushed past him, Angelo let the weight of his hand land on her arm, stilling her.

She turned. This time, he was certain of the emotion that darkened her eyes from tawny to a deep sherry-brown.

It was fear. Powerful and totally overwhelming. He inspected her. From close-up he took in her darkened eyes, the taut tension in her face, the tiny shivers that rippled across her skin. He could smell the saltiness of the sea in her hair and feel the cool edge of the wind on her skin.

Why was she here? She’d implied she needed money. Was that the only reason? Or, despite her denial, did she hope to rekindle the burnt-out embers of their affair?

“Let me go.” Her voice was toneless. Pointedly, she stared at his long, tanned fingers lying against her skin. He removed them, taking his time and watching intently as she hauled in a steadying breath.

The nagging wind tugged at her wayward hair as she gave a hurried glance at her watch and scooped up the sandals lying in the sand. “I suppose I should say it’s been nice seeing you-”

“But you’d be lying.”

“I didn’t say that.” She stilled. There was chagrin in her eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Her mouth. His gaze dropped to her rosy lips. Full and lush. The sudden surge of desire was unexpected. It left him reeling. He clenched his fists. How could he want Gemma Allen? After everything she’d done?

How the hell could he have forgotten how sexy she was? The lush bee-stung lips, the sinuous curves of her sleek body, the cloud of dark red hair…how could he have let those details slide from his consciousness?

Reluctant to examine the discovery that he still desired her, he said softly between his teeth. “From exotic dancer into singer…I want to see this transformation. I’ll be at your show.”

Half an hour later, wearing only lacy briefs and a silky black halter-neck slip, Gemma sat alone in front of the mirror in the dressing room she shared with Lucie LaVie, a likeable comedienne who did a very funny routine in the bar adjacent to the Electra Theatre.

Meeting Angelo on the beach so unexpectedly had been a shock. Dammit, she hadn’t even known he was back. She’d been on Strathmos for just over a week, waiting for him, half-dreading their first encounter. She’d planned to be prepared…to be dressed to the nines…to show him what he was missing when they met again. Instead she’d been wearing shorts, no makeup and her legs had been covered in sand. She certainly hadn’t expected the curious numbness that had enveloped her.

Staring into the mirror, Gemma couldn’t help wondering what Angelo would make of the transformation. The heavy stage makeup gave her skin an unnatural perfection, blotting out the light sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Eyeliner accentuated her tawny eyes and dark ruby lipstick added lushness to her lips that gave her an in-your-face sensuality.

Angelo liked his women beautiful and flamboyant. His most recent mistresses had all been actresses or famous models. And, according to the recent tabloids she’d studied, he still showed no sign of settling down. She examined herself in the mirror. She looked beautiful…flamboyant. And Angelo would be out there tonight watching her.

Her plan had to-

A rap on the door broke into her desperate thoughts. “Ten minutes to showtime, Gemma.”

“Won’t be long,” she called back, and ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to tame the wild auburn curls. She couldn’t remember the last time a man’s fingers had stroked through them. A vivid image of Angelo’s hand on her arm, his long fingers and buffed square nails, flashed into her mind and she swore softly.

An instant later the door burst open and Angelo entered with all the force and energy of a hurricane.

“Hey. You can’t come in here!” After the initial shock, Gemma resisted the urge to cross her hands over her breasts. Despite the skimpy fabric and the low dip in the front, the slip covered all the strategic places.

Angelo shut the door and, folding his arms, leaned against it. “There’s nothing to see that I haven’t seen before.”

Right. Gemma swallowed. Then she let her gaze run over him. He looked magnificent. The white dinner jacket must’ve been tailored to fit his tall body. Under the lights, his hair gleamed like old gold and his startling turquoise eyes blazed. He looked assured, wealthy, powerful.

And this was the man she intended to teach a lesson he’d never forget.

“What do you want?”

“Join me in the theatre for a drink after the show.”

Gemma hid her exultation. It had been worth coming all the way to Strathmos. A few years ago he would’ve impressed her-with his Greek-god looks and the sheer force of his personality. But these days she didn’t go for the domineering masterful type.

She dared not give in too quickly. She didn’t want to lose his interest. Nor could she let herself forget for one moment why she was doing this.

“Don’t you think you should wait outside until I am dressed?” Gemma waited a beat then added delicately, “Boss…”

Angelo’s brows jerked into a frown at her disparaging tone and Gemma felt a fierce rush of pleasure. Of course, he was accustomed to admiration…adulation…women falling all over him. But not her.

“You-” He broke off and sucked in a deep breath. Then in a soft, dangerous tone, he said, “Do not presume on our past relationship.”

“I would never do that.” In the mirror, she slanted him a small smile. “I came to Palace of Poseidon to sing.”

“Precisely.” He didn’t smile back. His eyes were bright and ruthless. “Or were you lying earlier? Perhaps you were hoping I’d want you back in my bed?”

Annoyance swarmed through Gemma. Quickly, she veiled her gaze before he glimpsed her ire. “I never imagined you’d want that. And nor do I. I’ve told you that already.” Gemma drew a steadying breath. She had to be very careful; she could mess it all up with one careless mistake.

“I thought you might be hankering after the style to which you’d become accustomed.”

God, he was arrogant. Gemma spun around on the plastic stool and glared up at Angelo. He was so tall, he positively loomed over her. “You make me sound like a sycophant. I worked for you, as well.”

“You consider sharing my bed for half a year work?” The look he gave her stripped her naked of the silky slip and told exactly how little respect Angelo had for her.

Again, she fought the urge to cover her breasts, to check that the silky material didn’t reveal the outline of her dark nipples. Supremely self-conscious now, she rose and crossed to the corner of the room where a small closet held several outfits.

Gemma peeled the dress she intended wearing tonight off its hanger. Keeping her back firmly to Angelo, she slid on the sleek crimson tube covered with winking sequins that should have clashed terribly with her hair but didn’t.

The electrifying quality of the silence behind her flustered her. Gemma swivelled. The expression in Angelo’s eyes made her breath catch. She became aware that the dress hugged her curves like a lover, that the neckline was low, provocative. That she and Angelo were totally alone.

Hurriedly she said, “My career has always been important to me.” And fame had been important, too, she supposed.

“If you say so.” He gave her a strange, intent look. “I say that changed once you got what you wanted…”

“And what do you think I wanted?” Then wished the words unsaid as tension sparked in the air between them. Suddenly Gemma didn’t want to know the answer.

A frown drew his surprisingly dark brows together. “A man wealthy enough to pander to your every whim. A gold card with no ceiling…clothes, jewellery…” His gaze dropped pointedly to the gold ring set with a large showy topaz on the little finger of her left hand. “You chose that after we visited Monaco for a weekend. Remember?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” She grabbed a pair of gloves out the closet and, with an ease born of practice, pulled on the long, black lace gloves embroidered with dark red roses and covered the ring. Outside the door, Mark Lyme, the manager of the entertainment centre called her name. Gemma moved towards the door. “I must go, I’m due on stage.”

“Wait, you’re not running out on this conversation.” Angelo flung his hands out wide. “Of course you remember. That night we attended the Rose Ball, and you wanted to go partying afterwards. You flirted with every man who glanced your way.”

Men? She hesitated. What men? “No-”

“Were there so many men that you cannot remember the one from the other?” Angelo’s eyes glittered.

“I don’t remember-”

“Oh, please, don’t feed me that. You’re wearing that ring I bought and paid for. Did I buy you so much jewellery that you can no longer remember the occasion of each purchase? I’m sure you remember every moment of the time we spent in bed afterwards.”

Gemma’s stomach turned. Outside, Mark called again. Gemma wrenched open the dressing-room door. “That’s just it,” she cut in before Angelo could interrupt again. “I don’t remember. Nothing about that night at the Rose Ball. Nothing about you. Nothing about our time together. I’ve lost my memory.”

Gemma bolted out onto the dimly lit stage, the vision of Angelo’s stunned expression imprinted on her mind. She stared blindly out at the audience. She had to get a grip. She had to thrust the disturbing scene in the dressing room with Angelo out of her mind.

The chatter stilled and the cutlery stopped clinking. By now most of the patrons had finished their meal. Being Friday night, the supper theatre was packed. Gemma paused. Clouds from the smoke machine swirled around her, coloured by red and blue lighting and adding to the moodiness.

For a moment the familiar nervousness swept her. Then she embraced it and stepped forward to the waiting crowd. This was a space she cherished, a special place where her voice and mind and body all flowed into the music.

It was at the close of the second song that she spotted Angelo through the feathers of smoke. He sat alone at a table, casually propped against the wall, his arm along the back of the chair. The narrowed gaze focused on her revealed nothing. And the table in front of him was empty of food or drink.

Gemma quaked at the prospect of joining him for the drink he’d invited her for. The memory of how her skin had prickled when he’d touched her and the blind fear that had followed, swept over her.

Ripping her attention away from him, Gemma worked to make the crowd smile…and sigh. As her voice died after the final held note of the last song there was a moment’s silence, then clapping thundered through the theatre. Gemma blew them two-handed kisses and sank into a bow, her unruly hair sweeping forward. She straightened and flicked her hair back and the clapping evolved into stamps and whistles.

“All right, one more, an Andrew Lloyd Webber composition, a personal favourite,” she agreed. Her voice reverberated and the cacophony subsided. “If you’ve ever lost a loved one, this one is for you.”

Gemma launched into “Memory.” Her voice cut through the theatre, sharp and pure. She barely noticed that the audience seemed to hold its collective breath and when she reached the last line she let the final notes slide into silence.

This time the crowd went mad.

Smiling, Gemma waved to them. But she couldn’t stop her gaze seeking Angelo’s. The lyrics lingered in her mind. A new day. For a long moment their eyes held, the connection taut, and her smile faded.

There would be no new day for them. The past lay between them like an unassailable barrier.

Gemma was trembling with reaction by the time she reached the dressing room. She felt as if she’d been two rounds with Rocky Balboa. Lucie had returned from her act and lay sprawled along the length of the two-seater couch, dressed in funky street clothes that suited her spiky blonde hair and wide eyes.

“Boss wants to see you,” she said, tossing a slip of paper into the trash basket as Gemma sat down.

“Mark?”

“No, the big fish, Angelo Apollonides.” Lucie’s green eyes were curious. “A reminder that you’re to join him for a drink at his table. You didn’t say anything about that invitation.”

Gemma should have known that he wouldn’t let her get away. That he’d want to know more about the bombshell she’d dropped before she had rushed out.

“It happened just before the show.” Gemma wasn’t confessing that Angelo had been here, in the dressing room. And she’d never told Lucie anything-thankfully no one had commented on the past affair. Perhaps most of the entertainment staff had only been there less than two years. “I’m too dog-tired to cope with Mr. Apollonides,” Gemma muttered. The fatigue was not physical. It went soul-deep. She felt raw and emotionally drained. And she couldn’t face Angelo right now.

The memory of how she’d reacted to his touch had spooked her. The last thing she needed was to feel desire for Angelo Apollonides. She needed time to come to terms with that unexpected complication. When she confronted Angelo it would be in her space, on her terms, not in the dark smoky intimacy of the supper theatre.

At Lucie’s look of blatant disbelief, Gemma added, “And you can tell him that I’m passing for now.” Rejection would do Angelo the world of good. Make him more eager to see her again.

“Gemma, you’re being stupid. In the eight months I’ve been working on Strathmos he’s never once invited an employee for a drink. And you refuse?” Lucie jumped up and started pacing the small space. “I just don’t get you. He didn’t even bring a woman with him to Strathmos this time, rumour has it that he ended it with-” she named a well-known model “-last month. Why not try your luck?”

Gemma didn’t answer. She picked up a bottle of makeup remover and a packet of face wipes and started to clean her face with quick, practised moves. Soon Angelo would come looking for her, and she had no intention of being here.

After a moment Lucie gave a snort of disgust and stalked out of the room, muttering something about being the messenger of bad tidings and that some people had all the luck.

But Gemma knew Angelo’s demand to join him had nothing to do with luck. His reaction on the beach had made it clear he was less than happy about her appearance on Strathmos.

She had to play this very, very carefully. For a year she’d been trying to get close to him. She’d finally been granted a four-week chance when the performer who was originally booked had pulled out. Gemma’s agent had scrambled for the booking. With only eighteen days left to discover what she wanted and find a way to make Angelo pay for the grief he’d caused her, she couldn’t chicken out just because her senses had been set on fire by the touch of a single finger.

Two

Gemma had stood him up!

And she hadn’t even bothered to tell him herself, she’d sent a messenger to deliver the unwelcome news. The anger that had simmered within Angelo since he’d that discovered Gemma was on Strathmos, living and working in his resort, took on a new edge.

Gemma claimed that she’d lost her memory. How had that happened and what did it have to do with him? And why had she returned to Strathmos?

Angelo found himself glaring in the direction where the maddeningly capricious Gemma had vanished from the stage, while the bare skin of her back and that provocative red dress remained imprinted on his vision. He hated the sneaky realisation that he hadn’t stopped thinking about her since he’d arrived back on Strathmos. And now she’d deliberately left him cooling his heels.

Angelo rose to his feet, abandoning the bottle of Bollinger he’d ordered-Gemma had always had a taste for champagne-and, jaw set, stalked out to find her.

She was not in the dressing room. But a comprehensive scan took in the red dress hanging in the closet. Clearly, she’d already been and gone. Nor was she to be found in the row of bars and coffee shops that flanked the theatre. Angelo barely slowed his long strides as Mark Lyme hurried over. Two minutes later, with the next potential crisis averted, he exited the entertainment complex, searching for Gemma’s distinctive dark flame hair under the lamps in the wide paved piazza.

About to veer off to where the staff units were located, he spotted a lone figure walking towards the deserted beach. Hunching his shoulders against the rising wind, Angelo quickened his pace. With her give-away hair, not even the fact that she wore jeans and a bulky sweater could hide that it was Gemma.

He came up behind her. “If I give an employee an order I expect it to be obeyed.” The deceptive softness of his tone didn’t hide his anger-or his frustration.

Gemma’s shoulders tensed and she came to a halt. Then she turned. In the dim light of the lanterns that lined the promenade, he saw her eyebrow arch. “I thought it was an invitation,” she said with soft irony. “One that I never accepted.”

“Or refused.”

She considered him, her head on one side. “Give me one good reason why I should have joined you.”

He blinked. Women usually thronged to his side. Hell, he didn’t need to issue invitations. Women gate-crashed celebrity functions to meet him. “Because I wanted to speak to you.”

“What about?” Her tension was tangible.

“Your memory loss.”

“Not true. You invited me for a drink before you knew about that.”

She had him there. What he really wanted to know was why she had come back to Strathmos. It had to be about more than money. His gut told him it had something to do with her amnesia. He wasn’t about to admit that what pricked his ego was the fact that she didn’t remember him. Or was it a ploy? Was her amnesia nothing more than a sham designed to avoid facing up to her treachery three years ago? Or a last-ditch effort to recapture his interest? At last he said, “You’ve forgotten carrying on with every male under the age of eighty at the Rose Ball? You don’t remember about me…us?”

She closed her eyes at the sheer incredulity in his voice. “Is that so hard to accept?” she asked warily. “I have amnesia.”

“How convenient.”

Gemma opened her eyes and met his narrowed gaze. She tried to speak but her voice wouldn’t work. So she simply shrugged and let her arms fall uselessly by her side.

“What kind of amnesia?”

“Does it matter?” The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach tightened. Couldn’t he see how much she hated this? “Fact is, I can’t remember anything about what happened here three years ago. It’s just…one vast blank.”

“It certainly explains how you have the gall to come back.”

She let that barb go. “It’s not easy being here. But I need to find out about my life. What it was like…well…before.” She slid him a sideways look. The anger had faded, but his eyes still glittered with suspicion. “It’s really strange, because I remember lots of stuff before I met you. Most of it, I think. And I know what happened…afterwards. It’s the time in the middle that’s gone.”

He loomed over her. “How did it happen? Did you fall? Did you hit your head? What do the doctors say about the prognosis? Will you ever get that part of your memory back?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” Gemma’s voice sounded thin and thready even to her own ears. “It upsets me.”

Angelo gave a harsh sigh. “I suppose I can understand that. It must be scary.”

Not as scary as Angelo. Even when he was being nice-like now, when his eyes were full of sympathy-there was a taut purpose to his body, an air of danger and tension. Gemma shuddered. Nice wouldn’t last. Not with Angelo Apollonides. He hadn’t transformed a string of family resorts into modern extravaganzas built for year-round entertainment by being a nice, sympathetic kind of guy. He was tough, decisive and ruthless. A man who worked hard-and played harder. A Greek success legend.

His gaze was direct. “Have dinner with me.”

The unexpected request startled her. She chewed her lip. It was what she ought to do.

“Is it such a difficult decision? Do I scare you so much?” His hands came down on her shoulders and the touch scorched straight through her lamb’s-wool sweater.

She went very still. “You don’t scare me at all,” Gemma said with false bravado.

His hands tightened. “Prove it by having dinner with me.”

A dare. How infantile. She froze under his touch. A hint of stubble darkened his jaw and the hard line of his mouth had relaxed into a sensual curve. The dark intensity of his gaze and the way her flesh reacted to his touch told her that he was way out of her league. She wasn’t ready to have dinner with him, to be the sole focus of his attention. He was so much more than she’d expected. But she had no choice. Not if she wanted to learn what she needed. “Not tonight. It’s been a long day. And it’s late.”

He was about to say something, to argue, when his cell phone trilled. He mouthed an apology and turned away, talking rapidly in Greek, and Gemma realised she’d lost his attention.

Gemma wanted to kick something-preferably herself-and she wished desperately she’d accepted his invitation. Even though the prickles of excitement his touch had generated terrified her.

He hit a button and slid the phone into his pants pocket. “Tomorrow night?”

Relief overwhelmed her. She hadn’t blown it. She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay, I’ll have dinner with you.”

“So how did we meet?” The following evening Gemma sat across from Angelo in a secluded corner of the Golden Fleece restaurant, her half-eaten meal of grilled calamari garnished with sliced lemon in front of her.

“At the film festival in Cannes.” Angelo set down his knife. His plate was empty. “I thought you were an actress.”

That would explain some of it. Angelo had never been linked with a dancer previously.

“Oh? What happened next?” She speared another tube of calamari and popped it into her mouth.

“You were beautiful-and funny. I enjoyed your company so I invited you to spend a weekend at Poseidon’s Cavern.” He named one of the famous resorts that he owned. “You accepted. And, when business called, you came back to Strathmos with me-it’s where I live, after all.” He gave her a grin that transformed his face, the harsh line of his mouth softening into a passionate curve.

Gemma set her knife and fork together and shifted in her chair, uncomfortable with the notion that it had been so easy for him. “And then I got a job in the resort? Right?”

“Do you want desert?”

“No, thanks.”

“Coffee?”

She shook her head, impatient for his answer to her questions.

He came around and pulled out her chair. Close to her ear he murmured, “There was so much more glamour in being the boss’s girlfriend than working.” His voice was loaded with cynicism. “And you’d led me to believe you were taking a break from stage work. I had no idea you were an exotic dancer until about a month later.”

“Oh.” Gemma rose and shot him a wary glance. “I never wanted to…leave?”

He gave a hard-edged grin. “Why should you have? You had it all. Great resorts to live in, an unending credit line and good sex.”

That was supposed to be funny? Gemma had never felt less like laughing in her life. She walked quickly ahead, not noticing the attractive man with long dark hair who waved to her. She smouldered silently until they exited the restaurant.

“So I no longer had a career-” She squawked in shock as Angelo pulled her into an alcove behind an immense bronze statue of Hephaestus. The sconce of fire that burned in the statue’s raised hand cast leaping shadows against the walls. Gemma opened her mouth to protest.

“If you mean, you no longer danced half naked in an upmarket bar, then no, you no longer had a career. Instead you had me.” In the close confines of the alcove his face had changed, toughened. He looked hard and ruthless and suddenly Gemma could see exactly why he was such a successful businessman and commanded so much respect. She had to take care not to provoke him.

“I had you.” Gemma struggled to keep the anger at his arrogance out of her voice. “And what did you get out of this deal?”

“A beautiful woman in my bed.”

“I don’t suppose it occurred to you I might’ve wanted more?”

“More?”

“A career-”

He gave a snort. “You scored by being my live-in lover. Travel to different resorts. A-list parties. No need to work. Believe me, it was better for you my way.”

His way. Gemma had a feeling that most things ended up his way. The alternative would be for his kept mistress to hit the highway. “Did you love me?”

“Love you?” His head went back and she could see she’d surprised him.

“Yes, did you love me?” She pressed. “With all this good sex, did you feel anything for me at all?”

“Look, Gemma, this wasn’t about love. It was about two consenting adults who met and enjoyed time together.” He spread his hands sideways. “Hell, we were hardly Romeo and Juliet.”

“If we had been Romeo and Juliet, you’d have been dead by the end,” Gemma said through gritted teeth.

“Hey,” he objected, “what are you getting so worked up about? All I meant was that we weren’t young lovers, dizzy from an attack of first-time love.”

“Did I love you?”

He gave an astonished laugh. “What’s the fixation with love? You certainly never told me you loved me. But then you weren’t in it for love. And nor was I.”

Gemma bit her lip, thinking furiously. “I can’t believe I would’ve lived the kind of life you’ve painted for any other reason than because I loved you more than anything in the world. It’s so against everything I believe in.”

“Well, you showed no sign of loving me…and if that’s what you believe now, then you’ve changed.”

She stilled. “Maybe I have.”

His eyes darkened. “Gemma.” He stretched out a hand and stroked her arm. “You should-”

“What am I doing?” She dropped her face into her hands, then raked her fingers back through her hair.

“Trying to regain your memory? Maybe this will help you remember.” There was a huskiness to his voice that caught her attention.

Slowly she raised her head. He was close, far closer than she’d realised and in the flickering light his gaze was intent. Her heart started to pound. She swallowed and the sudden ringing silence stretched between them.

“Yes?” The sound was little more than a croak. But Angelo understood. It meant yes to so much more. Even to that which she most feared.

The instant his lips brushed hers Gemma knew her life would never be the same again. Every preconception she had of what it might’ve been like to be kissed by him vanished.

It was fire and light. Energy and emotion. Then his tongue touched hers and sparks shot through her. Adrenaline. And something magical.

She held her breath, didn’t move in case the magic vanished. Then his tongue swept her mouth and the fire leapt inside her. Gemma groaned, closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the wonder.

When his fingers stroked the naked skin of her shoulder, every nerve ending went crazy. Frissons rippled down her spine and a reckless want followed. She moved closer, pressing herself up against him, until she felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection through the soft silk of her dress. It was a shock…a sign of how out of control this had become…but it was also incredibly satisfying.

Whatever the past held, Angelo wanted her. Now.

She sighed into his mouth, he deepened the kiss and his breathing grew ragged. His hand closed on her shoulder and he pulled her against him.

At last he raised his head. “Do you remember that?”

Gemma stared at him, then regretfully shook her head.

He put her away from him, his hands shaking a little. “Thiavlo. I think we both need to cool down. Let’s visit the casino-you always enjoyed that.”

“Okay,” she managed as he led her out from behind the inscrutable Hephaestus. Her knees shook. She had never felt less like gambling in her life.

Large double doors opened into the Apollo Club, the casino reserved for A-list clientele. Crystal chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling painted with beasts and heroes from myths Gemma knew well. The ambience in the room warned her that the stakes would be frighteningly high.

Angelo led her to a table with a group of men in tuxedos and two women-a blonde and a brunette-in evening gowns, jewels glittering at their necks and wrists. No voices hummed in here. Only the clatter of chips broke the solemn silence.

Murmuring an order, Angelo placed a wad of notes on the table. An elegant croupier in a long black dress slid several stacks of chips across the baize. Angelo passed the stacks to her, and Gemma realised he’d spent a small fortune for her to fritter away. She started to feel ill. “I can’t gamble that kind of money.”

The look he gave her was more than a little pointed. “It never troubled you in the past.”

Gemma bit her lip. “What if I lose it all?”

Angelo shrugged. “Then I’ll buy more.”

And what would he expect from her then? Sex? Obviously that had happened in the past. Something within her shrivelled at the thought.

“No!” She shoved the chips back at him. “I might have forgotten how to do this, forgotten the rules.”

“Try and we’ll see.”

“Angelo, I don’t want to do this.”

His gaze held hers. After a long moment he said, “All right. We’ll see if we can penetrate that memory another way. Keep these-” he separated a small heap of chips “-in case you decide you want to play later.”

She shook her head and pushed the chips away. “I don’t feel like gambling tonight.”

“Would you like to go for a drink?”

She nodded. This close she could see the laugh lines around his eyes, the glitter in his compelling eyes. He stilled in the act of gathering the chips and stared down at her.

“Gemma?”

With a start, she looked away, breaking the tenuous thread that linked them, and turned her head, searching for the source of the call that cut through the hush of the huge room.

“I thought it was you.” The guy coming towards her was darkly tanned with Gallic features and carefully styled shaggy black hair. Gemma stared at him blankly.

The blonde at their table squealed in delight and grabbed his arm. He bent to kiss her cheek. Her much older companion didn’t look happy.

The hand cupping Gemma’s elbow tensed. “Did you invite him?” Angelo murmured in her ear.

“Invite him?” She swung around to cast Angelo a frown. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know-” She broke off.

“Who he is,” Angelo finished smoothly, and started to laugh, but Gemma noticed his eyes were devoid of humour. “I don’t think Jean-Paul will appreciate being forgotten so soon.”

“Who is he?” Gemma hissed.

“Jean-Paul Moreau.” From Angelo’s air of expectancy Gemma suspected the name was supposed to mean something to her. It didn’t.

She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “So…” she prompted.

“Your lover.” Some ugly emotion flashed over Angelo’s face then his features turned wooden. “The man I threw naked out of my-our-bed three years ago.”

Three

Gemma stared.

Angelo’s shocking revelation was the last thing she’d expected. Yet, judging by his narrow-eyed expression, he clearly believed it to be true.

She tested the discovery against her own belief. No, she couldn’t accept it. Angelo must’ve made some awful mistake.

But before she could question him further, a mist of designer aftershave surrounded her. Then came a whisper of “Cherie, you are more beautiful than ever,” and male lips nudged her cheek.

“Hello-” she tried frantically to remember his name “-Jean-Paul.”

“I thought you were ignoring me, cherie. You stared straight through me earlier. I’m glad to know you remember your old friends.”

Beside her Angelo snorted. Gemma shot him a warning look. She didn’t want Jean-Paul knowing about the amnesia.

At least not yet.

Coming face-to-face with a man Angelo considered her lover had taken her aback. Much as she disliked Angelo, he had no reason to lie to her about the past. She needed to learn more.

With an extravagant flourish Jean-Paul produced a roll of euro notes from inside his jacket and signalled to the croupier. When the chips came, he slipped one pile across to Gemma. “For you, cherie.”

The smile Jean-Paul gave her was disconcertingly intimate. The secretive smile of a man to a woman he knew very, very well.

Gemma could sense Angelo’s silent tension. Her stomach rolled over. “Thanks,” she said stiltedly. Realising that she sounded terse she pointed to the unused chips on the table that Angelo had been in the process of gathering up before Jean-Paul’s arrival. “But I have enough-and we’re going for a drink.”

Jean-Paul’s gaze swept over her, explicit, knowing. Leaning towards her, he whispered, “Cherie, you’re not the kind of woman ever to have enough. Here-” he slid a handful of chips towards her “-have a bet on me.”

“Enough!” Angelo said harshly. A tanned arm hooked around Gemma’s waist from behind, his other hand pushed his chips towards the croupier. “The lady doesn’t want your chips.” Against the length of her spine Gemma could feel Angelo’s body through the thin silk of her dress. It was at once comforting and vaguely threatening. His arm lay coiled around her, under her breasts like a hard band, and awareness of his strength, his power, shivered through her.

It was the sudden ratcheting tension in his body that made her realise that Jean-Paul had moved. Within Angelo’s hold, she twisted around on her stool. The two men faced each other like duelling adversaries.

Jean-Paul’s gaze shifted from Angelo to Gemma and his mouth twisted. “It’s like that, is it? Cherie, don’t be fooled. Apollonides is the same man as three years ago. Work will always be his first mistress. Will that be enough for you this time around? Or will you come searching for warm arms, words of lo-”

“I said enough.” Even Jean-Paul heard the suppressed violence in the whip-crack sound and took a hasty step back. “You go too far, Moreau. If I catch you near Gemma I will have you thrown off the island. Do you understand?”

A Gallic shrug and Jean-Paul smiled. “Keep cool, man. It doesn’t mean a thing-it never did.” But there was a wariness in his dark eyes that hadn’t been there seconds before.

The last thing Gemma wanted was a scene. Already they were attracting the glances of people alerted by the bristling men and hissed words. The two women at their table were staring openly, while the croupier called for bets with a touch of desperation.

“Angelo-”

The arm tightened, cutting off her protest. “Gemma, you will not encourage this man. Moreau, you will keep your distance from Gemma. I’ve told you both before, I don’t share my woman. Understand that.” Releasing his hold on her, Angelo moved between her and Jean-Paul and with a hard glance at her, he added, “Both of you.”

Then, in a swift movement, he swept the euro notes off the table and nodded at the croupier. “Come, Gemma. Let’s go.”

Without a glance in Jean-Paul’s direction, Gemma slid from the stool.

The hand that came down on her shoulder was possessive, a warning. His woman. Angelo had warned Jean-Paul-and her-that he had no intention of sharing his woman, clearly not for the first time. Did that mean he still considered her his woman?

A frisson of dark emotion speared her. Gemma wasn’t sure what to make of his claim and kept silent as they left the gaming room.

By the time they exited the elevator a floor down and walked out the hotel into the starry night, the anger inside Angelo was still simmering. Maintaining a terse silence, he strode along the path lit by decorative Victorian-style lamps. He was aware of the anxious glances Gemma kept casting him as she hurried along beside him, her high heels clicking against the terra-cotta flagstones.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

He shrugged. “It had to happen sooner or later. And it’s only a matter of time before it happens again…before another man rises from the ashes of your past.”

“I don’t remember him,” she said quickly.

Too quickly? “Meaning, you won’t remember the others, either?” He shot her a derisive smile. “Poor bastard. I can almost feel pity for him.”

Yet he had to admit he found it immensely satisfying that she didn’t remember the Frenchman. Especially after…

Hell!

“I knew about Jean-Paul, saw you both in my bed with my own eyes.” His tone took on a dark edge. “I can give you details of how you were straddling him, your knees around his hips, your bare breasts bouncing and the satin sheets-my satin sheets-crumpled around you. Your skin like a pearl against-” “Stop.” Gemma came to a jarring halt. “I don’t want to hear this.” Her head bent, she stared at the shadowy footpath and tension hunched her bare shoulders. She shivered as a sharp gust of sea-wind cut through the night.

“If I tell you what I saw, what I can still see so clearly, it might help you remember.” He knew his bitterness was showing. But he wanted to hurt her, cut to the heart of her. Humiliate her as he’d been humiliated. “How many more men like Jean-Paul will there be? Men that I don’t know of? Men that you don’t remember?”

Gemma shivered again.

Angered by her lack of response, he said, “Tell me, Gemma, how many more?”

“I don’t know,” she said in a very small voice.

“Look at me.” His hands closed on her shoulders. Her skin was like ice. He swung her round and her eyes snapped open revealing her bewilderment as she stumbled on her high heels.

“Careful!” He tightened his grip and couldn’t help noticing how soft her skin felt.

She ducked away. Her heel gave and she almost fell.

With an exasperated imprecation he yanked her upright. “Are you okay?”

“No thanks to you.” She wrenched herself free. “If you hadn’t grabbed me like some Neanderthal I’d have been fine.”

“Neanderthal?” He didn’t know whether to laugh or to swear at the crack. “Neanderthal?”

Gemma’s heart sank as she absorbed his outrage. Then she stiffened as her own indignation kicked in. It was his doing that she’d nearly fallen. He’d spun her round. Ever since Jean-Paul’s arrival he’d been acting like a jealous jerk. She didn’t have to put up with it.

Tossing back her hair, she lifted her chin. “Yes. Neanderthal. You know-some primitive three-hundred pound gorilla type.” Her heart was galloping as she stared at him defiantly, waiting for his response.

For a moment he simply stood there. Then he gurgled something that sounded like gorilla and his arms shot out.

She gave a squeak. And then it was too late.

He had her in a hard hold, his fingers imprinted on her shoulders, and his lips slanted across hers, grinding down against the softness cooled by the night breeze. She wriggled and murmured a protest.

He raised his head, and she gulped a much-needed breath. “So I’m a gorilla, am I?”

Hastily she shook her head. A mad urge to laugh bubbled through Gemma. Then his mouth was back, open and hungry on hers, and all coherent thought left her. His tongue stroked the soft, tender skin inside her cheeks. Heat sliced through her, a restless yearning started to build. The desire he’d ignited when he’d kissed her in the alcove returned in full force. Gemma’s head spun. What the hell was happening to her?

His arms tightened, drawing her up against him. He was already aroused.

The realisation sent a wave of reckless euphoria coursing through her. Her bones softened, and in her lower body the heat started to spread. Her hips seemed to have developed a life of their own and moved in slow circles against him. Angelo groaned.

His hot breath rushed into her mouth and the intimacy turned her knees to liquid. Gemma staggered backward, her heels digging into the turf, and Angelo followed, his thighs moving against hers in an erotic dance, their mouths devouring each other.

The roughness of a tree trunk stopped Gemma backing up. Angelo didn’t pause until he had her plastered against the trunk, his body reamed up against hers in the dark space under the wide canopy of branches, his hands twisted in the tangled mass of her hair. Her nipples pebbled, aching under the press of his body. Here, in the silent darkness, the golden glow of the lamplight seemed far away.

The pressure on her mouth gave a little and then the tip of his tongue started to outline her lips, slowly, deliberately, his hands holding her head, positioning her for maximum impact.

It was teasing, frustrating. She wanted him to kiss her. Intimately. “More.” The demand was torn from her. She butted her hips forward, finding the length of his erection and started to rock back and forth. She wanted more of his mouth, more of his touch…more…of the intense want ripping through her.

But he kept the tongue strokes light and toying and she writhed against him.

When Angelo finally lifted his head, Gemma moaned a protest. In the stillness of the night the sound of their breathing was hoarse and ragged. His fingers fiddled at her nape and a moment later she felt the straps of her halter dress and the bra beneath give.

A warm hand slipped under the fabric and stroked the bare flesh of her breast. His fingers brushed the nub; sensation shot through her and she gasped, arching against the tree. He repeated the motion. She tensed as a rush of heat pooled beneath her panties.

“Ghhh.” The sound that escaped her was foreign, incomprehensible even to her own ears. Rising on tiptoe, Gemma rocked harder, rubbing herself against his solid flesh, concentrating on that sensitive part of her-the part that touched him, aroused him, despite the rasp of the fabric that separated them. Then his leg moved, bracing his weight, so that the hardness in the front of his trousers fitted in the space between her legs.

Her eyes tightly closed, her head flung back, Gemma focused on the fingertips massaging her nipple, on the sensation spreading out hotter and hotter from the junction between her legs.

She started to pant and the desperate heat climbed higher…higher…within her. She rocked faster still, rubbing against him, and he responded, his hips moving back and forth, the friction building-building until Gemma knew that she was poised on the lip of the void.

The taunting, teasing touch on her nipples tightened. And when his tongue entered her mouth in wild, consuming thrusts a bolt of electric sensation shot through Gemma.

Turned on beyond belief, Gemma gasped, a wild, keening sound. Her body tightened, the sensitive point at the apex of her legs caught fire and the convulsions began.

She sagged against the tree, spent and dizzy, her pulse pumping furiously through her head. Her legs had turned to water, and she suspected that had the tree not supported her she would’ve collapsed.

Angelo lifted his head and withdrew his hand from her breast. Her body cooled as he stepped away, his expression unfathomable in the criss-cross shadows of the branches.

“Maybe that will help you remember!”

God, how she hated him. At his awful words she fumbled for the straps behind her neck, but her fingers were shaking so much she couldn’t tie them. Finally, with an impatient mutter Angelo stepped forward. But this time he kept his body from touching hers, and unexpectedly Gemma ached for the loss. The pull of the straps tightening as he knotted them was unbearably intimate and Gemma searched desperately for something to say to break the ghastly, growing silence.

What was there to say to the man who’d pleasured her so thoroughly without taking the time to remove her dress or her panties? Hell, despite her dislike and distrust, she’d let him do what he wanted, touch where he wanted without a murmur.

She shuddered with shame.

Telling herself she despised him didn’t help. She’d driven him on, rubbing herself against him like…Oh, God! She flushed at the memory of what she’d done…her lack of restraint. Fully clad, Angelo had touched her with only with his mouth and the fingertips of one hand and brought her more ecstasy than she could ever remember experiencing.

She wanted to run. To hide. Before her composure gave way.

“I’ll find my way from here. You don’t have to come any farther.” Then she closed her eyes as she replayed her own words and waited for him to point out that he hadn’t come. Yet.

“I will walk you to your unit.” His voice was colder than winter. “The sooner your contract ends and you leave Strathmos, the better for both of us.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” Gemma blurted out, her eyes stinging. “Leave me alone. I don’t want your company.”

Once inside her unit, Gemma flipped the kettle on with hands that trembled, and blinked away the tears that blurred her vision. Feeling utterly wretched, she craved a mug of camomile tea to soothe her shattered nerves while the aftershocks of their terrifyingly passionate encounter quaked through her.

She couldn’t stay.

She would leave Strathmos tomorrow, catch the first ferry out-even if it meant breaking her contract and putting her professional reputation on the line. She could not do this.

Never had it crossed her mind that she would melt under Angelo Apollonides’s touch, press her body up against his, encourage his kisses. He was a suave playboy. No one knew better than she.

Oh, God. How had she gotten herself into this fix? Distraught, Gemma speared her shaky fingers through her hair.

She needed to get a grip. Fighting for control, she tried to think analytically about what had happened out there, under the cold stars. Okay, so she’d provoked him. Intentionally. But she hadn’t expected him to react so fiercely, to move so quickly. His cool eyes, his mocking smile, his legion of beautiful cookie-cutter lovers had indicated Angelo wasn’t a man given to impulse. That devastating kiss-and what had followed-stunned her.

He was far more dangerous than she’d ever known.

When the kettle clicked off, she reached into the cupboard for a mug and poured boiling water over the teabag. Why had she risked all the ground she’d made by provoking him? What had she hoped to gain? What was it about Angelo that made her itch to disconcert him? To prove to him she wasn’t the woman he thought he was?

Cradling the mug between her hands, she propped her elbows on the bench top. The photo at the end of the bench top mocked her.

Setting her tea down, she picked up the photo. It looked like such an idyllic family. Mum and Dad flanking their smiling, all-grown-up daughter against a backdrop of lovingly tended rosebushes. Tears pricked again. Gemma craved a dose of her mother’s kind common sense. Checking her watch she calculated that in New Zealand it would be morning. She picked up the handset from the wall and punched in the familiar number of her childhood home.

“Hello?”

Despite the distance her mother’s voice was clear and familiar.

Gemma swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s me, Mum.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so glad you’ve called. I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I should’ve called sooner.” Gemma had known her parents were worried. She’d been avoiding their concern. “But you know I had to come.”

“Yes.” Her mother’s voice held a touch of resignation. “Has it helped?”

The grief counsellor had supported Gemma’s determination in the face of her parents’ objections. Closure came in strange ways. And that’s what this trip was about, closure. “I don’t know. Mum, I’m so confused.” Gemma thought of Angelo’s effect on her, how he only had to touch her to send her up in flames and gulped. “Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind.” But tomorrow that would end. She would leave…and never see Angelo Apollonides again. It was for the best-even if it meant she’d never know the truth…

“How is Dad?”

“Fine.”

“No, I mean, how is he handling my coming to Strathmos? He was very upset when I left.”

Her mother sighed. “He’s worried. And it’s opened up the memories about your sister’s death. He’s afraid of what might happen to you.”

“Tell him I’m fine…and I love him.”

“He’s gone back to therapy. The doctor says he’s over the worst of the depression. For him, like you, the hardest part was not knowing why Mandy died.”

“Double trouble, that’s what Dad used to call us.” Staring at the photo, Gemma searched the face of her twin for answers. Mandy had died, unhappy and lost. But no one knew why. Only Angelo could provide the answers that would let her father-and Gemma herself-find a little peace.

Closure.

That’s what they all needed.

And that was why she could not tell Angelo to go to hell and walk away. Cold seeped in, chilling her all the way to her soul.

She could not leave tomorrow.

“Oh, sweetheart. Come home.”

“I can’t.” Her lips barely moved. “I have to find out what happened to Mandy. For all our sakes. Then we can get on with our lives.”

“Oh, Gemma. Your sister wouldn’t want you to suffer like this, she’d want you to remember the special times you had together.”

“I know. But I need to understand what happened to her…what this bastard did to her and why she reacted like she did. Dad and you need to know, too.”

“Your father and I don’t want you meddling with this man.” Her mother’s voice was anxious. “He’s wealthy, powerful. He could hurt you.”

Like he hurt Mandy.

Gemma knew what her mother was thinking. But the words remained unspoken.

“Mum…” Gemma’s voice trailed away. She thought of what had just happened between her and Angelo. If her parents knew about that…they’d be on the next flight out to rescue her.

“Have you spoken to him? What did he say?”

Reluctant to admit that she hadn’t confronted Angelo about Mandy’s death, and even more loath for her mother to discover that Angelo believed she was Mandy, Gemma spoke in a rush. “I wanted to find out what kind of man he is first.”

“And what kind of man is he?”

Compelling. Passionate. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“Gemma, be careful.” The sigh came over the miles. “You’re not Mandy. Chasing after trouble was her speciality, not yours. You were always the sensible one, Gemma.”

Her mother was right, Mandy had always been a little…wild. Taking Gemma’s passport and credit card to Strathmos and assuming Gemma’s identity was only one of the pranks Mandy had played.

Oh, Mandy, what happened on Strathmos?

Gemma couldn’t help thinking about the familiarity in the Frenchman’s tone earlier, his easy kiss. She remembered Angelo’s hard gaze, the coiled tension in his muscled body. She remembered the taste of his mouth-hot and seductive against hers-the thrill of his body pressing into hers and her pleasure as she came apart under his touch.

Once again confusion and turmoil wrestled within her. God! How could she teach the bastard the lesson he deserved if she desired him?

And how could she face him again?

Gemma squeezed her eyes shut. How on earth could she have reacted like that to the man who had destroyed her sister?

Four

Gemma tossed and turned for most of the night. Several times she jerked awake from confusing dreams of what had happened in her sister’s life. Beneath it all festered an uneasiness about the disturbing passion that had flared between herself and Angelo. Just before dawn the pitter-patter of rain against the window pane lulled her into a restless sleep.

In the morning she clambered out of bed, crossed to the window and hitched the curtain back. No sun peeked through the cloud cover. The trees outside swayed in the wind. But at least the rain had subsided. With her morning free of rehearsals and her next show scheduled for later that evening, Gemma decided to make for the beach to go windsurfing. That was one place where wet and wind wouldn’t matter. And it would certainly shake the dark mood that gripped her and take her mind off Mandy, Jean-Paul and…Angelo.

Pulling on a sleek black maillot, she called reception to check that no storms were forecasted, then grabbed her wet suit out of the cupboard and trod into a pair of ancient sneakers. A couple of bananas, a bottle of water and a towel, and she was ready to go.

The beach was deserted. To Gemma’s relief, there were no whitecaps on the water. A gust of wind tugged at her hair as she hauled a windsurfing board out of the stack. Dragging the board into the sea, she waded calf-deep into the water and waited with both hands on the boom. When a puff of wind came, she pushed the mast straight up and stepped onto the centre of the board. Shifting her feet, Gemma adjusted the sail and, looking upwind, she turned the board to the open sea.

The sail filled and she took off, the wind rushing past her ears. She barely noticed the rain and her worries evaporated as she raced across the water.

She welcomed the freedom.

A couple of hours later Gemma became aware of another windsurfer on the water, coming towards her through the rain. Leaning her mast back, the nose of her board started to turn upwind across the face of the wind, away from the intruder. But the other windsurfer gained on her, trespassing on her solitude.

A quick glance at her watch showed that she still had lots of time before her show. It wasn’t often that she had the sea to herself. Why would she go in simply because someone was crowding her? There was a whole sea for the two of them. If she tacked away, perhaps the other windsurfer would get the hint.

But the larger black-and-white sail continued to bear down on her. Glaring at him-it was undoubtedly a male figure-Gemma’s annoyance grew when she recognised the windsurfer.

Angelo.

Setting a course upwind, Gemma decided to force him to yield to her. A glint of white as his teeth flashed. He knew what she was up to.

Determined to get ahead, she started to work every ounce of speed out of her rig. The board responded willingly and elation swept through her.

Then she saw that Angelo had taken up her challenge.

For a moment she thought that they might collide. She faltered, her board wobbled and her nerve almost gave in, before he gave way, falling back to sail in her wake. Her sail shivering under the pressure of the wind, she skimmed across the water, while her heart beat rapidly at the near miss-and the euphoria that came from racing the wind…and besting Angelo.

Angelo stared after Gemma not sure whether to whistle in admiration or holler at her recklessness. She was going full tilt, not giving an inch. He pointed his board to a destination upwind of where she was headed, and he set off after her.

The breeze blew on his face, lighter on the inside near the shore. He came down the line he’d planned, unfazed by the rain, tacking with speed and closing his distance on Gemma.

She turned, glancing over her shoulder as he gained on her. He could see the determination in her stance. This was no beginner. She was going to give him a good run.

They battled it out downwind. Her jaw was set. She wasn’t giving an inch. She wanted to win. Despite the rain, her hair streamed behind her like a bright banner, a lithe graceful figure in tune with the elements.

Never had he wanted her as much as he did at the moment. She looked elemental and a little elusive. Not the sure thing he’d always considered her.

Working furiously, Angelo finally notched ahead and threw a triumphant smile over his shoulder, confident that the race was done.

The next instant the wind dropped and the rain eased. Both boards slowed. Angelo bit back a curse at being deprived of a clear victory. He dropped down to straddle the board and, glancing sideways, saw that Gemma had dropped onto her stomach and was already paddling with her arms and making for the shore.

Pacing himself, he kept abreast of her, his powerful arms stroking through the water. But she didn’t look at him, she kept her gaze firmly ahead.

In the shallows, keeping her face averted, Gemma leapt off the board, dragging it in behind her, intensely conscious of Angelo following close behind.

Flutters of apprehension started deep in her stomach, and the battle of the last half hour between them was forgotten as the memory of what had happened between them last night rose in her mind.

She didn’t know how she was going to face him.

The attendant, now at his post, came running to take the board. She gave a brief, abstracted smile of thanks. Her saturated sneakers squishing with water, she hurried to where she’d dropped her towel and water bottle earlier. Collapsing onto a damp wooden bench, she uncapped the bottle and took a long sip, her heart banging against her ribs as Angelo approached.

He stopped beside her. She stilled, then took another sip, pretending to ignore him, while every nerve ending quivered warily at his closeness.

“You never told me you could windsurf.”

The rasp of the zip sounded loud in the silence. Gemma was achingly aware of his peeling off his wet suit and slinging it over the back of the bench. Underneath he wore a pair of boardshorts that rode low on his hips. The unwelcome memory of last night clear in her mind, Gemma tried not to notice that his stomach was taut and tanned, the defined muscles revealing that he worked out regularly-or led a very active lifestyle.

Gemma whipped her gaze away and shrugged. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I would’ve thought I had.” Why had Mandy not told him? Especially as it was clear it was something Angelo excelled at. Her parents had paid for lessons for both her and Mandy to learn to windsurf down at Buckland’s Beach, near their childhood home. Mandy had been more interested in flirting with the youths in the class than learning to sail. Deciding to distract him with flattery Gemma added, “You’re good. Those were some great moves out there.”

But Angelo didn’t bite. “So, when are you leaving?”

Gemma drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not.” His expression never altered, but she sensed his sudden tension.

“Last night you said you were going, why have you changed your mind?”

Even though his tone remained even, his eyes told a different story. Her gaze fell before his challenging stare, landing on his legs. His thighs were solid, the skin darkened to a deep bronze by the Greek sun. She felt herself flush and quickly looked away over the sea. She didn’t want this awful awareness of this man. “Because my reputation would be mud in entertainment circles if I walked away from my contract.”

“I would see to it that didn’t happen.”

He wanted her gone that much? Gemma swallowed, then said baldly, “I can’t go, I need the money.”

A coolness entered his voice. “Is this where I’m supposed to offer to pay you to leave?”

“No!” Gemma jerked her head up to stare at him, horrified by the conclusion he’d drawn. “But I’ve got a contract and I’m entitled to payment for doing my job. I need it.”

“What do you need the money for?” Angelo dropped down beside her and his arm stretched along the back of the bench, so that it rested behind her head.

She thought furiously. “Medical expenses,” she said at last, trying to ignore his arm. It wasn’t easy. “From the…er…car accident.” She swallowed again and stared out over the sea.

“That’s what caused your amnesia?”

Damn. What to say now?

The silence stretched. He was waiting for her reply. Gemma discovered she wasn’t crazy about lying to him. Strange, because she’d never thought it would worry her in the least. Not after what he’d done.

“Witnesses say it was a hit and run,” she expanded, sticking to the story she’d originally planned. “Luckily when I came round in hospital I remembered who I was. But I don’t remember anything about you, about Strathmos…or anything that happened for a while after I left Strathmos.”

“So you’re suffering from retrograde amnesia. You lost the events immediately before the accident.”

Retrograde amnesia? Gemma blinked. “Uh…yes.” His interest took her aback. She gave him a weak smile. “Have you been doing research?”

“A little. Did you experience any memory loss after the accident?”

This time she was prepared. “Yes. There was some anterograde amnesia. I remember waking up in hospital. I don’t remember the accident itself-or getting to the hospital. The specialists did say that the events I could no longer recall before the accident might return as time passed. But to date they haven’t. I lost several weeks of my life.” She delivered the explanation as she’d prepared it.

“Was there any other damage?” His fingers brushed her shoulder. Despite the thick protection of the Neoprene wet suit, Gemma felt as though she’d been scorched.

“No, I was fortunate,” she said a trifle huskily as shivers coursed through her.

“Nothing lucky about it,” he said abruptly. “Such an accident should never have happened. Did the police catch the perpetrator?”

“No.” Gemma fidgeted. She hadn’t expected his concern and outrage on her behalf. She folded her arms across her stomach, feeling terrible. Then she recalled her father’s depression, her mother’s tears after Mandy’s unnecessary death. Instantly her heart hardened. “Now can you understand why I need money?”

“What will you do when you finish here?”

“My agent is looking for something for me.” There had been offers, but Gemma hadn’t been in a hurry to take another booking. She hadn’t been sure how long she needed on Strathmos to learn the truth.

“So long as you know that your contract to sing here will not be extended. I don’t want you here.”

Gemma gulped. That was pretty direct. It also meant that she had less than three weeks to find out the truth. “I understand.”

Two days passed without catching sight of Angelo. On Wednesday morning Gemma lounged beside the resort’s heated outdoor pool, soaking up the mild early morning sunshine. She’d heard that Angelo sometimes swam laps after breakfast before the resort guests started to congregate.

Huge sheets of glass shut out the unpredictable autumn wind without obscuring the view of the Aegean. In the centre of the pool a marble quartet of golden winged horses danced under the spray that jetted from three tall fountains. Through half-closed eyes, Gemma could almost imagine the mythical beasts thundering across the heavens, steered by the sun god.

A young poolside waiter had just delivered a tall glass topped with a pink umbrella and a row of cherries on a swizzle stick when a familiar voice shattered the fantasy.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Tensing, Gemma wished she was wearing more than the tiny bikini with the skimpy bandana top. Hidden behind sunglasses, she said, “Don’t you have more important things to do than look for me?”

Angelo waved his hand dismissively. “You told me you are here for the money. Right?”

“Y-es,” she stretched the word out, waiting, wondering why his eyes had turned as hard as stone.

He dropped down on the lounger beside hers; only a low glass-topped table on which her drink stood separated them. Uncomfortably conscious of his closeness, Gemma pushed her sunglasses firmly up her nose, grateful for the protection they offered from his icy scrutiny.

“I’ve just learned you wanted this contract badly enough to take a drop in pay.” His voice was edged in steel. “I want to know why. How could you afford to do that with the medical expenses you cried about only a couple of days ago?”

Raising her shoulder, Gemma dropped it with false aplomb. “I took the drop because I was desperate for money. I needed an income-I haven’t been getting regular work.”

His gaze glittered with suspicion. “You once told me that one of the joys of being an exotic dancer is that there’s always work. So if you were short of work why sing? Why not dance?”

Gemma forced herself not to shudder. She’d never understood why Mandy danced or how she put up with the hoards of leering men-even if the money was good. “Uh-I don’t do that anymore. I love singing.” That, at least, was true. “And singing pays more when I get the right spots, which I’m getting more often. I’m on the rise.”

“What’s this?”

Something in his sharp tone turned her head. He was scowling at the glass the waiter had brought. She frowned, puzzled at his ferocity.

“You can’t drink before you sing.”

“Not even fruit juice?” she asked tartly. He looked unconvinced, so Gemma picked the glass up and thrust it at him. “Here, sniff it.”

“Very clever.” At her baffled frown, he added. “Given that your preferred drink is vodka, sniffing won’t help much. Not with the overpowering flavour of pineapple.”

Of course! Mandy had always been partial to vodka. “My only vice,” Gemma said at last.

“Only vice?” His smile was sharklike. Setting the glass down, he leaned closer.

This close up his eyes were mesmerizing. The vibrant turquoise irises were surrounded by a row of lashes too long for a man. Dark brows arched over the top. No question about it, Angelo Apollonides was the most gorgeous male she had ever set eyes on. Pity he was not her type.

“It’s the only one I can think of right now,” she said carelessly. “If I thought about it very hard, I might discover one or two more.”

His mouth flattened. “Try. I’m sure you will find there are more vices that you will remember. Like lying.”

Gemma’s breath left her in a rush.

“When did I lie?” Did he know? She gave him a searching look as adrenaline started to pump through her. God. What would he do if he discovered-

“When I discovered you’d taken a drop in pay, I thought you lied to me. That you had another agenda. Don’t ever lie to me.”

She almost collapsed from relief. So she glared at him. “I’m not lying. I do need money. My credit card is a little over-extended.” The thirty-thousand dollar debt merited a bigger description than little.

“Too much shopping and partying?”

If he only knew. While Mandy had been a party animal, Gemma preferred spending her spare time outdoors. Walking. Windsurfing. Or simply attending concerts in parks. Simple pleasures, not the sophisticated pursuits his mistresses would enjoy.

She pursed her lips. How could she admit how much money had vanished, and that she had no idea where it had gone? The large cash withdrawals her credit-card statements reflected told her nothing.

“You had no debt three years ago. And some nice pieces of jewellery.” He gave a pointed stare at the ring she wore. The ring Mandy had given her just before she had died and Angelo had claimed to have bought for Mandy in Monaco.

“I don’t know what happened to all that,” she said honestly.

He gave her a searching look. “You don’t remember?”

She nodded.

“I was more than generous,” he said. “I indulged your desire to party, to shop until your cupboards were overflowing. If you’d behaved better, you might not be in this predicament.”

Surely Angelo wasn’t suggesting they might still be together? Not when she knew the kind of man he was. A playboy. A man who traded one beautiful woman for another, as soon as their temporary sell-by date was over.

Her lip curled. “You mean, if I was still your mistress? Putting up with your demands, your-”

“I thought you’d forgotten everything. So how do you remember how demanding I was?” His tone held a sensual rasp, belied by his shrewd gaze.

“I read gossip cuttings. How do you think I learned about our affair?”

He reached out and put finger a finger under her chin. He put enough pressure to tilt her head up, so that he could stare down into her eyes. “So you came here not only to earn money and regain your memory, but to learn more about us?”

The sudden flare of heat that followed in the wake of the touch of that one finger shocked her. No. She was not going to respond to his very obvious attraction. He was the last man on earth to whom she could afford to be attracted.

A spoilt playboy who’d had a fortune handed to him on a plate. A dilettante who destroyed people without compunction. Keeping her voice level she said, “I know exactly what kind of man you are.”

“Do you really?” He raised a dark eyebrow, looming over her.

Too close. Too male. Too…everything.

She backpedaled. “I don’t remember anything, but I know how you make me feel.”

“And how is that?” The pressure of the pad of his index finger lessened. The tip trailed down her throat and settled just below the tender hollow at the base of her neck. The touch felt like a brand.

Oh, no. She spotted the trap too late. She swallowed. “Repelled.”

He bared his teeth in triumph at the tiny give away as her throat moved. “Ah, you tempt me to prove you a liar.”

Gemma gave an uneasy laugh. “Perhaps I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

His pupils expanded. “Go on.”

“I came here to ask for your help.” She sucked in a breath. “I woke alone in a hospital in London with no memory of how I got there, who I’d been with at the time of the accident or where I’d been.”

His hand dropped away.

Gemma could breathe again.

Until he spoke. “You weren’t able to track down information from the people with you at the time of the accident?”

She had to be careful. She couldn’t afford to trip herself up. “The only clue about where I’d been was a bunch of old pay slips from Palace of Poseidon.” She’d found them in her sister’s things. “Later I found out that I’d worked here…that we’d had an affair.”

More lies. It hadn’t been later. Mandy had e-mailed her from Strathmos, crowing about the fabulously wealthy man she’d landed.

Gemma stared at him defiantly. “That’s why I’m here. I thought if I came…back…met you, I might remember something about-” she paused “-my past.”

His expression altered subtly. He came closer. “Is it working?”

“No.” Her voice turned husky. She picked up a towel and draped it over her bare, exposed tummy. “I had hoped by staying on Strathmos some things might come back to me. But they haven’t.” She paused for a beat, peered up at him over the top of her sunglasses. “But perhaps if you helped, if you let me ask you some questions, maybe something you say might act as a trigger. And the past might come back to me.”

She waited, holding her breath, her blood hammering in her head, causing it to ache with tension. What had Angelo done to reduce Mandy from a confident, somewhat reckless party girl to a pale, shaking ghost of her former self?

She had to find out.

At last he gave a curt nod. “But if it doesn’t work, that’s it. Okay? You leave as soon as your contract is complete.” He rose to his feet. “We’ll start tonight, after your show.”

“I’d rather meet in the mornings.”

“I’m a busy man. If you want my help then you’ll have to meet me tonight. In my suite.”

“No.” Gemma shook her head emphatically, her hair swirling around her face. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him. The attraction he held terrified her. While she desperately wanted to know what he’d done to her twin, she was not about to let him destroy her in the process. “I’ll meet you after the show in the Dionysus bar.”

For a moment Gemma thought she’d lost him. Then he said, “You’re on.”

Five

When Gemma hurried into the Dionysus bar later that night it was buzzing. She hesitated, scanning the press of people, until Angelo rose from a table near the window. Outside, the resort’s landscaped gardens were lit by floodlights. Beyond them she could see the lights of vessels winking out on the dark sea.

“Sorry I’m late,” she gasped. “I had to shower and change.” She indicated to the shimmery wraparound dress that she’d slipped on.

“No problem.” He pulled out a chair for her. “How did the performance go?”

“Good. It never fails to put me on a high.”

Angelo beckoned to a waiter. “What can I order for you to drink?”

“A white-wine cooler would be good-with lots of sparkling water, ice and a little lime, please.”

He gave her a long look. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Your performance is over. You can have something more…robust if you want.”

The euphoria left her. She sagged into the chair. “I don’t drink much of the hard stuff. But thanks.”

Gemma watched him as he spoke to the waiter. What had his relationship with her sister been like? Mandy had always loved to party…and the kind of men she’d picked tended to have no problem with that. But Angelo seemed almost disapproving. Not what she’d expected from his playboy personna at all.

When he turned back, Gemma-unable to let his comment pass-said, “Strange for an hotelier to be watching his guests’ liquor consumption.” With a sweep of her arm, she encompassed the full-to-capacity bar. “Can’t be good for business.”

“You’re not a guest, you’re an employee,” he said quellingly. “And you don’t have a great track record.”

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Be grateful that you don’t remember.”

“But I want to know.”

“You’re better served moving on from those events. It’s enough for you to know that you had a…problem.”

A problem that he had exacerbated?

Gemma studied his expression. To be fair, it didn’t look like he’d approved of Mandy’s antics…whatever they had been. Was it possible that he’d had nothing to do with Mandy’s slide from grace?

He forced me. I loved him. I wanted to please him. I was ready to do whatever he wanted. And it made me feel good. I’m so sorry for failing you all.

The memory of Mandy’s words caused Gemma to steel herself. No. Angelo was not uninvolved. He’d destroyed her twin.

But before she could tell him what a low-life skunk she considered him, their drinks arrived.

Angelo passed a long glass to her. “So what do you want to ask me?”

She stared at him blankly.

“That’s why we’re here, remember?” His smiled was sardonic. “So that you can ask me questions, to try and jolt your memory.”

Oh, yes. She gave herself a gentle shake. Nothing would be served by telling him what she thought of him. Better to focus on what she’d come here for-to learn what had happened to Mandy…to find a way to make Angelo pay.

Gemma took a sip of her drink. It was cool and refreshing. “You wanted to know why I need money. In addition to the medical expenses-” she broke off, reluctant to perpetuate that lie, then blurted out, “I want to know why there was thirty thousand owing on my credit card. Do you know where it went?”

“I have no idea.”

“I drew cash out with my credit card and ran through it in your casinos, didn’t I?” She was pushing him now, but she wanted answers. She wanted him to confess what he’d gotten Mandy into. “Your casinos. Your fault I’m thirty-thousand in the red.”

“You liked to gamble…I didn’t force you. But I wouldn’t call you an addict.”

Gemma flinched. “But it would’ve been more than I could afford.”

“Your chips went on my account. It didn’t cost you a euro. You must have accumulated your debts-” he picked the word with fastidious care “-after you left me.”

“So where I did I go from Strathmos?”

He lifted a negligent shoulder. “I have no idea.”

“Nor did you care-certainly not enough to buy me a ticket to make sure I reached home safely.”

A frown creased his brow, he picked up his drink and leaned back. “I’m a generous man. I gave you a more than a plentiful allowance while you lived with me. Gold cards, a supply of cash that you ran through like water.” There was distaste in his tone now. “You could have saved that for a rainy day.”

Gemma opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. His words held the unmistakeable ring of truth.

“I regret the hit-and-run left you floundering for your memory.” The sympathy in his eyes faded as he continued, “But you’re an adult. You’ve worked in nightclubs in London, Paris. You considered New Zealand a backwater. I assumed you’d simply find another big city, another big-spending benefactor to fund your love of the high life.”

She blinked. While he’d clearly enjoyed having Mandy in his bed, it didn’t sound like he’d held her twin in high regard. Poor Mandy.

He set his glass down. “After I found you with Moreau I didn’t give a damn where you were going. Right then I hoped you’d drown in the sea. You’d betrayed me, in the worst way that a woman can betray a man. I couldn’t wait to see the back of you.”

Gemma flinched at his bitter words. Yet under the white-hot anger she suspected that Angelo was telling the truth. He didn’t know where Mandy had gone after leaving him. Could that mean that she’d misjudged him? Had he had nothing to do with Mandy’s problems? Had they only started after her sister left Strathmos?

Her shoulders sagged. She’d had such high hopes that Angelo would provide the key to the puzzle. Then she thought about what he’d said, and lifted her head. “Did I leave the island with Jean-Paul?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible. I wanted him out my sight, too.”

Perhaps the Frenchman could provide a clue to what had happened. Angelo’s face had tightened at the mention of the other man. She changed the subject. “You said that you inherited a string of family hotels from your grandfather. How did they transform into this?” Gemma gestured to the bar and, beyond it, the resort.

“On my twenty-first birthday, I inherited three islands and a chain of three-star holiday hotels geared to foreign budget tourists. My grandfather had been ill for a while. The hotels were shabby, showing their age. While they were well booked over the summer months, they were deserted in winter. I knew I could do more. I wanted resorts where occupancy was guaranteed all year round.”

“That’s why you went for casinos?”

He nodded. “But I wanted more than glamorous casinos. I wanted places where everyone in the family would have a good time. That meant themed resorts, cinemas, a variety of shows that would draw people back again.”

“You achieved everything you set out to do.”

He nodded. “It took a while. I first worked at upgrading the hotels I had. I knew the first spectacular resort had to be built here at Strathmos. It was my dream. I hadn’t been back to the island since I left as an eighteen-year-old. Once I got it up, Poseidon was born.”

“And now Poseidon’s resorts are associated with worlds of fantasy.” She tried to hide her admiration by giving the words a bite. “The Golden Cavern. The Never-Ending River.” She named some famous drawcards.

His gaze narrowed. “You remember? You remember visiting them with me?”

The damned amnesia. She’d nearly given herself away. Slowly she shook her head. “I told you, I tried to put together the missing parts of my memory so I read up about our relationship in the tabloids. There were bits about Poseidon’s Resorts, too. Like their fantasy themes and what they’re worth today. About how innovative you were.” And on the Internet there had been endless details about the wealthy, powerful and good-looking Angelo Apollonides, Mr. Eligible Bachelor Billionaire of the Year. But she wasn’t telling him any of that. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he interested her. Gemma shifted, uncomfortable with where this conversation was heading.

She could barely hide her relief when the duty manager arrived and whispered into Angelo’s ear.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I am needed. And we’ve barely gotten started.”

“Don’t worry. We can talk again some other time.”

“Shall I order you another drink?”

“No, I’m done.” She pushed the empty glass aside. “I might wander over to one of the coffee bars. And then I’ll make my way back to my room. I can use an early night. Don’t worry about me.”

He rose and gave her a slow smile. “I find that I can’t help worrying about you.” And her heart twisted.

And then he was gone.

Still thinking about that delicious smile-and her reaction to it-Gemma picked up her purse and threaded her way through the packed bar to the exit-where she almost ran into Jean-Paul.

“Steady, cherie.” He caught her by the elbows. “Can I buy you a drink?” His dark eyes lingered on her appreciatively.

Sensitive to Angelo’s accusation that Mandy had cheated on him with the Frenchman, and Angelo had warned her in no uncertain terms to stay away from him, Gemma’s first response was to refuse. But what if Mandy had left Strathmos with Jean-Paul? Gemma hesitated, then thrust her scruples aside.

She needed to talk to this man.

“I’d love a drink.” She gave him a bright smile to make up for her hesitation. He was back in minutes with two glasses.

“What is it?” she asked, eyeing the clear liquid uneasily.

“Surely you didn’t think I could forget, cherie? You’re the only woman I ever knew who drank triple vodka and tonic like water.” He gave her a very knowing smile. “The secret of your success, you called it. And what made you so exciting.”

Angelo strode out of the Apollo Club. It hadn’t taken long to calm two furious patrons after an accusation of cheating in the discreet back room where a poker game with extremely high stakes was being played.

In the elevator he greeted an American IT billionaire and his wife who came to the Palace every few months.

Hurrying out the elevator, he glanced at his watch. Gemma should be back in her unit by now. Downstairs, he stopped beside a porter kiosk and called reception requesting to be put through to her room. It rang unanswered.

Perhaps she was still in one of the coffee shops.

He made his way to the entertainment complex. He didn’t find her in the first coffee shop. Nor in large alcove with soft armchairs where a pianist played Chopin. But as he passed the Dionysus Bar he caught a glimpse of copper flame.

Gemma.

Frowning, he ground to a halt and looked again.

It was Gemma. And she was not alone. Jean-Paul Moreau was standing beside her barstool, his arm resting on the bar beside his drink, looking utterly enthralled by her.

What the hell was she doing with Moreau?

He’d warned her to keep away from the man. The silver dress she wore showed off her curves and her hair was a vivid flag of colour against the pale fabric. Seated on the barstool, her sleek legs were shown off to maximum advantage.

Three years ago he’d felt nothing except anger and disgust for Gemma and he’d hardly thought of her in the intervening years. So what the hell had changed? Why could he not stop noticing every detail about her? Especially given that it was clear that nothing had changed-she still hankered after Moreau.

He gave a grim smile when she jumped as he stopped beside her.

“Angelo! I thought you were-”

“Busy?” he finished, and gave Moreau a cool nod.

“Well…yes.”

“I sorted the problem out and came back to finish our conversation.”

“Oh.” Her eyes went round. She glanced in Moreau’s direction.

Trying to work out how to dump the Frenchman, Angelo suspected.

“Another vodka?” Moreau offered.

Vodka? Angelo narrowed his gaze. A flush rose in her cheeks. Guilt. “I thought you didn’t drink much of the hard stuff any more? In fact, I seem to remember mention of a hot drink in a coffee shop after I left you earlier.”

“Gemma is of age,” Moreau interjected. “She can drink whatever she desires.”

“I told her to stay away from you.” Angelo shot the Frenchman a killing look. Then he said to Gemma, “What the hell does it matter? Have another goddamned vodka with him.”

Deeply disappointed he turned and walked away. He told himself he didn’t care what she did. Gemma Allen was bad news. A liar. A faithless little cheat. The anger she’d ultimately caused him three years ago had not been worth the pleasure she’d given him in bed.

And she hadn’t changed. The sooner he put her out of mind the better.

“Angelo…”

His long, angry strides had already carried him out the bar, across the entertainment complex and he was headed for the lobby to the elevators that would take him to his penthouse.

“What?” He swung around, glaring down at her as a bolt of sensation shook him as she caught his sleeve. He didn’t want this attraction. Not to this woman.

She released him. “Forget it.”

“No, you’re here now. So talk.”

“I wanted to explain why I had a drink with Jean-Paul.”

Her eyes were wide and dark. Gentle and pleading. He looked past her, clenching his jaw. All she wanted was his help to regain her memory. Nothing more. Better he remember that. “Drink with whom you please.”

“I wanted to find out if he knew anything about the thirty thousand-”

“Forget about trying to find out what happened to the damned money. It’s gone. Put your stupidity behind you. So you have some debt, so what? You’re young, you can work it off.” A pause, then he added softly, “On your back if need be.”

Gemma’s expression changed. He saw the fury, the darkness in her eyes as she registered the taunt. Her hand came up. She swung wildly. Angelo ducked, she missed. A glass vase from the glass table beside the elevator crashed to the ground. A party of guests took one horrified look at them and hurried past. Gemma barely noticed. Angelo knew he should rush after them, offer them a free night, gambling chips. Damage control.

But he didn’t.

Right now Gemma had his full attention.

“How dare you?” She hissed. “How dare you say that, you…you…”

“Gorilla? Neanderthal?” Behind him the elevator opened. He took a deft step backward. “Who knows, I might even be convinced to consider taking you back to my bed and if you’re very, very good-maybe I’ll help clear that debt.” And he hit the button for the roof garden.

She rushed forward, balling her fists and swung again. “I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last-”

“Neanderthal in the world?” he finished with a hard laugh, and caught her flailing hands. “You might not be so lucky then. You’ve done it before, why the scruples now?”

He felt her stiffen with outrage. He secured her arms behind her back and pulled her up against him and his mouth slanted across hers.

She tensed.

The elevator shot upward. As his tongue delved into her mouth, Angelo felt her give and lean into him and the familiar arousal shafted through his lower body.

How could he have forgotten how soft her skin was? How full of life her red hair was? Or the little moaning noises she made into his mouth as she pressed against him? He couldn’t remember her feeling…tasting…this good.

Hell, so maybe he had amnesia, too.

Distantly he heard the ping of the elevator door opening and the sound of talking and laughter. The rooftop garden was occupied.

Releasing her hands he pressed the ground-floor button and then they were sinking. Her tongue stroked against his, hot and deliberate. The fire inside went wild. He released her hands and cupped her buttocks, pulling her towards him. She came eagerly, rising on tiptoe, her body soft, melting against him like warm golden honey, and he ached with want.

He was tempted to yank open the bow on that wraparound dress, unfurl her, rub his hand between her legs to check if she was damp enough to take him and slide into her slippery warmth. Only the knowledge of where they were stopped him.

An elevator. Hell. Given how annoyed she’d been minutes ago, she’d slap him for sure. Hard. Even if only after he’d driven them both to completion, tasted her satisfied sighs. No, better to take it slow.

Instead he slid his hands up…over the feminine curves of her bottom to her waist and back down again tracing the tiny string of an excuse for underwear she wore. Heard her breath catch…and hold. Taking advantage of her expectancy, he fingered the thong through her dress.

She wriggled against him, and he drove his tongue deep into her mouth, giving her a taste of what he wanted, what he really craved. She arched against him and he felt his erection leap.

The car shuddered to a stop. He lifted his head. “Carry on like that and I’ll forget my good intentions. I’ll hit the button for my suite. Three steps and we’ll be in the dining room. Three minutes and we can both be naked. Is that what you want?”

“No.” She shook her head wildly, her face shocked and pale. “I don’t want this…you.” She stumbled backwards out of the confined space, her hands covering her eyes. “God, what am I doing?”

He followed more slowly. Putting an arm around her shoulder he guided her away from the public lobby. Out of sight. “What we’ve done many times before?” he said helpfully. Her hands dropped away from her face and she bit her lip, her teeth white against the bee-stung bottom lip as she glared at him. But something in her eyes, a deep agonised confusion made him stretch his hand out. “Hey, it’s okay, I know you don’t remember. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters.” It was a wail. Then her head was back in her hands, her fingers knotting through the long dark red curls. “It matters more than I can tell you.”

“It doesn’t.” He stroked her shoulder and noticed absently that his hand was trembling. “I’ll tell you something, it’s even better now than it ever was in the past. It’s more…I can’t explain. But I can’t seem to get enough of you. The taste of you, the feel of your body up against mine. I want you, Gemma. Badly.”

“Believe me, that’s not good.” The smile she gave him was wan.

“It will be very good,” he promised, “you’ll see.”

“I can’t.” Her expression grew resolute. “Angelo, I can’t make love to you-”

Irritation twisted inside Angelo. He wanted her. He wasn’t accustomed to women saying no. “Why? You want to.”

“That’s arrogant.” But true. She was terrified she was going to cave in to his demand. She drew a ragged breath. There was one thing he would understand. “I can’t make love with you until my memory returns.”

He cursed.

“Who knows,” she added, “there might be someone else-”

“Someone so important that you don’t remember him?” he sneered. “Someone like Jean-Paul Moreau?”

That only made her expression harden. “That’s it. Good night. I’m finished with trying to talk to you. I’m going to bed. Alone.”

Six

The ringing of the phone woke Gemma. Any plans she’d harboured to sleep late on Thursday-her day off-fell apart when Mark Lyme, the manager of the entertainment complex, told her that Lucie had come down with a flu-like virus. Immediately Gemma offered to take over some of Lucie’s performances and arranged a time to meet with Mark to discuss a suitable program.

The Dionysus was a very different set-up to the Electra Theatre, and it had been years since she’d worked in a bar environment. Most of the day was spent putting together the program with Mark and Denny, another performer, for the first fill-in performance early that evening.

The substitute show was rough and ready but it was enough to satisfy the crowd. They sang a couple of duets, Denny told some jokes and they invited some of tourists to sing along karaoke-style.

Gemma caught a brief glimpse of Angelo in the back of the bar halfway through the evening. He was waiting for her and she found herself accepting his invitation to dinner. At first she fretted that he might try to kiss her…seduce her…but her worries proved to be unfounded. Angelo behaved like the perfect gentleman.

Lying in bed that night, Gemma covered her eyes and moaned out loud. She was so confused. Who was the real Angelo Apollonides?

By Friday Lucie’s temperature was raging and Dr. Natos, the resort doctor, had prescribed bed and rest.

Gemma and Denny met for another rehearsal. During a brief break, she found Angelo at her elbow, holding two paper cups. “Coffee? I’m sure you could use it.”

“What’s that saying about not trusting Greeks who come bearing gifts?” She slanted him a provocative glance.

“Hardly a gift. Consider it an apology.”

After a moment’s pause she took the paper cup. “An apology?”

He looked abashed. “For my behaviour the other night. I should have apologised over dinner yesterday. But I didn’t.”

“Oh.” She took a sip. It was strong and sweet and pungent.

He frowned. “I’m confused.”

That made two of them! She slanted him a wary glance. “Why?”

“I had no intention of having anything to do with you. But I keep thinking you’ve changed. Then something happens-like seeing you with Jean-Paul-and I think I’m wrong. You’re still the same.” He raked his fingers through his golden hair. “Have you changed?”

She shut her eyes. God. How on earth was she supposed to respond to that? Not honestly. It was too late for that. She had to soldier on. And then there was the fact that she wasn’t ready to face the rage and scorn in his eyes when he discovered her treachery. Not yet.

She’d tell him when she was about to leave. When her contract had ended. And she had uncovered the truth about Mandy. Whatever that might be.

He waved a hand. “Forget it. That’s a stupid question. Sit down, you could probably use the break.”

Gemma followed him dragging her feet as he led her to the cluster of seating in a small lobby.

His cell phone rang. Fishing it out his pocket, he studied the caller ID. “My mother,” he said. “Excuse me.”

Angelo could feel Gemma’s eyes resting on him as he responded to his mother’s well wishes. He listened with half an ear to a story about the car her latest husband had bought, laughed when expected. Conscious of keeping Gemma waiting, he cut the conversation short.

“For a playboy, you have a good relationship with your mother,” Gemma said, her eyes curious.

He didn’t rise to the bait. “Even playboys have mothers. And, despite all the wealth in the world, her life has not been easy,” he answered guardedly. “She fell pregnant with me when she was very young. The man abandoned her. I never met him.”

Not my father, but the man, Gemma noticed.

“Oh.”

It must have been hell for a young boy.

“So is today your birthday?”

“Yes-I’m blessed with two celebrations in one month. Last week it was my name day.”

“Name day? What’s that?”

“A day all people bearing the name of a particular saint celebrate. So on the eighth of November anyone called Angelo celebrates. My mother thought I was an angel when I was born.” He gave her a sardonic smile.

She laughed. “Did you get gifts?”

“Most people simply called to send greetings-that’s what my cousins, Tariq, Zac and Katy did. My mother sent a gift. Some of the villagers who’ve known me all my life baked for me.”

“O-kay.” She suppressed a smile. From what she’d seen of him so far, he’d struck her as a jet-set prince. “I didn’t have you pegged for the kind of guy who received home baking.”

“I love home baking. But you didn’t-too fattening, you said. In fact, you hardly used to eat at all. Your appetite is better now. You’ve stopped all those diet pills.” He gave her a frank, appreciative look. “Now that I think about it, you’ve picked up a couple of pounds. It suits you. Makes you sexier than ever.”

The air sizzled between them.

When she saw Mark waving, Gemma wanted to swear. Angelo had been opening up. She drained the cup and threw it in a trash can. “I have to go,” she said to Angelo.

“I’ll see you later.” He gave her a wry smile. “And I won’t try to seduce you. At least not until your memory returns-unless you ask me very nicely.”

That night Gemma and Denny delivered a far more polished show. Her own Friday night show in the Electra Theatre followed, and Gemma returned to her unit exhausted but more than satisfied with how the evening had gone. Kicking off her shoes, she switched on the kettle and made for the loveseat in the sitting area.

The knock on the door came as a total surprise. More surprise followed when the handle rattled and Angelo walked in, clad in dark trousers and a white dress shirt with black snaps. “You’ve forgotten to lock your door.”

“Good evening,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be partying?” Surely there was no shortage of supermodels or starlets who he could’ve flown in to help him celebrate.

His gaze went past her to the bare table and neat kitchenette. “I take it you haven’t had a chance to eat since your show?”

“No.” She liked to wind down first. Then realization dawned. “I’m not having dinner with you. I’m tired.”

“You need to eat.”

“It’s too late to go out.”

“Who said anything about going out? We can eat right here, have a picnic on the bed, just like old times. I’ve ordered some of your favourites from room service. Bollinger, caviar, some crackers.” He flashed her a triumphant smile, his teeth white and even against his tanned skin. “And you can’t refuse-it’s my birthday.”

Her favourites.

Mandy’s favourites. Suddenly she was wide-awake and very, very edgy. A picnic on a double bed with Angelo sounded lethal. Even more dangerous than going to dinner with him in one of the resort’s restaurants. Given her deception, spending time here in this small, intimate space would be stupid. “I’d rather go out.”

Her unease was interrupted by another knock, softer this time.

Angelo’s gaze locked with hers. “Too late. Dinner has arrived. No need to do anything. Just relax and enjoy. Nothing is going to happen between us. Not until your memory returns. I promised, remember? And I don’t break my word.”

But she had no intention of keeping hers.

There would be no return of her rogue memory. Damn. How had it ever gotten to the stage that Angelo Apollonides was starting to look like he had more honour than she did?

In the end, Angelo’s impromptu birthday supper proved to be a lot of fun. They sat thigh to thigh on the loveseat and ate gourmet food off utilitarian white crockery.

Gemma was under no illusion that Angelo had set out to make her relax. And it was working. She found herself laughing at a story he told about capsizing a catamaran-and liking him more and more as the evening wore on.

On some level a hum of awareness vibrated between them. But it never surfaced enough to make Gemma jumpy and set her on edge. She believed Angelo’s promise that he would not try make love to her…and she allowed herself to chill out.

At last the meal was finished. Even the rich chocolate cake, with a single candle on it that Angelo had blown out.

And, seeing that she had no gift, Gemma had insisted on singing “Happy Birthday.” For the first time she had seen Angelo flush awkwardly.

After she’d finished giggling at his embarrassment, she’d risen to make coffee and Angelo had followed to help. Only to discover that tiny kitchen area was too cramped for two. So he settled for propping himself up against the counter and watching her prepare the blend. When the coffee was ready, she bustled around, tidying up and they chatted drinking the rich dark brew.

The mug clattered on the countertop as he set it down. When he commented, “Your hair suits you like it is now.” She turned from packing away the crockery she’d rinsed off to smile at him, only to find him holding the framed photo of Mandy with their parents.

Gemma’s heart came to a standstill. And then it started to race. After the rush of adrenaline came relief. Now he would discover the truth. With a shock Gemma realised that she wanted this masquerade to end. She was not cut out for deception.

His glance shifted between the photo and Gemma. “This must have been taken around the time I-” he hesitated “-knew you.”

Her eyes narrowed. He hadn’t realised the truth. He’d put the small external differences between her and Mandy down to the passing of time and superficial changes. As his gaze lingered on her, Gemma suspected he was considering the changes that lay below the all-covering jeans and shirt. As he’d noticed, she’d never been as thin as Mandy.

His eyes kindled an urge within her. The flame flickered, danced. Slowly. Sensuously. A womanly desire that refused to be banished.

“I like the curls more than the straight style you wore back then.” He glanced down at the photo and back to her and his mouth softened into a smile that she suspected was supposed to melt her innards.

A hint of annoyance doused the desire. How could he not tell the difference between her and Mandy? Suddenly, perversely, she wanted to be found out. “My hair has always been wild,” she said, a little tersely. “Curls are much less work.”

“So why straighten it?”

She shrugged. “That was the fashion then.”

“And you always do as fashion dictates, do you, Gemma?” Suddenly there was an edge in his voice. An edge she didn’t understand.

“Excuse me?”

But his attention had returned to the frame cupped in his hands. “Are these your parents?”

“Yes.” Gemma moved closer until she could also see the three figures in the photo. Dad was staring sideways at Mandy, while Mum smiled into the camera.

“Your mother’s pretty. I can see her resemblance to you-and where the red hair comes from.”

“Her name is Beth. She’s really easygoing, despite the red hair.” Yet despite Mum’s normal placidity she’d been vocal in her opposition to Gemma coming back to Strathmos to confront Angelo. Mum had been worried, had begged Gemma to leave the past behind. But Gemma couldn’t. She had to know…

“And your father looks so proud of you. Who’s your mother smiling at?”

Gemma closed her eyes as a sharp burst of memory slivered through her of that sunny day in her parents’ suburban garden against the foot of Pigeon Mountain in Auckland. She could remember the scent of the damask roses. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back. She could remember Mandy laughing-

“I don’t remember,” she said tonelessly.

Something in her eyes must have alerted him to her confusion and pain because he came swiftly towards her. “Hell, of course you don’t. And I’m a stupid idiot to ask such questions.”

He was so close that Gemma could smell the scent of his skin overlaid with a tangy aftershave. A hint of amber, of musk…and something else.

Arousal.

A chill shot through her. No! She scuttled backward and collided with a chair jutting out from under the bench top and would have tripped if Angelo’s hand hadn’t shot out and stopped her from falling.

“Hey!” He yanked her upright. “Are you okay?”

His eyes were a rich turquoise, the colour of the sunlit sea with no hint of black or grey. The thick brows above were pulled into a frown and Gemma read concern.

She could almost believe-

Damn! She broke free with a sharp twist. She recognized the sensation that unexpectedly flooded her. Recognized its warmth, its seductive danger-and it scared her spitless.

She swallowed, her mouth dry.

She’d been convinced that her hatred would fortify her against this attraction, like a talisman against evil. So how was she supposed to deal with an Angelo she was beginning to like? Underneath the playboy exterior lay a complex man who was so much more than the media portrayed. She was even starting to doubt that he was the selfish manipulative lover Mandy had described.

“Are you okay?” he repeated.

“I’m fine,” she said, and gave an elaborate yawn. “Just tired.”

He got the hint but after he’d left, she felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.

Gemma was surprised when she looked out into the audience on Saturday night to see Angelo seated with a crowd of people at a table in the front of the Electra Theatre. Three women, all beautiful, and two men.

None of them were eating.

They must be here only for the show. She almost stumbled over her next line, recovered and then sang on, trying very hard not to look in their direction again.

She made it through the show without another stumble. By the time she got to the dressing room, Angelo was waiting.

“Come, there are people I want you to meet.”

“I’m tired.” It was an excuse. A lie. She was too wired to sleep.

In the end she convinced Angelo to let her shower and change and agreed to meet him at his penthouse-a huge space with black leather furniture and modern artwork and an endless expanse of glass that Gemma realised must showcase fabulous seaviews in the daytime.

The crowd turned out to be Angelo’s cousins Zac Kyriakos and Tariq bin Rachid al Zayed and three women; Zac’s new wife, Pandora, and Zac’s sister, Katy, and their cousin, Stacy.

“We thought we’d surprise Angelo,” Zac explained. “His birthday needed celebrating.”

“You should feel honoured, Angelo,” Pandora said darkly, “I braved a helicopter flight for you.”

Angelo gave her a hug. “Thank you for coming. All of you.”

A late-night meal had been arranged buffet-style on the sideboard. Grilled calamari, prawns on long elegant skewers and oysters on the shell. Spears of asparagus, slivers of capsicum, sticks of cucumber and sliced fruit added colour beside the seafood.

“Help yourself,” Angelo told Gemma, setting down a glass of white wine on the low table beside the sofa on which she sat.

“I will.” She threw him a smile and he surprised her by leaning over and brushing a kiss across her brow.

“A toast.” Zac raised his wineglass. “To Angelo and many more birthdays.”

They all echoed it and Angelo reciprocated by lazily raising his glass and proposing a toast to Pandora and Zac. Which led to Pandora suggesting that it was time for another wedding. A horrible silence followed.

“Don’t look at me,” Tariq grated. “I’m no advertisement for marriage.”

Gemma assessed him. He stared back. She detected suspicion in his golden gaze. He was gorgeous in a stern, hawk-eyed kind of way and wore a long, flowing thobe-although his head was bare-that suited his air of command. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened with his wife.

After dinner there was a large marzipan-iced cake, with candles for Angelo to blow out. Gemma grinned at him and decided to spare him another rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

“Speech, speech,” called Pandora. “Zac, agapi mou, come and sit.” Pandora patted the cushion beside her. She was blonde and beautiful in a wistful kind of way.

Zac landed beside her and, pulling her onto his lap, he growled. “Don’t call me my love in that fake way.”

“Phony was what I said. Not fake.” Pandora started to giggle and gave him a look brimming with love and humour, telling Gemma this was a very private joke.

“Ignore them,” Katy advised, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. Gemma noticed that Katy had lines of strain around her eyes. “Pandora is the only person I’ve ever met who can put my overbearing brother in his place.” Katy looked around with a frown. “Now, where is Angelo? Ah, getting out of making his speech and catching up with Tariq in the kitchen. Look at them, they must be talking about women.”

Gemma noticed how close the men stood, both serious, their heads together. “I take it Tariq’s marriage is unhappy,” she murmured softly.

“They’re separated. I think the experience totally put him off women,” Katy confided.

Gemma started to wonder what these forthright women would say about her later.

Katy seemed to read her mind. “Relax, we like you. Almost as much as Angelo does. Otherwise you wouldn’t be getting the inside gossip.”

“Angelo doesn’t like me,” Gemma protested.

“Mmm…maybe like isn’t a strong enough word. We’re not going to ask what happened between the two of you in the past-”

Pandora clambered off Zac’s lap and came to stand beside Gemma. “Except that we hope you had a damn good reason for two-timing-”

“Hush. We agreed that was none of our business.”

“It is none of your business,” Stacy said, entering the conversation. She glared at the other two women.

Gemma stared at the three of them, bemused.

And then Angelo was beside her. “Are you okay?”

She turned her head. “Shouldn’t I be?”

He perched beside her and slung an arm around her shoulder. “My family can be a little overwhelming at times.”

Pandora and Katy started to laugh. “Come,” said Stacy, “give them a break.”

Later Angelo saw her back to her unit. The night was cool but there was no rain. The fact that the wind had died down meant that they could hear the hiss of the sea. “I think your family may have the wrong impression about us…me,” Gemma said.

The lamps that edged the walkway shed enough light for her to see his eyebrows jerk up. “Why?”

“They seem to think that we’re an item. And Katy didn’t even seem worried that we’d broken off in the past. Although, I did detect some reserve from Tariq.”

“He thinks I’d be mad to take up with you again.”

“Oh?” The image of their heads close together in the kitchen came back to her. “You talked about me?”

“Tariq talked. He thinks you’ll betray me again. Break my heart.”

Gemma wanted to object. To deny that she’d ever do such a thing. Just in time she remembered that he thought she was Mandy. And Mandy had always been a flirt, a heartbreaker. So she drew a deep, steadying breath and asked, “So what did you say?”

In the shadows she could feel the force of his regard. “That I never loved you, so you never broke my heart. And it won’t happen this time around, either.”

Seven

Angelo and his family all left Strathmos on Sunday. Gemma heard the beat of the blades of the helicopter departing just after noon, but didn’t realise that Angelo had gone until she found the note in the backstage pigeon hole where her mail was delivered.

Back next Sunday. See you then.

That was all. He hadn’t even signed it. But she knew without doubt who had sent it.

Later she heard that he’d gone to Athens, that he’d be flying on to the resort at Kalos for a series of hush-hush meetings about a new opportunity he was investigating. Gemma had expected to feel relief at his absence, a cessation of the tension that twisted within her. But instead there was only an unfamiliar emptiness inside her.

Gemma suspected she was headed for heartbreak. Angelo had made it clear last night that there was no chance that he would ever love her. So she’d better take care to guard her hollow heart.

Gemma took one of the bicycles that the resort made available to the staff and guests and cycled down to Nexos, the small fishing village or xorio, not far from the resort.

The tables outside the local taverna were all taken. Most by locals playing tavli, backgammon. At one end, a fashionably dressed couple, clearly from the resort, shared a platter of mezze with olives and pita and a selection of spreads. Another young couple sat holding hands across a table. And a pang shot through Gemma.

There was no chance that she and Angelo would ever resemble these lover-like couples.

She turned away from the tables and chairs and wandered into the bakery beside the taverna, spoiling herself to a couple of tiropites-triangles of phyllo pastry filled with cheese-and a bottle of mineral water. She wheeled the bicycle across the cobbles and settled herself on the seawall to watch the fishermen spreading the nets in the sun and eat her impromptu lunch.

All around her, village life carried on. Across the road, two elderly widows dressed from head to toe in black were shuffling into the churchyard of the quaint white-washed church with its domed bright blue roof.

The church reminded her of Pandora’s talk about weddings yesterday and Tariq’s bitterness. Had he loved his wife? Why had his marriage fallen apart?

Of course, love was not strictly necessary for a marriage-or even for a relationship. Angelo had confessed last night that he’d never loved Mandy. What was it with these men?

Then she thought of the loving tenderness Zac demonstrated to Pandora and an ache settled in the region of Gemma’s heart.

Unscrewing the top off the mineral water, she took a swig. She doubted Angelo would ever love anyone like that, without reserve. He was so self-contained, he didn’t seem to need anyone.

For a fleeting instant Gemma couldn’t help wondering whether he was alone now. His little black book would have no shortage of numbers of beautiful women to call on. If he chose to…

The thought depressed her.

Last night he’d made it clear that he was in no danger of falling for her. So much for her wild idea of making him pay.

She’d fantasised about proving to him that he wasn’t irresistible to every woman in the world. That she held him in disdain. And she’d contemplated seducing him, making him fall for her, then rejecting him. But now she’d met him and found that he was so far out of her league that her half-baked plans were absurd.

She didn’t dare seduce him. Because she suspected that once she’d made love with him, she would never be able to walk away. That she would be marked as Angelo Apollonides’s woman for life.

She brushed the crumbs off her fingers and screwed the cap back onto the empty bottle. Sleeping with Angelo was not going to answer all her answers about why Mandy had died. And she could not betray her sister’s memory in that fashion. Or risk her heart for a man who would never feel a thing for her.

In a little over a week it would be time to leave Strathmos…and Angelo. And move on. Strathmos was a foreign world, exotic and removed.

Angelo’s world.

The empty place in her chest expanded, chilling her. Gemma took a last look at the fishermen on the beach. They looked so unhurried, so content.

Unlike her.

Biting her lip to stop the tears of loneliness that threatened, she rose to her feet and made her way to her bike. She would return to Auckland and get on with her life as her mother had suggested. Perhaps the familiar warmth of her family and friends would bring comfort. Tonight she would call her agent to line up the next gig.

The time had come to lay Mandy to rest.

With Lucie back at work on Monday, Gemma’s frenzied schedule returned to normal. Yet she was restless. And her mood was mirrored by the unpredictable weather. Gusts of wind and bursts of hard rain shook the island. Gemma threw herself into her show and a couple of days passed before she had time to draw breath.

Weather allowing, she’d intended to spend her day off on Thursday windsurfing. The morning dawned clear and sunny with enough wind for a good run across the chop. But Gemma’s heart wasn’t in it. In less than thirty minutes she was back on shore, refusing to admit to herself that windsurfing alone was no longer what she desired.

She missed Angelo.

Blocking out that traitorous thought, she spent the afternoon in the entertainment centre. The resort staff had started erecting a giant Christmas tree and, with nothing else to do, Gemma stayed to help.

It was bittersweet hanging the decorations. It had been a while since she’d celebrated Christmas. Her family had avoided it…Christmas Day had become a time of grief.

As she reached up to hang a silver ball on a branch, her cell phone trilled.

It was Angelo.

Immediately her pulse quickened; the tree seemed greener, the lights around her brighter. For the first time since he’d departed she felt truly alive.

“Missing me?” he asked, humour in his voice.

“Of course not,” she lied. “I’ve been too busy to think about you.”

There was a little flat silence. Then he asked what she’d been doing. Gemma told him about the awful weather, the winds and the rain. He laughed a little when she commented that this was not what she expected of life on a Greek island.

“Christmas is coming,” he said, “expect more rain.”

“Oh, no.” Then she told him about the Christmas tree that she was decorating. “It’s always strange to see decorations out in November. I can see why your grandfather’s tourists came only in the summer months. And I can understand why you’ve created the casinos and laid on all the entertainment you do. The resort is seething with people.”

“Good.” He sounded distracted. There was a short silence. Then he said, “I will be back early on Sunday morning. I always attend the Sunday service in the village when I am on Strathmos. Will you come with me this Sunday?”

Spend time with Angelo?

“Of course. But I need to be back for a rehearsal afterward.” Even though she knew she was setting herself up for heartbreak by continuing to see him, Gemma simply couldn’t resist.

The rest of the week dragged past.

Gemma had just taken a call from her agent on Sunday morning with an offer to sing in a popular Sydney club where Gemma had sung before, when a dull, droning noise interrupted their discussion.

Clutching the cell phone, Gemma rushed out of her unit. A moment later a huge shadow passed over her. Glancing up, she squinted into the sun and made out the dark shape a helicopter.

Angelo was back.

A thread of dark, forbidden excitement shivered through her. “I have to go, Macy.”

“Wait, I need to know what-”

“I can’t give you an answer. Not now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She wasn’t aware of Macy’s mutterings; all she could think about was that soon she would see Angelo again.

By the time he arrived to collect her, she’d managed to get her pleasure at his return under control. A rapid glance showed that he was dressed in a beautifully cut designer suit. She wore a smart sleeveless black dress and her hair had been confined into a French braid. Gemma knew she looked elegant and restrained…no hint of her wild excitement showed.

He didn’t kiss her, not even a light buss on the cheek. Instead he stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and her pulse raced. Gemma got the feeling he’d been about to say something momentous.

At last he held out his hand, and said, “Come.”

She took it. His clasp was warm and firm, his hand strong. And her heartbeat steadied.

Once they reached the church, she looked around with interest. Despite the white exterior, inside the church, colours ran riot. Just inside the tall double wooden doors, almost a hundred slim white candles flickered. Bowls of bright pink and red cyclamens and a huge vase of crocus added more colour. On the walls, saints with gold-leaf halos looked down on the packed pews.

They found seats near the front. A large woman beckoned to them, gave a very brief smile to Gemma and spoke rapidly to Angelo in Greek as she shifted along the wooden pew. Trapped between the older woman and Angelo, Gemma was very aware of the warmth of his thigh pressing against hers. When the priest appeared, she forced herself to concentrate.

The service was long and unlike any service Gemma had ever attended. Villagers wandered in and out in an ever-changing stream. Children played on the floor beside the windows. And the priest chanted in ancient Greek, while rich incense filled the church.

Afterwards people spilled out into the churchyard, congregating in small groups under a vine-covered pergola. Angelo kept her close to his side, his arm around her waist. A cat sat on the low wall not far from them; Gemma gave the animal a wary look.

The strange juxtaposition of the exotic resort, the simple church with its ancient ceremonial customs struck Gemma. Had Mandy seen this side of Angelo’s world?

Gemma tilted her head to Angelo. “Have I been here before?”

“I asked you to come with me often enough in the past, but you didn’t want to.”

So Mandy had never been to the church with him. Given her twin’s love of sleeping late and her preference for the good life, the refusal made sense. “Do you come often?” Gemma changed the subject.

He propped a foot up on the low wall beside her. The cat saw it as an invitation and came closer, purring and rubbing against his legs. Angelo bent to stroke the appreciative feline. Gemma backed away.

“Are you frightened of cats?” he asked.

“No, allergic,” she replied. “I don’t need red eyes or a fit of nonstop sneezing.”

“Then let’s move along.” They found a new spot and watched as two girls came to play with the cat. “I come to this church every Sunday morning when I’m on Strathmos. I was baptised here.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not the kind of thing we usually talk about, is it?” His mouth kinked up. “In fact, we never spoke much at all in the past. I didn’t even know you were allergic to cats. We’ve talked more in the last couple of weeks than ever before. Maybe it has something to do with the amnesia.”

That brought back her deception. Mandy had never been allergic to cats. Gemma certainly didn’t want to talk about how she’d deceived him. Even though she knew that she would have to. Soon. On Tuesday she would be giving her last show. And then she’d be leaving. For good.

To distract herself, she asked, “Who was the woman who made space for us in the church?” Then added hastily, to justify her curiosity, “She looked familiar. Does she work at the resort?”

“That’s Penelope.” He pronounced it Pen-e-lop-i with the stress on the O. “You met her, when you were here before. Perhaps your memory is starting to return. You should let Dr. Natos check you out at the resort.”

That was the last thing she wanted. “Maybe my head is getting better.” He didn’t look convinced. “Who is Penelope?” She asked again. “In case we bump into each other-she’d think me rude if I didn’t know.”

He shot her a strange look. “That didn’t worry you much in the past. You never had much time for her. She was my governess when I was a child.”

“A governess?” It accentuated the divide between them. She hadn’t been deprived, but hers hadn’t been an upbringing populated with governesses and servants and limitless privilege.

“Someone had to teach me to read and write. I didn’t get sent to school in England until I was ten.”

“You went to school in England?” That would account for his flawless English-no hint of an accent, no misuse of idiom.

“Yes, my mother thought it was for the best. My grandfather couldn’t sway her.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Not at first,” he admitted. “It was a long way from home. I didn’t speak good English. Initially I felt so isolated. I wanted to come home.”

“Home? Here? To the resort?”

“No, there was no resort. There used to be a house on the island.”

Gemma gave the hill behind the village a sweeping look. “A house?”

“I pulled it down and built the resort on the site of the wreckage.”

Something in his voice gave her reason to pause. The tanned skin had stretched tautly across the high, flat cheekbones. He looked remote and ruthless.

Gemma shivered. There was so much she still didn’t know about him. And now it was too late. She would be leaving soon.

After they got back to the resort, Gemma hurried to the entertainment centre to help Mark with the Christmas show rehearsal. She wouldn’t perform in that. Tomorrow would be her last appearance. In a couple of days, she’d be back in Auckland. And she’d have to put the pieces of her life back together again.

“Gemma.” She started when she heard her name called. Mark and Lucie were watching her with quizzical expressions.

“Wakey, wakey,” Lucie called. “You look like you’re off in dreamworld.”

Gemma felt herself flush. Nightmare world, more like. “Okay, where are we?”

“In the Apollodrome,” said Lucie with a cheeky smile. “Rehearsing for the Christmas spectacular.”

“I remember.” Gemma flinched the instant the words left her mouth. Lucie and Mark wouldn’t realise the savage irony of that.

“Can you sing the Christmas medley?”

“I don’t know the words,” Gemma called back. “I’ll sing something else to give everyone a chance to do the movements.”

“Gemma’s not booked to sing in the Christmas Eve spectacular.” Angelo’s voice broke in as she strode forward. “Stella Argyris will be performing.”

Gemma stiffened.

“I asked Gemma if she would stand in for Stella,” Mark moved forward and gestured to Gemma to get into position. “Stella’s not due to arrive for another ten days but many of the other performers are here. I want to get the show on the road, so to speak.”

“I’ve worked with the divine Stella before,” Lucie murmured to Gemma. “She’s a cat. A man’s kind of woman. She’ll be itching to get her claws into our gorgeous Greek boss.”

Gemma’s heart splintered. “Lucie, hush. He might hear you.”

Lucie shrugged. “So what?”

Gemma wished she had a fraction of the other girl’s insouciance. “Tomorrow is my last day. I want to leave on a good note.”

“Judging by the way he’s looking at you, I’d say you’ve hit the highest note already. Stella’s gonna hate you.”

Gemma whipped around to see what Lucie was on about and encountered Angelo’s intimate gaze. “Hurry up-I’ve got plans for the afternoon.”

Gemma turned scarlet. She launched into “O Holy Night.” The instant she started to sing “the stars are brightly shining,” she knew she’d made a mistake. She’d always loved this carol on a deep, emotional level, but now as she sang the image that came to mind were the silver-white stars in the sky over Strathmos. Why couldn’t she’ve chosen to sing “Away in a Manager,” she wondered frantically, at least that would’ve had no deep, soul-rending connotations.

Angelo seemed to have turned to stone. He was staring at her like he’d never seen her before.

Gemma’s lashes feathered down, blocking him out her line of sight. The next line poured from her, her voice swelling, her throat thickened with emotion and her smoky voice became even more husky than normal. The climax came too soon and by the time the last words left her, Gemma was spent.

There was a moment of silence.

“Wow,” Lucie broke it, sounding awed. Gemma opened her eyes and blinked. Behind Lucie, Mark had started to clap and one by one the dancers joined in. Only Angelo stood unmoving. Gemma started to feel a little ridiculous; she clambered down the stairs, off the stage.

Finally, Angelo shook himself. He headed off her escape route. “You sing like an angel.”

With shock Gemma realised that his voice was hoarse. As if he’d been as moved as she’d been.

“I love that carol,” she said, and thought how trite it sounded.

“You sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to me the other night, but this…this…is something else.” He sounded awed. “To think I never even knew you could sing when you were with me. What the hell else did I not know about you?”

At his words Gemma came crashing back to earth. The magic vanished. She was Gemma Allen. Not the Gemma Allen Angelo believed her to be-that was Mandy-but another creature all together. The tangle of deceit she’d created had spun out of control.

After the rehearsal Angelo and Gemma had a light lunch and after she’d changed, he took her sailing. The afternoon passed in rush of wind and laughter.

That evening the applause after her show was even more fervent than usual. And Gemma knew that the audience had sensed the energy and emotion that the day spent with Angelo had unleashed inside her.

She was aware that this could not go on, would soon be over. She still hadn’t phoned back Macy about the offer of work in Sydney. By now the job would be taken. Gemma knew she was living for the moment, until it all came crashing down on her head. As it must.

So when Angelo took her back to his penthouse for a late dinner after the show, she didn’t protest. This was it. Her last chance to spend time with Angelo in the bubble that she’d created.

During dinner, they spoke of mundane matters, the candles on the table creating a golden haze around them. But beneath the everyday words, something buzzed, vibrating between them, an inexorable force. By the stillness of his body, the light in his eyes, Gemma knew he was aware of it, too.

Setting his knife and fork down, Angelo said, “I haven’t helped you regain your memory at all, have I?” His eyes were dark with emotion. “Your return to Strathmos has been in vain.”

She should confess now. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to extinguish that glow on his face that existed for her alone. She wanted to bask in it-for just a little longer. Once the bubble world was gone, it would be burst forever. There’d be no going back.

“Not in vain,” she said finally. “The job has been great. And…I met you.” Then she hastily tacked on. “Again.”

An unmistakable passion flared in his eyes. He pushed back his chair and stood. “Come here.”

Gemma knew what he was asking. If she went, everything would change. A moment of fear flickered in her chest. If she went to him…she would have to accept that she no longer believed he had destroyed Mandy and caused her to self-destruct.

That he was not the utter bastard Mandy had painted. That, for her own reasons, Mandy had lied.

“Come,” he said again.

Slowly she rose to her feet and started to move around the dinner table. He met her halfway. Took her hand and dropped down onto the long leather couch and pulled her onto his lap.

Need uncoiled within Angelo. A need to see her smile again, to banish the shadows from her eyes, a need for her to be happy, a need to touch her…a need that grew and grew.

What the hell was happening to him? How could he care so little about Gemma’s past betrayal? All he knew was that the whole week he’d been away from her had dragged like a prison sentence.

Experience had taught him that Gemma was treacherous, faithless. One side of him craved her, wanted to believe her promise that Jean-Paul meant nothing to her, wanted to believe it could be different this time…and fought to convince that other, more cynical side of Angelo that she had changed.

Her head was turned away from him. From this angle he could see the rise of her cheekbone, the straight line of her nose. He raised his hand, smoothed the wild tangles back to reveal the soft creamy skin at her neck.

“Ask me to make love to you,” he breathed. “So that I don’t break my promise to you.”

He watched her throat move as she swallowed. When she turned her head, he met her gaze and he read the same desire that consumed him, as strong as a relentless tide.

“Please make love to me, Angelo.”

A slow sensation rumbled like liquid thunder in his chest and, leaning forward, he brushed his lips across her silken skin. Her mouth opened. She tasted soft and sweet.

A long time later, she gave a breathy gasp and shifted, so that she knelt across his lap, her body tight and expectant.

His hands came up to her shoulders, dislodged the thin shoestring straps and eased the top of the dress down. She wore no bra. One glance revealed that her breasts were high and firm, the nipples dark and his heart began to pound.

He pulled her up…towards him…took the waiting nipple and surrounding flesh into his mouth. The nipple peaked under the stroke of his tongue.

Angelo pursed his lips, sucked, felt her body jerk and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

Her still-clothed belly moved in slow, insistent motions against him. In one swift movement he peeled the Lycra dress off and revelled in the sensation of her naked skin beneath his hands. He stroked her back, the sleek, rounded globes of her tight buttocks; the piece of stretchy lace that qualified for underwear was no barrier to his touch. His fingers slid beneath the thong.

She was warm and wet and his fingers moved effortlessly in the sleek furrow. He could tell by her ragged breathing that she was hot, that she wanted this as much as he did.

As his fingers moved back and forth, his mouth echoed the rhythm against her breast, until she gasped out loud and he felt the suppressed shudder that shook her.

Then she pushed away.

“I can’t take more.”

Before he could object, she’d slid off his lap, knelt between his thighs. He felt her fingers at the zipper of his trousers. A rush of want surged through him. He grabbed her head between his hands.

“No.”

She tipped her head up, her eyes glazed with emotion.

“Yes.”

“No.” His control was slipping. He had a turbulent sense that if he let this happen his world would never be the same. That he was poised at a doorway to an undiscovered universe.

He heard the zipper give. Her hands brought him out, hard and potent.

“Gemma.”

She ignored his desperate croak, her fingertips soft against his sensitive skin.

Giving in, he flung his head back against the sofa and groaned as she stroked him.

When the warmth of her mouth closed over him, he squeezed his eyes shut at the unbearably sweet heat. “Gemma!”

The slow sucking started, driving him to the edge of a dark, unfamiliar abyss where he could hold on no more. Shadows started to dance against his eyelids. His thighs began to tremble and then he was convulsing again and again, trapped in pleasure beyond what he’d ever experienced.

Eight

He carried Gemma through to the bedroom, laid her down on his bed. “My turn,” he growled.

He stripped the thong off and started to stroke her with fingers that possessed a magic touch. A fine tension tightened in Gemma’s belly. She shifted, the raw silk of the bedcover creating a delicious friction against her back, her thighs.

He touched the little button, her knees came off the cover. She moaned. He moved his fingers and her breath left her. Closing her eyes, she shut out everything. Nothing existed, except this room, this man…and his touch.

And then the heat of his mouth was against her. Slick. Teasing. His tongue probed. She gasped. He licked again. Gemma locked her fingers in his golden hair and pulled him away.

“I can’t…”

He lifted his head. His eyes gleamed. “You can.”

“I want…more.”

He must’ve understood her incoherent mumbles. There was the sound of foil tearing and a moment later he’d crawled over her, his chest hard and sleek against her taut, aching breasts. Then his mouth was over hers, his tongue hungry and plundering as he took her mouth in a kiss so hot, so wild, that her hips bucked under him. Impatient. Desperate.

His hand closed on her breast. Heat seared through her, stabbing between her legs. She bent her knees up, tilted her hips, hinting, clamouring for more.

Angelo moved against her. She could feel his erection, the blunt tip sliding against her. She was ready for him.

He pushed forward and slid all the way in. Gemma moaned, a hoarse primal sound, as pleasure shafted her. Her arms went round his neck, tightening. And her legs wrapped round him, locking him to her.

There was a moment when he lay utterly still, filling her, and then he pulled back a little, and sank forward again. The friction was intense. The pace ratcheted up.

Gemma’s breathing quickened, shallow gasps that sounded overloud in the quiet room.

She squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut, focusing on the friction, the sensation that arced through her, from between her legs, through her belly, to her nipples, to her tongue that slid wildly against his.

There was an instant of darkness, the world went black and then she was shivering into a void of light.

Angelo groaned, and she felt him pulsing deep inside her. “Hell, it’s never been like that,” he muttered hoarsely. “Never.”

As his words registered, the brightness faded, and a shiver of apprehension shook her.

Her final show had arrived. Tonight Gemma wore a black dress with spaghetti straps that made her dark red hair appear redder than ever. The low scooped back revealed her carefully cultivated tan and Gemma took her time applying makeup to emphasize her eyes and lips. By the time she was finished, she knew she looked good.

Her time on stage passed in a blur. She squinted past the lights but couldn’t locate Angelo at any of the tables. At last she gave up and tried to concentrate on the words she was singing, on communicating the meaning of the song to the audience, but some of the lustre had gone.

She left the stage with a sinking heart. Her time on Strathmos was over.

On the way to her dressing room, Denny waved and Gemma gave him a half-hearted smile.

Pushing the door open, her eyes widened at the unexpected sight of Angelo reclining in her dressing room. Gemma hesitated on the threshold.

He should’ve looked out of place surrounded by the heap of glittery clothes that Lucie had abandoned on the floor. But he didn’t. Instead he looked unfairly at ease as he dwarfed the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

She averted her eyes from his gold hair and bright, piercing eyes and the taut body encased in the beautifully fitting dark suit. Warily, she entered the dressing room and closed the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you. Since this morning, you’ve been impossible to find. I don’t intend to let you run out on me tonight.”

Last night had been so special…earth shattering…she hadn’t been able to face him this morning. She’d needed time alone to come to terms with it.

“I wouldn’t have run out on you.” They needed to talk. He was going to be furious with her. Her heart clenched at the thought of the coming confrontation.

“Join me for dinner?”

Dark and deep, that voice did stuff to her that should be declared illegal. “Anywhere except your penthouse.” She didn’t want to make love, it would distract her from what she had to say.

The smile he gave her was irresistible. “Endaxi. Okay.”

He took her to the Golden Fleece. The decor was rich and warm with exquisitely painted murals on the walls of Jason and the Argonauts performing daring deeds. The high-backed chairs, white table linen and dim lighting, together with the hushed service gave it an outrageously exclusive ambience. As the meal progressed, and the conversation topics remained general, the tension that grasped Gemma started to unwind.

Gemma declined desert in favour of coffee and while they were waiting for it to arrive, she examined a mural depicting Jason with a woman who must be Medea. Angelo followed her gaze. “She was hard work, a sorceress and a witch.”

“Yes, but he didn’t do right by her. She helped him gain the fleece, he took her back to Corinth and married her. But then decided it was too tough to be married to a woman who was a witch-and a foreigner to boot. So he planned to dump her and marry another woman.”

“Except Medea spiked that plan rather dramatically.” Angelo’s lips curved in a wry smile.

“Poor Glauce,” Gemma agreed. “She certainly didn’t deserve what she got. Medea’s sending a robe steeped in poison as a wedding gift was downright evil.”

“You know your Greek mythology pretty well.”

“I should do. My father lectured classics. I grew up on the ancient myths. Greek and Roman.”

Angelo shot her a surprised stare. “You never told me that.”

Uh-oh. Gemma wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Mandy had never been much of a reader, she’d hated what she called “Dad’s boring tales.”

“So how did you end up a singer?”

“My mother could play the piano reasonably well, so I learned to play, too. I loved to sing, so it wasn’t long before I started going for specialist lessons.”

“And dancing…what did your mother say about your dance career?”

She drew a deep breath. Should she tell him now? He was smiling at her, his eyes warm. No. In a little while. She wanted just a little longer. “Actually Mum was responsible for that. She was a professional ballet dancer. After w-I…” she broke off at the near give away “…I was born, she opened a dance school and taught lots of little girls instead of performing live-she wanted to spend time with-” us “-me. What about you?” She shifted the focus of the conversation to him. “When did you know what you were going to do?”

“On my thirteenth birthday my grandfather took me out for lunch and told me that one day I would inherit the chain of hotels he owned, and to prepare myself to look after them. My cousin Zac bore the family name, so he would inherit the Kyriakos Shipping Corporation. Tariq was to inherit the oil refineries.

“My grandfather also promised me I’d inherit the three islands he owned-Strathmos, Kalos and Delinos. I’d spent the first years of my life on Strathmos, so I knew it well. After that day I absorbed everything I could about the hospitality industry, about business, that I could lay my hands on.”

There was a pause when the coffee arrived. Gemma reflected on the single-mindedness of the man sitting opposite. He’d known what he wanted and gone after it. He been responsible for a large part of his success. There was a lot more to him than the playboy image he projected to the media.

After they’d finished their coffees Angelo walked back to her unit. At the door he took the key from her and unlocked the door before following her in.

Gemma’s heart started to knock against her ribs.

“Another coffee?” she asked, desperate for something to do while he stood in her space. Her voice was several notches higher than usual.

“Why not?” Mercifully, he moved away, and Gemma was able to breathe again. He picked up the photo on the bench top and instantly the tension was back, turning her rigid with anxiety. Her breath ragged, she said, “No sugar, right?”

“Black. No sugar.”

It figured he wouldn’t share her lethally sweet tooth. She emptied sweetener into her coffee and hoped she’d be able to sleep tonight given all the caffeine she was consuming.

“You’re holding a cat.”

“What?” She stared at him trying to make sense of the comment, to reconcile it with the rising tension that incapacitated her, numbed her ability to think straight.

“In the photo, you’re holding a cat.” His voice was endlessly patient.

Her brow wrinkled. “Yes, Snuggles.”

“You told me you were allergic to cats.”

Uh-huh. Gemma stiffened, wary of a trap. “I am,” she said slowly. “Snuggles belongs to my parents.”

“So why are you holding him? In the churchyard you told me how cats affect you.”

Tell him.

She stared at him, her mind went blank. Her tongue felt thick, she scratched for words. “Because he always comes to me. He likes to see me red-eyed and sneezy.”

That, at least, was true. Snuggles, the darn cat, had a wicked sense of the misery he caused her. But of course, the real truth was that she wasn’t holding Snuggles in the photo. Mandy was. And Mandy had no allergy to felines of any description.

The tightrope of lies she was balancing upon became ever more precarious. And when Angelo put the photo down, she said a prayer of thanks and placed the two mugs on the coffee table in front of the loveseat.

Appearing satisfied with her explanation, he sank onto the plump seat. “When are you thinking of leaving?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll catch the midday ferry, spend a couple of days in Athens sightseeing and then I’ll fly back to Auckland.”

“It’s too soon.” His eyes turned to flame. “Come here.”

Tell him. “Angelo-” Gemma backed up at the intent in his brilliant eyes “-I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” There was an intimacy in his gaze that did dangerous things to her equilibrium. “I just want a kiss.”

A kiss…one final kiss…She went into his arms. It felt like she was coming home. And that created a maelstrom of emotions churning within her. Guilt. Confusion. Regret that she hadn’t met him long before Mandy.

But it didn’t stop her responding to him.

When he lifted his head they were both breathing fast.

“Some kiss,” she said.

He didn’t smile. Eyes intent, he said, “I have to leave for Kalos tomorrow. I have a series of meetings there. Come with me.”

She started to shake her head.

“Please, come. You can stay as long as you like. I don’t want you to leave again.”

He still thought she was Mandy. But Mandy was dead. And she was alive.

Disturbed by the direction her thoughts were taking, she rose. She needed to tell him the truth. And leave. She couldn’t allow herself to be tempted to stay. Even though she wanted to. More than anything.

He grasped her hand and pulled her back. She landed on his lap. With an embarrassed laugh she struggled to extricate herself. He wouldn’t let her.

Face close to hers, he said, “I want to spend time with you-more than I want you in my bed.” There was a hint of bewilderment in his eyes.

And that was when Gemma knew he felt it, too. This strong, enduring bond between them that was turning her life upside down, forcing her to reevaluate who she was and what she wanted from her life.

“Okay, I’ll come.”

His eyes lit up. He raised her hand to his lips, turned it over and placed a soft, seductive kiss inside her wrist. “You won’t regret it.”

Gemma gave him a look of disbelief. Of course she was going to regret it. But she couldn’t let the chance to spend a few more days with him pass.

Poseidon’s Cavern, the resort on Kalos, was magnificent. At the centre of the main resort complex Angelo had installed a giant tank filled with sea creatures and fish. Walking through the lobby, she was drawn to the tank to stare at the rays flapping past the viewing windows.

“This is fantastic.” She turned to Angelo. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I brought you here before. Doesn’t it stir any memories?”

Gemma’s excitement dimmed and she shook her head, hating the lie that she’d trapped herself in.

“Don’t worry. Later I’ll show the rest of the complex. There’s a bar and a restaurant with a fabulous view of the tank. They were designed to feel like part of an underwater grotto. Aside from the theatre and cinemas, there’s a water theme park to keep you busy. On the south side of the island we’ve used the underwater caves in the theme park and we’ll take a ride through them tomorrow. It will be a little cool this time of the year, but it’s spectacular down there and it’s something that we hadn’t completed last time you were here.”

“That’s sounds lovely.” But the best part was that it was an experience where she wasn’t following in Mandy’s footsteps. She wouldn’t have to worry about how her twin had reacted.

Not that she was worried about Angelo working the truth out any more. If he hadn’t twigged by now that she wasn’t Mandy, but her twin sister, it was unlikely that he was going to discover the truth. But she couldn’t allow this to go on.

A week, she decided. She’d give herself a week. And then she’d tell him. That night she made love to him with the fervour of the damned. Afterwards he looked at her with a question in his eyes.

When Angelo disappeared the following morning to his all-day meeting, Gemma took one look at the overcast sky, then spent a couple of hours examining the enormous tank inside the resort and reading the plaques about the occupants. Later in the morning she made her way to the heated conservatory pool where she was stunned by the sight of Jean-Paul tanning himself beside a svelte blonde.

“Cherie.” He leapt up when he saw her. Gemma turned her head, and the kiss intended for her mouth landed on her cheek.

“Has Apollonides allowed you out your cage, pet?”

His words riled her. “Looks like you’ve acquired a pet of your own.” Gemma gave the blonde a meaningful look.

“She is nothing. I’d drop her like a hot potato if you showed any interest.”

His faked heartbroken expression made Gemma glare at him. “You’re a wicked man.”

“Who loves to do wicked things, remember?” His voice dropped to husky intimacy.

She didn’t want to go there. “I don’t want to remember.”

“Ah, the big fish pays better. How can I blame you?” Jean-Paul sounded philosophical. A waiter materialised at his elbow. “Ah, pull up a lounger for the lady. Gemma, let me order you something to drink and we can catch up on old times.”

Gemma wasn’t that keen to catch up on old times but she badly wanted to quiz him about Mandy. So she opted for a coffee-and so did Jean-Paul’s companion whom he introduced as Birgitte. She turned out to be Swedish and, besides having a wonderful figure, appeared to be thoroughly nice. Gemma couldn’t help regretting her pet crack. After they’d finished their coffees Birgitte took off to the nearby spa.

“Are you ready for a swim?” Jean-Paul asked.

“In a while.”

“I’m sure it won’t be long before Apollonides arrives-and he won’t like finding you in my company.” Jean-Paul looked pleased at the prospect.

Men! Gemma gave a mental headshake. “Angelo doesn’t own me. He said I could drink with whom I liked.” But apprehension shivered through her.

“If he pays your bills, he owns you. That’s how a man thinks.”

“How awful.” Gemma took the gap he unwittingly provided. “Speaking of bills, after my last encounter with you three years ago my credit card suffered more damage than I expected. I must have gambled more than I’d intended.”

“You’re calling it gambling now?” Moreau shot her guarded look and Gemma’s interest picked up. He knew.

She gave him an enticing smile. “What would you prefer me to call my little secret, hmm?”

“Cherie, better to keep quiet about that. Apollonides might not be happy about your little habit.”

So Angelo hadn’t known. Or at least that was what Jean-Paul believed. Gemma frowned. That was not the impression Mandy had given Gemma before her death. I loved him, he ruined me.

“Did you share my little secret?” It was a shot in the dark. The memory of her sister’s wan, sunken face, her listless eyes, her shaking hands still haunted Gemma.

Jean-Paul’s gaze sharpened. “Why are you asking me these questions?” His eyes dropped to the shirt over her swimsuit. He pushed the buttons aside.

“Hey, what are you doing? Take your hands off me!”

“Sorry…I thought…it doesn’t matter.”

But Gemma put it together. “It was you. You introduced her to the drugs that killed her.”

“What do you mean her? And what are you talking about, saying I introduced her to drugs?” Jean-Paul’s gaze darted around, examining everyone in the immediate surround.

Gemma realised her indiscretion. She’d nearly given away the fact that she was not the woman he thought she was. She couldn’t afford another slip like that. “You were the source, the supplier.”

“But, cherie.” He stroked his hand along her thigh. “You know all-”

“I don’t remember. I had an accident, I lost my memory. So don’t cherie me.” She smacked his hand away. The way he’d touched her chest made sense. “You thought I was wearing a wire. You’re scared of being arrested.”

A flash of fear flitted through his eyes. “I’ll deny it. Everything. You’d be stupid to start this. You’ve got Apollonides eating out of your hand.” He gave an acid laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day that he took you back into his bed. Not after what he saw. He must want you badly. Funny, I didn’t think you were that special myself.”

Gemma’s stomach turned. She felt ill.

Oh, Mandy…how could you?

As Gemma had gotten to know Angelo, she’d come to wonder how Mandy could have cheated on him. Jean-Paul’s words made it clear that her sister had climbed out of Angelo’s arms into the Frenchman’s. Angelo was convinced there’d been other men, too. Maybe he was right. And he believed she was Mandy.

Pain twisted deep inside her. Well, she could hardly object. She’d led him to believe she was her twin. She couldn’t blame him for that. But she hadn’t given a damn about Angelo at the start of her deception, when she’d arrived on Strathmos. She’d believed him to be the bastard who’d gotten Mandy hooked on hard drugs.

But she’d been mistaken.

It wasn’t Angelo who started Mandy down her path to destruction…it was Jean-Paul.

Revulsion swept her as Jean-Paul smiled at her, over-familiar and over-expectant. She had to get away from him. He’d ruined her sister’s life, caused her death. Mumbling an excuse, Gemma hoisted her tote over her shoulder and scooted off the lounger, desperate to find a place where she could be alone to think about what she had discovered.

One thought kept festering: how could she ever set her relationship with Angelo right?

Nine

Standing outside one of the boardrooms in the high-tech conference centre, Angelo shook hands with Basil Makrides. “I am pleased you are satisfied with our agreement.”

The older man nodded. “I want to spend time with Daphne, with our sons. Too much of my life has been lost on building an empire.” There was sadness in his eyes.

Angelo was privy to the tragic situation of Basil’s younger son. “I am sorry about Chris. I hope he will recover.”

Basil sighed. “We will give him all the support we can. At present he’s getting the best care in the world. And Daphne and I will be there at his side when he comes out.”

Angelo’s step was light as he went to find Gemma. The negotiations with Makrides had ended sooner than he’d expected. He now owned a group of small but exclusive resorts in Australia that he was keen to bring in line with the rest of the Poseidon ventures. He was looking forward to taking a couple of days off and relaxing with Gemma.

She delighted him, enthralled him.

Each day, he grew more intrigued by her, discovered yet another facet of her character. Gemma had changed, more than he could ever believe possible. They meshed in a way that they had never done in the past, in a way that he had never fit with any other woman. He was prepared to let the past go…to start over with her.

He didn’t want to think too much about what was happening to him. He simply wanted to enjoy Gemma…her company…and her sexy body.

When he saw her ahead of him, clad in one of the pool’s cover-ups, a tote slung over her shoulder, he lengthened his stride.

“Gemma.” He snagged her elbow, and she jumped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She turned, her tawny eyes widening when she saw him. Something shifted in the depths, then vanished. “I thought you were busy with a meeting.”

“I finished early. And seeing that the squall that threatened this morning has blown away, I wanted to show you the underwater caverns.”

Fifteen minutes later, clad in wet suits to minimize the coolness of the subterranean winter water, they each hopped into a giant yellow inner tube that would float them through the honeycomb of tunnels. Because of the cold, there weren’t many others in the dimly lit caves, so Gemma pushed off from the wall and scooted across the black water before rebounding off the opposite wall of the tunnel. She gave a squeal of laughter. “This is fun.”

“The current will move us along.” Angelo’s tube bumped into hers, and she laughed again. His gaze lingered on her white smile and pleasure surged within him. “Not scared?”

“Not at all.”

“It gets dark a little farther on,” he warned.

“Ooh, spooky.” She bumped her tube into his, and he rebounded into the wall. Trapped between the cavern wall and her tube, Angelo watched her approach with a wicked smile. Before he could move, she leaned over and scooped some of the dark water into her hand and flung it at him.

Angelo spluttered as the cold spray hit the side of his head. “Is that the way you want to play it?” He growled, using his hands to paddle closer.

“No.” Gemma started to giggle helplessly. “Don’t wet me more. The water is freezing.”

His arm snaked out and hooked around her waist. She shrieked as she slipped off her tube. “Don’t dump me in this water, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Angelo swept her over the divide between the two tubes. She landed, sprawled across him, her front plastered against his. Instantly he was aware of the softness of her body outlined by the Neoprene suit. The tangle of her wet hair brushed his cheek.

She shifted, twisting away. “My tube!” Her bright yellow tube bobbed along in the distance, moving fast without a passenger.

“Hold still. You’re going to capsize us,” he warned, dragging her closer.

She froze. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Don’t worry, it’s only about a metre deep.”

“I don’t care about the depth. It’s the freezing, dark water I want to avoid.”

“Be adventurous.” Angelo settled her against him. “Live dangerously.”

“This is more dangerous than it looks.” She sounded breathless.

His arm shifted, he could feel her heart beating wildly. From the exertion? The thrill of the ride? Or something else?

He pulled her closer with one arm, the other holding onto the ring moulded to the tube. “Feel safer now?”

“No,” she moaned.

Angelo was smiling when he kissed her. Her lips were cold and wet, but they parted the instant the tip of his tongue stroked hers. The kiss grew wild…deep. He’d never felt this kind of insatiable hunger for a woman before.

Then everything went dark.

He raised his head. “It’s the Midnight Bend. We’ll round the corner and then there’ll be light.”

“You think I’m scared?” There was amusement in her voice.

He kissed her again. But she’d moved so he missed the lips he was aiming for in the pitch black, and had to make do with kissing her neck, the softness behind her ears.

“That’s so good,” she groaned.

He tongued her skin, unbearably aroused.

The tube swung around a curve and they were back in the dim, ghostly light. He pulled away. “Want more?”

“Mmm,” she murmured.

This time he made sure he got her lips. The kiss was deep and very, very hungry. Her hand crept up, caressing his nape, then spearing into his hair and pulling him closer still.

Finally he pulled away, breathing hard. “Hold tight,” he gasped.

Her hands tightened against his head.

“I mean, hold the tube, hold me. There’s a bit of a rapid ahead.” He saw her eyes widen, then she was shrieking as the tube started to speed up and go downhill. The tube jerked and shook as the current swept it forward. Angelo braced himself, holding her close against him.

Faster and faster they went.

The last part of the descent was the steepest. Gemma was shaking under the weight of his arm.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s great!”

She gave a whoop of excitement. And that’s when he realized she was laughing, that she was high on enjoyment, not shaking with fear. They came careening down the final slide and surfed onto the wide pool at the bottom.

Gemma shifted in his grip, twisted her head around and beamed incandescently up at him. “That was fantastic! Can we do it again?”

And right then Angelo knew why she was different from every woman he’d ever known. She was so transparent, so intensely warm and joyous.

Gemma was one of a kind.

The next day passed in surges of adrenaline, moments of apprehension and utter pleasure in Angelo’s company.

In the morning they spent time feeding the fish in the huge tank and then they went for a walk marked along the island. After lunch, Gemma insisted on trying out ride after ride in the theme park. Protected by the wet suit and high on excitement, Gemma didn’t feel cold until several hours later, when Angelo said, “Time to call it a day. We’ve got guests coming for dinner. You’ll like them-the Makrideses are nice people.”

Wet and suddenly weary, Gemma allowed Angelo to drape an oversized towel around her and usher her back to the resort.

Back in his penthouse, she stepped gratefully into the shower and let the heat beat against her skin. She lathered her hair, combing the tangles out with her fingers, and afterwards she took her time blow-drying the curls before pinning them up into a sophisticated twist. An easy-to-wear stretchy Lyrca dress followed. A careful application of light makeup and a pair of gold hoop earings, and she was ready to face Angelo and his guests.

She waltzed into the open-plan seating area, only to find the laughing man of earlier gone. Angelo stood with his back to the view over the island, impeccably dressed in black trousers and a black T-shirt, but his jaw was set. “You didn’t mention that you had an intimate little tete-a-tete with your former lover at the pool yesterday.”

Gemma’s heart sank at the coldness in his eyes. She stared at him through her lashes, not knowing quite what to say. She’d wanted to forget about Jean-Paul. Escape. And, to be truthful, she hadn’t wanted any mention of the Frenchman to wreck the burgeoning relationship between herself and Angelo.

“Nothing to say? Did you know that Jean-Paul would be here? Is that why you agreed to come?”

“No! Jean-Paul means nothing to me.” Angelo’s suspicion threw her. She should’ve expected it. After what Mandy had done, it wasn’t surprising. And with that came a further revelation. His opinion mattered because she was starting to have real feelings for him. He was the worst man in the world for her to fall for-Hell, he didn’t even know who she was.

The time had come to tell him the truth.

Scanning the piercing eyes, the mouth pulled into a tight line, she knew there would be no forgiveness.

It was way too late.

The elevator pinged, breaking Angelo’s fixed, angry stare and Gemma felt weak with relief. Coward, she admonished herself, as he moved fluidly towards the elevator and greeted the man and woman stepping out.

Gemma followed more slowly, wishing the evening was already over. She needed to talk to Angelo alone. For her own peace of mind, she had to come clean. She could delay no longer, however much she wanted to spend time with him.

She forced a smile to her lips as Angelo performed the introductions. She couldn’t tell Angelo now, not with his guests here. Later, after they’d gone.

Daphne and Basil Makrides were a reserved couple, both with worry lines around their eyes, though they grew less reserved as the evening wore on. But Angelo remained cool, and Gemma found it increasingly distressing.

Two members of his staff poured them cocktails and served a selection of mezze-style starters. Gemma chatted to Daphne about the resort, about the excitement of the wild ride through the underground caverns, and Daphne smiled.

The conversation moved on to food. Basil and Daphne were well-travelled, and Angelo contributed to the conversation, although Gemma couldn’t help being aware of the dark glances he shot her from time to time. She tried to ignore it, chattering gaily and soon all four of them were talking of favourite spots they’d visited.

But the unbearable tension between herself and Angelo caused Gemma’s stomach to knot up. When he moved to change the music, she followed him. “I honestly didn’t know Jean-Paul would be on the island,” Gemma murmured in a low voice that would not reach his guests. “I was surprised when I met him at the pool.”

“Maybe not such an accident on Jean-Paul’s part.”

“For goodness’ sake.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “He was with a stunning Swede by the name of Birgitte.”

Angelo looked surprised.

“Obviously your informant failed to mention that,” she said, a touch acerbically. “Although, to be fair, Birgitte did leave to go to the spa for a while. But I also left not long after that. I had no desire to share Jean-Paul’s company.” She’d stayed only as long as had been necessary to learn what she needed.

Her distaste must have been clear, because his hand covered hers. “I’m sorry.”

She jerked under his touch. “Why?”

“For misjudging you. I thought-” There was confusion in his eyes. Pain, and a hint of vulnerability.

He thought she’d been ready to betray him with Jean-Paul. For a second time. She had to tell him the truth. A glance in the Makrideses’ direction showed her that they were hovering near the dining table. No time now. So she said, “I won’t see him again. I promise.”

Angelo inclined his head. “Thank you.” The liquid voice of Andrea Bocelli swelled through the room. Angelo started to speak, but then he shook his head. “Later.”

Later. Apprehension knotted in her stomach. There would be lots to talk about later.

Gemma followed Angelo slowly towards the table where two waiters in waistcoats and bowties were setting out plates with polished-silver covers to keep the food hot.

“Do you have any children?” Gemma asked Daphne after the meal and they’d returned to the comfortable sofas to drink rich coffee from tiny Greek coffee cups. The staff had left, and the four of them were alone.

Daphne stilled. There was an uncomfortable silence and Gemma had the horrible premonition that she’d put her foot squarely in it. Then Daphne replied, “Yes, two sons, Chris and Marco.”

Gemma changed the subject and started to talk frantically of the cooling weather and how different it was from Auckland where the weather would now be humid with less than four weeks to go until Christmas.

Gemma chattering on with increasing desperation about Christmas decorations and shopping habits until Daphne said suddenly, “Whenever I try to talk about Chris everyone smiles and talks about something else. It’s like he has an unspeakable disease.”

“He’s ill?” Gemma asked carefully.

“No, not ill, not in the way you mean. He has a…problem.”

“Oh.” Gemma wasn’t sure what more to say. So she said nothing and waited.

“He’s in rehabilitation.” Daphne named a famous French drug-and-alcohol rehabilitation centre. “It’s his third attempt, we’re hoping that this time it will work.”

Gemma placed her suddenly cold hands over the other woman’s. “I’m so sorry.”

Daphne’s eyes glinted with moisture. “No one lets me talk about it. It’s like Chris no longer exists.”

“I understand.”

“How can you possibly understand?” There was a tinge of anger in the woman’s question.

Gemma drew a deep breath. “My sister died of a drug overdose.”

Daphne gasped. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“The worst was not realizing she’d been an addict-for some time.” Gemma blinked back the familiar tears. “The last couple of months of her life were awful. She self-destructed before my eyes. I was so furious with her.” And with her sister’s billionaire boyfriend who had gotten her hooked on drugs. That anger had been misplaced. “I miss her desperately.”

“There are times when I’m so cross with Chris I want to shake him, ask him why he’s doing this…and most of all I wonder where Basil and I went wrong.” The words burst from Daphne. “We gave him everything we thought he wanted.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Daphne looked at her, her eyes sunken in their sockets, haunted by unhappiness.

“You can’t blame yourself. We always try to blame someone in these situations. It’s human nature to try find an excuse for terrible things that happen.”

She had blamed Angelo. Wrongly. Unfairly. It wasn’t his fault Mandy had died. He wasn’t the ogre she’d imagined.

Gemma shot him a glance. He was talking to Basil, as if aware of her every move, he glanced up, their eyes tangled…and held. Her heart shifted.

At that moment, Gemma realised she loved him.

She stilled in shock. Then he was in front of her. “Can I get either of you ladies a nightcap?” Gemma and Daphne shook their heads.

“The coffee is good,” Daphne said.

Angelo slid into the space beside Gemma on the sofa and his thigh pressed against hers, sending sharp slivers of desire splintering through her. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he placed a kiss on her brow. The bold claim took her by surprise, she saw the astonishment in Daphne’s eyes as Basil came to stand beside her.

Twenty minutes later the evening was over and, as they walked to the door, Daphne swung around and unexpectedly hugged Gemma.

“Thank you for sharing how you feel about your sister’s death, it helped me more than you’ll ever know. At least Chris is still alive, still has a chance to recover. And I’ve made a decision. I am going to fund a foundation to help warn young people about the dangers of drugs. Basil has spoken about doing something like that in the past. But I was simply too listless to do anything.”

Basil threw Gemma a surprised look. It was clear that the topic of Chris and his addiction was not something he was accustomed to his wife discussing. Gemma didn’t dare look at Angelo.

Then she told herself he couldn’t possibly guess her secret. She forced herself to smile calmly as they said goodbye to the Makrideses.

Angelo locked the elevator with a click. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Gemma’s throat closed in apprehension. “Yes.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “You told me you were an only child, I never realized you’d lost a sister.”

Mandy had denied her existence? Was that what her twin had secretly always wanted? To be the only child, the centre of attention? Did she feel cheated by having to share the limelight with a sister-or worse than that, did she resent the interest that came from being a twin? Something inside Gemma withered at her sister’s rejection.

Angelo was speaking again. “What was her name?”

“Mandy.” Her answer was terse.

“Is it still painful to talk about her?”

“Very.”

“I’m sorry.”

His sympathy and tenderness worsened the ache in her heart. His grip on her hand tightened and Gemma’s throat tightened. She loved him. Her deception pressed in on her. How could she ever tell him? She turned into his arms and lifted her face. His arms tightened around her and his breathing grew heavy.

She wanted to be close to him. Naked. For the last time. Then she’d tell him. And it would all be over.

Ten

In the bedroom they undressed quickly and collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. A lamp in the corner of the room, between the wide bed and the wall of drawn drapes, cast a pale glow over them.

Angelo moved a little closer. “How did I ever let you go?”

A moment of darkness disturbed the passion that had overtaken her. He thought she was her sister. And she had to set him right.

“Angelo-”

His hand trailed across her breast, across the curve, brushing the delicate tip. Gemma sighed as frissons of delight followed beneath his fingertips. She lost track of what she had to say.

Then his tongue came out, probing, tasting the dark nipple and heat splintered in her belly. Gemma fought a groan as that maddening mouth feasted on her.

He paid homage to the other breast, and when he’d finished Gemma stared at her taut quivering nipples with a sense of shock.

What was it about Angelo that stripped her of all her inhibitions? She wanted him…but there was more. There was a sense of belonging together, a deep-rooted understanding between them that she’d never experienced with anyone else.

It overwhelmed her. It scared her. Because it couldn’t possibly survive what she had to confess.

“What are you thinking?” Angelo pulled her against him.

“Nothing.” Her voice cracked on the lie. “Nothing,” she said again, trying to make it sound convincing to her own ears.

“Then I’ll have to give you something to think about.” He stretched out a hand to stroke her naked flesh. “You’re trembling.”

“Yes.”

Her breathy reply made Angelo grow harder in anticipation. His every nerve seemed to be on edge, suspended on the razor-edge of pleasure. By contrast, her body was soft, her skin silky under his hand and a wave of tremors shook her.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. He paused, determined to take it slow. Then her lips parted, her tongue tip slicked across that luscious lower lip and his control shredded.

A rush of heat seared him. He moved over her, chest to her breast, his legs sliding along the length of hers, and bent to take that tantalising mouth.

Lower down he was aware of his body pressing into her. Her thighs parted and he tilted his hips forward until no space remained between them.

This close, her eyes were velvety with desire and he was supremely conscious of his strength, the power of his arms braced on each side of her upper arms, the weight of his torso brushing her breasts and the muscles shifting in his thighs. In contrast, she was so feminine, her long legs flexing subtly against him.

Breathing harshly, Angelo lifted his mouth and shifted his weight. Supporting himself on one elbow, he rapidly readied himself with the other hand, hoping he wouldn’t erupt before he’d even entered her. The sheath of rubber rolled onto him. She shifted underneath him, tempting, impatient.

As he penetrated her, stretching her, she lay motionless. Finally sheathed deep within her, he lay against her-head bowed, eyes clenched shut-inhaling the sweet fragrance of her skin.

She moved and her inner muscles tightened on him, demanding a response. Pleasure streaked through him and his relentless control frayed. He began the slow sweeps that would take them towards a place he’d never known.

As the pace quickened so did the intensity. His hands cupped her hips, pulling her closer as he drove harder and harder into her. She echoed his ferocity.

When he thought he could take no more, when the pleasure was so great he felt that he would explode if it didn’t end, he felt her contract against him, once, twice, and it was enough to tip him over the edge, into the fire that threatened to consume him. And then he pulled her into the curve of his arm, his body warm and relaxed against hers. “Look at me.”

Gemma avoided his gaze, simply dropping her head against his chest, nuzzling his skin, breathing in his hot male scent.

She was here now. In his bed. In his life. Did it matter who he thought she was?

She stroked his stomach, let a finger trace the indent between the muscle definition. A wicked temptation called to her. Kiss him. He need never know she wasn’t Mandy.

After all, if she never told him would he ever learn the truth? Probably not. He’d had many mistresses and none lasted. Their relationship would run its course, too. This sweet madness between them would not last.

But what if it did? What then? Could she keep this secret forever?

No. She didn’t want to live with a past that Mandy had already stained with betrayal. She had to tell him. Now. While they were immersed in this special, loving glow. Acid ate the back of her throat. She swallowed. He would understand why she’d done what she had. He had to.

She pulled away a little, to give herself some breathing space, to gather her courage-and so that she could look into his face, the face she’d come to love so much.

“Hey, come back here, I want to hold you.”

Gemma propped a cushion behind her back. “Angelo-” It came out a croak. She tried again. “I need to tell you something.” She stroked his cheek with trembling fingers.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip. How…where…to start? She drew a deep breath. “I told you my sister died…”

He nodded.

“She was my twin.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ve heard that twins are very close. It must have been hard. You said her name was Mandy?”

It was Gemma’s turn to nod. “She died on Christmas Eve nearly three years ago.”

“Three years ago?” Then he snapped his mouth shut.

Gemma could see his resolve not to interrupt, to support her, let her explain. Her love for him swelled.

For the first time she started to hope that he might be able to accept what she was about to tell him.

“Mandy was…well, Mandy. She made me laugh, she loved practical jokes when we were kids. She knew no fear and would try anything.” Except Mandy had been terrified of being unpopular. She’d always wanted to be the ahead of the peer group, the first to swear, the first to smoke.

Gemma moved away from him and crossed her legs. “When we were kids we both loved to create shows. I’d sing and she’d dance.” She recognized that she was rambling, trying to delay that moment of terrible truth.

“A talented duo. What did Mandy grow up into?”

Gemma hauled in a deep breath, met his gaze squarely. “She became a dancer, an exotic dancer.”

Angelo stilled. “So both of you worked as exotic dancers? Did you ever work together? Identical twins…that would’ve been a card to play.” He paused. “Or were you very different from each other?”

“We were nothing alike-even though we looked very similar.”

“How similar?”

“Practically identical.” The confession was dragged from Gemma. “At school our teachers struggled to tell us apart.” Mandy had traded classes with Gemma to avoid those she hated. “And I’m not an exotic dancer, I’ve only ever sung.”

There. She held her breath.

“What do you mean you-” He broke off. A horrible, tense silence followed. He shook his head, his eyes dazed like a fighter reeling from a blow. “What are you saying?”

“You knew Mandy, Angelo,” Gemma confirmed. “Three years ago-”

“I knew Gemma.” His voice was hard, definite. “Who the hell are you?”

“I am Gemma.”

“Gemma worked for me, I have a copy of her work permit, her passport, to prove it.”

Gemma uncrossed her legs and slung them over the edge of the bed, her back to Angelo. “Mandy didn’t have a work permit. She was convicted for shoplifting with a group of friends a teenager. So her application for a work permit was declined.”

“Look at me.” She heard him move, then he was standing, looming over her. “I want to see your face. We would not give anyone a job without their paperwork being in order.”

Gemma took a deep breath. “She had a work permit. She applied for it in my name, without my knowledge. She took my passport and my credit card when she left.” And Gemma had never told a soul. When her father surmised that Mandy had been lucky to get a work permit, Gemma had remained silent. She’d been stranded in New Zealand, her career options curtailed-with no chance of working in Australian or Pacific island resorts, furious with her twin, waiting for Mandy to return. She bowed her head, covering her face.

“Didn’t you tell the authorities?”

“You have to understand, all our lives we covered for each other. It was a hard habit to break. But I never thought that Mandy would come to any harm, not on a Greek island.” Although she had experienced some qualms when Mandy had e-mailed to tell her about the fabulous man she’d hooked up with. Handsome. A billionaire. She’d been even more worried when Mandy had sent her press cuttings and photos of Angelo, whom Gemma had dismissed as a dashing sophisticated playboy. She’d begged Mandy to come home. But Mandy had been in heaven living out her fantasy lifestyle.

Gemma let her hands drop and glanced up at him. “I was more worried that you’d break her heart. You had a reputation as a playboy who went through beautiful woman like a hot knife through butter.”

“A lot of that is PR. For show, to attract the jet set.” His face darkened. “I’m very generous to my girlfriends. All the women I’ve been involved with know the score.”

Except for her. She’d fallen in love with him. And, at the start, she’d believed Mandy had been in love with him, too. It had never crossed her mind that there’d been someone else in her sister’s life.

“So why did you come here?” He flung his arms out wide. “Why the whole elaborate charade of pretending to be your sister?”

“I wanted to get close to you.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You certainly managed that. Did you plan to sleep with me?” There was a cynicism in the lines around his mouth and his bright eyes were dull.

She blinked.

“You did plan this!” He looked at her like she was something nasty.

Gemma swallowed. “In the beginning, I had some stupid half-baked idea that I might seduce you. But I abandoned it.” She had to make him believe her. “I thought that you were responsible for Mandy’s death.”

“What about the amnesia? You told me about a hit-and-run in London. Was that true? Or another lie?”

Gemma looked away and shook her head. “There was no accident. I don’t know where Mandy went after leaving here, but by the time she returned to New Zealand she was a pitiful, broken creature. She suffered from moodswings and had muttered wildly about the glamorous man she’d loved…and lost to another woman. I thought that was you.”

“Nice to know that you hold me in such high regard,” he bit out sardonically. He stalked away, pressed a switch and the wall of curtains started to open. He looked out into the darkness. “When your sister stayed with me, I caught her once using cocaine at a party and I made it clear that I wouldn’t tolerate it,” he said in a flat monotone. “That if it ever happened again, our relationship was over. She said it was a mistake…that she’d never done it before and wouldn’t do it again. I believed her.

“I suspected she had a drinking…problem. I’d tried to convince her that she needed help after she’d had a little too much to drink at a party, stripped her clothes off and started to can-can. She argued that she was fine, it was just a bit of fun…that I was too staid. I broke it off that night, but she was so apologetic, said she wanted another chance. I gave it to her.” He turned around, his eyes angry. Unforgiving. “And you thought I was responsible for her addictions? Did she tell you that? Mention my name?”

“No.” Gemma felt awful. “I assumed. But I knew she’d had a relationship with you-she was so proud of it.”

“So you never read about our affair in the scandal-sheets?” he said sardonically.

Gemma shook her head. “Mandy was in a bad way. We didn’t have much time with her once she returned home. She took an overdose and then she was dead.”

“Was it deliberate?” His voice softened.

For a wild moment Gemma thought he was about to reach for her, but then his eyes iced over.

Her throat thickened. “I thought so. I thought that you’d driven her away after getting her hooked on drugs, that she coped by turning to the drugs for solace. I thought she didn’t want to live without you.”

He paced along the length of the window, a dark shape against the night. “No wonder you hated me. No wonder you wanted revenge. But do you have any conception of the kind of danger that you put yourself in? What if I’d been the kind of man you thought?”

“I had to do it. She was my twin sister. My other half.” And then she realized that was wrong. He was her other half. The bond, the empathy, that had been growing between them was stronger than anything she’d ever shared with her sister. She rose to her feet, took a step towards him. “Angelo-”

“Even though she lied to you, stole from you, defrauded you?” He was angry, she saw. “Mandy used the credit card that you told me you’d mysteriously maxed out and couldn’t remember how, didn’t she?”

“Yes. But from what you told me, the dates correlate with after she left Kalos, while she must’ve been with Jean-Paul. And he supplied drugs to her…he admitted that much to me.”

Angelo’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not having a dealer on my island. I will take care of him. It makes sense. If Mandy no longer had the allowance I gave her at her disposal, then she must have pawned the jewellery I bought her for a fraction of its value.” He glared at her. “Why didn’t you stop the card when you discovered it missing?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t leave her stranded overseas with no money if she needed it. I simply never expected her to run up that kind of debt. She knew I’d have to repay it. It must have been for drugs.”

“Well, I won’t leave you stranded.” There was a note of finality in his voice. “I will book you a ticket to take you back to New Zealand safely.”

It was over. He was dumping her. Gemma lifted her chin. “That is not necessary. I can make my own way home.”

“I can’t believe what you did.” Anger and a mist of complex emotions clouded his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He turned away, stared out into the night. “I told myself you had changed. I thought I had found a woman who was special…one of a kind. But you are even more treacherous than your sister. Your betrayal was calculated to-”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“Be silent.” He cut her off. Moving to the door, he added, “I will find somewhere to spend the night. By morning I want you gone. And don’t return. Because I never want to see you again.”

In the slanting morning light Gemma packed her bags, her heart aching, but she had a frightening suspicion that her heartbreak served her right. She’d called reception and been told that a ferry would be leaving in twenty minutes. If she hurried she could catch the boat to the mainland.

Angelo had not come back to the room since their awful confrontation. She’d waited, huddled on his bed, for him to return.

But he hadn’t.

The message was clear. She had to accept that it was over. He did not want to see her. That to him her betrayal was worse than Mandy’s had been.

Downstairs, the reception lobby was bustling. Gemma waited in an alcove for the shuttle to the ferry to arrive. The mural of a golden-haired sun god driving his fiery horses across the sky brought a bittersweet lump to her throat. She’d ventured too close to the heat and been badly burned.

But she would survive.

“Gemma?”

She turned at the sound of her name and her heart sank when she saw Jean-Paul. He examined her, his eyes searching for she knew not what, while a frown creased his brow.

“What?”

“You are Gemma?” It was the question that only yesterday she would’ve dreaded.

“Yes, I am Gemma.”

“But you are not the woman I-” he paused “-once knew intimately.”

Jean-Paul had worked it out. Probably as a result of her slip the other day. She released the breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. “No.”

“You’re a dead ringer for her. She has to be your twin.”

Rage surged through the pain. “Dead is what she is. And it’s all your fault.”

An ugly expression came over his face. “You breathe one word to Apollonides and I’ll tell him the truth. That you’ve been deceiving him, laughing behind his back. You said that you’ve forgotten the past. That’s how you’ve explained away not knowing things you should.”

Behind him Gemma glimpsed the doorman who had offered to call her when the shuttle came, coming towards them. It was time. She rose. “Do your worst, Jean-Paul. Angelo already knows.”

And she walked away leaving Jean-Paul staring after her, his jaw slack.

From the hilltop above the resort Angelo watched the ferry pull away, white water churning in its wake. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his windbreaker.

Gemma was gone.

His mouth twisted. He’d told her to leave, and she’d obeyed. So why did he feel no better?

The wind caught at the windbreaker and ruffled at his hair. He didn’t notice. He narrowed his eyes against the sun and followed the course of the ferry until, a long time later, it disappeared from sight.

Then he started down the hill. A police helicopter approached from the mainland, making for the heliport.

Good. The police had organised a search warrant after his tip-off. Angelo couldn’t wait for them to search the man’s room and arrest Moreau. He suspected it would be a long, long time before the man frequented any resorts.

Just as it would be a long time before he forgot about Gemma.

Eleven

It was humid in Auckland in December. Gemma returned to her parents’ home after a morning’s Christmas shopping with her mother and made for the bathroom clutching the box she’d bought at the pharmacy. In less than five minutes she had the answer she’d dreaded.

“Mum,” she staggered out the bathroom. “This is going to be a shock.”

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Are you sure?”

Gemma nodded and held up the indicator stick.

“Oh.” Her mother looked like she wanted to say something. Finally she asked, “Do you know who the father is?”

“Of course I do.”

“But you’re not telling?”

Gemma gave a laugh. To her own ears it sounded hysterical. “I will when I’m ready.” She wrapped her arms around her mother. “You shouldn’t be so understanding.”

Her mother hugged her back. “How can I not be? Do you know how far along you are?”

“Not far at all. I missed a period, that’s what clued me in. I’ve always been so regular.”

“Go see your doctor. You may not be pregnant at all. Perhaps your body is just playing tricks on you after the long flight.”

“I’ve been back almost two weeks-it’s unlikely to be the flight.”

Beth Allen shook her head. “But the pill makes the chance of it happening so remote.”

“Except I haven’t been on the pill for a while. There was no one in my life, so there seemed little point. He used protection. Something must have gone wrong. I’ll go see the doctor, but I doubt it will change things.” Deep in her heart Gemma was already sure. “Mum, I should tell you. The father is-” She broke off.

“Yes, darling?”

Gemma swallowed. “It’s Angelo Apollonides.”

Her mother’s hand came up to cover her mouth, but no sound escaped. But her eyes were wide and dismayed as she stared at Gemma. Then she stepped forward and hugged Gemma. “You can tell how it came to pass when you’re ready.”

They stood like that for a long while, holding one another, and Gemma drew support from her mother’s warmth. At last she said, “Thanks, Mum, for your support.”

“Your father and I will always be there for you and the baby.”

“I know. But I need to you to understand one thing, Mum. Angelo wasn’t responsible for what happened to Mandy. It was another guy, Jean-Paul Moreau. I think Mandy loved him, and he rewarded her by making her into an addict. I hope he burns in hell.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I have to tell you that is a relief to hear it wasn’t your Angelo.”

Later Gemma went home to the apartment she’d rented out while she went to Greece. It seemed strange to be living in the middle of the city after the time she’d spent on Strathmos.

Gemma made a pot of weak herbal tea and poured herself a mug. She intended to cut down on caffeine for the next nine months, that meant less tea and coffee.

Taking the mug she made her way to the dining-room table. She lay her hand on her flat stomach and thought about the baby. About the future. And about Angelo.

The phone interrupted her thoughts. It was her agent, thrilled with an offer for Gemma to perform at a brand-new Australian resort.

“It’s the chance of a lifetime,” Macy was gabbling. “The money is great and it’s for six months. You get star billing. You’d be mad to let this pass.”

Gemma considered it. The sum would wipe out the debt on her credit card; help her start the baby’s life on much more stable footing. She could sublet the apartment while she was gone, that would give her a nest egg. But she couldn’t take the job for the full six months. She’d be showing by then and she’d want to slow down.

“Macy, see if they’ll do a deal for three months. I’ll take that. I’ll be ready to start in the new year. But get me the best money that you can.”

She set the phone down, feeling a lot better now that she had a plan to get the burden of the debt Mandy had run up under control.

Now she’d have to call Angelo and let him know about the baby. He deserved that much.

Macy called back two days later, ecstatic with the deal she’d managed to secure Gemma. The contract was for four months and would start in the new year, and she’d managed to better the money, as well.

As for telling Angelo about her pregnancy, in the end Gemma’s parents convinced her that it would be better to tell Angelo face to face. Her father was quite forceful about it, and was ready to come along, too, until Gemma talked him out of it. But she was pleased to see that he was looking a lot happier. Her pregnancy had given him a new interest in life.

Gemma had argued at first that flying to Strathmos was an expense she couldn’t afford, particularly with the costs that the baby would incur, but in the end they’d convinced her.

So a week later Gemma found herself across the world again on Strathmos. She called ahead to make sure Angelo was in residence. The first person Gemma saw when she reached the resort was Lucie.

“Gemma-” the slight blonde threw her arms around her “-you’re back.”

“Not to stay, I’m looking for Angelo.”

Lucie stepped back, her eyes curious. “He’s around somewhere. But it’s the Christmas show tomorrow night, you must come watch. Even though Stella Argyris is the star of the show-and she never lets anyone forget it. She’s even more of a pain in the butt than I remembered.” Lucie rolled her eyes.

“I will.” If she was here that long. If Angelo didn’t kick her off the island the moment she delivered her news. And that reminded her, she’d need to book accommodation in the village later so that she’d have somewhere to stay for the night. Although, if the worse came to the worse, she had no doubt that Lucie would let her use the sofa in her unit.

“Any idea where I can find Angelo?”

Lucie shook her head. “He was talking to Mark earlier outside Dionysus’s-but that was a while ago. Have him paged,” she suggested.

“Thanks.” Gemma had no intention of forewarning Angelo about her presence.

She wandered around, Angelo wasn’t on the overcast beach where the westerly wind blew the sand up in gusts. Nor was he in the entertainment complex, although Mark greeted her eagerly. She didn’t catch a glimpse of him in the lobby so she made her way to the casino. The gaming rooms were already occupied by some of the more hardened gamblers and she smiled at the bouncers as she made her way into the Apollo Club, but there was no sign of Angelo there, either.

She’d just about given up, deciding he must be in his penthouse and that she’d have to have herself announced, when she saw him seated in one of the many coffee bars, with a woman who was making every effort to keep his attention, flicking her long dark hair from her face, thrusting her chest forward to show off a superb stretch of cleavage.

Gemma turned away, her heart constricting. What had she expected? He’d told her he intended to forget her, and what better way than with a beautiful woman?

Angelo was gorgeous, wealthy…of course women would throw themselves at him. She’d never expected him to hanker after her. Yet seeing him with someone else hurt. Horribly. She made blindly for the exit. Outside the air was cool, the wintery edge of the wind cutting through her cardigan.

Gemma headed for the entertainment centre. As she rounded a bend, she saw Mark approaching from the opposite direction. She had no desire to talk to anyone so she slipped through a door into the massive Apollodrome super bowl where the Christmas extravaganza would be held.

She slipped into a seat and fought to blink back the tears that threatened. People came in and out, a couple of guys shifted props across the stage, but in the huge space she remained unnoticed.

It was a while before she gained sufficient control over her emotions to feel up to venturing out. The people had started to buzz in and out and she didn’t particularly want to bump into anyone she knew. So she stayed where she was and realised the final dress rehearsal must be about to start. Squinting, she recognised several of the dancers in their workout gear, a couple of the backing singers. Just as she was about to stand to leave, all the lights came up and she saw Angelo walk up the centre aisle.

But he was not alone.

The beautiful brunette clung on to his arm, talking vivaciously, her fingers tapping against his arm, demanding his attention. Angelo bent his head.

Gemma shrank back and felt a searing stab of jealousy.

When Mark came across the stage, the brunette rose onto her tiptoes, kissed Angelo’s cheek and made for the stage stairs. It was then that Gemma realised that this must be Stella Argyris.

Clearly, Angelo already had a new mistress.

She rose clumsily to her feet, intent on getting out of here. She saw Angelo turn as if drawn by some sixth sense and freeze.

Then she was plunging out of the row of red seats, her heart tearing with pain, desperate to get to the exit, to get away from the sight of them…of him.

Why had she come back to Strathmos?

She should have called him, told him about the baby over the phone. She should never have let her parents talk her into doing the right thing.

But her reluctance to lie to herself made her face the truth.

It wasn’t because of the baby that she was here. She’d come because she’d hoped that there was a chance to salvage something between them. That Angelo would take one look at her and know that he wanted her forever.

No chance of that. She’d deluded herself. Angelo had already found a new bed partner. Moved on. He wasn’t the kind of guy to fall in love with someone like her. So what had she been thinking?

A hand closed around her arm. “I heard you were here, asking for me. What do you want?”

Affronted and upset, she yanked out of Angelo’s grasp. “I made a mistake. I should never have come back.” And then she tried to move past him.

He blocked her path, his body broad and intimidating. “So why are you here?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

His fabulous eyes glinted. “I will decide if it matters. Something brought you a long way back. What?” There was an intensity in his tone that she didn’t understand.

She shrugged, ducked around him and started to walk quickly, her head down, intent on getting away from him.

He kept up with her. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” She rushed down a flight of stairs, her sights fixed on the exit to the Apollodrome. A vision of Stella Argyris kissing him filled her mind. “There’s nothing to say.”

She reached the exit and broke into a run, desperate to get out of the entertainment complex, to get away from him, before she started to cry.

She could hear his footsteps behind her. She ran faster, dimly aware that people-performers and tourists-were staring at her as she bolted past.

They’d reached the exit doors. Gemma plunged through them, into the salty windy air. She veered away, heading for the pathway to the village.

He caught her arm. “Slow down.”

“Let me go.”

He ignored her. Pulling her around to face him, he said, “You wanted to see me, now you’ve nothing to say?”

“Exactly.”

“We need to talk.”

She stuck her jaw out. “We don’t.”

“Okay, I’ll talk, you can listen. But I suggest we do this in the privacy of my suite-unless of course you like the idea of public scrutiny.”

Gemma looked around. A group of gardeners was staring at them, talking. One laughed and Gemma flushed.

“No, not a good look for the boss to be arguing with his former mistress in public.”

Her chest constricted.

“I don’t care what people say about me, but I thought it might worry you.”

She glanced up. His eyes were hard, his jaw set. Her breath caught. He was so utterly gorgeous. And she loved him desperately…was carrying his baby. She gave in. “Okay, we’ll talk.”

Except for the addition of a Christmas tree decorated with gold and red balls, his suite was unchanged from the night weeks ago when she’d carried out a vigil waiting for him to return to her. Gemma wasn’t sure why she’d expected it to look different. Probably because, for her, everything had changed that night.

And now she carried Angelo’s baby.

“Have a seat.”

She took her cardigan off, dropped it on the floor beside the sofa and sat. Then gulped when he moved to stand in front of her. “So, tell me why did you come back? What was so important to come all the way across the world?” His eyes were guarded, but she got a sense that his body was wound tight.

She bit her lip. How was he going to react? Would he be angry? See it as an obstruction to his relationship with Stella?

“I’m waiting.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Whatever he’d expected, clearly, that wasn’t it. His head went back, his eyes flaring with shock…and something else.

“Run that by me again?” he said very, very softly.

“I’m pregnant.” Tremors of tension shimmered through Gemma as she waited for his reaction.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re pregnant. Did you do it deliberately?”

Twelve

“What?” Gemma didn’t try to hide her shock.

Angelo’s handsome features could have been carved out of marble. “Is this your idea of revenge? Your way of punishing me for your belief that I’d caused your sister’s death? Did you plan all along to fall into my bed, to get pregnant?”

“No.”

His tension uncoiled infinitesimally. “So why did you let me make love to you, knowing I thought you were Mandy?”

Oh, dear God, this was the one question she could not answer. Not without giving herself away. Irretrievably.

So she said with a touch of mockery, “Because you turn me on. More than any man I’ve ever met.”

His voice held an edge. “Oh, that’s the only reason?”

She shrugged. “Well, yes. What more could there be?”

“What more could there be?” he repeated savagely. Then he landed on the arm of the sofa and slid in behind her. “What more could there be?” A feather light kiss landed on her cheek. “This…” He pulled her across his lap, angled his head and his tongue stroked across her bottom lip, igniting a well of longing within her. “Someone who turned you on. That’s all I was?” There was affront beneath the annoyance.

“Well, that’s pretty much why you slept with me, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe I thought I’d found my dream woman.” His voice was ironic. Before Gemma could respond, his hand slid under her T-shirt, found the bud of her breast. “I was wrong. But we still have this, don’t we?”

Gemma shoved his hand away. She felt a tearing ache of loss. He didn’t love her. He could never love her. “I just wanted to tell you that the baby existed. You have a right to know. I won’t even put your name on the birth certificate.”

“Why not?”

“You want to be listed as the father?” She’d never expected that.

“Of course. No child of mine will grow up with the slur of father unknown.”

She took a deep breath. “What will you tell people? What about Stella?”

“Stella?” He frowned, bewilderment clouding his features. “Why are you asking about Stella?”

“I saw you. I saw you kissing her.”

The frown deepened and his eyes grew cool. “You saw Stella kissing me.”

She folded her arms across her breasts. “And I saw you having an intimate little conversation in the coffee shop,” she plunged on.

He shrugged. “Stella wanted something.”

Stella wanted something. That was for sure. Stella wanted Angelo Apollonides. “Are you trying to tell me that there is nothing between you and her?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

“That you haven’t slept with her since I left?”

“I shouldn’t need to answer that. Especially since your only reason for sleeping with me was because I was a warm body.” The savagery was back, and his lip curled into a snarl.

Doubts swirled through Gemma. What did Angelo want of her? Did he mean that he hadn’t had another woman since she left? And given his reputation, could she believe that?

He was moving away. “And you won’t need to worry about other women-because we’re getting married.”

Gemma froze. “Why should I marry you?”

His eyes grew wary. “I would never knowingly allow a child of mine to be raised with the slur of illegitimacy.”

She didn’t want Angelo marrying her only for the sake of the baby. “But lots of couples have children without the blessing of marriage.”

“Not me.” Angelo was unequivocal. “I grew up in a time when the world was more harshly critical. I lived with the sharp edge of the slurs. Even if the world has changed, I don’t want that for my child.”

Any romantic hopes Gemma may have harboured about his proposal died. He didn’t love her, this was all about making sure his child had parents who were married.

Gemma was still trying to fathom how to react to Angelo’s bombshell when they made their way to the Apollodrome for the Christmas Eve show the following evening.

Angelo had insisted Gemma stay in the penthouse, in the spare bedroom. And, with nothing suitable in her luggage, she’d been grateful to Angelo when a box emblazoned with the fancy logo of one of the exclusive boutiques in the lobby arrived at the door.

Opening the box, she glimpsed a fabric that glowed like crystal between layers of tissue paper. The dress was soft and clingy and fitted as though it had been made for her. The fabric changed colour from snowy white through to sparkling silver. A pair of silver heels and a tiny silver bag completed the outfit.

Now, as she glided backstage beside Angelo, Gemma felt anything but pregnant and ungainly.

Until she looked into a pair of enraged jet-black eyes and read the malevolence there.

“Angelo,” Stella croaked, “my throat is in agony.”

Mark rushed up and paled with dismay. “My God, Stella, you should’ve told us earlier. The show is sold out, ready to go.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” Stella lowered her eyelashes. “I thought it would pass.”

Gemma gave the woman a hard stare. She looked stunning, her black sheath made the most of her curves and her makeup hid any pallor that might reveal that she was unwell. But with a throat infection, she would not be able to sing.

“Angelo, maybe if I sit down a little while, it might ease.” Stella’s hands fluttered at Angelo’s sleeve, but he was already turning away.

“Mark, where’s the program?”

It materialized with a flourish. Angelo pulled out a pen. “We’ll cancel the solo that Stella was going to do, replace it with an item by Lucie LaVie-I’m sure she’ll have a hilarious Santa story to share.”

“But-” Stella’s eyes widened with horror.

“And Aletha-” Mark named one of the other singers “-has been working as understudy. She can sing ‘Oh, Christmas Tree’ and ‘Kalanda, Kalanda’-” he named the Greek version of “Jingle Bells” “-but that still leaves a hole where Stella was going to sing an encore all by herself, we’ll just have to scrap that.”

“But I can-” Stella interrupted frantically.

“Gemma,” Angelo touched her arm. “Would you very much mind singing ‘O Holy Night’ as the encore? Please? I know you’re not booked for this, that you were expecting to enjoy the performance as a guest. But would you do it? For me?”

She’d do just about anything for him. Singing her favourite carol was a cinch.

“Of course.” She didn’t dare look in Stella’s direction.

“Brilliant idea,” Mark said. “Gemma stood in for Stella in several of the early rehearsals.”

“Gemma doesn’t need to-”

“Stella, don’t worry yourself about it. You’re ill. I know that you would not have jeopardized such a show unless you were very sick.”

Gemma whipped around to stare at Angelo in astonishment. He knew. He knew that Stella had been after the limelight and he’d dealt with her ruthlessly. She shivered, suddenly feeling sorry for the other woman.

“Now, go.” It was an order. “You need to be in bed, taking care of that throat so that you’re well enough to perform for your next obligation.” Even Stella caught the not-very-subtle warning and she slunk away without a word.

“Gemma, you’ll need stage makeup.” Mark was shepherding her to the dressing room. “Sorry to spoil your evening, you’re a sport to help out when you must have been looking forward to watching the show from the front row.”

“But what’s everyone going to say when they find out they’re not seeing Stella? She’s a well-known singer. She’ll have fans that came to see her.”

Mark shrugged. “Too late to worry about that. At least they get to see a spectacular show, better than a cancellation.”

In the wings Gemma waited. She’d also be singing a duet with Denny. She watched as a fire-eater gave a spectacular performance juggling torches and a whole lot of stunts that had the crowd gasping, then she and Denny were on.

The next ten minutes passed in a rush, she could barely remember what had happened. On the way off the stage, she passed a group of Christmas elves going on, a Russian troupe of acrobats that had the audience “oohing” and “aahing.”

The carols sounded wonderful. Gemma started to relax. The finale came, everyone was on stage and the chorus voices were rising. Gemma felt the performers’ excitement mirrored back by the audience.

Her hand brushed her stomach. Hear that, baby? Next year you’ll see the show, too. So hard to believe.

The choir sashayed off, the dancers did a last sequence and with a wave they were gone. The curtains fell and applause followed.

Then Gemma was on the stage all alone. The audience lay like a vast sea of darkness ahead of her as a single spotlight lit her.

She searched the front row. And found Angelo through the bright beam of the spotlight.

She launched into “O Holy Night.” She sang it for him…as he’d requested. No one else existed.

Only Angelo.

Afterwards she felt drained, but curiously exhilarated as clapping swept the showroom. She waved her hands in thanks, smiled and bowed. When she looked for Angelo again, he was gone and her heart sank.

An expectant hush fell over the crowd. Gemma started to walk to the wings, still facing the audience, waving, smiling until her cheeks hurt. The crowd started to buzz.

She turned to see what had caught their attention.

Angelo was on stage, coming towards her, his arms filled with a huge bouquet of red roses.

Joy twisted through her.

And then she remembered. This tribute was meant for Stella. Not her.

Stella’s red roses.

Meaningless. Nothing to do with love. Nothing more than a goodwill gesture of appreciation.

Angelo reached her. He held a microphone in one hand. “That was a marvellous performance.” The audience erupted into a burst of clapping. “Yesterday, I asked Gemma Allen to be my wife. Now, I’d like you all to celebrate her answer with me.”

He held the microphone towards her.

The silence was absolute. The audience waited. Angelo, waited, his body taut.

Gemma gave him a despairing glance. What was she to say? How could she marry a man who took mistresses rather than a wife? A man who didn’t-would never-love her?

Then a woman in the front row jumped up. “Say yes, Gemma.”

Startled Gemma squinted into the lights. The woman was unfamiliar, blonde. She smiled, gave her a little wave.

“Ignore my mother,” Angelo murmured.

“Your mother?”

Her voice boomed out over the microphone. Gemma blushed as the audience tittered. Out of the darkness came an indecipherable bit of advice.

Gemma ignored it.

She knew what she was going to do.

She was going to marry Angelo. For the sake of her baby. And for her sake…because she loved him.

“Yes.” Her voice was strong and clear and the crowd whooped.

Then the roses fell from her grasp as Angelo swept her up into his arms, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss that held hunger and a touch of desperation.

Gemma wasn’t acting as she grasped his shoulders and gave the best-and most public-performance of her life.

There was a Christmas party after the show. Lucie came rushing over with a tray of glasses filled with champagne as soon as she and Angelo arrived. Gemma laughed. “You’re making me feel quite the celebrity.”

“You are! You are! How could you keep-” Lucie flashed a sideways glance at Angelo “-such a secret from me?”

Angelo grinned. “I only asked her to marry me yesterday. I wasn’t going to give her a chance to say no.”

“Really? You railroaded her in front of all those people. Oh, naughty man.”

Even Gemma laughed at Lucie’s antics. And Angelo held her close to his side, his grip possessive, his hand heavy on her hip. For a while Gemma started to think that this could work, that even though he didn’t love her, her love…and the baby…would be enough to meld them together.

Angelo went to fetch her a drink and Mark materialized at her side. “Your worry that the crowd would be disappointed by Stella’s absence was all for nothing. Angelo’s proposal gave them a once-in-a-lifetime show.”

Gemma smiled at him. “At least the fans weren’t disappointed.” But it set her thinking. Had Angelo thought of it as a publicity stunt? She didn’t think so. Her experience of him revealed an intensely private man, who as much as he liked a gorgeous woman by his side, treated that woman like a goddess. He was far kinder, far more complex than she’d expected.

The Angelo she’d read about in the gossip columns was not the kind of man who would’ve married his pregnant mistress, and she struggled a little with the vast dichotomy between the playboy public profile and the complex man she’d come to love.

It wasn’t long before he returned. But he wasn’t alone. “My mother, Connie.”

Gemma’s eyes widened as she took in the slim, tanned woman. Connie looked liked she’d just stepped out of a beauty salon. Immaculate. Tanned. Not a hair out of place. And she certainly didn’t look old enough to be Angelo’s mother.

“Hello.” Gemma smiled uncertainly.

“I am thrilled to meet you. Angelo told me all about you.”

Gemma shot Angelo a questioning look. How much had he told his mother? Not everything, she hoped.

“I met your sister, once, briefly. The resemblance is remarkable.”

So Angelo must have told his mother about her deception. “We were very close-even though we had little in common.”

“Except my son.”

“Mamma.” Angelo’s tone was furious. Gemma was too embarrassed to even look at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Connie’s hand covered her mouth, her nails perfectly manicured. “I can’t ever seem to keep my thoughts to myself.”

Angelo’s eyes were clouded as he said, “But you can try. At least until Gemma gets to know you a little better.”

“I’m sorry, Gemma. Forgive me?” Connie’s long manicured nails rested against her arm. “Come, let’s sit down somewhere, the three of us. You can tell me about the names you are thinking of for the baby.”

So Angelo had told his mother about the pregnancy, as well. His mother seemed to have taken it well. No drama about a grandchild ageing her. Gemma let out a sigh of relief. On the plus side it looked like her future mother-in-law was totally without guile.

“Angelo, a glass of champagne for me please, and-” she turned “-what would you like, Gemma?”

“Water would be fine.”

“Make it Perrier, my son.” When Angelo wound his way into the throng she said, “Tell me about New Zealand. I have never been there. Are the men good-looking?”

Gemma laughed. They chatted for a while, Angelo brought their drinks and joined them for a while before he was dragged away by a staff member to welcome a big spender who had flown in to try out the Apollo Club and heard about the Christmas party.

“I’m thrilled Angelo is getting married. He always said he never would.”

“It’s the baby-I don’t think he would’ve married me otherwise.” What was the point of hiding why Angelo had proposed?

“So you are aware that Angelo is illegitimate?”

“Yes.” Gemma reached out to touch Connie’s hand. “But you don’t have to-”

“I do. You need to understand the man you’re marrying.” Connie sighed. “His father was a handsome man, an entertainer, a singer of love songs. I fell in love with him. He was charming…a show man. I was eighteen. An heiress. Too sheltered. I became his mistress. Within the first month I was pregnant. The relationship did not last. I came home to Athens, to my disappointed parents.

“My father arranged a marriage for me to Mario Apollonides. To give the baby a name. My father built the house on Strathmos for me and my son and my new husband. The truth was hushed up. But, of course, there were rumours and lots of speculation. Too many people knew about my passion for Angelo’s real father. Needless to say, the marriage lasted less than five years. So you see, my dear, why my son would never marry a woman just to give a baby a name.”

Gemma stared at Connie. What was Connie telling her? Was there another reason why Angelo had proposed? He’d insisted that no child of his would grow up a bastard. Was Connie mistaken? Why would Angelo lie?

“Nor did my staying secluded on the island work,” Connie continued. “Before long, I’d met another man-a business associate of my father, a millionaire. I became his mistress.”

“And what of Angelo?”

“He stayed on the island…with his governess. When he was old enough I sent him to an English boarding school to get him out of the fishbowl that Greek society is. My father wanted Angelo to live with him, in Athens. But he already had another boy in his care, Zac. I was afraid that Angelo would grow up in his shadow.”

Gemma remembered Angelo speaking of school, of the isolation. “He was a long way from home.”

“Yes. It was hard for him, of course, coming from such a prominent family. I was linked through his school years with quite a few high-profile men.”

Angelo would’ve hated that. But it explained his attraction to glamourous, sophisticated women who wouldn’t demand more than he was prepared to give. Emotionally or by way of permanent commitment.

And his love-them-leave-them image was born.

“And being illegitimate made it worse. Once, when he was about six he asked me why I hadn’t married his real father. I told him I’d made a mistake, met the wrong man. But that I needed to get married, because society demanded it. He told me that he wouldn’t make a mistake like that, he would never marry the wrong person.”

Gemma stared at his mother.

So why had Angelo told her he wanted to marry her for the sake of the baby? Angelo was so self-contained, how was she going to find out?

Gemma was no closer to an answer when Christmas Day finally dawned.

By the time she’d dressed, the rain had set in, echoing her pensive mood, bringing back memories of Mandy’s tragic death. She made her way through to the kitchen and stopped in astonishment at the sight of Angelo preparing breakfast.

“Merry Christmas.” He grinned at her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. He looked so happy and relaxed that her own mood started to lift. “My mother called, she will join us for lunch-that gives us some time alone. The coffee is already on the go and the table has been laid.”

They ate a breakfast of thick Greek yogurt and honey and fruit topped off with fried eggs and bacon. Afterwards they took their coffee mugs through to the lounge and settled beside the Christmas lights. Christmas…Gemma closed her eyes and thought briefly of Mandy.

Be happy for me, sister.

When she opened them, the lights on the tree winked at her, as if to say Mandy had heard her plea. Thank you.

When she looked up Angelo stood in front of her holding a gaily wrapped parcel. Gemma was relieved that she’d had the foresight to purchase a book on Greek legends for Angelo for Christmas.

She unwrapped his gift and took out the beautiful silk sarong. “It’s beautiful,” she mouthed.

He tore the wrappings off his gift and a smile lit his face. “I haven’t read this. I’ll look forward to it.”

Then he took a little parcel out his pocket and tossed it to her.

“What’s this?”

He shrugged. But his bright eyes were darker than usual and he looked almost hesitant. “Open it.”

The removal of the gold paper revealed a black velvet box. Her heart stopped.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly.

Speechless Gemma stared at the elegant ring, a row of baguette diamonds vertically positioned in a channel setting.

“If you don’t like it, we can change it.”

His voice sounded far away.

Time seemed to hang suspended. Gemma couldn’t stop staring at the ring. What if he never grew to love her? How would she survive being married for the sake of his child? Finally she looked up. “I don’t think I can do it.”

He stiffened and his gaze grew guarded. “What? Marry me?”

“You’re only marrying me because of the baby.”

“I want to be part of my child’s life.”

Gemma stared at him. “You’re a high-powered businessman, you flit from resort to resort. You don’t really want a family to drag you down.” She tried to sound reasonable.

Angelo walked to the window. For a long moment he stood staring out. Then he swung around to face her. “I’ve been thinking about what Basil said. I’m going to delegate a lot of what I do. Family is important. I want to be part of my son’s life. I want us to be married, to bring him up together.”

“It won’t work.” She bit her lip. He sounded so convincing.

His gaze sharpened. “What are you frightened of?”

That you’ll never love me. God, he was intuitive. “I’m not frightened. I just don’t think-”

“-you can do it.” He came towards her and took her hands in his. “You’ve said that already. But I think you’re scared. What are you afraid of?”

Gemma swallowed. “Nothing.”

“Then why is your pulse erratic.” His fingertips stroked the delicate blue-veined skin inside her wrists. “Why is your breathing so shallow?”

“You know why.” She watched him from under her eyelashes. “It’s this overwhelming attraction between us.”

He shook his head. “If that was all it was you wouldn’t be trying to back out, you’d be bright-eyed and eager. No, this is something else.” He scanned her face.

She could see that razor-sharp mind thinking. Would he guess the truth?

That she loved him?

“Are you worried that I still have you confused with your sister?”

“No.” Strangely that didn’t worry her at all.

Some of the tension went out of Angelo. “Good. I’m glad we’ve got that out the way because the two of you are really not alike at all. I knew you had changed. It simply never crossed my mind there were two of you. I thought you were one of a kind. Now, what are you afraid of?”

Gemma swallowed again. “I don’t want to be married to someone who-” She broke off.

“Who what?”

Who didn’t love her.

That was the simple truth of it. She’d been contemplating marrying one of the most desirable men on the planet. A man who didn’t love her. For the sake of her child.

She must be mad.

“Who what?” he prompted again.

“A man who a zillion other woman are going to find as a hot as I do,” she replied after a pause made it clear that he would remain silent until she answered.

“Ah-” he stroked her hand “-now it gets interesting. You’d only need to be concerned if those gazillion women interested me,” he said quietly.

She thought about what he’d said. Her stomach rolled over. Could he possibly mean…“So why wouldn’t you be interested in any of those zillions of woman?”

“Why did you really agree to marry me?”

There was a burning intensity in his question. Their eyes duelled, held. Indecisively, Gemma gazed into his turquoise depths.

“I’m scared,” she confessed.

“Of what?”

“That if I tell you, you’ll-” She broke off and shook her head. She couldn’t bear it if he laughed…or worse, looked at her with pity in his eyes.

“Would it help if I told you why I asked you to marry me?”

“Because of the baby?”

He drew a deep shuddering breath. “Not because of the baby. For me.” His grip tightened on her hands. He leaned closer. “After you left, it wasn’t the same. My life was empty. I need you to complete me. I love you.”

Her breath caught.

His eyes were bright, unguarded. The love shone from them. “The baby was an excuse, a way of getting what I really wanted. You.”

Gemma’s breath left her in an audible whoosh. Warmth filled her, her body softened, leaning into him. He felt warm and solid against her. Permanent. “I love you, too.”

“At last!” He yanked her into his arms. The kiss that landed on her mouth held a touch of desperation.

And she realised that Angelo had been nervous. He hadn’t been sure of her at all. “I was getting cold feet at the idea of being married to someone who didn’t love me.”

“And I have to admit I wasn’t thrilled at marrying someone who wanted me only for my body. Wench.” He sat up and grabbed her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

Gemma giggled. “It could’ve been worse. I could’ve told you that I was marrying you for your money. To settle my credit-card debt.”

“I knew that wasn’t a factor.”

“How?”

“The offer of the contract to sing in Australia would have taken care of your debt.” He slanted her a look. “That’s a resort I’ve recently acquired. I wasn’t intending to let you get too far away. Once I got over the shock of your revelation that you weren’t Mandy…and the even bigger shock that I wanted you back. I had to make a plan to get you back.”

“I should’ve known!” Gemma laughed with joy. “I almost turned it down. Because I’d discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to work in New Zealand so I could be close to my parents. But the chance to get rid of that debt was too good.”

A kiss landed on the top of her head. “Now we’ll spend our honeymoon there and I’ll spend the four months I have you under contract overseeing the developments I have planned for those resorts.”

She cuddled closer. “And speaking of work. I still want to sing. But something Daphne said struck a chord with me. She’s talked about starting a foundation to educate young people about the dangers of drugs. I’d like to get involved with that.”

“Do anything you want. I will support your decision.”

No longer his way. But their way. Gemma smiled to herself. “I’d like to feel that someone like Mandy could be saved. Or someone like Daphne’s son, Chris.”

He hugged tightly to him. “You have my support, on one condition: we get married before the new year.”

She lifted her face to his, hooked her arm around the back of his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. “Deal!”

Angelo had one final surprise for Gemma. He flew her parents out to Strathmos for the wedding and watched her stunned delight as they walked into the penthouse to surprise her.

He put himself out to charm her parents. Two nights before the wedding the four of them had dinner in the Golden Fleece and afterwards they strolled down to the Apollo Club.

Later they shared a nightcap in the penthouse. By the time her parents were ready to call it a night, it was ten o’clock. After kissing her mother good-night and giving her father a hug and seeing them to the door, Gemma turned to Angelo with a gleam in her eyes that made his throat tighten and said, “I fancy a long, hot soak.”

They wallowed in the huge spa tub in his bathroom. Angelo lounged across from her, his damp hair had darkened to bronze but his eyes were as startling, as vivid, as ever.

“Tired?” Angelo’s tone was gentle.

She opened her eyes. His gaze held a tenderness she’d never seen before. “More like lazy. I feel like I never want to get out the water.”

He smiled. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll want to.”

Her heartbeat bumped up. Her skin prickled, every inch of her instantly awake and energized.

“Angelo-”

Under the water his hand slid over her belly. “Our baby.”

She smiled at him. “Our baby.”

His gaze very intent, he said, “I love you, Gemma. Only ever you.”

“I know,” she murmured. “And for me there will only ever be you.”

His eyes started to smoulder. “I believe you. I know you will never betray me.

“Come.” He pulled her over him and water washed around them both at the sudden movement.

Gemma became intensely aware of the supple strength of his chest against her back, the hard length of his erection against her buttocks, ready and waiting.

Her head fell back into the crook of his shoulder where it joined his jaw, uncaring that her hair would be soaked.

When his other hand came up to play with her nipple, locking her in the circle of his arms, Gemma made a frantic, keening noise in the back of her throat and bucked her hips.

Angelo laughed softly in her ear. “More?”

The sound she made was barely coherent. One of his hands left her breast, snaked downward and slipped between her thighs.

There was something so intimate about being spread over Angelo’s body, unable to see him, but aware of every arch and muscle of his flesh. She felt surrounded by him. He was under her, his arms around her, and all the while the wild flames licked between her legs.

She started to pant. She closed her eyes, focusing on the desire that burned through her.

When Angelo moved, her eyes snapped open. The next instant he hoisted her up onto the lip of the bath, parted her knees and knelt in front of her. She cried out as he entered her.

Heat ripped through her, wild and ferocious.

He moved again, Gemma’s hands closed around his head, her fingers digging into the dark gold hair, and then she felt herself give.

“Angelo!’ It was a cry of desperation, of satiation.

Angelo stood at the door of the church he’d been baptised in, waiting for his bride.

Connie, along with her latest husband and Gemma’s parents, sat in the front row. From where he stood he could see Penelope dabbing the tears of happiness from her eyes. Tariq sat beside Connie, looking very grave, his white robes flowing behind him.

At the altar stood Zac and Pandora who’d agreed to be koumbaro and koumbara and crown him and Gemma in the wedding ceremony.

At last Angelo heard the drone of a motor and moved towards the entrance. A white limousine emblazoned with the resort’s crest came down the winding road and slowed as it reached the church. He narrowed his eyes against the light, trying to catch a glimpse of Gemma.

The village priest materialized beside him. “It looks like your bride has arrived, my son.”

Angelo started to move.

The priest’s hand caught his arm. “Wait, let her alight.”

The driver came around and opened the door.

One taut, elegant leg appeared. Then the other. Finally his bride emerged in a dress so white it dazzled him. He stepped forward, and barely noticed the priest’s hand falling away, all his attention focused on the woman ahead.

She smiled at him and offered him her hand. He took it in both of his and raised it to his lips.

“I love you. I honestly do.”

She rewarded him with that radiant smile that he knew would brighten the rest of his life.

Seduced for the Inheritance by Jennifer Lewis

One

“What are you doing here?” A commanding voice and a pair of black eyes pierced the evening gloom from inside the tiny cottage.

It was him.

She’d known she’d see Reynaldo De Leon sooner or later-it was his estate, after all-but she’d wanted to be psyched up and dressed for success, not sweaty, disheveled and emotional from a day of sorting through her beloved mother’s belongings.

Anna Marcus’s fingers tightened around her bag of greasy take-out food.

He stared down at her from his impressive height. A crease appeared between black brows. “Have you come to clean?”

He looked huge in the cramped kitchen, the single dim bulb illuminating his arrogant features, his wide, sensual mouth tilted with disdain. “If you’re getting paid by the hour I’ll reimburse you for tonight, but you must tell your employer to get in touch with me before any property is removed.”

He thinks I’m a cleaner? Did he not recognize her?

Suddenly it was all too much to bear. Her gentle mother dead at only forty-eight, with no warning at all, just a late-night phone call about an accident on a Florida interstate-

“Well?” He crossed his arms over his expensive shirt.

Tears welled in her eyes. Don’t cry now. In the last year she’d survived bankruptcy, divorce and now the loss of the one person in the world she could always count on. She’d made it this far…

The bag in her hand crinkled as she clutched it tighter, biting hard on the inside of her mouth.

“No habla inglés?” He raised a black brow.

“I speak English,” she blurted.

“That bag is leaking.”

“What?” She followed his gaze to the brown paper bag in her hand. “Oh, it’s my dinner.”

His hard expression softened. “Go ahead and eat it.” He gestured to the Formica-topped table. “No sense letting food go to waste.”

Maybe she could play along until he left? Let him think she really was some minimum-wage cleaner. What did it matter? Neither he nor his high-and-mighty father had bothered to come to her mom’s funeral, despite the fact that Letty Marcus lived on the estate and cooked all their meals for more than fifteen years. Working stiffs like her and her mom were nobody to these people.

Yes, she had a college degree, and had briefly owned a successful real estate company, but right now she was flat broke, with no place to call home, so his assessment of her wasn’t all that wide of the mark.

As she grabbed a plate off the counter and sat at the table, she could feel his eyes on her. Eyes that had haunted her teenage dreams and driven her into frenzies of pathetic hope that one day he’d…

Love her?

What a joke. She lifted her big Quarter Pounder with cheese out of the bag and plopped it on the plate.

She sat in the chair and picked up the burger, then realized her stomach had shriveled to the size of a peanut. His imperious gaze made her skin prickle. “Are you going to stand there watching me?”

“Of course. I can’t leave a stranger unattended on family property. Surely you understand.”

A stranger? She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry or scream.

Just one more insignificant person on a large estate. No one special. He probably hadn’t spared a thought for her since the last time they faced each other on the tennis court.

She’d thought about him, though. Far more than she cared to admit.

Dropping the burger on her plate, she rose onto unsteady legs. “I have to go.”

Naldo reached into his back pocket and took a twenty-dollar bill from his money clip. “Here. You can come back tomorrow.”

After I’ve found what I’m looking for.

“I don’t want your money.” She kept her head turned away from him. “And I’m not hungry. You can eat it.”

Naldo fought a smile at the thought of eating the cleaner’s greasy take-out dinner. There was a fresh-boiled lobster waiting for him back at the house.

Not that he had any appetite today.

He looked around for a piece of paper to write his number. If he could put off the cleaner for one more day he’d be fine. He’d find what he was looking for tonight. The cottage was tiny.

The girl hadn’t bothered to respond, so he simply scribbled the number on a heart-shaped notepad next to the phone and held it out to her. A bead of sweat balanced like a tiny pearl above her pursed pink mouth.

As she took the pink paper, her soft fingertips brushed his palm, sparking a strange sensation. Her eyes met his, wide and blue, and recognition swept through him like a clap of thunder.

“Anna.”

Her chin jerked up.

He stared at her for a moment, not quite able to trust his eyes. How could this skinny, nervous woman be the feisty tomboy he’d once known? “It’s been a long time.”

“Apparently so.” Her pale lips pressed together.

“You look so different.” The words flew out before he had time to consider their prudence.

“Time will do that to a person. To some people anyway. You look exactly the same.”

“You’re so thin.”

“It’s the fashion.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Your hair, it used to be red.”

“It still is, until I lighten it.”

“You dye your hair?” It seemed inconceivable that the tough and boyish Anna he remembered would do something so unabashedly feminine.

“Don’t look so shocked. Most women do.”

“You never were like most women.”

“Who says I am now?” Her eyes flashed.

The old fire was still there, just in a very different vessel. And it sparked more than curiosity.

“I hear you’re a big success.” Her mother’s pride had kept him well-versed in Anna’s accomplishments: magna cum laude graduation from a good college, a job with a top developer, a venture in commercial real estate.

A husband.

“It’s all relative. Success, that is. I hear the estate has branched out into retail.” Her voice was cool, controlled. The voice of a businesswoman. Intriguingly at odds with her disheveled appearance.

“Yes, citrus-based marinades, salad dressings, dipping sauces. They’re selling well.”

She held his gaze. “I’m sure the De Leon citrus empire will thrive for another four hundred years.”

Thank God she’d managed to change the subject. Terror streaked along her nerves when he touched on her “success.” Whatever brief success she’d enjoyed lay in dust. Not unlike the dust that clung to her ratty cut-off shorts and faded T-shirt. Why did he have to see her looking her absolute worst? So tired, faded, drawn and scrawny, he didn’t even know her. Her heart squeezed with shame.

“We’re all devastated by your mother’s death.” The compassion in his eyes and the sincerity in his velvet voice almost made her forget that he didn’t even show for her funeral.

She still couldn’t believe her mom was really gone. That she’d never again sink into those soft, loving arms and relax in the warmth of love that was truly unconditional.

“Me, too.” Her voice emerged as a whisper.

“My father died this morning.” Naldo’s deep voice rang with disbelief.

“What?” Robert De Leon was a force of nature, as tall, proud, sturdy and indestructible as the orange trees that grew in such profusion on the vast empire he ruled.

“A massive heart attack. He hung on for three days, but the doctors said there wasn’t anything they could do for him.”

“Oh, Naldo.” Her hand flew to her mouth as fresh emotion burned through her.

His proud bearing belied the pain churning in his fierce black eyes. A sudden, violent urge to hug him almost knocked her off her feet.

Don’t even think about it.

She’d always wanted Naldo De Leon. Craved his touch, his admiration-his love. She knew by now that she’d never have them. She wouldn’t take this painful moment and turn it into an even more devastating one.

“The estate is yours now.” She said it calmly, collecting herself.

“Yes.”

“The four-hundred-year history of the De Leon plantation is an impressive legacy to continue. I know you’ll make your father proud.”

Naldo didn’t reply. With the arrogance of the conquistadors he was descended from, he simply stared at her.

She groped for something else to say. To slice through the thundercloud of emotion thickening in the air. Don’t cry.

She needed to get out of here. It had taken her two days to pluck up the courage to come at all, but apparently she still couldn’t hack it.

“I guess you’re ready to give the cottage to another employee, so I’ll come back tomorrow to finish packing. I’m staying in town. I have to go.” She realized she still clutched the heart-shaped piece of pink paper with his home phone number.

She’d never called him on the phone. Their relationship had been more a catch-as-catch-can affair. Hey, wanna play some ball? No planned assignations or formal invitations. They’d been “buddies” but never really friends in the true sense.

She left the number on the counter, picked up her burger and threw it in the black plastic trash bag she hadn’t yet managed to bring herself to throw any of her mom’s things into, then sucked in a breath and stepped toward the door. “It is okay if I come back tomorrow?”

Naldo’s unmoving presence marked the fact that her mother’s little cottage was his property. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

She waited for a moment longer, hoping for-what? A conversational foray? An invitation to join him for dinner?

Get over yourself, girl.

His impassive silence suggested he was waiting for her to leave, so she hurried out the door and climbed once more into the ancient battered van that had miraculously survived the drive down from Boston.

Hot tears blurred her view through the scarred windshield as she steered the van along the winding access road toward the estate’s grand entrance. How many more times would she make this journey? One? Maybe two? Now her mom was gone she had no home and no one was waiting for her. But she was tough and she’d get it together and live a life that would make her mom proud.

Two days later, Anna shivered in the air-conditioned chill of the De Leon’s grand living room as an inlaid walnut grandfather clock struck four. Strangers milled about, speaking in hushed tones, waiting for the reading to start. She’d received a phone call at the motel from a lawyer, asking her to attend the reading of Robert De Leon’s will. The De Leons followed the old-school custom of providing small legacies for the staff, including her mother.

She had not been invited to the small, private funeral held that morning at the estate.

There was a sharp divide between the household staff, gathered for the occasion in their ordinary clothes, and the elegantly dressed family members also in attendance. Naldo stood among the latter, breathtaking in a fine black suit, his thick, wavy, almost-black hair combed back to reveal his dramatic features. If he’d noticed her, he showed no sign of it. Anna stood alone, off to one side, staring out the French windows at thousands of acres of the finest citrus groves in the world.

Today she was carefully dressed in a good suit and high heels. With earrings, makeup and an upswept hairdo she hoped she looked like the woman her mom had lovingly boasted about to the other staff.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats.” A suited young man ushered them toward four rows of Queen Anne chairs she recognized as being filched from the dining room. She knew the house pretty well, at least the public rooms, though she’d spent most of her time hanging out in the kitchen while her mom prepped and cooked the family meals.

The lawyer’s authoritative voice descended into a soft drone as he read the long list of bequests. All money, of course. The estate was legendary for never breaking off even the tiniest chunk of land, which was how it had remained intact for centuries. The eldest son-Naldo-got the land and the vast bulk of whatever monstrous holdings in gold and currency and other investments there were. His sister got some kind of stipend. Since she was at least ten years older than him and lived in Europe, Anna had never met her and couldn’t even pick her out in the small knot of relatives.

She shifted in her chair, her uncomfortable slingbacks pinching her toes. Two thousand dollars and ten thousand dollars seemed to be the going rate for staff bequests. She suspected her mom would get the latter, due to her long service. Boy would that money be welcome! Her kindhearted mother had left her savings to a shelter for unwed mothers. She had no way of knowing that Anna was almost literally down to her last dime, which was in fact owed to the fleabag motel she was staying in.

“To Leticia Marcus, valued employee and treasured friend-” Anna sat up “-I leave her place of residence and the ground on which it stands, as demarcated on the attached map, and the book of recipes we developed together.”

He’d moved on to the next bequest by the time it sank in.

No money at all?

Her heart plummeted.

A scraping sound drew her attention and everyone turned as Naldo rose to his feet. “What?” His deep voice trembled with barely controlled rage.

“Mr. De Leon, may I speak with you outside for a moment?” An older, grizzled member of the team of lawyers rose and indicated the door. Naldo strode to the door, fury pouring from him in a hot wave that rolled over the crowd and left excited whispering in its wake.

People turned and glanced surreptitiously at Anna. The daughter, she heard someone mutter. She swallowed and tried to hold her head high as a flush crept up her neck.

Why would Robert De Leon leave her mother a different legacy than he’d bequeathed to all the other staff members?

“You cannot be serious.” Naldo paced in the hall, anger simmering just below boiling point. “My father would never have approved this.”

“It was his expressed wish. I tried to talk him out of it myself. I tried to explain that the integrity of the estate-”

“The integrity of the estate? This bequest makes a mockery of the estate. The De Leon plantation has had no changes in its borders other than opportunistic expansion since my ancestors arrived here from Hispaniola in 1583. And now you mean to tell me that my father instructed you to carve a one-acre hole right in the middle of it? Why not give her one of my kidneys as well? It defies belief.” He underscored his disbelief with a loud smack of his hand on the doorframe. The bespectacled functionary in front of him flinched.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid it was your father’s expressed intention. I’m sure you understand the exigencies of client confidentiality, but perhaps you are aware of the circumstances-”

“I’m aware of the circumstances.”

My father’s affair with Letty Marcus. A ten-year-long fly in the ointment of his existence and an ongoing affront to the memory of his mother.

He raked a hand through his hair. “Can nothing be done? Surely our ancestors never intended for something like this to happen.”

“I imagine they are rotating in the family crypt as we speak, sir.” The lawyer’s smirk only stirred his irritation. “I would suggest that you talk to the daughter. I suspect that if you offer her the right amount of money-”

“She’ll sell.”

As the lawyers packed up their papers and the gathered audience rose to their feet, Naldo took in the chiseled elegance of Anna’s profile, set off by the high chignon that held her pale gold hair. Skillfully applied makeup enhanced the symmetrical beauty of her fine features, and darkened that deliciously prim mouth. The tough little girl with the wild red hair and freckled nose had morphed into a stunning woman.

A woman he wouldn’t mind spending some time with.

“Would you join me for dinner?”

Shock flickered through her beautiful eyes. “What?”

“The cook has some fine red snapper she’s promised to grill to the exact point where it cooks in its juices but retains its tender plumpness.” He couldn’t ignore the tender plumpness of her pretty lower lip as she bit it.

“You have a new cook already?”

“Yes. She’s not in your mother’s league, of course-” Perhaps mentioning the cook was a mistake. “But one must make do.”

“I can quite imagine.” Was that a flare of annoyance he read in her expression?

He picked up her hand. Pale and soft, the nails short and bare but carefully contoured. With her long, slender fingers encased in his, again he experienced the shimmer of sensation that had preceded recognition at the cottage.

He lifted her hand to his mouth, and pressed his lips against the smooth skin. The absence of the expensive scent he’d expected to encounter only stirred his arousal. “Dine with me, Anna. With my father gone, I-” He held her gaze.

He needed her to say yes, and not just because the prospect of dinner without his father made his soul ache. He had a problem to solve, and suddenly he envisioned a few very delicious ways to solve it.

Two

“Okay.” Anna regretted the word as soon as it left her lips, but she couldn’t help it. She saw the fresh pain that glittered in Naldo’s dark eyes. She knew how much he loved his father.

“Excellent.” Was that a look of triumph that flashed across his face? Fear crept up her spine.

He gestured to a young man in black pants and a white shirt. “Mojitos on the veranda please, Tom.”

With his hand still on hers-which was growing uncomfortably hot-he leaned into her and murmured, “I’ll get rid of these last stragglers and join you outside.”

Out on the veranda, with a drink she hadn’t asked for sweating in her hand, Anna paced back and forth over the smooth painted wood.

Now she’d have to keep up her successful businesswoman charade for the length of a fancy meal. She couldn’t let Naldo know what had happened. He’d no doubt pity her and laugh at her foolish pretensions to a lifestyle he took for granted.

She sipped her drink and the sharp lime and fresh mint stung her tongue-painful and delicious, their heady taste echoed the sharp mix of emotions still roiling inside her.

She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this place. She marveled at the endless rows of lush trees burgeoning under the clear bright blue sky, as the scent of ripe oranges thickened the air. The estate was known as Paradiso, and the name fit. A little piece of heaven.

Or a big piece of it, depending on your perspective.

And now a very, very tiny piece of it was hers.

“Anna!” She jumped as Naldo strode through the French doors. “I thought I’d never be rid of them.”

He’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the neck of his white shirt, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of bronzed skin at his throat. He picked up his tall mojito glass from the table. For one second she was agonizingly aware of the long, powerful fingers that had held hers with such tender yet irresistible force. He lifted the glass, threw his head back and drank.

“God, what a day.” He slammed the half-empty glass down on the table. He shrugged his expensive jacket off and threw it casually over a wicker chair. “Let me look at you.”

She stood fixed to the spot as he-without any shame-let his eyes rove over her from head to toe, appearing to drink her in like a tall, cool mojito.

The warm approval in his gaze sparked a rush of sensation that stung her fingertips and nipples. She covered her confusion in a sip of her drink.

“Don’t be shy. I’m just in shock, that’s all. I can’t believe that you’re the tough cookie with the cropped hair who used to challenge me to arm-wrestling matches.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

A rush of memories flooded her veins with that strange mix of pain and pleasure. “You used to let me win.”

“I never let you win. You used to kick my ass regularly, until I grew bigger.”

Until your mother died, and you didn’t come home anymore.

She’d looked forward to his boarding school vacations with every cell in her body. He’d come home bursting with energy, thrilled to be back and up for anything. But after his mother’s death he always had somewhere else to go-skiing in Aspen, polo in Argentina, a tour of Italy. She hadn’t really seen him again after that. She was gone by the time he graduated from college and moved back here.

She shook off the thought of how suddenly he’d disappeared from her life. “I did always beat you at tennis, didn’t I?” She remembered with a surge of pleasure how he could never take a set away from her.

“You were a menace on the courts. Do you still play?” His dark eyes sparkled.

“No.” She sipped her drink quickly, to cover a rush of sadness. “I haven’t had much time for that kind of thing since I left here.”

“You know what they say about all work and no play. I can’t get over how thin you are. What happened to all those tough muscles you were so proud of?”

They went the same way as the rest of my strength. Into a bad marriage and a worse business partnership.

She shrugged and forced a smile. “Life, you know.”

“Your mother told me you got divorced. I’m sorry.” The flash of pity in his eyes stuck her like a knife.

There had been no way to hide the failure of her marriage from the one person she trusted most in the world. At least her mom had never learned of the accompanying financial ruin.

“One of those things.” She took another sip of her bittersweet drink. The liquor warmed her blood and softened the tension creeping through her. “Did you ever marry?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.”

Strange relief crept through her. “No? You’ll have to one day. The future of the De Leon dynasty depends on it.”

“True. A weighty burden.”

“Will you continue the tradition of importing a famously beautiful duke’s daughter from Spain?” She still remembered how stunning his mother was, even in her fifties. Intimidating as hell, but undeniably gorgeous.

He sipped his refilled drink and she read something odd in his gaze. The hint of a challenge? “Perhaps I will. There’s a lot to be said for tradition.”

“Your father never remarried. Was he lonely?”

“I was with him.” His brusque reply startled her.

“You were away at boarding school, then at college, for most of five years after your mom died.”

His nostrils flared briefly. “I smell the snapper. Let’s go inside.”

He swept through the door, leaving a trail of unease in his wake.

What had she said?

An intimate table for two was set in the bright, cheery breakfast room. She’d always liked this spot better than the imposing main dining room, and right now it looked cozy and inviting. White wine glittered in crystal glasses and candlelight danced over shimmering silver cutlery and hand-painted porcelain. A young man served the steaming fish.

“Are these plates Chinese?”

“Yes, eighteenth century. My ancestor Francisco Alvaro De Leon brought them back from his travels in the Orient.”

Even the plates around here had a pedigree dating back two hundred years. Not her. She’d never even met her own father.

She stuck her fork into the fish. Succulent juices flowed from the perfectly cooked flesh.

“You’re in real estate?” He asked the question with warm curiosity. His pique of a few moments ago had vanished.

She took a deep breath. “My husband and I started a company buying and leasing commercial properties.”

“Intriguing. That’s a tough business. Your mother told me you did well for yourself.”

“Yes.” For a while. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her mom what had really happened. “When we divorced we dissolved the company, though. I haven’t decided what to do next.”

The delicate flavor of the fish, lightly crusted with tangy spices, exploded over her tongue. “Your new cook is good.” She felt like a traitor as she swallowed the delicious food and forked another bite.

Naldo paused in the act of raising his wineglass to his mouth and held her gaze as the candle flame danced in his penetrating eyes. “Your mother will be missed by all of us.”

Anna swallowed. “I’ve been gone so long. So busy, and all the way up in Boston. I haven’t been back as often as I’d-”

“She understood. Believe me, your success made her happier than you can know. She was so proud of you, always showing your letters to everyone and talking about your latest accomplishments.”

Guilt speared into her. Still, she was glad her mom died believing her successful and solvent.

Naldo’s smile revealed white teeth, perfectly even except for one slightly crooked incisor. A tiny imperfection that added distinctive charm. Why did he have to be so painfully handsome?

“You must be anxious to get back to Boston. I don’t imagine a big, dusty farm holds much appeal now that you don’t have any relations here.” He punctuated his statement with a mouthful of fish.

“I hardly think of the De Leon estate as a big dusty farm.”

“All right. A big sandy farm.” Dark humor twinkled in his eyes. “Where nothing ever changes. Just blossoms blooming and oranges ripening. I guess that’s not too exciting for a successful Boston businesswoman.”

“I guess not.” Unease roamed through her as she broke off a flake of fish with the tines of her fork.

The sensation of Naldo’s hard gaze made her look up. He stared at her, eyes slightly narrowed, candlelight shimmering over the harsh planes of his handsome face.

Something tightened in her gut. What was he up to?

“Two hundred thousand dollars.” His authoritative voice spoke the words like a command.

“What?”

“My price for the cottage.”

“It can’t be worth that much,” she blurted before she came to her senses. Two hundred thousand dollars? Somewhere inside her a sun started to rise. This was it, exactly what she needed to start over.

“I’ll help you finish packing first thing tomorrow, and you can be on your way back to Boston by lunchtime.”

She frowned as panic sneaked over her. By lunchtime she’d be gone-forever?

“I can have a cashier’s check ready for you first thing tomorrow.”

“I…I…”

“In fact, let me call my banker now. Why wait? I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to your life and friends.” Naldo balled up his linen napkin and rose to his feet.

“But wait-”

“I’ll call my lawyer and have him draw up the paperwork.”

He was already halfway across the room, cell phone pulled from his pocket, their elegant dinner forgotten in his haste to…

Get rid of her.

Irritation shimmered through her. It was so easy for him. He wanted the cottage back. She was a problem, and what did a rich man do with his problems? Throw money at them and make them go away.

Even without an in-depth knowledge of local real estate, she was experienced enough to know that a tiny, unrenovated workman’s cottage, landlocked in a big estate, on one grass-covered acre was worth…what? One hundred thousand? If that. And that would be the price of the land. The 1920s cottage, with its pokey rooms and vintage fixtures would be a tear-down to all but the most hardened history buffs.

Why was he willing to pay so much to get rid of her? And why so fast?

Alarm bells jangled her nerves.

“Why did your father leave my mother that cottage?” Her voice sounded calmer than she felt.

Naldo paused in the act of dialing. “She worked here for fifteen years. She was a loyal and dedicated employee. Giving bequests to valued staff is a family tradition.”

“But every other longtime member of staff got a cash gift.”

Naldo held her gaze for a moment, then looked away and cleared his throat.

“My father knew the estate was very dear to her, and he wanted to make sure she always had a home here.”

“I’m sure most of the staff feel the same way. The estate is famous as a place where people live out their whole lives, even when they’re too old to work. That’s one of the many traditions that make it such a special-”

A bizarre thought accompanied a rush of ice to her veins.

“Did your father suspect that you might try to get rid of her after his death?”

Naldo’s chin lifted just a fraction. Had she imagined it? “Why would I do that? She was the finest cook in central Florida. And, as I said, she was a valued friend.” His brows lowered and his eyes narrowed as he crossed his hands over his chest. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

Anna blinked. Her heart pumped painfully in her chest. What on earth was going on?

Her mom’s brief will, prepared on store-bought software, left Anna everything except her savings. And a handwritten note on the printout had made it clear how much it meant to her mother that she really had something precious to leave. The will itself had not spelled out exactly what that was, beyond her personal belongings. Presumably because she hadn’t actually inherited until after Robert De Leon’s death.

Did her mom mean her to keep the cottage and treasure it as she had?

Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Of course she had to take it. She’d be a fool not to.

“If the cottage is mine, I could sleep there tonight, couldn’t I?”

One of Naldo’s eyebrows lifted. “Why on earth would you want to do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sentimental reasons, I guess. I lived there for seven years. It holds a lot of fond memories.” Her mind raced, trying to figure out why he wanted to buy her out, and so quickly. Why did it matter so much to him?

And maybe spending one night in her old home would make it easier to say goodbye. She’d left for college without a whiff of nostalgia for the old place, with its noisy window-mounted air conditioners and mice scurrying in the attic. She couldn’t wait to get away.

She’d only been back a handful of times, and had tried to convince her mom to move up to Boston, but she wouldn’t even consider it.

But now, the thought of packing up what could fit in the van and leaving forever…

She swallowed hard. “I’ll give you my answer in the morning.” She set her fork down on the plate. Her appetite had vanished along with their easy camaraderie.

Disbelief and anger fought plainly on Naldo’s handsome face. The very rich didn’t have to hide their feelings.

“Let me drive you back to your motel.” A dark growl.

“No need.” She smiled sweetly. “Everything I brought with me is in my van. It’s parked outside. And I have the key to the cottage. Same one I took away to college with me.”

“You can’t sleep there, it’s a mess.” He shoved a hand through his thick dark hair, disordering it.

His obvious exasperation gave her a thrill of power. You can’t push everyone around, bud.

“I don’t mind. Some clean sheets on the bed and I’ll be quite comfortable. It’ll help me get a handle on packing, too.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Damn. He still hadn’t found what he was looking for. It wasn’t in any of the obvious places, and he’d been tied up with funeral arrangements and estate business. What if she found it first? He wanted her to accept his offer and leave immediately. Certainly before she started sniffing around what the legacy of the cookbook might mean.

Naldo held the door of Anna’s horrible old white van open for her. “Did you rent this thing?”

“I bought it. I figured it would be perfect for transporting Mom’s things back to Boston.” She tossed her gold hair back from her forehead, a shimmer of perspiration sparking highlights on her silky skin.

“See you tomorrow.” She looked ready to slam the door on him, but he kept his wrist braced, holding it open.

“I’ll come along with you, to see if you need anything.”

Suspicion flashed in her eyes, which appeared slate blue in the dusk. She had good reason to be suspicious, but no matter. He was guardian of the De Leon heritage, and if protecting the legacy he’d been entrusted with meant ticking someone off, then he had no problem with it. Even if that someone was a very lovely young woman.

He slammed the door and strode around to the passenger seat. He tugged on the handle and it wouldn’t open.

Anna leaned across the cab and rolled down the window manually. “That door’s sticky. You have to yank on it or it won’t budge. There’s no need to come. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Her voice had a cool finality about it that irked him. The desire to be rid of him shone plainly in her face and only deepened his determination to go with her.

He tugged on the door. It swung open with a rusty screech and he climbed in and eased himself reluctantly down onto the torn and grimy upholstery.

“How will you get back to the house if you ride with me?” A tiny frown marred her smooth forehead.

“I love walking at night.” He shot her a bold grin.

“You would.” Was that a smile fighting her primly held lips?

The dash was scratched and covered in greasy finger marks and the sudden flare of headlights illuminated the chipped windshield. “You drove this rattletrap all the way from Boston?” He couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice.

“It runs like a charm.” She turned the key in the ignition, keeping her elegant profile to him. The harsh grinding and spluttering that followed contradicted her assertion.

She tossed her hair and lifted her pretty, pointed chin before turning it again. The engine coughed a few times then shuddered to life with a pained growl. “See?” She flashed a triumphant glance at him.

She reversed out of the parking space by leaning out the window to see by the dim glow of the taillights, and pulled onto the access road to the cottage and the western part of the estate. The van rattled like a high-speed roller coaster on the graveled surface. Naldo gritted his teeth as the engine whined and groaned.

“I don’t like that noise. You should get it checked out. I know a great mechanic in town who’ll come out here to look at it. Manny Alvarez. I’ll give you his number or I’ll call him myself if you like.” The engine now sounded like it was about to catch fire. “Seriously, be sure to get it checked out before you head back to Boston.”

“Sure. Great. Thanks.” Her voice rang with insincerity.

Stubborn. He tried not to smile. Anna always had a little hot pepper in her blood. That’s what made her such a fun competitor when they were kids.

She was all grown up now. He took another look at the chiseled features illuminated in the reflected headlights. How did that sports-mad tomboy turn into an elegant woman with the strength and beauty of a fine cut diamond?

“Why are you staring at me?” She turned to him, fire flashing in her eyes.

“Sheer admiration.” He let a smile sneak across his lips.

“Well, cut it out. You’re making me jumpy.”

No ring on her finger, he noted with satisfaction. She was over and done with that guy. Though why he should care, he had no idea.

She pulled up in front of the unlit cottage. The van whimpered gratefully as she turned off the engine. Why would she drive such a banged-up piece of junk now that she had money? He shook his head.

Stubborn.

“I’ll go open up for you.” He held out his hand for the keys.

“It’s okay, I can do it.” She levered open her door and jumped down.

“I see you still have to do everything for yourself.”

“Oh, go ahead.” She tossed the keys and he caught them. “I see you can still catch.” She winked, which caused an unexpected but pleasant sensation in his groin. “I’ve got to get something out of the back. You go in and turn on the lights.”

“Sure.” The darkness hid his evil grin. He opened the door, picked his way carefully across the dark kitchen to the fuse box.

And tripped the circuit breaker.

“Turn the lights on,” she called.

“I’m trying. The power’s out.”

He was glad the darkness concealed the gleam of satisfaction that must be shining in his eyes. He didn’t want her to have a chance to poke around-until he had.

“Ugh! How annoying.”

“The power’s been shaky lately; we’ve had some storms.” No lie there. He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’ll probably be back on by morning. I’ll call the electric company when I get back to the house.”

“How come the power was on at the house?”

“Backup generator. It rolls over right away; you don’t even know it’s gone out.” He ran his tongue over the back of his teeth. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“It’s all right for some. I guess the poor peasants who work for you just have to stumble around in the dark.”

“Yeah.” He grinned in the darkness. Her attitude tickled him.

“I wonder if Mom still keeps the candles in the…Yup! Here they are. And the matches are still right here next to this ‘antique’ gas stove your high and mightiness never saw fit to replace.” The flare of a match lit up her features, one eyebrow raised in a challenge.

“You look lovely by candlelight.”

“You, too.” She flashed a fake smile. “Well, I’d love to entertain you, but I guess the twelve-course meal I was planning will have to wait. You can start walking.”

He could think of plenty of things he’d rather be doing. Like, say, feeling his way to the tiny, hot bedroom in the dark and working up a musky sweat between the sheets with this delicious new Anna and her snippy, fiery attitude. If it wasn’t for his duty to the family and the estate, he’d be tempted to strike a match in the fire simmering below her pretty surface.

But unfortunately, in the choice between pleasure and duty, duty would have to win out.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? Need a hand changing the sheets?”

She cocked her head, put her hands on her slim hips and stuck her chest out. Damn, little Anna had a chest. And a high, full, perky one, too.

Duty could always wait until tomorrow. He licked his lips.

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m all alone in grandma’s cottage with the big, bad wolf?”

He resisted the urge to growl. “Seriously, I could stay overnight if you don’t want to be alone here in the dark.” He fought a wicked smile.

She chuckled. “No thanks! I know my way around. I used to live here, remember? I’ll just go to bed and start cleaning up in the morning when it gets light.”

“Okay.” Relief crept through his veins. Of course it didn’t do much to dim the desire also creeping through them, but that was nothing a workout in the gym and a cool bath couldn’t fix. “See you in the morning.”

Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and she hadn’t snatched it up? Morning sunlight blasting through the uncurtained bedroom window of the cottage made Anna squint. Had she completely lost her mind?

It was that infuriating Naldo’s fault. Something about his cocky arrogance just lit a stick of dynamite under her stubborn streak. Ugh! Why had she let him get to her? She was in serious danger of cutting off her nose to spite her face.

She hadn’t tried to change the sheets in the dark, so they were the same ones her mom must have slept in for the last time just a few horribly long days ago. They still smelled like violets and love-and home.

She rested her head on the soft pillow, wishing she could hug her mom the way she could wrap her arms around the soft cotton of the faded floral pillowcase.

Why did you have to die before we got a chance to really reconnect as adults? A sick feeling of regret sneaked through her. On one hand she was glad her mom had died thinking her successful, but on the other she wished she’d just been honest.

She bit back imminent tears and sat up. Took a deep breath. She didn’t deserve the luxury of feeling sorry for herself. The A/C hadn’t come back on so the power must still be out and she’d better get that seen to so she could pack up and get out of here before Naldo changed his mind about the money.

She stumbled out of bed and eased up the window without the A/C unit blocking it.

The scent of oranges filled her senses as she leaned out into the rich, dewy morning.

Wow.

How had she forgotten that feeling? Like the whole world was ripe with expectation. With the promise of wonderful things just about to happen.

The new grove of trees Robert De Leon had planted near the cottage ten years earlier had grown from shrubby seedlings into majestic full-grown trees. Their arching branches hung with heavy fruit-a rare heirloom orange from Italy called Summer’s Shadow.

He’d planted them because her mother loved orange trees and said she’d like to live right in the middle of a grove if she could. The gruff but charming orange magnate had loved that. They’d picked the variety together, right at this time of year-spring-when the shadow of the past year’s summer hung in the sun-ripened fruit almost ready for picking.

And now they were both gone.

She sucked in a breath, determined not to let grief overwhelm her again. She went down the stairs, instinctively ducking her head to avoid the low ceiling beam, and headed straight for the circuit breaker.

Yup, it was tripped. Why on earth hadn’t she thought of that last night? It wouldn’t occur to Naldo to check the breaker because he had hot and cold running servants to do that kind of thing for him, but she should have known better.

She flipped the black switch and the air-conditioning units whirred to life. Phew. The coffeemaker would work, too, and right now she needed coffee like a vampire needed fresh blood.

As the last drips of Colombian Gold splashed down into the pot, she snatched it up and poured herself a steaming mug.

Ahh. With the first sip she could feel her synapses begin to fire. She was just about to drink another life-giving draught, when loud banging on the door made her jump.

“What? Who is it?” she spluttered, still half-awake. She really didn’t want to open the door in her pink pajama shorts and cami, but another series of pounding knocks drew her out of her chair.

“Hey, Anna.” A deep voice penetrated the wood door.

Naldo. What did he want now?

Should she open the door in her PJs? She ran her fingers through her uncombed hair. Maybe if she just kept quiet he’d think she was out?

But the van was parked right outside.

Gritting her teeth she got up and unlatched the door.

Six foot whatever of Naldo filled the doorframe, blocking out the light. He wore the distinctive uniform of his polo team, a black-and-white shirt and white jodhpurs that skimmed his long, powerful legs before diving into tall black leather boots. “Your van is blocking the road.” Impatience burned in his eyes. “You must move it immediately.”

Was “please” not in this man’s vocabulary?

She headed for the kitchen to retrieve the keys, uncomfortably aware of her flimsy pink sleepwear.

“You should park in the carport.” He followed her into the kitchen, an act of intrusion that made her hair stand on end.

“The van won’t fit. That carport is sized for a Model-T.”

“Then park on the lawn.”

“Why don’t you just drive on the lawn and go around the van, then?” She turned to him, indignation sparking her temper.

His black brows lowered over flashing dark eyes. “The horse trailers require a level surface. This is the only access road to the polo field and the entire team is waiting. Spectators will be arriving any moment.” His voice deepened to a growl.

“At this time of the morning? What is it, eight?”

“Of course. Before it gets hot. Hurry!”

Did he just issue an order? Her blood heated several degrees. His arrogance was unbelievable!

On perverse instinct she reached for her coffee cup, lifted it to her lips and took an invigorating sip.

“What are you waiting for?” He looked at her in disbelief, no doubt appalled that she hadn’t leapt into action to do his bidding.

“I’m in the middle of my morning coffee. I don’t work for you, in case you’d forgotten.” Irritation shimmered in her voice. Let him wait for a change.

Naldo crossed his arms over his chest, obviously taking her challenge as the thrown gauntlet she intended. His black eyes held her gaze just long enough for her heart to start pounding against her ribs, then he let them drift.

Over her unmadeup face, her neck. She swallowed, her coffee cup quivering in her hand.

His menacing, seductive, dark-lashed eyes slid lower. Over the flimsy pink cotton camisole that clung to her braless breasts. Her nipples rose as if on command, pushing against the soft fabric in direct defiance of her own wishes.

The tiniest hint of a smile twitched at the edge of that wide, arrogant and disgustingly sensual mouth.

Anna lifted the cup and took a deep gulp of coffee, which suddenly tasted bitter as poison.

She shifted her bare feet on the linoleum floor, an action that only drew his attention lower. Those dark, invasive pupils drifted insolently down the length of her bare legs.

Her knees weak and her breath coming in short gulps, Anna tossed her uncombed hair and lifted her chin. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” His rich, velvety voice thickened as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

He took a step forward, and before she knew what was happening he’d grabbed her keys off the table. Rage slicing through her, she slammed down her cup and swiped at them.

Instead of snatching the keys behind his back, Naldo stepped forward, slid a broad, long-fingered hand around her waist…

And crushed his lips over hers in a hot, heavy and unrelenting kiss.

The scent of him-tangy soap, clean skin and raw, unbridled masculinity-disengaged her faculties. His powerful hands held her firm while he feasted on her mouth. Her lips parted to welcome his tongue as her nipples stung with painful arousal, crushed against his thick chest.

Naldo De Leon is kissing me.

The eager tenth-grader inside her thrilled with the astonishing and unexpected pleasure of a dream come true. A dream cherished and nurtured for so long that it had taken on the weight of a legend.

Her body hummed with trills of delight right to her toes and fingertips. A shock of sizzling chemistry and magic made the proverbial fireworks dance behind her closed eyelids. Her body swayed in his arms as she melted in the searing heat of his kiss.

Then he pulled back. Eyes narrowed, gleaming.

Her heart thumped as her hand flew to her mouth. What on earth had just happened?

Naldo held up her keys.

“Thank you.” Cool and dismissive, his words echoed in her ears as he turned and strode from the room.

Three

Anna stomped along the sidewalk, chest ready to burst with anger. Naldo De Leon deserved a public flogging. No. Flogging was too good for him. A hanging would be better.

The nerve of him to march right into her kitchen and kiss her as if he was an eighteenth-century Duke and she was some comely serving wench he fancied that morning.

Arrrggghhh! She fought the urge to scream out loud in broad daylight in the middle of town. Round Lake was a sleepy, relaxed burg reminiscent of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Right now the bright noon sunlight gleaming off neat storefronts and smiling shoppers were an affront to her violent mood.

He’d snatched her keys as if they were his! Didn’t bring them back, either. Just parked her van on the grass, and left it there with the keys in the ignition.

Unbelievable.

She’d hunkered inside, boiling with rage, while the distant sound of mallets tapping a ball, horses snorting and the cheers of a gaggle of simpering groupies had continued for most of the morning. Then they’d all streamed back past the cottage in their honking great horse trailers and shiny sports cars, off to the next diversion for the rich and idle.

She’d like to take a polo mallet to Naldo and-

But no. She was bigger than that.

She took in a deep breath as she approached the plateglass window of the lawyer’s office. She reached into her bag for the thick envelope the lawyers had handed her after the will reading.

The deed and map to her property.

Her mood was considerably less punchy when she left the office half an hour later, her brain humming with talk of “easements” and “use-by-right” and “right-of-way.”

None of which she had. The lawyer had laughed at the idea of going up against the De Leons with a claim of “adverse possession.” It would require an expensive legal wrangle with minimal chance of success.

She had no choice but to sell to Naldo.

Once again, she was rattled and ticked off to find him inside the cottage when she returned.

“What are you doing in my mother’s house?”

Still in his mud-spattered polo uniform, Naldo filled the tiny kitchen. “Looking for you.”

“So you thought you’d just let yourself in and wait?” She crossed her arms over her chest, as her blood temperature rose. “You’re getting the floor dirty.”

Naldo glanced down at his tall black boots, which weren’t nearly as clean as they’d been that morning. “I’ll send someone over to tidy up.”

“The door was locked.”

“I have a key.” He flashed his palm, where a key glinted. Not unlike the gleam in his wicked black eyes.

“This is my property now. You have no right!” Her voice rose to a squeak.

She took a deep breath to calm herself. No sense getting all huffy. She needed to sell the property to Naldo, or it was as good as worthless.

Play nice.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a little emotional, I guess. It’s been a rough few days.”

“I know. I apologize for kissing you this morning. It was inappropriate.”

His face was serious, not a glimpse of teasing humor.

He was sorry for kissing her.

A deflating rush of disappointment slackened her muscles. Had she hoped he’d be overcome with passion and longing for more? That he’d fall madly in love with her?

Puh-lease.

“Apology accepted,” she said stiffly.

“I’ve had a tough few days, too. I guess I’m a little strung out.”

She nodded, wishing he would just leave while she still had some semblance of control.

His wide, dark eyes held her gaze with gripping intensity. “Would you do me the honor of having dinner with me again tonight? I’m rather ashamed of my behavior, both last night and this morning, and I’d like a chance to make it up to you.”

Again, the serious expression. No hint of mockery.

Anna swallowed. Would you do me the honor?

His words struck a raw nerve. Naldo talking to her like she was a real person, deserving of respect.

Get over yourself. He just wants to butter you up so he can buy the land back. And you need to sell it to him as much as he needs to buy it.

“Yes, I’ll come.”

He nodded, then executed a half bow, like an ancient courtier. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.”

He left her frowning and trying to ignore an infuriating rush of excitement. It’s only business. Tonight you can exchange the papers for money, and tomorrow you can leave with your dignity intact.

As the door closed behind him, the footprints on the linoleum drew her attention. They weren’t just between the door and the spot where he’d been standing in front of the kitchen sink. They went all around the kitchen, into the tiny bathroom. She traced them. Not really footprints, just hints of dirt here and there.

He’s been up the stairs, she noticed with a frisson of alarm. A clod of earth sat on the top step.

Telltale grains and blades of grass revealed that he’d been into her mom’s bedroom, and her old one, too. Of course he was far too arrogant to think about making a mess in someone else’s house. Used to people cleaning up after him.

But what on earth was he doing up there?

She chewed her knuckle for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Maybe he was trying to reassure himself that it was still his?

Or was he looking for something?

She was primped and zipped into a pale blue dress by the time Naldo’s shiny red Alfa Romeo sidled up to her decrepit van that evening.

His expression of grim determination made her stomach curl as she stood at the kitchen window watching him stride up to the front door.

“Hello.” She managed a bright smile as she opened it, ready to step outside. Naldo looked over her shoulder into the cottage.

“Been packing, I see.”

He looked frighteningly handsome in a pale linen shirt tucked into expensively hip jeans.

“Yes. I got some things boxed up this afternoon. I can’t seem to throw anything away. I had no idea my mom kept every issue of Better Homes and Gardens since 1997, with Post-it notes marking the recipes she liked. I even found an article where she got the idea for the embroidered curtains upstairs.”

She realized she was yammering out of nerves and held her tongue.

“Shall we go?” Naldo extended his hand. Not sure what else to do, she lifted hers. He took it, looked into her eyes for one blistering second, then pressed his lips to her fingers.

Heat flared through her like a struck match.

Gulp.

He dropped her hand and pushed out the door, leaving her blinking and flustered. She should be annoyed at his inappropriately bold behavior, especially after this morning’s brash and obnoxious kiss, but somehow…

He opened the passenger door for her and she lowered herself into the racing-style seat. As Naldo climbed into his seat and started the engine, she struggled into the seat belt that reminded her of the harness in a child’s car seat.

“I don’t think we’ll crash between here and the house.” Amusement tugged at his mouth. “I guess you’re more cautious than when we used to drag race Dad’s golf carts.”

“With wisdom comes caution.” She finally snapped the complicated latch closed over her chest. She felt like she was lying on her back in the low-slung car, a sensation that made her already queasy stomach tighten.

“You used to be up for pretty much anything in the old days.”

“I was young and stupid.”

“You were fun.” The engine growled to life. “We had a lot of good times together.” He shot her a black glance loaded with suggestion.

If only.

“Yes. I was one of the guys, wasn’t I? Always good for a pickup game or a fourth in tennis.” She didn’t like the bitterness in her voice.

He raised an eyebrow as he backed onto the drive. “You sound like you wanted more.”

I did.

“You once said you’d take me to my prom.” She regretted the words the instant they’d left her mouth. His casual comment had meant so much to her. How many hours had she lain in bed and dreamed of walking into the school gym with Naldo on her arm?

“I did?” Naldo looked at her in astonishment.

Her gut clenched. “Such a laughable idea?”

“I’m not laughing. I just don’t remember.”

She stared at his aristocratic profile as he drove through the orchards. He didn’t even remember something that had meant the world to her. What a childish delusion to think that the great Naldo De Leon would accompany her to the prom at the local public school, a place he had certainly never set foot in his life.

“Why would you remember? It doesn’t mean anything.” Again, the edge in her voice made her grit her teeth. Only twenty-six years old and already bitter. She hated that.

“I admit I didn’t really see you that way. You were a pal, a buddy, you know.”

“Yup. I know. And you’re right. We did have a lot of fun together.” She looked at him cautiously, and noticed a dimple appear under his cheekbone. She remembered that dimple from the times they’d laughed together. Those times had meant a lot to her, even if they hadn’t to him. Her and Naldo, together in Paradise. “In all honesty, those were the best years of my life.”

His head whipped around and his intense stare made her wish she could swallow her words. But what did it matter? Tomorrow she’d finish packing and be gone.

They drove to the main house in a silence thick with emotion and unspoken words.

“It’s all yours now,” she said, as the beautifully proportioned redbrick mansion with its thick white columns and wide verandas came into view. “It’s such a lovely house. Is it really four hundred years old?”

Naldo laughed. “No way. I don’t even know how many times my ancestors rebuilt, what with hurricanes and forest fires and you name it. This one’s been here since 1912. The exterior walls are two feet thick.”

“Why so massive?”

“Can’t be blown down, can’t burn down.” He shot her a dimpled grin. “Since the family has always been dead set against insurance, they like to make their investments indestructible.”

“It’s not insured?”

“Nope. The De Leons have always been too proud to take anyone else’s money, and we don’t give it away on the off chance of disaster, either. My dad always called it ‘betting against success.’”

“I guess the De Leons have always had so much money they can handle a setback without going under.”

“Exactly.” He pulled the car up in front of the house. “Let me help you with that.” He leaned over and unlatched the harness keeping her pinned in the severely reclined seat. His long, strong fingers brushed her breasts as he removed the straps, sparking shimmers of heat that she tried her best to ignore. She struggled out of the race car with as much dignity as she could muster. Her heels sank into the thick gravel as they walked toward the grand front entrance.

“You look beautiful.” A dark note of approval thickened Naldo’s voice.

“Thanks.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He took her arm as they walked up the wide stone steps to the doors. She had the eerie sensation of a dream coming true, but too late, and all wrong.

He’d been gorgeous as a boy, all lanky grace and teasing humor. Now taller, with the muscled build of a keen athlete and the languid poise of a man fully aware of his own power, he was breathtaking. His sharp cheekbones and strong jawline contrasted intriguingly with the easy charm of his dimpled smile and flashing black eyes.

Oh, Naldo. It was a good thing she’d been up in Boston for the last eight years, not down here pining over a man she could never have.

The double doors opened as if by magic.

“Thanks, Pilar.” He smiled at the housekeeper.

Anna mumbled “Hi,” feeling as if she were on the wrong side of the master/servant divide.

Naldo still held her arm in his, and she could feel the warmth of his skin through the fine linen of his shirt. Her body tingled with awareness of his masculine presence. A flashback to the lightning intensity of his kiss made her nipples sting. The sensation of arousal was undercut by a sharp pang of regret that he’d never hold her in his arms again.

Are you nuts? This man was arrogant enough to kiss you without permission and now you’re thinking about-

“It looks like dinner’s ready.” This time he guided her into the grand dining room where two places were set opposite each other at the end of the polished mahogany table.

“Your dad always liked to eat in here. Are you going to continue the tradition?” Or is this just set up to intimidate me?

Each place held three crystal glasses and at least twelve pieces of solid silver cutlery. Priceless porcelain plates displayed an arrangement of miniature garden vegetables.

“Traditions can be reassuring at a time of change.” She felt a tiny chill of loss as he slid his arm out of hers to pull back her chair.

She looked up at the large oil portrait hanging over the marble fireplace. “That’s a lovely portrait of your mother. She was very beautiful.”

The supercilious black-haired beauty glared down at her, shimmering in a crisply painted black silk evening gown that swept around her elegant figure. Anna remembered her as a chilly, quick-tempered woman with a critique for everything and everyone poised on the tip of her tongue.

“She was brilliant, too. She spoke seven languages and was an accomplished dancer before she married my father.”

“I remember that room upstairs with the barre and the wall of mirrors. Was that hers?” She hadn’t known it was there until after his mother died. It was off-limits before that.

“Yes, she had to dance every day or her muscles ached. She could have been a prima ballerina.”

“Why did she stop?”

“Can you picture my father allowing his wife to dance on stage?” Naldo raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of white wine.

“Ballet? It’s hardly the Moulin Rouge.”

“She knew her role when she married. To stand by his side at the head of the estate, to bear an heir. To love her husband.”

A dark undertone in his voice surprised her. The De Leons always looked like the perfect couple: both clever, striking, rich, dripping with style. Had it been a facade?

“Did your parents have a happy marriage?” Since her divorce she had a sharp curiosity about other people’s marriages. Why did some loves last a lifetime and others…turn out not to have been love at all?

“Of course they had a good marriage. A great marriage.” Naldo’s brusque reply made her regret her blunt question.

“I confess I was always a little afraid of your mom. She was so…perfect.”

“She was a perfectionist. So am I. If something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. I’m sure you agree.”

“Absolutely. Speaking of which…” She looked at the array of cutlery surrounding her plate as a flush rose to her cheekbones. “Which one do I use?”

“You start from the outside and work your way in. Or at least that’s what you’re supposed to do. You can go ahead and use the dessert spoon if you like. It won’t bother me.” He speared a baby carrot and crunched it.

She smiled and picked up the outside fork.

Naldo leaned back in his chair, glad the potentially dangerous subject of his mother and his parents’ marriage had been deftly swept aside. For an intense second he’d experienced an irrational temptation to tell her the truth.

But propriety won out, as it always did. He’d been brought up to protect the family honor at all costs.

That meant keeping its secrets.

As Anna speared a piece of cauliflower and placed it carefully between those plump pink lips, thoughts of secrets sank into a warm flood of desire.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her girlish features had matured into refined feminine beauty. Her liquid blue eyes held shadowed depths that suggested wisdom beyond her years and a few intriguing secrets of her own. The slender physique showcased by her elegant powder-blue dress expressed its power in subtle strength rather than raw muscularity.

But nothing compared with the vision of her that morning. In her clinging pink PJs, golden hair mussed from sleep, cheeks rosy with indignation-

He took another sip of wine. Anna looked especially beautiful when she was a little hot and bothered and he couldn’t help wanting to see her in that delightful condition again.

Would it be so wrong to have a little fun before they conducted their business? The attraction was mutual, no question about it. She’d melted into his kiss like liquid fire. The chemistry leaping between them was explosive.

If she made love anything like she played tennis…

“Naldo.” Pilar’s voice snapped him out of his reverie and drew his attention to the doorway. “Isabela is here. She said she’d be right in for dinner.”

Naldo frowned. “I thought she was dining in St. Augustine tonight.”

Pilar shrugged. “I told Vicki to cook another filet. Shall I lay a third place?”

“Yes, please do.”

Damn. His sister’s arrival put a wrinkle in his impromptu plans to seduce Anna tonight. He’d secretly hoped Isabela would return to Paris immediately, the way she usually did after her perfunctory visits to the old homestead. But he didn’t want her to feel she was no longer welcome here now the house was his. He was head of the family now and it was his duty to keep it together.

“Isabela.” He rose to his feet as his sister swept into the room with a flutter of chiffon. “Please join us. Do you know Anna Marcus?”

That halted big sis in her tracks. She looked at Anna, who’d risen to her feet in expectation of a polite greeting. Those sharp black eyes met Anna’s blue ones and a tiny wrinkle appeared in his sister’s smooth, pale brow.

The two women sized each other up for a tense moment, then Isabela came forward, heels clicking on the parquet. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, I guess not.” Anna shook her hand and smiled. “I think you were studying in Europe by the time I moved here with my mom. You live there now, don’t you?”

“Paris. Except when I travel for my work.” Isabela swished past Anna to the end of the table, where a third place was laid.

“Isabela is an opera director.” Naldo sat down and replaced his napkin with a flourish. “She prefers art and life on the continent.”

“There are a lot of wonderful opera companies in the States, too, aren’t there?” Anna said brightly.

Isabela gave her a withering look. “They hardly compare to the Paris Opera and La Scala. Ugh, these vegetables are positively wilted.” She picked at a miniature spear of broccoli with her fork. “Europe certainly has better-trained staff.” She poked at an ornamental curl of carrot, then looked up. “Oh, sorry, no offense intended. I forgot for a moment that your mother was a member of the staff.”

“Yes. She cooked here for fifteen years.” Anna beamed with convincing pride that gave Naldo a warm glow. Not many women could go toe-to-toe with Isabela De Leon.

“I know. I saw you at the will reading. Rather an impressive legacy for a cook, wouldn’t you say?” Isabela took a sip of wine, leaving a neat semicircle of plum lipstick on the rim.

“I guess your father knew how much my mom loved her home here.”

“Or was it because she was such a treasured friend?”

Naldo’s spine stiffened. What was his sister up to now? She was as dangerous and unpredictable as that enormous poodle she used to take everywhere with her. “Isabela’s a free spirit. She never stays in one place for long. When are you heading back to Paris?”

“I thought I might stay a while.” Isabela tilted her head. Her hair stayed lacquered to her perfectly shaped skull. “Paris can be so crowded at this time of year. Life would be much more bearable if I had a little place to get away from it all.”

“You do. Your house in the Cap D’ Antibes, remember? Not to mention your villa on Lake Como.”

“Ugh, those places are simply mobbed with frightful tourists. I can hardly bear to set foot in them. I think something more rustic, an estate in the Loire Valley, perhaps. Somewhere like this place where I can commune with nature and grow things.”

Naldo didn’t even try to suppress the hearty chuckle that bubbled to his throat. “Grow things? I’ve never known you to have an interest in growing anything except your fingernails.”

“I’m maturing, darling. And as an artist I have a heightened appreciation for the beauty of nature. Do you remember Mother’s dream of buying a bit of land and moving the family back to Europe?”

“Mother’s dream didn’t have anything do with growing things. She just never felt at home here in the States.”

“Exactly, darling! And all this sweating and grunting over a bunch of oranges is so undignified. Just think how much better you’d live in France. You could own a vineyard and make champagne. You could use the family title again. I could hold my head up in society. I can’t even stand to drink orange juice. It gives me indigestion.”

“There are a lot more people in the world drinking orange juice than there are drinking champagne.”

“A perfect reason to stick with champagne.” Isabela lowered her thick lashes over her dark eyes.

“I’m sure we’re boring Anna with this family chitchat.” Naldo leaned back in his chair. “I invited her here tonight to discuss an agreement over the land.”

“I hardly see why one acre makes any difference one way or the other.” Isabela took a sip of her wine. “If you had any sense you’d carve the whole thing up into a subdivision. With all those snowbirds looking for a piece of Florida sunshine, the real estate market is booming.”

Irritation flared in his gut. “You know I’ll never sell.”

“No? We’ll see.”

Anna’s gaze jumped from him to Isabela like someone watching a tennis match. Her obvious intelligence was on high alert. At the awkward lull in the conversation, she frowned. “I can kind of see why your father left my mother the land, but what did he mean by the cookbook?”

“She was the cook, wasn’t she?” Isabela didn’t bother to look at her as she picked up an asparagus stalk between two long fingers and crunched it.

“Well, yes, but I don’t know what book he was talking about. I found a few cookbooks in the cottage, and mom kept her favorites in the kitchen here at the house, but do you know which one he meant?”

Naldo shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. That was a whole different can of worms he’d rather not open at all. With Letty gone and business-minded Anna in her place, it could prove to be complicated and expensive in ways his father had never intended.

“Who knows?” Isabela mopped up some dip with a tiny celery stalk. “Daddy was obviously going soft in the head. Why in Heaven’s name would he care about a cookbook? What he should have done was divide the estate equally between his two children instead of following some disgusting, outdated and sexist tradition.”

Naldo resisted the urge to growl with exasperation. “You receive enough money every month to live like a queen. You know the De Leon family is where we are today exactly because we have never veered from the path of tradition. How many other families can claim more than four hundred years of stewardship on the same property?”

“In Europe, plenty. If the family was based there, perhaps I’d be able to live with a little dignity.”

“Dignity would be about all we’d have left after European estate taxes.” Naldo took a bite of asparagus.

“What rubbish. You’re rich as Croesus, you just don’t want to share with your own flesh and blood. Tradition be damned.”

Naldo held her cold gaze. “Tradition is the lifeblood of this family.”

Isabela stared back. “Tradition.” She drew the word out, and her plum lips widened into a mocking smile. “I suppose that explains this intimate dinner I interrupted.”

“Anna and I are old friends. I’m delighted to renew our acquaintance.”

What was Isabela up to? He didn’t want to think about her. Right now he’d like to ditch this spoiled dinner and acquaint himself with the feel of Anna’s lithe body on fresh cotton sheets. He knew her lips tasted like ripe strawberries, but what did the nape of her neck taste like? And those eager nipples?

As he pondered these intriguing questions, Anna’s eyes narrowed in a way that did dangerous things to his libido.

“How sweet, but aren’t you worried about stirring up old rumors, darling?” Isabela swirled wine around in her glass. “I’m sure tongues are already wagging after the will reading, though I suppose it hardly matters. Everyone from here to Palm Beach knows about Daddy’s little affair.”

Naldo clenched his fists. “Your flair for the dramatic is impressive.” He glanced at Anna, who was busy eating and showed no sign of comprehension, thank goodness. “We both know our father chose to honor Mother’s memory by staying single after her death.”

“He hardly had any choice, under the circumstances.” Isabela’s eyes narrowed and Naldo wondered for a single grim instant if she was going to reveal the truth about their mother’s death.

Something the family had vowed never to speak of.

The silence throbbed with tension.

“Relax, Naldo.” Isabela ran a fingertip around the rim of her wineglass, sending a squeal into the thick air. “All I mean is that men will be men. But even in this charmingly egalitarian nation, one would hardly expect a De Leon to marry his own cook.”

“What?” Anna looked up.

“Ignore her.”

Anna stared at Isabela. “Are you saying that your father…and my mother?”

“Don’t listen to foolish gossip,” Naldo hissed.

Isabela laughed, an ugly sound like breaking glass. “Oh, Naldo. Only men like you and Father would think they could keep an affair secret for years. After all, what do other people’s thoughts and feelings matter when you are the lord and master of all you survey?” She tossed her napkin onto the table. “All this warm family reminiscing is giving me indigestion. I’ll take supper in my room.”

He clenched his fists harder as she rose from her chair and sashayed out of the room.

“Naldo.” Anna’s voice was a whisper. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Nonsense.” He drained his wineglass. Grabbed the bottle and poured another glassful. Knocked it back.

“But it makes perfect sense. That he would leave her the land…” Anna gripped the table, her knuckles white.

Naldo still couldn’t believe his father had committed that final act of betrayal after the devastation his affair had already caused the family. The long liaison had been a brittle bone of contention between them. Never discussed, never resolved. A burr in their close and loving relationship that he’d always hoped would go away.

And now it never would because he was dead.

Naldo leaned back into his chair.

“I can see from your face that it’s true.” Anna lowered herself back into her chair. Those wide blue eyes tore into him like a laser. “I know you don’t want it to be, but it makes too much sense.”

“You’re right. I wish it wasn’t true.” He leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table, raw pain searing through him. Anger at the wrongs that would now never be righted. “It’s your mother’s fault that my father is dead.”

Four

“What?” Anna blinked. Cold disbelief at all she’d just heard warred with rising indignation.

“Her death killed him.” His eyes looked hollow.

“She died in an accident. How could it be her fault?”

Naldo stared at her for a moment, his face stony. “When my father got the phone call that your mother had been in a car wreck, I drove him to the hospital. By the time we arrived she was already in the morgue. When he saw her there…”

Anna froze at the image of her mother laid out in a hospital morgue.

Naldo took a deep breath. “He collapsed. I caught him as he fell, and they revived him right away.” His eyes narrowed. “But he never recovered consciousness. It was a massive heart attack. They kept him alive for three days, hooked up to machines, with wires all over his body. And then he was gone.”

Anna bit her lip hard. “He died of a broken heart,” she whispered.

Naldo’s black eyes seemed to look right through her. “He’s gone. That’s all I know.”

“I can’t believe she never told me.”

They’d been so close.

At least she thought they had. Of course she’d left home eight years ago to go to college, and hadn’t had the money, then the time, to come back for more than a handful of brief visits.

The charged atmosphere was interrupted by the arrival of the smiling new cook bearing two plates heaped with fragrant food. Fresh agony streamed through Anna at the memory of her mother doing just that. The cook stopped, perhaps caught off guard by Anna’s stricken face.

“Filet of sole in a dill sauce, with new potatoes and a medley of seasonal-”

“Thank you, Vicki. It looks delicious.” Naldo cut off her increasingly quavering announcement.

Vicki, who was young, plump and pretty, placed the plates in front of them and shot a sympathetic glance at Anna.

She tried to smile back.

When Vicki left, closing the door discreetly behind her, Anna stared at Naldo. “She never said anything. I had no idea.”

“Perhaps she knew it was wrong.” He stabbed his fish with a silver fork.

“But why wrong? Your father was a widower. She wasn’t ever married. They were both consenting adults. Middle-aged ones, at that.”

“My father made a commitment to my mother.” His mouth set in a grim line.

Anna expelled an exasperated breath. “Marriage is ‘until death do us part.’ I don’t doubt that he loved your mother with all his heart, but that doesn’t mean he had to die along with her. Didn’t you want him to be happy?”

“He was happy.” His intense stare pricked her skin.

“Yes.” She inhaled slowly. “Apparently he was happy with my mother.” It infuriated her that Naldo had planned to keep the whole affair a secret from her. What else was he keeping secret? “Is that why you were snooping around the house this morning? Were you looking for evidence to destroy?”

A frown line appeared between Naldo’s brows.

“You left footprints all over the house. Upstairs.”

He studied her for a moment, then sat back in his chair. “I was looking for something, yes.”

“What?”

“Some jewelry. Family heirlooms that my father gave to your mother.”

A cold sensation crept up her spine. “He gave my mom gifts and you thought you’d just take them back?”

“All of them have been in the family more than a century. They are part of the family legacy. They should be restored to the estate.”

“Are they worth a lot?”

“Yes. Naturally I intend to compensate you for their full value.”

“Oh, do you?” She didn’t believe him for a second. “If you meant to pay, why not just ask for them?”

“Because then you would wonder how they came to be in your mother’s possession.”

“And you didn’t want me to find out about your father’s relationship with my mom.” She frowned. “He must have truly loved her if he gave her a lot of valuable jewels.” A funny feeling in the pit of her stomach accompanied a sudden image of the brusque and lordly Robert De Leon and her funny, gentle mother.

How much fun they’d had choosing those trees for the grove by the cottage. Why had it never occurred to her before that they were intimate?

“It was a relationship of convenience, nothing more.” Naldo crossed his arms over his chest.

Irritation stiffened her spine. “I see it clearly now. You are the reason your father left the land and the cottage to my mom. He knew you hated their relationship, and that you wouldn’t want her here to remind you of it. He figured that when something happened to him, you’d make her leave-just like you’re trying to get rid of me.” Her voice shook on the last words. “Your father didn’t want my mom to be forced out of the home she loved.”

“She could have bought a much nicer home with the money.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars doesn’t go too far these days.”

Naldo’s eyes simmered with an emotion she couldn’t quite read. “All right. Four hundred thousand dollars.”

Ice trickled through her veins as she saw the determination in the set of his jaw. He wanted to be rid of her that badly? “Does that include the cost of the jewels?” Her voice sounded as cold and hard as a faceted diamond.

“The jewels can be valued and the price negotiated.”

“But you haven’t found them yet. Perhaps my mom sold them already.”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

“No? You don’t seem to think much of her, so what makes you think she’d cherish them rather than sell them for cash?”

The door opened and Tom came in to remove the plates. They’d barely touched their food. Dinner with Naldo didn’t encourage an appetite.

A tense silence accompanied Vicki’s appearance with two plates of a fresh fruit torte with whipped cream. The family had always liked the cook to serve the food herself so they could admire her presentation and inquire about ingredients and technique. They enjoyed close and warm communication with everyone who worked there. Now, though, Naldo said nothing beyond a polite thanks.

“The staff must have all known,” Anna said once Vicki was gone.

“Perhaps.”

“And Isabela. It’s not quite the secret you hoped.”

Naldo turned and looked up at the portrait on the wall. Anna’s eyes followed his, and the cool beauty in the painting seemed almost to raise an eyebrow at her in challenge.

“I’m sure I can count on your discretion.” Naldo narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Anna. “Neither of us wants our parents to be the subject of prurient gossip.”

“Oh, really? Perhaps your father gave my mom those jewels to buy her silence. Paid her to be invisible, a nobody. A secret mistress.” She rose to her feet, heart pounding, and threw her napkin on the table next to her untouched dessert. “Well, I’m ashamed to know any of you. My mother was a wonderful loving woman who was treated shamefully by my father and apparently by yours, too.”

“You don’t understand the situation.” Naldo’s icy voice chilled her.

“I understand all I need to. My mother was good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to marry.” Tears threatened, and she gulped air trying to keep them at bay. It wasn’t fair that men could use women and take what they wanted without making any promises in return. Why did women let them get away with it?

Fists clenched against the onslaught of all she’d learned and couldn’t even begin to process, she rushed from the dining room. She strode past a startled Pilar, tugged open the heavy front door and flew down the stone steps.

Her van was back at the cottage.

Her heels would be ruined by the time she got home, but she’d have to walk.

Naldo didn’t come after her. She’d hardly expect him to. He knew she’d be back for her money.

She knew it, too. And that only made the long, dusty moonlit walk back to the cottage more grueling than ever.

Naldo stood at his bedroom window looking out over the dark shadows of the groves in the predawn hours. Why couldn’t Anna just make this easy?

A light shone in the distant upstairs window of the cottage, and his groin stirred as he watched her stretch, as sleepless and restless as himself.

She would sell. There was nothing to keep her here. It was simply a matter of agreeing on the price. What difference did it make that their parents had been lovers? That was in the past and had no bearing whatsoever on the business between them.

Anna lifted her hair off her neck. Though he was too far away to see details, he had a flash of insight into exactly how that action would stretch her flimsy T-shirt over those high, firm, full breasts.

He wheeled away from the window, desire thickening inside him. It struck him as ironic that his father probably stood at that same window looking out at his own lover.

His chest tightened. His father had been a good man. A caring and affectionate man. And he’d loved Letty Marcus like a wife.

Was it fair for him to let Anna think he’d merely used her? His barbed remark at dinner-that theirs was nothing but a relationship of convenience-dishonored his father’s memory as well as her mother’s, and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He ran a hand through his hair, then stretched to try and release the tension in his shoulders.

Anna’s tearful departure left him unsettled, edgy. They’d both feel better if he soothed her and calmed her so she could get some sleep. He’d smooth her ruffled feathers, then they could get back on course and get this deal resolved.

His impulse to visit her in the dead of night had absolutely nothing to do with him wanting to kiss that exasperating mouth into breathless silence and plumb its warm depths with his tongue. He had no thoughts whatsoever of peeling the clothes off that lithe, athletic body and investigating its warm, musk-scented mysteries.

Quite the opposite.

The night air would cool his blood.

It was 3:00 a.m. and Anna had torn the cottage apart looking for the jewels. She’d even slit open the undersides of the mattresses. The cottage was so small there just weren’t that many hiding places to check.

The shocking knowledge of her mother’s affair with Robert De Leon made her see every object and slip of paper in the cottage in a new light. Would she stumble across love notes? Secret tokens? After six hours of rifling through drawers and even through boxes she’d already packed, she found nothing. Her mother had been absolutely discreet.

Somehow that made her sadder than ever. So loyal to her beloved boss-and lover-that she’d never dared mention her relationship with him to her own daughter. The jewels were probably locked in a safe in the big house. Her mom would hardly have worn them out in public, and Naldo was right, she’d never have sold them.

She rubbed her tired eyes with her hands. Her mother’s mysteries were destined to remain just that. A life of quietly kept secrets. Like the identity of Anna’s father, a man who’d gotten her mom pregnant, then casually revealed that he was already married.

Anna reflected that she had good reason to hate all men and their cruel games. She’d married Barry Lennox five years ago, filled with hope for a long and happy life together, and he’d betrayed her in every possible way.

Marriage had meant everything to her. A pledge to care for each other, the promise of a lifetime commitment, the assurance that they were equal partners in a relationship. She’d always promised herself she’d never settle for less, that she’d never make the same mistakes her mother did and let a man use her, but he’d done it anyway.

She sank into the old sofa, hearing the springs creak like they did when she was ten and she and her mom had arrived here from Cincinnati to start a new life.

Fresh tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. Could she find enough hope to start all over…again?

A sharp rap on the door made her catch her breath.

“Anna.”

What the heck is Naldo doing here at three in the morning?

“I know you’re up. I saw you moving.”

“Go away.” She couldn’t hide the tears in her voice.

“Let me in, please.”

“You’ve got the key,” she muttered.

She gritted her teeth as she heard him use it. Wiping her eyes, she rose to her feet as Naldo appeared in the doorway.

His hair was uncombed and dipping into his eyes, which fixed on hers in the dim light. With his fine linen shirt wrinkled and untucked, he didn’t look nearly as elegant and imposing as he had earlier.

Unfortunately he didn’t look any less breathtakingly handsome.

She attempted to summon a fresh nugget of hatred for him, but found she didn’t have the strength.

“I saw your light on. I can’t sleep, either.” His voice was low.

“I was looking for the jewels. They’re not here.” She tried to sound cold, but just sounded tired.

“Never mind about the jewels.” He took a step toward her. The overhead light glazed his features as he moved under it. “Your mother made my father happy. He did love her. He loved her very much.”

His words, and the strange look in his eyes, made her catch her breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

But Naldo didn’t speak. He stepped forward and took her in his arms. Somewhere in the back of her mind she tried to conjure a protest, but it withered as his strong, warm arms closed around her.

His sturdy embrace undermined the last of her carefully guarded strength. She’d had no arms to rest in for so long.

“I hadn’t been back to visit in nearly three years.” The horrible confession underscored how much she’d lost. Her heart ached.

“She knew you cared. That you were working hard.” His powerful fingers moved over her back, stroking her skin through her T-shirt. The caring gesture made her heart beat faster.

“I’m so sorry about your father, Naldo. I know you were very close.”

“There’ll never be anyone like him.” The sadness in his voice made her stomach clench.

“You’re like him.”

“Yeah. Stubborn as a mule and twice as tough. I probably should have been in the library reading condolences this afternoon, but I was out in the groves checking the irrigation just like my dad would have been.” His chest shook with a deep, silent laugh.

She opened her eyes. “Don’t you have employees to do that for you?”

“Of course.” A twinkle of humor shone in his serious dark eyes. “But we do it because the trees are family to us. The land is in our blood. Sand and grit.”

A warm chuckle rose inside her. “Especially the grit. You always did have plenty of that.”

“You, too.” He rubbed her back again and her fingertips sank into the soft linen of his shirt. Hard muscle matched his hard-nosed attitude. “We’re both tough and stubborn and that’s why we’ll get on with our lives and make them both proud.”

You will, but will I? She couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. Her brash youthful confidence had been beaten to its knees by betrayal, divorce, bankruptcy and now the loss of the one person in the world she could always count on to be there for her. It would take every last ounce of grit to start over.

She realized Naldo was staring at her. The heat of his gaze threatened to sear right through her skin. For a second she was conscious of her tearstained appearance, then her thoughts seemed to slip sideways and the hot, musky male scent of him crept over her.

His lips were on hers before she could summon a protest. His warm tongue slid into her mouth, gathering hers as he hugged her into his embrace. Reassuring, strengthening, the power of his arms filled her with sensations she hadn’t dared to crave.

Desire rippled through her like gasoline on water, threatening to ignite. His hands roamed over her back, and lower, reaching boldly into her shorts to cup her buttocks.

She groaned as he sucked her lower lip and trailed kisses over her cheek. Her fingertips dug into the thick muscle of his back before rising to tangle themselves in his silky hair, then sliding down to rove over the rough denim of his jeans.

A deep, masculine groan emerged as she slid her fingers inside his waistband. She felt him harden against her, straining against the zipper of his jeans. A high note of pure, quivering arousal shot through her.

How much she’d once craved this moment. She and Naldo, wrapped together.

His tongue pushed between her lips, stealing her breath. She rubbed her breasts against his chest, her nipples craving contact with the hard muscle as her hips pushed into his.

I love you, Naldo. I always have.

The stray thought startled her and she pushed it aside. But she didn’t push aside the hands that reached under her T-shirt, unfastened her bra and lifted the flimsy shirt over her head.

Naldo’s lips parted as he lifted her bra straps off her shoulders, releasing her breasts. He cupped one in his broad hand and the roughness of his callused palm surprised her as he grazed her nipple, sparking a shiver of arousal.

With a swift movement that made her gasp, he gathered her in his arms and sat her unceremoniously on top of the Formica kitchen table she’d once done her homework at. The cool, smooth surface, with its metal edge, made her aware of the aroused wetness of her sex inside her thin cotton shorts.

His eyes slid shut as he lowered his mouth over her nipple with a low groan. Eyes open in wonder, brain clouded with delicious arousal, she played in his hair with her fingers as he buried his dark head at her breast.

He sucked hard, and her pulse and breathing quickened. She squirmed on the table. Naldo dove lower, mouthing her belly, running his big hands over her thighs.

The sensations he triggered inside her felt so good. Pure pleasure, flowing over her skin and along her limbs. A feeling of being treasured, cared for, loved.

He doesn’t love you. The thought stabbed her like a shard of memory.

A relationship of convenience. How he’d described the match between his father and her mother.

He was lonely, she was here.

At that moment he tugged at her shorts and panties and dove inside, pushing his face to her crotch. His tongue tickled her aroused flesh as he explored the moist heat. He sucked hungrily, his hands now pressed into her thighs, pushing them against the metal table edge.

An intense expression contorted his handsome features. His eyes squeezed shut, his hair hanging damp on his forehead, he looked totally absorbed.

In her.

She shuddered as his tongue flicked over her sensitive flesh, overwhelmed by sensations that jumbled her thoughts and shook her to the core.

Naldo pulled back and his eyes met hers. His dark gaze, serious, penetrating-demanding-called to something deep inside her.

Wordless, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her gently off the table. He cradled her as he carried her up the narrow staircase into the bedroom where she’d slept last night.

He lowered her carefully onto the bed and she pulled him to her. She tugged his buttons through the holes in the soft linen, reaching for the warm skin beneath, then shoved his shirt back over his shoulders as the soothing weight of his chest sank into her.

His teeth grazed her neck, then he layered soft kisses over her cheeks and onto her parted lips. He didn’t stop kissing, the pressure more urgent, as he fumbled with his zipper and shoved his jeans down.

Excitement built inside her as she helped him ease the stiff fabric over his powerful thighs. He had to pull back to step out of his jeans, and the shock of cool air on her face and chest made her open her eyes. The sight of Naldo-naked-made her catch her breath.

Thick muscle, tan skin accented with sworls of black hair, that arrogant, handsome face-everything about him was riveting male perfection.

His expression focused, he eased her shorts and panties off. Without missing a beat, he pulled a condom seemingly out of thin air and rolled it on. Her belly quivered at the sight of him, hard and eager, yet controlled.

With his thumb and finger he lifted her chin and raised her face to his scorching black gaze.

“Anna,” was all he said before he caught her mouth in a kiss and lowered his big body onto hers.

Slow, restrained and quivering with arousal, he slid deep inside her. She writhed, unable to control a moan of intense pleasure as he filled her.

The delicious masculine weight of him pinned her to the soft mattress. Raw excitement surged through her and she wriggled under him, wanting to be free, and not wanting to be free at all.

Naldo’s low groans and heady male scent filled her senses. His hands cupped her face and he kissed her, softly, on the lips, then harder, forceful, as he pushed into her.

She raised her hips to his, jousting with him, pushing into him and drawing back, teasing and tantalizing, building a rhythm that pounded through them both with feverish intensity.

She wrapped her arms tight around his back and gripped him, as unfamiliar emotions and sensations spiked inside her. She sensed her climax coming-a stark, loaded calm like the tide drawing far out to sea before a tsunami-before it exploded over her as his name flew from her mouth.

“Naldo.” The single word pierced the predawn silence as Naldo let out a shout and joined her in a fierce climax of his own.

They lay there locked together, panting, sweat mingling. Naldo’s hard-edged cheek on hers, his hands cupping her face, fingers tangled into her hair. His big, heavy body trapped her in a prison of pleasure as he throbbed inside her.

Skin to skin, his heart beating fast and hard against hers, they held each other tight.

It felt so right.

The culmination of a million childish fantasies with nothing childish about it. A haunting, sleep-stealing dream come true.

She and Naldo in each other’s arms.

His face nuzzled hers, long black lashes still closed over those intense dark eyes. His breath, warm and sweet on her skin, seemed to breathe new life into her and she felt stronger than she had in months. Years.

Ever.

Naldo shifted to one side and eased his weight off her. A smile slid across his sensual mouth as he kissed her cheek. With one broad hand he eased them both onto their sides, still inside her, and held her close.

His thumb brushed a stray lock of hair off her cheek. The thick lashes lifted and the look he gave her-naked admiration-made her face heat.

“Love all,” he murmured.

Her breath caught in her throat. Love? What was he talking about? Her pulse picked up speed. “What?” she managed to ask.

“Tennis. The way you played it-fierce, wild yet controlled. Every game a fight to the death.” A dimple appeared beside his wicked smile. “Your passion isn’t reserved for the courts.”

She stared at him for a moment. He meant “love,” as in tennis scoring, not the pledge-my-heart-for-all-time kind.

A shard of disappointment undercut her relief. “I haven’t played in a while.”

One black eyebrow lifted.

“Tennis, I mean,” she blurted.

“Ah.” His eyes twinkled. He knew exactly what she meant. “But something tells me you’re still on top of your game. Maybe we’ll have a chance to play again before you go?” He turned away to remove the condom.

Before you go. His words stung her. A reminder that this heavenly intimacy was very temporary. Probably the only reason he’d allowed it to happen was because he knew she’d soon be far away. No danger of her making pathetic assumptions about any kind of future between them.

“What’s the matter?” He settled back into bed, a line between his dark brows.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Then sleep. I’m tired, too.” He laid his head on the pillow next to hers, his black hair and tan skin a rich contrast to the pale floral pillowcase.

His long fingers stroked a strand of hair from her face before settling at her waist. Relaxed and comfortable, as if they’d done this a hundred times.

As if they were a real couple.

She closed her eyes, not wanting to be taunted by the blissful vision of Naldo sharing a bed with her. It felt good, she couldn’t deny it. She’d been through the wringer lately, so what harm could come of enjoying one night that seemed like a dream?

Naldo’s big arm weighed her down with soothing pressure, and she soon found herself floating in a sea of bliss. Her body hummed with sensation, a blend of erotic pleasure and warm relaxation, as she drifted into much-needed sleep.

In the morning, a dent in the pillow was the only sign of Naldo. Anna blinked against the harsh sunlight pouring between the open curtains. Was it a dream?

No. The scent of him lingered on the pillow and she pressed her face into it, enjoying the heady male fragrance.

He must have left early. Probably had estate business to attend to. If he left a note it would likely be downstairs, on the heart-shaped phone pad. But then Naldo was hardly the note-leaving type.

She exhaled, traces of pleasure mingling with trickles of apprehension. What would happen next? Would they get together again?

A scratching sound made her glance up at the old plaster ceiling. They never had been able to get rid of those damn mice, but she couldn’t begrudge them their perch on this lovely morning.

A harsh scrape overhead made her start. Mice couldn’t make a sound that loud. She sat up in bed. Where on earth were her clothes?

She found her shorts on the floor beside the bed, and scrambled into her old room for a clean T-shirt. As she stood on the landing at the top of the stairs, another sound, like a piece of furniture being dragged, chilled her blood.

“Hey!” The aggressive sound of her voice hid her fear. The scraping stopped. “What’s going on up there?” Were there workers on the roof?

She shrieked as a hatch lifted almost directly over her head.

Naldo’s head appeared in the black square. “I found the jewels.”

Five

“How the hell did you get up there?” Anna’s heart pounded.

“Pulled up with my arms. Here, take this.” Naldo lowered a thickly muscled arm down through the hole and held out a plain wooden box about ten inches square.

She took it and lifted the lid. A tangle of gems in various settings winked at her from the velvet-lined interior. Her breath stuck at the bottom of her lungs. There were so many of them.

She jumped as Naldo swung down through the hole. Dust clung to his dark jeans and bare chest. He grabbed the box from her hand.

“Hey! Those are my mom’s. What are you doing?”

“They’re part of the estate.”

“But you said your dad gave them to her. That makes them hers.”

Naldo tucked the box under his arm. “I told you I’ll reimburse you their full value.” He lifted an arm and shifted the hatch lid back into position. The ceiling was so low he didn’t even have to stretch to do it.

A horrible realization dawned on her. Naldo only came over here to find the jewels.

Her rib cage suddenly felt too tight for her heart. He’d seduced her, screwed her, lulled her into a deep, contented sleep…

All so he could sneak up into the attic and steal her mother’s property.

“Give that back!” Pain rushed through her.

One of Naldo’s black brows lifted slightly. “I said I’ll give you money for them.”

“How will I know it’s a fair amount? I need to get them appraised.”

“I’ll get them appraised.”

“No. I don’t trust you.”

Naldo’s lips parted as if she’d slapped him.

“You know I’m a man of honor.”

“Oh, do I? I let you sleep with me, and then I wake up in the morning to find you rooting around my house!” Her voice had risen to an ungracious shriek. “I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you. Thief!”

Naldo held out the box.

She snatched it and stood there, heart pounding.

Towering and regal despite the dust on his skin, Naldo looked down at her. “I’m no thief. Get them appraised. Tell me their value, and you shall receive it in cash.” His black eyes flashed.

“I will.” She struggled to hold her chin high. Suddenly, challenging Naldo’s honor seemed like a very bad idea.

He turned and left without another word, ducking his head to descend the cramped staircase. Her arms tightened around the wooden box and its sharp edges dug into her skin.

Her dream come true had morphed into a nightmare.

“Good grief. Those Victorians did get creative, didn’t they?” The jeweler, an older man with a bald head and a large belly, held up yet another ornate monstrosity. “Someone right around 1880 had very inventive taste, I’ll say. Where did you say these are from?”

“Family heirlooms,” Anna murmured.

“Can’t say I recognize any of the work. Your family must have worked with a jeweler who isn’t a known name. A few of these pieces are older, though. This one, for example…” He held up a brooch. A yellow gem ringed with blue stones in a heavy, golden setting. Ugly as all the others.

“This one could be eighteenth century, if I’m not mistaken. There’s no wear on it, but that’s not so unusual with jewelry. It wasn’t made to be worn every day. And this ring-” He picked up a simple gold band with a red stone poking out of it. “It could be a good reproduction. In fact, it must be, let’s face it, but it’s in the style of, well, the Elizabethan era.” He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Any actors or actresses in your family?”

“Their value. What are they worth?” Anna spoke between gritted teeth. Naldo’s family treasures, sprawled on the worn black velvet of the appraiser’s desk, looked naked, tragic, shamefully exposed to the mocking eyes of someone never meant to see them.

“Jeez. Hard to say without knowing the provenance. You don’t have any paperwork to go along with them?”

“No.”

“I’ll be frank. There isn’t much of a market for this high-Victorian costume-type stuff, but at least some of the gems are real, so I’ll give you a hundred and fifty thousand for the lot.”

Anna gasped.

“Cashier’s check okay?” He put down his magnifying glass.

Money that didn’t come from Naldo. More than enough, too. Her skin prickled with temptation.

But she knew she couldn’t take it. And she didn’t trust this guy, either.

“How much do I owe you for the appraisal?” She reached into her bag for her checkbook, knowing she probably didn’t have enough left in the account.

“It wasn’t much of an appraisal since I didn’t give you a real value for anything, so it’s on the house. And, you know what? I’ll give you a hundred and seventy-five because you seem like a sweet girl.” He leaned toward her, his patchouli aftershave stealing through the air to stifle her.

Anna leapt to her feet, grasped the jewels in untidy handfuls and heaped them back in the crude wooden box. She should never have brought them here. “They’re not mine to sell. They belong to the family. I’ll talk to them about it.” She sped out of the store before he made any more tempting offers.

Could she sell Naldo’s family heirlooms away from the estate while he was willing to pay for them? He certainly deserved it.

“You took them to the jeweler right on Main Street?” Irritation made Naldo’s hands curl into fists as he stood in the doorway of the cottage. He’d seen her return and come over right away.

“It was the closest place, and it had a sign saying ‘appraisals’ in the window.” Anna held her trim chin high.

“That dump is practically a pawn shop. I’m surprised he didn’t offer you cash for them.”

Her head kicked back a little. Her pale hair was pulled into a knot that revealed her lovely slim neck, which right now he was tempted to strangle. Did she want everyone in town to know his father gave the family jewels to his lover?

Why was she so damn quiet? “He did offer cash, didn’t he?”

“Yes. A hundred and seventy-five thousand.” She licked her pale pink lips.

He snorted. “Pathetic. They’re worth five times that. Thank God you weren’t fool enough to take it.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Are they really?”

“What?” Naldo was using every ounce of self-control not to charge into the cottage and seize the box, where it lay right on the kitchen table for all to see.

“Worth nearly a million.”

He hesitated. “At least. Some of them are as old as…Where did you tell him they came from?”

“Family.” She narrowed those penetrating blue eyes and crossed her arms over her perky chest. The action pulled her loose T-shirt tight over nipples he now knew were the exact same color as her lips. “I said they came from family.”

“My family?” He shoved all thoughts of nipples back where they belonged. His family’s honor was on the line here.

“Mine, actually. In case you’ve forgotten, they belong to my mother.”

“We both know where they really belong. And you should know better than to take them to a local jeweler who might put two and two together and figure out where they came from.”

“Why shouldn’t he know the truth?” She cocked her head.

Naldo blinked. Her obstinacy made him so exasperated he could barely think straight. “Because…” He spoke through gritted teeth. “My family’s private business is just that, private. The last thing either of us needs is for the press to get wind of what went on between my father and your mother.”

“Why on earth would the press care about what two middle-aged people were doing on their own time?”

“Because my father is Robert De Leon.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And my mother was his cook. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re ashamed that your father had an affair with a ‘servant.’ You’re just like your snobbish sister. You really do think that my mother was so far beneath him that-”

“You know I have the highest regard for your mother.” Naldo cut her off and took a step into the tiny kitchen. “But you know as well as I do that the press will turn it into a tawdry scandal. Do you truly want your mother being remembered as that cook who slept with her boss?”

Anna blinked and stared at him for a moment before replying. “Perhaps it’s better than her not being remembered at all.”

“Your mother’s memory will always be cherished here.”

“No, it won’t. You’re trying to stamp out every trace of her. You want to buy the cottage, you want to buy back the jewels, you want to put everything back exactly the way it was before your father had the temerity to fall in love with someone other than your precious mother. You’re so hung up on your own fairy-tale ideal of your father’s life that you don’t want to deal with the reality.”

She took a step toward him, eyes flashing. “Life isn’t black and white like your polo uniform, Naldo. You can’t take reality and trim it and tweak it into what you want. Real life has shades of gray. It’s messy and untidy, and sometimes inconvenient, but it’s real and you can’t just throw money at it and make it go away.”

Naldo hesitated. Too right-he was tired of life being a mess. For a decade he’d been torn between loyalty to his proud but difficult mother, and deep love for the caring father who found happiness with the wrong woman. All he wanted to do now was clean the slate and start over.

And Anna saw right through him.

A surge of irritation warred with a sudden disturbing urge to silence this maddening woman with a fast, hard kiss.

But he’d gone down that road before and it certainly hadn’t improved matters.

“How much do you want for the jewels and the cottage?”

She settled her hands on her slim hips and stuck out her chest. Something fresh sparked in her eyes. “You mean how much will it take to get me to shut up and leave? How much hush money do I require?” Her breasts heaved under her shirt.

He ignored the thickening sensation in his groin. “You know that’s not what I mean. I just want to compensate you fairly.”

“So you can make sure you’ll never be troubled by me again? So I won’t turn up again like a bad penny, looking for more money and reminding you-and everyone else-that the majestic De Leon family has a skeleton in the closet? I’ve a good mind to go to the papers right now and tell them the whole story.”

Naldo froze. “Your mother would never have done that.”

“No. She knew her place, didn’t she? The faithful family retainer, true to her beloved lord and master. So circumspect that she never even dared to confide in her own daughter.”

A flush covered her neck, and he could see her breath coming faster. Was she going to cry? “I think it’s disgraceful that your father supposedly loved her for so long and never offered to marry her. Like she wasn’t worthy of him. Everyone thinks the great Robert De Leon was such a chivalrous knight of old, faithful to the cherished memory of his beautiful sainted wife. I’d love to let them know exactly what kind of man he really was.”

Naldo instinctively took a step forward.

“Don’t touch me!” Anna leapt back as if he threatened to bite her. “Get out! Leave me alone.”

She was going to cry. Naldo stiffened. Part of him wanted to grab her and shake her until she saw reason. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and console her, and part of him wanted to peel off her clothes and-

“Get out!”

He turned on his heel and left. There was no arguing with a madwoman. Especially when every rational thought you summoned was interrupted by a stray urge to kiss the words right out of her infuriatingly sensual and shockingly insolent mouth.

He swung himself into his car and closed the door with a satisfying slam. His father’s mistakes should be a harsh lesson to him. An untidy emotional entanglement had laid him open to the risk of scandal, and ultimately had killed him. Naldo had no doubt his father would still be alive if it wasn’t for Letty Marcus.

He’d decided early on that he would never let a woman tie his heart up in one of her nightgown ribbons.

Right now he needed an ice-cold shower to cool his temper and his blood and get everything back exactly where it should be.

Under control.

The next morning, Naldo was eating a grapefruit in the breakfast room when he heard the telltale click-click of Isabela’s mules on the wood. His spine stiffened.

“Morning, sweet brother.”

“Hey.” He smoothed out the local paper on the table.

“It’s taking an awfully long time to get rid of Ms. Marcus, isn’t it? I’d have thought you’d have her bags packed and shipped by now.” Isabela slid into the chair opposite him.

“Me, too. I don’t know why she’s being so difficult.” He flipped the page. “But she’ll sell. Trust me.”

“I’m not entirely sure I do trust you.”

Naldo’s gaze snapped up in time to see Isabela winking at him as she reached for some toast.

“What do you mean by that?”

“She’s pretty.”

“So?”

“And you’re a man.” She snipped off a piece of dry toast with her teeth.

“I have no interest in Anna beyond securing the land for the family.” He grabbed his juice glass and took a swig. His eggs lay heavy in his stomach.

“Mmm-hmm.” Isabela reached for the butter. “Though you don’t seem to be in any hurry, from what I can see. Where exactly did you spend last night?”

“In my bed.”

“I mean the night before this one.” Her black eyes glittered. “You went out, oh, around three, and came back for breakfast.”

“Sweet of you to be concerned about my whereabouts.” He sipped his coffee.

“Oh, I’m concerned, all right. The last thing this family needs is more scandal.”

“There was no scandal last time. Mother’s death was an accident, remember?” His chest tightened.

“You were just a kid. You have no idea what Daddy did to hush everything up. He paid off the police, he bought the local paper. Are you willing to do the same?”

“I have no need to do anything.”

“Oh, really? How will you feel if the papers report that you’re sleeping out in the servants’ quarters like dear old Dad?”

“Why would I care? I’m not married. I can sleep where I want.”

“With the cook’s daughter?”

“Nothing wrong with cooking. We all have to eat. Besides, Anna doesn’t work here. She’s a successful businesswoman.”

Isabela’s lips twisted into a little mocking smile. “Oh, dear. Things are rather worse than I suspected. But I know you, Naldo, partly because you’re my brother, and partly because you are so exactly like our beloved father. The family name is a brand you’ll live and die by, and you’ll do anything to prevent it being tarnished, in the papers or anywhere else.”

Naldo inhaled slowly. True. “What are you driving at?”

“Now that Daddy is gone, all the people he paid off and hushed up over the years are heaving a sigh of relief. What if they get chatty? If word gets out about what happened to Mother?” She leaned forward. “And why it happened? The family name will be legendary for all the wrong reasons. I know you’d hate that.”

Isabela rose from her chair, gathering her gauzy dressing gown. She swept behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“You look tense, sweetheart.” She dug her thumbs into his shoulders. “Poor Naldo. Even these broad shoulders will be strained by the weighty burden of responsibility you’ve inherited. I don’t envy you. I honestly don’t.”

Pain and pleasure mingled as she massaged his tight, sore flesh. It felt good. “Where did you learn how to massage?”

“I haven’t always lived alone, you know.”

“No? So how come you’ve never married? You’re nearly forty.”

“Thirty-three,” she snapped.

“Yeah, right.” He couldn’t help smiling. “If you say so. But seriously, you have someone?”

“No. Not now.” A note of sadness in her voice surprised him. “I don’t think I’d ever dare take a chance on marriage. Not after what happened to Mother. My illusions about love and marriage were shattered at a tender age.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” It was true Isabela had taken their mother’s death even harder than he had. She hadn’t been home for more than a few days since it happened. Isabela was a carbon copy of their mother. She’d gained weight in the last few years, and was now a lusher, fuller version of her. Their mother had fiercely supported her dream of being a singer, in the face of their father’s opposition, perhaps as a way of chasing her own thwarted dream of performing on the world’s great stages.

But Isabela’s singing career had gone nowhere. She’d directed one or two small operas. She wasn’t married. She must be lonely. His heart contracted with pity for her. “What do you want to do with your life, Izzy?”

“As I said before, I just want a quiet little place of my own. A few hundred acres to build a barrier between myself and the cruel world.”

He snorted. “A few hundred acres in Europe? Maybe we should just invade Monaco and take it over?”

“I know, I know. But if you sold this place and moved the family back there…You’d love it, Naldo. People know how to live in the old style. They understand the importance of tradition-”

“I love it here.”

“Oh, Naldo. You’re so stubborn. Just like Daddy.”

“And Mom. And you.”

Isabela laughed. “I guess we’re all kind of hard to live with. It does feel like the end of an era, though, doesn’t it?”

“Or the beginning of a new one. I know what I’m doing. I’ve managed the estate for seven years.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She lifted her hands off his shoulders. Oddly, they were more tense than when she’d started.

“Mother’s jewels.” Her clipped words made his neck tighten. “I looked in her dresser, and they’re not there. They’ve always been there.”

“She died ten years ago.”

“I know, but Daddy never moved them before. Are they in the bank?”

“Why, are you thinking they’d look good on you?”

“Well, perhaps a piece or two. To remember Mother by.”

He cocked his head. “What if I want them for my wife?”

Right now he didn’t even want a wife. But one day he would marry and his wife should enjoy the legacy of a De Leon bride.

Isabela pressed a hand to her heart and inhaled deeply, eyes closed. “You know, Naldo, it hurts me right here, that everything our parents owned belongs to you, and nothing belongs to me. Do you think it’s fair?”

“No, I don’t think it’s fair. But I can see how it’s practical. If you divide everything up with each generation, sooner or later there’s nothing left.”

Isabela lifted her proud head and looked out the window, then snapped her gaze back to his. Her eyes glittered with sudden tears. “Don’t be selfish. You know I look just like Mother. I’d so love to have a piece or two, to remember how things were…before…”

Save it for La Scala.

“Good luck. Dad gave them all to Letty Marcus.” He said it coldly. If Isabela wanted opera-style drama, she could have it in spades.

“What?” Her tears vanished.

“He gave her the lot. I’m not sure if it was piece by piece, or all at once, but Anna has them now. I’m trying to buy them back.”

“Dieu.” She stared at him. “He must have lost his mind completely. Surely it’s not legal? They weren’t mentioned in the will. Why can’t you just take them back?”

Tried that. He drummed his fingertips on the table. “I don’t think that’s the honorable thing to do.”

“Honor be damned! We’re talking about the family heritage here.”

“Trust me. I know. I offered her cash, but she’s as stubborn as a De Leon.”

“She won’t sell?”

“She’ll sell. I’ll make sure of it.”

Already afternoon and the packing was not going well. Anna scraped her damp hair off her hot neck and wrapped it into a knot. She had no use for the old-fashioned bedside clock with its painted enamel design, since she had a programmable digital one, but could she just throw it away?

No way.

Yard sale?

Hardly a prime location.

So the clock still sat on the simple wood nightstand. The Lladro porcelain figures and hand-knitted doilies similarly balked at leaving the mantel in the sitting room. The scented collection of shell-shaped soaps in large beach shells refused to give up their multiyear residence on the shelf above the bathroom sink.

Her mother’s possessions had ganged up and decided to stay.

“Anna!”

Naldo’s deep voice, right under the open window of her mother’s bedroom, made her jump. What now?

It was bad enough that she couldn’t seem to get that forceful voice out of her head, now she had to deal with the face and body that went with it?

She leaned out the window. “You rang?”

“Hey.” A smile sneaked across his wide, sensual mouth.

How could he have the audacity to look pleased to see her? He must be up to something.

“Hey yourself.”

“Can I come in?”

“Can I prevent you?”

With a smile he disappeared from view, walking around to the front of the house.

She scanned the front of her T-shirt and shorts. Stain-free.

His heavy footsteps on the stairs were echoed in the heavy beat of her heart. She was not going to get swept off her feet by him this time.

He materialized in the doorway, all windblown black hair, flashing dark eyes and tanned muscles barely contained by a black polo shirt.

Great. She sucked in a breath. “How may I help you?”

“Just thought I’d see how the packing is going.” He scanned the room. A line appeared between his brows.

“As you can see, it’s not going so well.”

“Need a hand?”

His expression of good cheer didn’t fool her for an instant. “No thanks.”

He licked his lips. She ignored a tiny flare of heat in her belly. “I’ve been thinking.”

Uh-oh.

He picked up a china cat off the nightstand and turned it over, as if to read the maker’s mark on the bottom.

Probably said Wal-Mart.

“I should take the jewels to Breathley Brothers in St. George. They deal in fine historic gems, and they can do an up-to-date appraisal that incorporates provenance. I do have paperwork for many of the pieces, after all.”

“And there I was, thinking you came here to help me clean.” She put her hands on her hips. “I was just about to ask you to help me scrub the bathroom floor.”

His dimples appeared. “Celia would do a better job of that. I can send her over, if you like. I’m not sure I’d even fit in that bathroom.”

An image of Naldo’s big, bronzed body squeezed into the tiny shower stall assaulted her imagination.

He took a step forward and his rich male scent crept up on her. “I want our arrangement to be completely fair.”

Fair? Nothing about this was fair. For a start it wasn’t fair that Naldo always had such a discombobulating effect on her.

The image in her mind shifted into deeper focus. Thick droplets of warm water cascading over the hair-roughened skin of his powerful thighs.

She inhaled sharply. “Maybe I could take them.”

His brows lowered. “Perhaps we could go together.”

“When?”

“Right now.” He crossed his arms, in a gesture matching hers. His thick forearms tugged at the front of his black shirt, pulling it tighter over his well-developed pecs.

She crossed her arms higher to cover the tightening of her naughty nipples.

“I guess I’d better get changed.”

“I don’t know why. I think you look lovely like that.”

“I’m not sure your snooty jeweler will agree. They probably frown on cutoffs.”

“Let them frown all they want; they won’t turn away my business.” His lips lifted into a half smile.

So true. An old name and even older money guaranteed you the best of everything. Naldo had probably never heard the word no in his life.

“I’ll change anyway.”

“I’ll watch.” His eyes narrowed as his smile broadened.

“You will not!” Her protest accompanied a curl of heat in her belly. The thought of those dangerous dark eyes on her, appraising, admiring…

“Wait downstairs.”

Naldo pouted slightly before turning for the stairs. He ducked, stooping his broad shoulders as he went down the tiny staircase.

Her nipples stung as she slid her T-shirt over them, and her panties were already damp. Just being in the room with Naldo made her pant like a preteen at a rock concert.

How was she supposed to stand the half-hour drive to St. George cooped up in his tiny car with him?

She needed a chastity belt.

And the next best thing was a dress from her mother’s closet. Surely she wouldn’t think lusty thoughts if she was wearing clothes that belonged to her mom. She flipped past a pretty floral dress and a low-backed white one, then lifted a splashy polka-dot number from its hanger.

Perfect. It was the kind of thing that only her mom could pull off. Naldo would certainly be too weirded out to give her any smoldering looks in this.

Six

Naldo frowned as Anna emerged through the front door, jewel box in hand, to where he paced on the lawn. “You’re wearing that?”

“You don’t like it?” She did a twirl, which caused the polka-dotted skirt to flare out around her.

“It’s okay, it’s just that you look like…”

Your mother.

The unspoken words crackled in the air.

Her mother had loved patterns, bright colors, girly details. A stark contrast to Anna’s own preference for pastels and simple sheath dresses. The fitted forties-style dress was a size too big, but with the belt cinched in it looked…festive.

The look of distress on Naldo’s face gave her a warm glow of satisfaction.

“Do that again,” he said, with an unreadable expression.

“What?”

“Twirl.”

She twirled, hoping to see consternation furrow his majestic brow again.

She was annoyed to confront a smug look of satisfaction.

“Suits you.” He strode to his Alfa Romeo and tugged open the passenger-side door. “You should show off your shape more often.”

Anna bristled with irritation as she lowered herself into the seat and strapped herself in, nipples thrumming inside the fitted bodice of her mother’s dress.

After he returned from his house with the papers, Naldo’s eyes fell to the wooden box cradled in her lap. “Why don’t you put one of the pieces on? That dress could use some earrings.”

“No thanks. I don’t want to get attached.” She shot him a loaded glance.

His lips quirked into a smile. “Understandable.”

During the drive they chatted, mostly about the estate and Naldo’s plans to improve and upgrade using the latest technology and scientific research. Anna answered his questions about her work with genuine enthusiasm-she’d been damn good at it, after all-and managed to deflect his curiosity about her future plans with blurry answers and more questions for him.

It was cute how he could talk about his beloved estate and its people and places for hours. His love for them was obviously deep, ingrained and heartfelt. What would it be like to have a man care about you with that kind of intensity?

She tore her eyes from his proud profile. She knew better than to entertain any thoughts about Naldo loving her. That was the road to heartbreak.

Naldo parked in front of an elegant Queen Anne house in a leafy part of St. George. The jeweler was so low-profile that they didn’t even use a sign. Naldo had called ahead on his cell, and they were greeted at the door by a young man in a white linen suit, who was on a first-name basis with Naldo.

Was this a setup? Had Naldo roped some friend of his into pretending to be a jeweler? Was he going to provide a false, low valuation so he could buy the gems back on the cheap?

Suspicious thoughts crept around her mind as she climbed the wide, deep steps of the house, her polka-dot skirt draping around her knees.

The man in the white suit ushered them into a cool, shady drawing room filled with Victorian antiques and offered them iced tea. Naldo refused, but Anna accepted a glass, then wished she hadn’t when more wary thoughts sneaked over her.

Is it poisoned? Drugged? Is this part of Naldo’s cunning plot to be rid of me once and for all?

The increasingly lunatic direction of her thoughts, and the fact that she was wearing what amounted to a fancy-dress costume, suddenly struck her as hilarious. She was struggling not to laugh out loud when a tall, slim, elderly man in a brown pinstripe suit walked into the room, leaning lightly on a cane.

“Mr. De Leon.” He shook Naldo’s hand. “Good to see you again.”

“This is Anna Marcus.” Naldo indicated Anna, who stepped forward to shake his hand.

“The future Mrs. De Leon?” The elderly man smiled.

“No.” Both Anna and Naldo spat the reply at once. Anna felt a flicker of irritation that he was so quick to dismiss the possibility. Then she was mad at herself for wishing he hadn’t.

“Oh. I beg your pardon. How may I help you?”

Naldo glanced at Anna’s lap, where she still held the box in a vise grip. “We’re seeking valuation for some family jewels. We would like to know the correct market price.”

“I see. Bring the gems to my desk, please.” He walked stiffly to a large, leather-topped table with several vintage-looking pieces of equipment on it.

Anna crossed the room, clutching the box. She laid it on the leather surface. She hovered, apprehensive, as he raised the lid.

A frown crossed his weathered face. “I’ve seen these pieces before.” He looked up at Anna, who felt her eyebrows shoot up. She heard Naldo shift in his chair, behind her. “The late Mr. De Leon brought them to me seeking appraisal some years ago.”

“For insurance?” Naldo frowned. “He never believed in it.”

“I don’t know the reason, but I gave him a detailed appraisal at that time. Let me get my notes.”

The man who’d opened the door brought a thick file, and the appraiser proceeded to read from a detailed report he’d prepared a few years earlier.

Anna’s jaw was in her lap by the time he’d finished going over the pieces one by one-lamenting the careless storage and admonishing Naldo, who he assumed to be the owner, for tossing them in a crude box. Three of the pieces were over three hundred years old. One necklace contained a famous diamond known as the Star of the Sea, once owned by an Indian maharaja and brought to the States by one of Naldo’s merchant ancestors. The Victorian pieces the other jeweler had scoffed at were the work of an idiosyncratic but respected American designer whose work now fetched a premium at auction.

When all was said and done, the combined value of the twelve pieces in the box was “priceless.” A “fair market value” was determined to be somewhere between two and three million dollars, with unlimited upside potential at auction, depending on the bidders.

“Why weren’t they mentioned in the will?” breathed Anna, as she stumbled down the front steps. Naldo was carrying the box. She didn’t feel worthy to even touch it any more. He was right, they were his family treasures.

“Perhaps he didn’t intend for her to keep them.” Naldo’s expression was stony as he opened her car door.

She buckled in, unease trickling through her, as she waited for him to walk around to his side and climb in.

“So if he just gave them to her, and there’s no paper trail…” She tried to make sense of it.

“The gift wouldn’t be legal. Taxes must be paid on a gift of this size.”

“Oh.” Her mother hadn’t paid any taxes on a gift like this. She’d done her mom’s tax returns for the last ten years.

The gems weren’t hers. She wondered if she should feel upset, but she didn’t. She’d never had any real right to them.

Naldo had placed the box in the trunk of the car.

He’d repossessed it. And she didn’t have the energy to protest.

“I’ll have to do some digging around. Find out who they really belong to.”

She relaxed a little as he started the engine. As he reversed out of the parking space, he shot a hot, dark glance in her direction.

After they’d driven a couple of blocks, he looked at her again and his eyes skimmed lower, to the plunging neckline of her bold dress, to the cinched-in hourglass of her waist.

Taking possession. He did that well. Already her body responded with a shivery flush of warmth that spread over her skin and deep inside her.

Damn him.

She fixed her eyes on the windshield, only to gasp when he swung the car to the side of the road, threw it into Park and captured her lips in a warm, wet kiss.

Her mind fought back for a split second, but her body capitulated instantly as the stirring male scent of his warm skin crept over her, and his penetrating and forceful kiss plundered her mouth and stole her senses.

She writhed against the pleasurable pressure of the harness seat belt, her nipples humming with arousal. She wriggled in her seat, arching and straining as his big, broad hands roved over the front of her dress, cupping her breasts and stroking her belly.

He lifted the skirt of her dress with one swift movement of his hand, baring her thighs. With her legs splayed against the seat, parted by his hand, she felt wanton, desirable and ready for anything.

Naldo unfastened her seat belt and helped her ease her arms out of it. He hiked her dress up over her waist and dove into her panties, tugging them down as his eager tongue reached for her swollen sex.

As his broad back filled the distance from his seat to hers, she lifted her hips and gave herself to him, mentally begging him to lick and suck her all the way to heaven.

Then she remembered the jewels.

And how Naldo had used sex to get what he wanted.

“Stop!”

If he heard, he showed no sign of it. His tongue slaked her inner thigh, hot and wet, as his fingers roved between the buttons on the front of her dress to press her eager nipples.

She wriggled under the pressure of his lips and fingers, wanting to give herself over to the sensual pleasure of his touch.

He’s doing this to distract you. To use you somehow.

“Naldo!”

“What?” His throaty moan was half buried in her thighs.

“Stop this right now! I know what you’re up to.”

“Driving you…” He broke off, losing his mouth in her chest.

“You’re not driving.” Her words came out kind of squeaky and breathless as he nipped at her nipples though the polka-dot fabric.

“Wild with desire,” he murmured, trailing his face over her breasts.

Well, yes, that and-“Getting my mind off the jewels.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He nibbled at her neck, sending delicious shivers of arousal over her skin.

“Stop, I mean it.”

Something in her voice caught his attention because he did stop. He looked up at her, his big dark eyes shining with desire. He levered himself off her and pulled back, brows lowering.

“I want to get out.”

“We’re in St. George.”

“I know the town. I had a job here during the summer in high school. I’ll get a cab back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you.”

“Drive me home, or drive me wild with desire?”

A wicked gleam shone in his dark eyes. “Both, if you like.”

“I’d rather take a cab. You can take the jewels, they’re probably yours anyway, but I don’t want any more of your kisses.”

“Why not?”

His simple question made her pause.

Because you’re stealing my heart.

“Because there’s no future between us and I don’t need to be used right now. I just got divorced and I’m feeling fragile and-”

And you’re Naldo De Leon, the one man I’ve always wanted, but knew I could never have.

“Relax. I’m not trying to cheat you. I’ll make sure you’re fairly compensated.”

There he was again, offering her money.

Nothing but money.

He had no intention of giving her anything of himself. Ever.

“If you have fifty dollars,” she said shakily, “I’d like to take a cab.”

He looked at her for a moment like she’d lost her mind, then leaned his head back on the head rest, his hard jaw jutting out. The thick bulge in his pants caught her attention before she yanked her gaze away.

He reached into his back pocket and tugged out his money clip. He peeled off four fifty-dollar bills.

“I’ll never take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

“Just one will do.” Her face was hot with the humiliation of having to ask him for cash. She lifted one bill from his hand, and he let go of all four so the other three fluttered to his knees. One fell on the floor.

Anna pulled on the door handle and maneuvered her way out of the car, tugging down her skirt. The bright afternoon sunlight stung her dilated pupils. “Thanks,” she rasped, clutching the crisp banknote. “I’ll pay you back.”

Naldo emitted a low growl, which was silenced by her car door as it closed with an expensive-sounding click.

She set off down the sidewalk, feeling Naldo’s eyes on her as she flounced away in her polka dots, his fifty-dollar bill crumpled into her hand.

Maybe her mother couldn’t resist the De Leon charm and had settled for being a kind of secret mistress, but she sure wouldn’t make the same mistake.

The morning shadows shrank as the sun rose high on yet another day in the cottage. Anna had stopped packing completely. The stuff didn’t want to be packed. She didn’t have anywhere pressing to go. What was the rush? She’d taken a couple of pieces of her mom’s modest china collection to the jeweler/pawn shop owner in town and raised enough to live on for a few days.

And to pay back Naldo his fifty dollars, which she’d stuck in an envelope and placed in the mansion’s mailbox.

She lay stretched out on the sofa, flipping through a handwritten recipe book she’d found in one of the kitchen drawers. Was this the one mentioned in the will? Why would there be a special provision that her mom should keep her own recipe book?

It was beautiful, though. Bound in red leather, a special book made to be treasured. No scrawled notes or taped-in newspaper clippings here. Her mom had written the recipes in a careful copperplate hand on the creamy vellum. Pen-and-ink drawings accented with bright watercolors illustrated some of the recipes.

The drawings surprised her. She hadn’t known her mom had artistic talent. But apparently there were a lot of things she hadn’t known about her. She bit the inside of her mouth as another wave of raw emotion threatened.

A load roar outside yanked her attention from the smooth pages of the cookbook.

What was that noise?

Anna peered out the window of the cottage.

A lawnmower. Typical. Naldo must have told the gardener to keep on maintaining the property around the cottage as if it was still his. Annoyance spurred her to her feet as the mower came into view through the window.

Now that the cottage and the land were all she had, she felt proprietary about them. She’d even started to have stray thoughts about keeping them. She didn’t have anywhere else to go right now.

She hurried outside and waved her hands to get the driver to stop. It was a young guy she didn’t recognize. “Please don’t mow this lawn,” she called, striding toward him.

The man frowned. “The grass is getting long.”

“Mr. De Leon no longer owns this cottage or the land around it.” A flash of fear stung her as she made the bold pronouncement. It didn’t feel true.

The young man’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You kidding?”

“Nope. It’s mine. My mother used to live here and Robert De Leon left it to her when she died.”

“Letty was your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “She was very nice.” He gave her a strange look, and there was an awkward silence thick with the unspoken words and you, maybe, aren’t so nice.

Why did it mean so much to her not to have Naldo’s employee mow her grass?

“Anyway, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mow here for now. I want to grow the grass longer, for a more natural look.” She licked her lips awkwardly.

The gardener’s brow lowered and a smile tugged at his lips. “More natural?”

“Yes, you know. A Xeriscape.”

He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You’re the boss. You don’t want it mowed, I won’t mow.”

Anna gulped. She didn’t feel like the boss of anything.

“I’m Ricky, by the way.” He looked at her steadily.

“Oh, hi, I’m Anna.” She walked closer and held out her hand, mortified that she’d forgotten even common politeness in her grim quest to defend her little stronghold.

“Hi, Anna.” Something twinkled in his eyes as he gave her hand a firm shake. Amusement. Anticipation of the fireworks display he’d see when he told Naldo?

She gulped.

A big white Mercedes sedan pulled into view, and she gulped again when she saw Isabela’s face in the open driver’s side window.

“Gotta go,” said Ricky. He sped away on the mower before Isabela adjusted her dark glasses and stepped out.

In a floaty chiffon jacket and wide-legged pants, she looked comically overdressed as she picked her way across the overgrown grass in her high-heeled shoes.

“Anna.” She smiled. “I must apologize for the other night.” She lifted her huge sunglasses to reveal big brown eyes. “I was feeling rather emotional. It’s been a hard time, Daddy’s death, you know. Coming home for the first time in ages.” She waved a ring-laden hand in the air. “I suspect I was rather rude.”

You could say that. Anna wondered if this visit was really about making amends.

Isabela gave an apologetic smile. “I’m an artist. I can be a little temperamental. Truce?” She held out her hand.

Anna decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, Isabela’s bluntness had clued her in to the truth.

She shook Isabela’s soft hand. “It’s a tough time. I’ll miss your dad. He was a pretty amazing guy. And I actually appreciate you filling me in on the situation between him and my mom. I really had no idea. A lot of things make sense now.”

Isabela nodded. “And you have this cottage.” She gestured at it. “You own more of the estate than I do.” An odd laugh peeled out of her. “Funny, isn’t it?”

Anna felt a stab of pity. The look in Isabela’s face showed that it hurt more than her glib words let on. “It is odd that you don’t inherit. Especially since you’re the oldest.”

“I’m a mere girl. Patriarchal to the core, that’s the De Leon family. That’s why it’s such a shocker that Daddy left land to your mother. She must have held quite a sway over him.”

“Or maybe he just felt guilty that he didn’t marry her.”

“Yes.” Isabela looked thoughtful. “But he gave her the jewels, at any rate, and that’s why I’m here. I’d like to buy a piece or two, purely for sentimental reasons.”

Anna frowned. Did Isabela not know that Naldo had them now? That they supposedly belonged to him?

“Naldo has them.”

“Oh, I know. But they’re yours. Daddy paid a gift tax on them five years ago.” She tilted her elegantly coiffed head.

Really? Interesting that Naldo hadn’t shared that tidbit of information with her. “So they’re legally mine?”

“Absolutely. And of course my darling brother intends to buy them from you to restore them to the estate, but I’d so like the pretty ring with the lion on it. And that old yellow diamond in the funny setting.”

“I guess I don’t feel they’re mine to sell, even though they might be legally. Perhaps after I sell them back to Naldo, you can buy them from him?”

Isabela pouted slightly, dimpling her chin. “My brother can be terribly difficult. He probably won’t want them to leave the sacred turf of the estate. I did inherit some spending money when Daddy died, so I can pay what they’re worth. They are my family treasures, too, you know.”

Anna did feel bad for her. How would she handle being shunted aside so a brother could inherit everything? But she knew how strongly Naldo felt about the jewels. Naldo felt strongly about everything. “Seriously, I don’t even have them. You’d better talk to Naldo.”

Isabela chewed the plastic end of her sunglasses between straight white teeth. “Could we go inside for a moment?”

“Um, sure.” Anna led the way through the kitchen and into the tiny sitting room. Isabela looked at the old sofa as if it might bite, then lowered herself onto it.

“This cottage is a sweet little place, isn’t it?” She glanced around, a slight grimace shadowing her haughty features. Anna saw the faded paint, inexpensive knickknacks and mismatched colors through Isabela’s critical eyes. Somehow it made her love them more.

“Yes, it is.”

“But I know you don’t want to stay. You have a business to run, a life to lead.” She raised large, slightly watery eyes to Anna. “I had those things once, but my career…” She broke off and fanned her face with a hand, looking dangerously close to tears. “It’s a tough business and I’m not getting any younger. As you heard me say to Naldo, all I want now is a place to call home.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “This could be my home.”

Anna blinked rapidly. “What?”

Isabela fixed her with a doe-eyed gaze. “Will you sell the cottage and the land to me? It would be an act of sisterhood.”

Anna’s brain was starting to feel overloaded. Sisterhood? With Isabela De Leon? What on earth was she up to? Trying to snatch the land away from Naldo so she had a claim to the property?

“I can’t. Naldo offered to buy it first and I know it means a lot to him.”

Isabela’s lip quivered. “I feel so…rootless and alone. With nowhere to call home.”

Trust me, I know the feeling.

“I’m not even sure if I’m going to sell. I’m having a hard time packing because I’m so attached to the place.”

“You might keep it?” Isabela’s face snapped back into sharp focus. “You mean, actually live here?”

“Yes.” As she said it, the casual thought took on the weight of a serious possibility.

The only real snag would be proximity to Naldo.

“You can’t keep it.” Isabela’s loud voice rang off the walls. “My brother wouldn’t hear of it. Naldo will fight in court to preserve the integrity of the estate. There’s no way he’ll accept the existence of a one-acre hole in his beloved kingdom. You might think you’re going to keep it, but sooner or later, he’ll get his way and you’ll end up with nothing.”

The final word was growled through closed teeth.

Anna shivered.

Isabela laughed. “I’ll tell you a secret. Naldo sent me here. He thinks I’m here trying to persuade you to sell to him. I even told him I’d ask you to sell it to me, and he loved the idea, thought it was hilarious.”

She leaned forward. “Men don’t take us seriously.” Her eyes narrowed. “They think we’re just pretty playthings here to serve their needs. When they’re done with us, they toss us aside. I need to protect myself, and you should protect yourself.” She tilted her head. “I know he slept in your bed.”

Anna gritted her teeth. Had Naldo told her?

“Don’t flatter yourself that he cares about you. Naldo means to have this property one way or another, and he will have it. Protect yourself.”

She rose to her feet with a fluttering of chiffon and shoved her black glasses back on. Her heels tapped on the linoleum as she stalked out of the house, leaving Anna still perched in a living room chair.

Isabela left a trail of unease-and cloying scent-in her wake.

Had Naldo sent his sister to persuade her with stories of “sentimental reasons” and sexist exclusion? She didn’t believe for a moment that Isabela wanted the cottage for herself. She might not have the limitless means of her brother, but Isabela could undoubtedly buy a ten-thousand-square-foot beachside mansion without even straining her bank accounts.

She was up to something, and it seemed very likely that Naldo was behind it. He’d already proved he was devious enough to use kisses, even sex, to get his way. What next?

She was going to let him know exactly what she thought of his little plan.

She stomped inside and picked up the phone. The pink, heart-shaped piece of paper with Naldo’s number still lay on the counter and she punched it in.

“Hi, Pilar, it’s Anna, where can I find Naldo?” she asked as politely as she could.

“He left for the south orchards, out by the water tower, about three hours ago. They’re putting in some new rows there.”

“Thanks.”

She grabbed her keys.

Seven

Anna spotted the golf cart Naldo’s father always used to get around the estate-painted burgundy with RDL emblazoned in cream letters-just off the dirt road at the end of a row of newly transplanted trees. He must be out barking orders at the poor peons in his employ.

She tried not to let the sweet rich orange scent dissipate her mood of raw indignation as she strode through the grove. At last she came upon a knot of men digging evenly spaced holes to accept a truckload of new transplants.

She squinted in the bright sun, trying to spot that unmistakably imperious profile amongst the suntanned workers. Then she saw him.

Naldo knelt in the sandy soil, an expression of rapt concentration on his hard features. His broad hands patted the dirt into place around a fragile young transplant. As she watched the tender care with which he treated the plant and the freshly turned earth that held it, her breath caught in her lungs.

The trees are family to us.

She steeled herself against a wave of sappy emotion that would not help her in any way. “Naldo.”

“Anna.” He sat back on his heels. A perplexed frown crossed his forehead, then his eyes narrowed. “You’ve come to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Her blood pressure shot up. “Are you kidding me?”

He looked past her, to where she could still hear the sound of shovels moving the soft soil. “Let’s walk.” He rose to his feet, dusting off his pants.

Dressed all in black, shirtsleeves rolled over his broad forearms to accommodate the afternoon heat, Naldo looked effortlessly elegant. She wore a pretty white sundress she’d found in her mother’s closet. She couldn’t help thinking they must make rather a dashing couple, strolling down the lush rows of perfectly maintained orange trees.

An illusion. Black and white, opposites in every way, she and Naldo had nothing in common other than a vested interest in one dusty acre of land.

“No one will come down these rows,” he said, once the thunking of shovels was no longer audible. He turned to face her.

“You know why I’m here,” she said. “I think it’s pathetic that you sent your sister to talk me into selling out. I wouldn’t have thought that was your style, Naldo, sending a woman to fight your battles. I guess you’ve changed.”

A line appeared between Naldo’s dark brows. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Isabela. She paid a visit to the cottage. I especially enjoyed the part where she appealed to me out of sisterhood.”

Naldo looked at her like she was crazy. His eyes narrowed to black slits. “Sisterhood?”

“She warned me about you. She told me you’d stop at nothing to get the land, and I’d better watch out.”

Naldo laughed, long and hard. “She knows me, all right. Are you scared?” His face creased into a grin that brought out his dimples.

“I’m not scared of anyone or anything.” She held her head high.

“I believe you. It’s one of the many things I like about you.” His infuriating grin persisted.

Anger bubbled in her chest. “And, Isabela happened to mention that your father did give my mother the jewels legally.”

Naldo’s smile vanished. “Yes. He paid the gift tax. They were hers, and now they’re yours. I apologize for not telling you myself but I only learned the news this morning and I’ve been out in the groves ever since.”

“So.” She cleared her throat. “I have a proposal. I’d like to sell you the jewels, and keep the land and cottage.” The idea had occurred to her almost at the moment she said it. It didn’t mean she had to stay in the cottage, but it would be there for her, a home to come back to, and she’d still have money to get her life back on track.

She held her breath.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“All or nothing. I must have that land back.”

“That was a nice touch having Isabela pretend she wanted it for herself.”

Naldo’s forehead furrowed slightly. “I had nothing to do with Isabela coming to visit you. If she tried to buy it from you it was for her own reasons.”

“She said she wanted to live there.”

“Did she now?” His mouth hitched into a wry smile. “Since that is about as likely as me wanting to live there, she has some other plan. As you know, she’d love me to sell the whole estate. No doubt she planned to sell it to developers or something to force my hand.”

“She couldn’t do that. There’s no road easement.”

“I know.” His satisfied smile irked her. “But I’m disturbed that you checked. It seems that all the women around here are trying to sell off a piece of my private paradise. You can’t trust anyone.” He lifted a brow.

“I already know I can’t trust you. You’ll stop at nothing to get what you want.”

“Spoken like someone who knows me well.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “And since we’re on the subject, how about three million five hundred thousand dollars for the land, the cottage, the jewels and the cookbook.”

Anna’s lips parted and a tingle of astonishment sneaked up her neck.

“I can have the money for you today. In cash, or wired into the account of your choice.” His expression had turned more serious. “I’m sure we both want to get this resolved.”

“Yes.” Her word emerged as a breathy whisper.

Three and a half million dollars.

They’d walked out of the grove of newly planted trees into an early-season grove now in full white-petaled bloom.

The thought of all that money in her overdrawn bank account…freaked her out. Suddenly shaky, she inhaled a deep lungful of the rich sweet fragrance. The bright blossoms shone like stars among the dark, shiny leaves.

“These trees will set a lot of fruit this year,” she murmured.

“They will.” His forehead furrowed and he looked at her curiously.

Three and a half million dollars. It was more than enough to do anything. Or nothing. She’d be independent, free of obligation to anyone. She could walk out of here and never look back.

The thought punched her in the gut like a blow. If she took the money she’d never see this place again.

She hesitated as the blossom-scented air filled her senses. All around her, miles of trees in various stages of blooming and fruiting dug their roots down into the rich soil, drawing life, giving nourishment and strength.

“You would give me the money and I would just…go.” Without planning to, she spoke the painful thought aloud. The anguish she heard in her voice made her heart seize tighter.

“Yes.” Something odd flickered in Naldo’s eyes.

Naldo wanted to sever her roots. To cut her adrift in the harsh world that had bruised her like a tender fruit in the wrong hands.

She couldn’t breathe right. Maybe it was the orange oil in the air, or the bright sun in her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen to her brain to say the word yes.

Naldo stood like a statue, regal and imposing, his black shirt open at the neck to reveal his bronze throat. She watched his Adam’s apple move as he spoke. “Four million.”

His voice emerged low. Not a question, not even a demand. There was something odd in his tone that further hindered her ability to form a coherent thought. There was something even stranger in his eyes as he took a step forward and seized her hand.

The warm, firm touch of his long fingers made her catch her breath. She dug her feet into the sandy soil, trying to get a grip on something, anything. His hand closed around hers and he took another step that brought his chest within inches of hers.

She struggled to find words but the beating of her heart was too loud and the blood rushed to her brain. Naldo took hold of her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her face to his. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he studied her face. She moved her lips, hoping that some sensible words would find their way to them, but no sound came out.

Naldo’s gaze dropped to her mouth, his eyelids lowered a fraction and he inhaled…then took her mouth in a deep, penetrating kiss that made her belly quiver.

Her fingers clawed into his thick hair as he tipped her head back. His mouth devoured hers hungrily, his face pushed against hers, skin on skin, the rich, musky scent of him mingling with the fragrant blossoms to overpower her senses.

As he deepened the soul-stealing kiss, she ran her fingers over the roping muscles of his back and tugged at his shirt, sneaking her fingertips down his spine and into his waistband.

Instantly she felt him thicken and harden against her. He let out a low groan and a broad hand roved down her dress to cup her breast, then lower to test the curve of her rear. He squeezed her against him and she gasped. So big and powerful, yet so gentle and tender, Naldo took her breath away.

She tore at the front of his shirt, pulling the buttons roughly from their holes, scratching at the firm, tan skin beneath. Naldo unzipped her dress in one swift motion, and they both shoved it and her panties down over her waist and legs, urgency building in the orange-scented air.

She fumbled with the front of Naldo’s pants, and he unzipped them and shucked them, letting them fall as he gathered her in his arms. Naked.

A fierce, wild shiver ran right through her like a breeze in the windless air.

Naldo lowered her gently to the soft sandy ground carpeted with scented orange blossom petals. He lay down beside her, his eyes dark slits of desire, as he ran his fingertips over the curve of her waist and along the length of her thigh, triggering painful arousal-until he stopped.

“I don’t have a condom.” Agony creased his brow.

“I’m on the pill,” she murmured, barely able to talk as her body throbbed with longing. “Don’t stop.”

His middle finger pushed between her thighs and into her moist heat. She moaned as he touched her, her hips lifting to meet his hand. Her nipples ached and her skin hummed with a craving to be to be skin to skin with Naldo De Leon.

With Naldo De Leon.

What was she doing?

He’d offered her four million dollars, and instead of taking the money and running like any sensible person would do, she’d jumped on him and torn off his clothes.

Surely she should-?

His finger tripped a hotwire inside her. She bucked against his hand and let out a strange, animal sound. Naldo silenced her with a hard kiss, his big body moving over hers, muscle heavy on her as his tongue tangled with hers.

She lifted her hips as he entered her, taking him deep. A shudder of profound relief rippled through her. Naldo cupped her head with one hand and kissed her greedily as he plunged deep inside her, driving her further and further into a paradise of sensation.

She writhed against him, moaning and murmuring his name as she climbed higher toward the peak of the most intense emotion she’d ever felt.

I love this man.

Again the thought stole into her mind and this time she didn’t shove it away.

Powerful, passionate, fiercely loyal to his proud family and the estate he loved, Naldo was a man like no other.

He dove into her one last time and her climax took her. Like a roller coaster plunging from the highest point, she sped down, screaming, into an abyss of shocking pleasure. Naldo held her tight, his groans echoing in her ears, as she crashed back to earth on the petal-strewn sand.

It was some time-she had no idea how long-before she managed to open her eyes. She met Naldo’s black gaze.

I love you.

She crushed the thought back into her brain. No sense making a fool of herself. At least not more than she already had.

She became uncomfortably aware of the gritty ground under her hot, sweaty skin.

Um, what just happened?

Naldo’s dimple appeared. “You have a strange effect on me.”

“Yeah.” She frowned. “I’ve noticed that.”

“And apparently the feeling is mutual.” His wide, sensual mouth tilted into a half smile.

“I wouldn’t say that…” She feigned a serious expression until Naldo tickled her belly and she broke into a giggle.

“Did I scream?” The thought of the workers one grove over made her clap a hand over her mouth.

“Yes. Most definitely.” Humor twinkled in his eyes.

“What if someone heard?” Her eyes widened.

“The trees provide excellent sound insulation. Do you hear anyone rushing to your aid?” He raised a brow.

“No.”

“So, as you can see, you’re at my mercy.” His smile broadened.

“Even if they could hear, I bet your faithful employees would just whistle and pretend they heard nothing.” She narrowed her eyes. Her mouth fought a grin.

“It’s nice being the boss.” He winked. “But then you’d know that.”

Anna swallowed. He still had no idea she was penniless, bankrupt…a failure.

“Though I don’t know how you run a business if you don’t like money.”

“I like money just fine.”

“You could have fooled me.” He tilted his head, smiling at her. “I keep trying to give you some, but I can’t get you to take it. I guess you have too much already.”

If only.

“It’s not that I don’t want the money…” Her voice trailed off.

“But you’re too proud to take it?”

She hesitated. Was it pride? Maybe a little. But it was something else, too. Mushy sentimentality for a place she’d once called home.

An indulgence she couldn’t afford.

“I just need to be sure I’m being fairly compensated.” She grasped at the first straw that came to mind. “I’m a businesswoman, as you said.”

“If you run your business anything like the way you…” he regarded her steadily with those penetrating black eyes “…play tennis, I’m in a very dangerous position on the other side of a bargaining table from you.”

Her nipples tingled at the suggestion in his voice and she stretched, trying to look casual. “I only want what’s fair.”

“I suppose there is the matter of the cookbook.” He stared at the ground for a moment, then met her gaze again.

“Is that the red leather book I found in Mom’s kitchen?” She thought of those carefully written creamy pages with their lovely drawings.

A line appeared between Naldo’s brows. “Yes. That’s the one. My father illustrated it.” He looked up, gazing into the trees behind her. “He always liked to draw.”

Oh. So that’s why she didn’t remember her mom being artistic. The book was a joint effort. A labor of love. The image of them working on it together made her bite her lip to stem a surge of emotion.

“I can’t picture your father drawing. I always saw him in action, striding about the place.” It was hard to imagine the dynamic Robert De Leon taking the time and care to make those intricate and carefully observed illustrations.

“Oh, yeah. He painted, too. Usually early in the morning, before the day got rolling. He loved to go out to the orchards with an easel and capture the trees in bloom.”

An orange blossom petal drifted down from the tree above them and landed on Anna’s belly. “I don’t think there’s a more beautiful sight on earth,” she murmured, looking up at the white clustered branches.

“There isn’t.” Naldo looked at her. “I’ve traveled enough to know that. This is heaven, right here. My dad knew he lived in paradise and he lived every minute of it to the fullest.”

Anna chewed her lip. She’d once been so keen to get away, to get on with building a “real life.” Real life had turned out to be a crushing disappointment compared to life here in Paradiso.

“What’s the matter?” Naldo brushed a strand of hair off her face.

“I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this place.”

“It seeps into your blood, doesn’t it?” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Wraps itself around you, and doesn’t want to let you go. I guess that’s why the De Leons have been here so damn long.”

And why I don’t want to leave again.

Overcome by a wave of panic, Anna shook her head, tossing her hair. Naldo pulled his hand back.

You have to leave. You have no choice. This isn’t your home anymore.

“I guess that’s why I can’t stomach the idea of parting with even one acre.” Naldo’s dimple appeared. His words, spoken so casually, made her gut twist with anguish. A simple reminder that he wanted her to take the money and give his land back.

She sat up and reached for her dress, trying to maintain a veneer of calm. Think business. “I still don’t understand why the cookbook was mentioned in the will. Because they did it together?”

“It’s not the book that’s important, so much as the recipes. I guess he wanted to acknowledge that they were your mom’s.” Naldo shifted onto his elbow, frowning at the dress in her hand. “They’re the foundation of the retail business.”

She froze. “The marinades and dressings that you sell in supermarkets?”

“Yes.”

“The products that netted three million dollars in profits in their first year of production?” Her thoughts, spoken aloud, made that now familiar furrow reappear between Naldo’s brows.

“Your mother developed the recipes as an employee of the estate.” His tone had turned professional. Cold.

“Of course.” A surge of fresh hurt mingled with fury and stung her. “She came up with ideas that generate millions in cash for the estate, while earning a cook’s salary.”

“She was compensated in other ways.”

“The jewels.” Anna’s blood chilled. “Your father bought her off. Kept her quiet.”

Naldo blew out an exasperated burst of air and sat up. “What happened to you, Anna? What made you so bitter and untrusting? My father loved your mother. They were a team-much as it pains me to say it-and they did almost everything together. He gave her an acre of the estate, for crying out loud. Do you have any idea how extraordinary that is? It’s never happened before in the history of the De Leon family.”

“The estate. That’s all it comes down to, isn’t it? Preserving the estate, building the estate, growing the profits. The idea of that one acre not being under your control is a real burr under your saddle isn’t it? Did Ricky tell you I didn’t want the acre mowed?”

Naldo raised an eyebrow. “Yes, he told me. Why don’t you want it mowed? Are you raising hay? Or just raising hell?”

This woman was crazy, no doubt about it. She knelt across from him on the sand with her dress fisted in her lap. Light and shade filtered through the blossom-covered tree and made tracery patterns on her stunning, slender body.

Her bright eyes shone with the fire of her passion. Anna Marcus was passionate in every possible way.

He hid a smile that wanted to sneak across his mouth. Yes, he wanted his acre back, and he’d get it, but not without going through that fire some more. Lucky thing he didn’t burn easily.

“Just making sure we all know where we stand.” On her own cue, she stood and shook out her dress. “I think you should bring the gems back to the cottage.”

A swell of naked lust rolled through him at the sight of those long legs that wrapped around him so perfectly, climbing back into the white cotton dress.

“Need help with the zipper?” He didn’t try to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“I’ve got it.” She zipped up the back without a hitch.

“You would. You don’t need anyone, do you? No wonder marriage didn’t suit you.”

That stopped her in her tracks. She shoved a lock of hair awkwardly off her face. “You don’t know anything about my marriage.”

“No. I don’t. Anything I should know?”

Damn. On the one hand, he was curious. On the other, he didn’t want to know anything at all about Anna and another man. He shifted in the sand, uncomfortable.

“He left me.” She said it quickly, and for once her fire seemed to dim. “I guess you’re right. He left me for someone totally different. Said he wanted someone quiet and nurturing. More submissive.”

“I’m sorry.” The hurt in her eyes tore at his chest. “He was the wrong man for you, because you sure aren’t cut out to be submissive.”

“I guess, like you said, marriage doesn’t suit me.”

“Hey.” He reached for his pants. “Don’t let a bad experience get you down. You just need someone who appreciates you for who you are.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone that crazy.” She tried to sound lighthearted, but it didn’t fool him.

“You’re a woman in a million.”

“Yeah?” She tossed her hair and narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’re willing to pay four million to get rid of me?”

He couldn’t help laughing. She was right, of course.

At this point he was offering her far more than what the gems, the cookbook and the land were worth. What would it take to make this woman see sense?

It might help if he could keep his damn hands off her for a whole day.

Why was he making love to the daughter of his father’s lover? She was the last woman on earth he should be interested in.

He shook his head. Anna Marcus was definitely having a disturbing effect on him. He’d actually experienced a surge of relief that the jewels were legally hers, otherwise he’d have felt like he was cheating her out of them. And the cookbook, too. He’d originally intended to gloss over that, to have her leave without knowing what the clause in the will really meant.

But he couldn’t do it.

Since he’d gotten to know her again he had a powerful urge to protect her interests and safeguard her rights, even at the expense of the estate-not to mention his own sanity.

No doubt it was just his sense of honor. His father had raised him to do the right thing.

She slipped her feet back into her sandals. Pink soles peeped at him for a tantalizing second as she put them on, before he dragged his eyes away.

He needed to back off and play it cool. The more he came on strong, the more she fought him.

The worst part was how much he enjoyed that. Anna’s fire lit an inferno inside him in a way he’d never experienced with any other woman. He loved the way she stood up to him. That she didn’t fawn and simper and pander over him like so many women who saw him as some kind of trophy, not as a man.

Anna saw him as a man, all right.

And despite his duty to the estate, he couldn’t help seeing her as a woman. A savvy businesswoman who refused to be cheated, a loyal and caring woman who wanted to see her mother’s memory honored, a passionate and sensual woman who called to something stronger than principle and pragmatism.

He could tell she loved the estate, too, that she felt a deep connection to land and the trees.

He snapped his attention away from the hot burst of feeling rushing through his chest.

It was time to be practical. “I’ll send Tom over with the gems when I get back. Then the ball is in your court.” He settled back in the sand with his hands behind his head, trying to look like he didn’t care much one way or the other.

“Good.” She shot him a dirty look that only tickled his libido.

As she stalked back down the row of trees in her unsuitable shoes, he heaved a deep sigh, which brought him no relaxation whatsoever.

He just wanted to put things back the way they should be. The estate whole and entire. The family secrets buried safely where they belonged.

Why did it have to be so hard?

If he didn’t get rid of Anna soon, rumors really would start to fly, and once they got out there’d be no putting that genie back in the bottle. He should be doing everything in his power to make her leave-right now.

Instead, all he wanted to do was run his hands over her silky skin and trace the proud angle of her chin with kisses. To make bone-shaking, earth-tilting love to her again.

And again.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, inadvertently getting a bunch of gritty sand on it. He had sand all over him from head to toe and was lying naked and alone in his own orange grove.

What was wrong with this picture?

Relax. It’s a fair offer. More than fair. She’ll come to her senses, take the money, and go.

The thought made him more uncomfortable than ever.

Eight

The sound of footsteps on the cottage steps roused Anna from a deep night’s sleep. Not really footsteps, more like loud thuds. She sat up, heart pounding.

“Who’s there?”

She squinted against morning sunlight as the bedroom door flung open.

Who else?

Naldo stood in the doorway, fury hot in his eyes. He brandished a tabloid-size newspaper. “What do you mean by this?”

“Get out of my room!” She clutched the covers around herself, more out of instinctive self-defense than modesty.

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain this article.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He flung the paper down on the rumpled bedcover and rapped the page with the back of his hand. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Still sleepy, she squinted, then rubbed her eyes, trying to focus on the tiny newsprint. De Leon Heir in Legal Wrangle was the rather small heading of a short article on page eight.

She picked up the paper and held it closer.

An intriguing wrinkle appeared in the long and illustrious history of the De Leon family, when the late Robert De Leon left a small tract of estate land to an employee. As the De Leons have clung to every acre they own since the 1500s, this has raised eyebrows all over the county. An inside source confirmed that Robert De Leon’s long-rumored affair was in fact with this employee, forty-eight-year-old Leticia Marcus, who worked on the estate as a cook for fifteen years before her recent death in an automobile accident.

Anna bit her lip as fresh grief flooded her.

The situation might be further complicated by the estate’s recent venture into the retail market. Some say the late Ms. Marcus was the mastermind behind the award-winning products that are seeing strong sales across the nation. Ms. Marcus’s daughter has been in town for several days, and seems to have no immediate plans to relinquish her claims on the estate. Is the great De Leon empire under siege?

She realized her jaw had fallen open, and she snapped it shut.

“Why did you do this?” Naldo leaned over her, his voice low and menacing.

“Do what?” she rasped. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“It had to be you. You’re the only person with ‘insider information’.”

Anna blinked. Naldo De Leon was in her bedroom-uninvited-accusing her of spreading libelous rumors. He hadn’t even asked, he assumed she was the source. White-hot rage streaked along her nerves. Did this man’s arrogance have no limits?

“You said you’d like to tell the papers what kind of man my father really was.” His low voice joined his eyes in an aggressive confrontation that wreaked havoc on her stubborn streak.

She let go of the covers and crossed her arms over her chest. “What if I did give them the information?”

Naldo’s brows lowered. “Do you have any idea what this means?”

“Sure. People will know the truth. It is the truth, remember?”

“It is private, proprietary information about my father’s personal life. The De Leon name appears in the paper only for announcements of births, marriages and deaths, not on the gossip pages.”

He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin.

Anna exploded into a chuckle. Yes. His arrogance really did have no limits. “Oh, come on. There must have been articles about the new line of products.”

“Yes. Of course. But a public relations firm in New York handles those. Naturally your mother’s name was never mentioned in connection with them.”

“Naturally,” she returned sarcastically. “Perhaps you can call them in to ‘handle’ this too?” She smiled sweetly.

Naldo inhaled deeply, obviously using every last ounce of self-control not to take her by the shoulders and shake her. “So you admit it?”

“I don’t admit a thing.”

She could see Naldo’s powerful chest heaving under his dark shirt. Any minute now, steam was going to start rising out of his artfully tousled black hair. “You are impossible.”

“Me? You’re the one who’s broken into my house and marched into my bedroom uninvited! I’m in my pajamas, for crying out loud.” She indicated her pink cami. “If anyone is ‘under siege,’ it’s me. Could you maybe show a little common politeness for a change?”

Naldo blinked. She saw his Adam’s apple move, then he drew himself up to his full height and nodded brusquely. “You’re right. I should have knocked. But I want a full explanation of this. The De Leon family does not take scandal lying down, of that you can be sure.”

His dark gaze trapped her focus for several intense seconds. A heady mix of unreadable thoughts and emotions seemed to swirl in those dark, penetrating eyes, and in her mind. Then he turned and left.

She collapsed back against the pillow, heart thumping.

A full explanation? She didn’t have one, but she was going to get one. She heard his car engine with relief. At least he wasn’t waiting for his explanation at the bottom of the stairs.

Naldo had left the newspaper lying on the bed. The Sunshine Post. She remembered the local paper her mother used to look for yard sale announcements in. Hardly the National Enquirer, but she could see that this was a nice juicy local tidbit. And it was true.

But no way would she let Naldo blame her for planting it. She’d find out who did this, and the best way to start was simply to ask.

“My source is confidential.” The classic line was spoken not by an old-time visor-and-vest-wearing hack, but by a pimply youth dressed like a skateboarder.

Anna and Sunshine Post reporter Thomas Craig carried their iced teas to an outdoor table at the Bon Appétit café on Main Street in the middle of a glorious, sunny spring morning.

“How do you know her information was accurate?”

“It checked out.”

“Ah, so it was a female?” Anna raised her eyebrows and took a sip of iced tea.

He tilted his head and winked. “I’m sure we can find some information to trade with each other. You’re Leticia Marcus’s daughter?”

“Yes. Everyone calls her Letty. Called her Letty, I guess I’m still not used to-”

“How long had she been involved with Robert De Leon?” He leaned forward to sip from his straw and his dirty blond hair hung in his eyes. No doubt hiding a gleam of voracious curiosity.

“I have no idea if they even did have an affair.” Her knee-jerk response surprised her. She had no doubt they’d been lovers. Even Naldo admitted it. So why was she prevaricating now?

“Oh, come on.” Craig’s wide mouth tilted in a mocking smile. “Everyone in town knows they had a long-term affair.”

“They were both private people,” she said stiffly. “I hardly think they’d have let everyone in town in on their business.”

“So, you admit there was ‘business,’ as you so tactfully put it?” He sipped his iced tea through the straw again. A skull-and-crossbones ring glinted on one of his fingers.

“I admit nothing of the kind.”

He snorted. “Come on, we’re all adults here. And now you’re getting into it with Naldo.”

“What?” Her eyes snapped open. A flush started to creep up from the neckline of her T-shirt. Ugh! If he didn’t suspect anything already, he would now.

“Over the land. He wants you to sell, but you won’t.”

“Of course I will. I don’t want that land.”

“So why haven’t you sold and left yet?”

“I have to sort through my mother’s things.”

“And rekindle an old flame, perhaps?” He cocked his head, letting his long hair flop aside to reveal green eyes glinting with…malice?

“There’s nothing between me and Naldo.” The barefaced lie made her revealing flush deepen.

“Why do I not believe you?” He winked.

She inhaled sharply. “I grew up here. Naldo was away at boarding school most of the time, so I saw him when he was home for vacations. Naldo and I both loved sports, so, sure, we spent some time fooling around on the tennis court and shooting hoops. That’s all there was to it. We weren’t really friends, even. He didn’t recognize me when I came back.” This time the truth gave her a nasty, nagging sensation.

“And now you’re all grown up, both single…” He took another sip and peered at her through his hair.

“I’m not single, I’m divorced,” she sputtered.

He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. “Last time I checked, divorced meant single.”

“As you’ve so astutely observed, Naldo and I are both adults. What we do is our own business. As it happens, we are simply negotiating a price for the property left to my mother. When we’ve reached an agreement I will sell and leave. Simple as that.” She sipped her iced tea, trying to keep her temper in check.

“Your mother developed the recipes that are minting money for the family?”

“I believe she did.”

“Then I bet you want a piece of that juicy pie.” Craig leaned forward and lifted a skinny brow.

“I certainly do not. My mother developed those recipes as an employee of the estate.” She clamped her lips together, hardly able to believe she was making the same argument Naldo had made.

“She must have been a pretty devoted employee. The De Leons are famous for being one of the best employers anywhere. The staff are like family, no?”

“Absolutely. That’s why they keep the same people for so long.”

“And I guess that’s how Robert De Leon kept his affair with your mother a secret for so many years. No one wanted to risk their comfy perch by blowing the lid off the chicken coop.”

“Blowing the lid off? Please. You’re acting like there’s an actual story here. Who cares what Robert De Leon was doing in his spare time? Why on earth is that anyone’s business but his?”

The cool, sweet, iced tea did nothing to extinguish her simmering indignation. She’d like to crush this snotty little jerk under her sandal.

Why are you defending Robert De Leon? He treated your mother as a mistress. He could have married her, but he didn’t.

“Come on. We both know they had an affair.”

“My mother would have told me, and she never said a word.”

That still hurt. But it confirmed that her mother wanted to keep her love life a secret, and it was Anna’s duty to respect that.

“And now you and Naldo are continuing the legacy. A legacy of passion.” The green eyes narrowed to vicious slits.

Anna narrowly resisted the urge to throw her iced tea at him. “Naldo and I are working out some business matters. Why don’t you go write about something that actually matters? Isabela De Leon came to you with this, didn’t she?”

“I cannot confirm, or deny…” He winked at her.

“I thought so.” She slammed some money down on the table, annoyed that she had to pay for him since she’d invited him. At least she had the information she was looking for, not that she hadn’t known it from the start. “Thanks for your time,” she muttered. Then she marched off down the street, bristling with irritation at the reporter, Isabela, Naldo and anyone else who wanted to make her life more of a mess than it already was.

She wasn’t sure if Isabela had hinted at an affair between her and Naldo, or if she’d given that information herself with her guilty blushes. This meeting was probably not a good idea, but at least she’d learned that Isabela was the source.

She’d been sure Isabela had planted the article, but why would she want to have the family scandals blabbed all over town? Did she want to hurt Naldo? Was it part of her plan to force him to sell the estate?

Anger simmered inside her at the idea that Naldo’s own sister was trying to undermine the estate.

But why should she care? It wasn’t as if Naldo meant something to her.

If anything, he deserved it.

Naldo never came back to get her news about the true source of the article. When she stopped by the house to tell him it was his sister who’d gone to the papers, she learned he’d gone to a polo match near Ocala. Right now he was probably out partying, with an heiress on each arm.

Tom had delivered the gems to her the previous evening and stored them back in the dark attic as she requested. He gave her a wary look along with his polite greeting when she said “hi” to him at the house. Even the usually cheery Pilar seemed cool.

Back at the cottage, she folded up a white cotton sweater of her mother’s and put it in yet another pile to go in the van. Why couldn’t she seem to throw anything away? What was she going to do with all this stuff? Maybe being adrift and rootless, with no idea what the future held, was turning her into a pack rat, clutching at anything that might bring a sense of security.

She slept a while, then got up to pack just as light was breaking over the horizon. She turned the air conditioner off-why not enjoy the balmy Florida heat while she still could? It was probably fifty degrees in Boston right now.

Without the whirring of the A/C, the chirping and warbling of thousands of birds began to fill her ears. She’d never paid much attention to birds while she lived here. She took their gentle morning wake-up song for granted, along with the rich scented air and the warm, year-round sun.

Since then she’d lived so long surrounded by the roar of traffic and the whup-whup of early morning sirens, that she had a burning curiosity to see what kinds of birds were making that pretty music.

She shoved up the old sash window.

Wow. There was that air again. So much of it, fresh and clean and clear and perfumed with oranges. She inhaled deeply, letting it fill her lungs and send its invigorating, scented oxygen zipping into her bloodstream.

Leaving the first time had been easy. Leaving again-for good-was going to be a whole different story.

The sound of an engine growling close by made her crane her neck around to the front of the house. She’d taken to parking her van on the grass in case anyone needed access to the polo arena. Who ever heard of a private polo arena? She shook her head.

The engine stopped and she heard a door slam.

Great. Yet another opportunity for Naldo to catch her in her jammies. She grabbed a sky blue dress, another one of her mother’s, off the hanger in the closet, and was still switching it for her pajamas when she heard the loud knock.

“Coming!”

She shimmied into the pretty summer dress, sure that at any second the door would fling open to admit her impatient and imperious guest.

But it didn’t. Frowning, she slid on some sandals and hurried downstairs.

Naldo was actually waiting outside the door?

She opened up. Sure enough, it was him. Resplendent in perfectly pressed khakis and a white shirt. “To what do I owe this not entirely unexpected pleasure?” She gestured for him to enter.

He gave her a look so strange that she almost tripped on the threshold.

Hurt. That’s what she saw in his eyes.

Not the flashing glints of anger she’d grown quite used to, but something deeper, darker and possibly far more dangerous.

He took a step into the kitchen, unfurled a paper that he’d carried under his arm and laid it on the table.

“You already showed me the article,” she said softly. He still hadn’t spoken.

“Read it.”

She picked up the paper.

Legacy of Passion. The front-page headline punched her in the gut and stole her breath. The paper crinkled as her fists tightened around it.

Daughter of De Leon employee continues tradition: Affair with the Boss.

Her heart stopped. Or at least that’s what it felt like. She looked up at Naldo. “Wha-?”

“Keep reading.”

A conversation with Anna Marcus, daughter of De Leon estate employee Leticia Marcus, sheds fresh light on the legal skirmish over estate land reported in yesterday’s paper. Ms. Marcus, pretty, blond and twenty-six, is back in town to handle her mother’s affairs-and to have one of her own.

“This is complete nonsense,” she spat.

“Really? He heard it from you.” Naldo looked at her coolly.

“No way. He totally made this up. It’s crazy.” Her heart thudded.

“Oh, is it? Now you seem to be the one who has a problem with the truth.”

“I would hardly say we’re having an affair.” The newsprint blurred and jumbled before her eyes. She had no idea what she and Naldo were having. Or weren’t having. Her throat tightened.

“Exactly what would you call it? And how do you explain the quotes?”

“What quotes?”

“Read on.”

She and Naldo have a passionate past. “Sure, we spent some time fooling around,” admits the bold and spunky Ms. Marcus. “Naldo and I are both adults. What we do is our own business.”

“That was quoted completely out of context!” Her hand flew to her mouth and the paper sagged in the other.

“So you admit you did talk to him?”

“I did, but only because I wanted to find out who planted the seeds for the other article. It was Isabela.”

“He said that?”

“Well, not in so many words…” She trailed off. That pimply punk had used her.

“Fooling around?” A bitter laugh shook Naldo.

“I was talking about how we used to fool around on the courts. I can’t believe he managed to make it sound so…so…”

“Sexual?” Naldo’s steady black gaze challenged her.

She swallowed.

“Don’t stop reading now. It’s just about to get good. In fact, I’ll read it.” He seized the paper and read aloud.

“‘Ms. Marcus has good reason to seek a little tenderness in the arms of a former lover. In the last year she has divorced her husband of five years and declared bankruptcy.’”

She gasped. His emphasis on the final word made it hang in the air. Naldo stared at her for an agonizing moment, then focused his eyes back on the paper. “‘The commercial real estate firm Ms. Marcus owned with her husband, Barry Lennox, went belly up after a string of risky investments, and the Marcus-Lennox marriage went south along with it.’

“‘Flat broke and newly divorced from a man who has since remarried, Ms. Marcus found herself once again within arm’s reach of one of Florida’s wealthiest and most powerful men, citrus heir Reynaldo De Leon’.” He glared at her with narrowed eyes and her stomach clenched like a fist.

“‘Reynaldo De Leon and Anna Marcus have wasted no time rekindling their old flame, following in the footsteps of their late parents, Robert De Leon and his longtime cook, Leticia Marcus.’”

He paused and stared at her for a long time with an intensity that made her shiver. Then he read on.

“‘Whispers still echo around the local corridors of power that the death of the late Mrs. DeLeon was no accident. It’s long been rumored that news of Robert De Leon’s affair with his cook caused his wife to take her own life.’” He emphasized the last words with grim finality.

“Oh, my god.” Anna’s hand flew to her mouth. Her head started pounding. “Is this true?”

“Yes.” Naldo hurled the word at her. “It’s true. She swallowed a bottle of painkillers. I found her in her bedroom.” His eyes glittered with pain. “I tried to revive her, but she was already gone.”

“Oh, no.” She murmured it into her hand as blood pounded in her brain. “The affair began while she was still alive?”

Naldo stared at her, his face suddenly hard as stone. “Yes. And my mother knew. She couldn’t live with the shame of it.”

Anna sank into a kitchen chair. Her own father had been a married man, but her mom swore she didn’t know about his wife until after she became pregnant and told him.

Here she’d apparently entered knowingly into an affair with a married man.

And it had killed his wife. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why? It had nothing to do with you. But you can see why my dad would do anything to keep the story from coming out. He bought and paid for a decade of silence.” Naldo paused, holding her gaze with a fierce stare. “Now he’s dead, and the silence has been broken.”

Anna sagged into her chair, hardly able to believe what she’d just heard. It was tempting to judge, but she could see why her mother-alone and struggling for so many years-would seek affection in the arms of her strong, charming and charismatic employer.

Now she knew why her mom never told her. She almost wished she’d never found out about the affair. Maybe some things were better kept secret.

“You didn’t tell me you were bankrupt.” His harsh words scattered her thoughts.

“I…” A pink tide of humiliation flooded her brain. She’d almost forgotten that tidbit of information after the horrifying revelation of the suicide. Now Naldo knew she was a failure.

If only the scuffed linoleum floor would open up and swallow her whole.

“I thought you were toying with me because you didn’t need the money. That it was some kind of game to you. Now I know you’re broke, I don’t know whether your continued refusal to accept my offer is motivated by greed or insanity?”

“It’s true. I am broke.” The words, spoken aloud, lifted some of the weight off her chest.

“I know. I called the publisher as soon as I saw this. Then I woke the reporter up at home. Once he stopped stammering, he told me how easy it was to do some Google-ing and make a few phone calls to Boston.” His gaze was unreadable, but still contained no traces of the fury she might have expected.

She let out a sigh. “I didn’t want you to find out.”

His eyes softened. “I know.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Not about you being poor.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “Sure, I was a little steamed when I found out you’d deceived me. But you’re a proud woman, and you didn’t want my pity. I respect that.”

A funny feeling tugged at the pit of Anna’s stomach. Why wasn’t he mad? That she could deal with. This casual attitude threw her right off balance.

“I didn’t say any of that stuff about you and me.”

“The reporter told me he quoted you word for word.” He raised a dark brow.

“Out of context! The part about a relationship between us is total speculation on his part. You could just deny it.”

“Oh, could I? It’s true, isn’t it? To quote a hotheaded and high-strung woman of my acquaintance.”

“I am not high-strung!”

“I notice you’re not arguing on the hotheaded.” The hard line of his mouth tilted into a half smile.

“No.” She bit her lower lip. “I don’t think I could argue with that. I’m sorry I let that journalist use me. I fell into a trap. I should have known better. I’m so embarrassed that everyone will know I’m a big failure. I never even told my mom. She was so proud of me.”

She bit the inside of her mouth. No tears came, though. She must be getting used to body blows of disappointment and humiliation.

“Your husband remarried already?” Naldo spoke quietly.

“He was seeing her while we were married. I didn’t know. Too busy working.” She pushed the words between tight lips. “I also didn’t know he was forging my signature and using our assets as collateral to buy more properties without asking me. When the bottom fell out of the market we were wiped out and owed a lot of money. We had no choice but to declare bankruptcy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right, I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t want my money, either, do you?” A furrow appeared between his brows.

“No. I don’t. I only wish I didn’t need it so badly.”

“There’s no shame in taking what’s rightfully owed you.”

“Sure there is. I don’t believe in gaining success through inherited wealth. I prefer to earn it.”

Naldo considered this. A twinkle appeared in his eye. “Are you implying that I’m sponging off my ancestors?”

“You said it, not me.” She cocked her head.

The odd expression on his face, like he was actually contemplating whether what she said was true, touched something tender inside her. “No, I don’t mean that. I saw you out there planting that tree like it really mattered, and I know from my mom’s letters that you work harder than anyone on the estate.”

He looked at her, serious. “We’re all partners in this endeavor.”

“Partners in more ways than one, sometimes.”

It took a moment to sink in. “Indeed.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m sure the story about us will blow over as soon as I’m gone. I bet you can’t wait to be rid of me.” Her voice sounded flat, which was exactly how she felt.

Naldo shot her a shimmering black gaze that made her stomach quiver.

“You’re wrong. I want you to stay.”

Nine

“For what possible reason could you want me to stay?” Anna blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what Naldo was up to.

“I don’t want our affair to end.” His deep voice thrummed with assurance.

“The affair that’s causing a scandal in the local paper?”

Good humor shone in his eyes. “Exactly.”

“But I don’t understand. I thought you hated gossip and innuendo.”

“I do. But there are other things I’d hate more, like not getting to challenge you to a real tennis match. Or not getting to kiss your lips into silence again.” A smile tugged his dimple into existence.

No kisses required. Her lips had been stunned into silence.

When she found her voice again, she was frowning. “But aren’t I a reminder to everyone that your father had an affair with my mother?”

“I suppose you are.” The dimple stayed firm.

Anna’s thoughts ducked and dived like barn swallows.

Is he falling in love with me?

“I don’t really understand what you’re saying. You think I should keep the cottage and live in it?”

“Oh, no.” His expression turned more serious. “You can get a far more comfortable house in town. A new villa with a pool, perhaps? This place is old and cramped.”

Or was this some new trick to get her to sell out?

“My mom loved this cottage.”

“I know. My father tried to persuade her to move into a larger place, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Some people are just stubborn, I guess.” His eyes twinkled.

Stubborn? Try confused. Or afraid. What was he trying to pull?

He picked up her hand, and his warm skin made her fingers tingle. He brought them to his lips, and kissed them. Those firm, sensuous lips, with their arrogant tilt, sent a shiver of desire rushing through her.

“I like having you here.” He held her finger close to his lips, and she could feel his warm breath on her skin. His words stole into her consciousness and crept toward her heart.

How many times had she dreamed of hearing Naldo De Leon say he wanted her?

“But don’t you care about what people will say?”

“No.” The intensity of his black gaze stole her breath. A glance at the determined set of his lips gave her a rash urge to kiss them.

She resisted.

“Why not? I thought you-”

“I have more important things to concern myself with.”

Her lips parted as his eyes drifted down over her face. She felt her cheeks heat. He lowered his face to hers, giving her time to notice the heat of his skin, time to inhale his subtle musky scent.

Their lips came together slowly. It happened by imperceptible degrees, but the impact of skin touching skin slammed her like a car wreck. Suddenly her hands were on him, clutching at his shirt, her fingers pushing up into his hair.

His arms closed around her, holding her tight, squeezing her with a passion that made her breath catch as he kissed her with a ferocity she could never have imagined.

I love you, Naldo De Leon.

The thought never seemed to be far from her mind lately. His firm, warm embrace filled her with a surge of excitement and a shocking sense of well-being. It felt right.

But how could it be?

He wasn’t asking her to move in with him. He wasn’t asking her to marry him.

She pulled back, a painful effort that involved tearing her lips from his impassioned kiss against the urging of every cell in her body.

“You want to have an affair with me.” Her words emerged breathless. Her lips stung, still quivering with the force of his kiss.

Naldo’s narrowed eyes burned with naked lust. He blinked once, then lowered his lips over hers again, in wordless assent to her question.

She succumbed to the sensual heat of the moment, drifting in his arms, until her eyes snapped open and she pulled back again.

A pang of pain stung her heart. Naldo would never marry her. She was no pedigreed Spanish contessa. She was the illegitimate daughter of a cook and she’d never fit into Naldo’s world of three-hundred-year-old porcelain plates and four-hundred-year-old prejudices.

Sure, he wanted her. He wanted to kiss her and lick her and rub his impatient hands over her fevered skin. To strip her naked and make love to her until they both lay breathless and exhausted.

Her body ached with the desire to do those things with him, preferably right now, but her mind whispered warnings that made far too much sense.

He’ll use you. He’ll get what he wants, take his fill, then move on. And where will that leave you?

“I don’t want to be a rich man’s mistress.”

“You wouldn’t be a rich man’s mistress.” Naldo’s husky voice filled her ears.

Did he plan to ask her to be his wife?

“You’d be a rich man’s girlfriend.”

Naldo took hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilted her face to look up at his. “And if you take my offer, you’ll be a rich man’s rich girlfriend.”

Humor still sparkled in his eyes. So confident. As if it didn’t occur to him that she would say no.

“Four million dollars. It’s yours. All you have to do is say the word.”

A shudder of powerful emotion rocked her, stinging her fingers and toes.

Love?

Fear?

Or both, shaken into a cocktail that threatened to deprive her of her senses.

“I can feel your heart beating.” Naldo placed two long, powerful fingers on the pulse at her neck. His chest pressed against hers, their hearts pounding together.

Her lips itched to touch his. To settle into the firm warmth of his kiss. To shun words that tangled into confusion as she tried to make sense of a situation that seemed so…impossible.

Too good to be true?

“I want to make love to you.” Naldo’s harsh whisper tickled her ear. Heat rippled through her, sparking a fire low in her belly.

His fingers slid down to cup her buttocks and caress them, through the smooth fabric of her dress.

Her breathing came quicker as her nipples tightened against his chest.

I want to love you.

Her stray thought was different from what he offered. One, a phrase implying something physical, transient, the other bringing with it the promise of a connection that could last a lifetime.

She swallowed hard.

His fingers slid around her leg, and sneaked up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her sex responded with a welcoming throb.

“Stop, please.” She forced the words from quivering lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get a grip on all the sensations taking her body by storm.

Naldo’s broad hand paused on her thigh. Her skin hummed beneath his fingers.

“You know you want to.” His deep voice wrapped itself around her, thick with temptation.

“I need time to think,” she managed. She wriggled, trying to free herself from his firm embrace, even though it was the last thing she truly wanted.

“You think far too much.” Naldo softened his grip. His gleaming black eyes met hers and he pushed a stray strand of hair off her forehead. “Too much thinking can confuse you. Sometimes you just have to act.”

“It’s all so sudden. One minute you’re desperate to get rid of me, throwing money at me and trying to make me disappear. Now you want me to stay? It doesn’t make sense.”

She still couldn’t get over the nagging suspicion that this was all part of his plan to reclaim the land and the jewels.

“Trust me, I’ve done everything in my power to make myself see sense.” Naldo tilted his proud head. “I’ve told myself time and again that it’s better for the family and the estate if you leave. I know that. As heir to the estate I should settle down into a ‘sensible’ marriage. But I don’t want to, I want you.”

The passion in his words tugged at something deep inside her. But the words themselves stung like a hard slap.

She was right.

He would never marry her.

It didn’t even occur to him that she might be offended by him saying it out loud. Obviously the idea was so impossible that it didn’t even bear consideration.

She pulled out of his arms and flew across the room, her breath coming in gulps. She took a deep breath. Common sense for her was taking what he offered. Four million dollars. As Isabela had said, the offer might not last.

Naldo looked at her steadily. “If you like, you could still live in the cottage. I know it means a lot to you.”

His words made her bite her lip. The offer was a big sacrifice for him. Tongues would wag like crazy. The boss visiting the servants’ quarters in time-honored tradition. But the prospect of being able to live here among the groves, in Paradiso, quickened her pulse.

And if he could make the rash step of giving in to his lust for her, maybe one day he might take an even rasher step…

But what if he didn’t?

What if he used her the way two men had used her mother? Without ever promising marriage, or any commitment beyond an evening of pleasure.

It would break her heart.

“I think you should leave now.” She said it softly. She didn’t want him to leave at all. She wanted him to stay, forever. To hold her in his arms and promise her all those things that hadn’t even crossed his mind. That probably never would.

Naldo reached into his back pocket. “Here’s the revised contract. Just so you know I mean what I say.” He placed the slim envelope on the table.

He parted with a brief kiss that left her lips humming and her mind spinning. She sank into a chair at the kitchen table as his engine purred down the drive.

She could have it all. More money than she could have imagined, Naldo, and glorious days living here in the most beautiful place on earth.

But for how long?

The cottage and the land were a place to call home. Should she take cold cash for a gift her mother might have wanted her to cherish and protect for a lifetime?

And what about the recipes? Perhaps she should investigate what legal rights she might be able to secure in her mother’s name?

No. Her mom created those recipes for the estate, the place she loved and the people she loved. She must have been thrilled to contribute to their prosperity in such a tangible way.

She picked up the beautiful book and leafed through the pages that shone with love and care. The delicate line drawings revealed such a different side to the gruff landowner she remembered, the man who’d made her mother happy.

And now that she thought about it, maybe her mother had tried to tell her about her late-in-life love. Snatches of fond conversation, chivalrous visits from “the boss,” the new grove of trees, a new light in her mom’s eyes…

And dismissive teenaged put-downs from Anna’s own lips. The voice of insecurity and unease drawing a sharp line between her tiny family and the mighty De Leons who employed them.

Her mother had decided to keep quiet about the love of her life, perhaps not wanting her own relationship, which began as adultery, held up to the harsh light of Anna’s exacting standards.

She bit her knuckle hard, trying not to cry. All or nothing, that’s you, Anna. You have to have it all, or you don’t want any of it. She was no different from Naldo. Wanting everything black and white, with no gray areas.

She wanted marriage, a lifetime of love, a real family where her children had a mother and a father.

Her mom was probably right to keep quiet about her affair with Robert De Leon. She would have poked and prodded and pried. She would have asked, “Why won’t he marry you?” She wouldn’t have understood.

She could understand now, though, after the dismal failure of her own marriage.

True love is not so easy to find.

Her mom must have accepted that Robert De Leon would never marry her. She must have woven that acceptance into the fabric of her life with the quiet strength she’d used to weather so much adversity.

She stood and closed the book.

Could she do the same thing with Naldo? Learn to accept that life wasn’t black and white, all or nothing? Love this proud and demanding man, even though he would likely never want to make her his wife and partner?

Could she? She bit her lip hard. Probably not.

Anna came back from town with groceries to cook herself a real dinner. She’d pulled the van up close to the house, with the plan to unpack her belongings from it tomorrow.

She was about to sit down to a salad of chicken, Asian noodles, and fresh orange segments from the Summer’s Shadow grove, when she heard a car pull up outside. A glance out the window curdled her appetite.

Isabela.

She was up and at the door before Isabela had a chance to knock. “I’m just sitting down to dinner. What is it?”

Isabela didn’t remove her dark glasses despite the setting sun. “Naldo told me you still haven’t sold to him.” Anna heard emotion in her voice and wondered if it was real or fake. “What are you trying to do? Don’t you know that every day you stay here prolongs the scandal?”

“You’ve got some nerve talking about scandal when you planted that story in the paper.” Anna stepped through the doorway, intentionally crowding the chiffon-clad diva.

“I thought I could convince Naldo to sell. That whispers and rumors would make him want to leave. I never intended for them to know that my brother was fooling around with the cook’s daughter. Obviously neither you nor he has any shame. What if the European paparazzi gets hold of this?”

Her voice shook. Her big, black glasses hid her eyes, and Anna could only guess at the fury behind the reflective surface.

She couldn’t help laughing. “You are kidding! Why on earth would the European paparazzi care about what’s going on in a sleepy little Florida town?

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand.” Isabela’s lips puckered into a moue of distaste. “The De Leons are one of the oldest families in Europe, and everything we do is of interest.”

In your dreams. Anna crossed her arms and congratulated herself on holding her tongue.

“I have a name in the arts,” Isabela spat. Chiffon ruffles fluttered as she gestured with a plump pale hand. “I’ll be a laughingstock.”

Anna choked back the laughter bubbling up inside her. No sense insulting Naldo’s sister if she could help it. She was his family after all and Naldo was big on family. “I hardly see how, but perhaps you should go back to Paris immediately and try to save your reputation. If you don’t mind, I have dinner to eat.”

“Listen to me.” Finally the glasses came off. Beady black eyes seized Anna’s attention. “If you don’t leave, now, you’ll destroy Naldo the way your mother destroyed our family. You’re casting some kind of sick spell over him, just like your mother did with our father. He’s lost all sense of propriety! You’ve brought nothing but scandal and dishonor to the family since you arrived. Take the money-or don’t take it if you’re too proud and stubborn to admit you need it-but leave before you cause any more damage.”

She turned on her stacked heels and flounced across the unmowed lawn to her car.

Anna leaned against the doorframe, her heart pounding. For a few painful seconds Isabela’s words rang with a degree of convincing truth. But as the sun sank behind the rows of fruit trees, Isabela’s breathless exhortations and any pretense of sense behind them dissipated into the orange-scented evening.

The idea of Naldo losing all sense of propriety almost made her chuckle. He must have defended Anna’s presence to his sister. Told her the cook’s daughter was staying put.

A shimmer of pride in Naldo warmed her, along with the tropical evening breeze. Maybe things would work out for the best in ways she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

She certainly couldn’t predict the future, but one way or another, she was home right now. With that reassuring thought she ate her dinner, went to bed, and drifted into a heavy sleep.

The digital clock read 1:23 a.m. when she woke up. A tickle in her throat alerted her to the smell of smoke in the air.

Smoke? This house didn’t even have a fireplace.

She snapped on the light. Everything looked normal. The hum of the air conditioner drowned out other sounds as she strained to hear something. But something was wrong.

Adrenaline sneaked through her as she climbed out of bed, the acrid smell stinging her nostrils. On instinct she pulled a T-shirt and shorts over her flimsy pajamas and slipped her feet into sneakers.

The bare bulb in the hallway made her blink. She still smelled smoke, not any stronger though. Not thick even.

Nerves crackling, she tiptoed downstairs.

Then she saw it.

An orange fireball of flame framed by the kitchen window. It took a moment to figure out that it was her van, totally engulfed, flames leaping several feet into the air and sending a shower of sparks into the black night.

She grabbed the phone and dialed 911, her breath coming in hard gasps. She struggled to stay calm as she described the emergency, but as soon as she hung up the phone she let out a shriek of terror as she ran for the garden hose.

Where was it? She could barely remember the location of the outdoor faucet in the smoke-thickened darkness. The roar of the fire was deafening. Her heart flew to her throat as she realized that if the van exploded the house would catch fire. The burning vehicle was parked only a few yards away, right on the front lawn.

Lucky thing she hadn’t been able to afford to refill the tank, she thought grimly, as she struggled with the tangled garden hose and the corroded brass knob in the writhing orange light of the fire. It took a full minute to coax out a stream of water, and that pathetic trickle looked to be no match for the seething, crackling mass of light and sound.

She half gasped, half screamed as she noticed the first trail of fire streaking into the grass. Then another, and another. Flying sparks and flames from the van leapt into the dry, long grass now parched by the nearby inferno.

She turned the hose on the stray embers and they extinguished easily, but as soon as she put one out, three more sprang up, leaping and creeping closer and closer to the cottage.

“Hey!” A shout made her jump. Naldo ran toward her, his face tightened against the heat and light of the flames. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I just smelled smoke.”

“Give me that.” He grabbed the hose and started to lay a line of water around the side of the van nearest to the house. But at that moment the windshield exploded.

Naldo hurled himself at her, crushing her hard against the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her knees and elbow stung. “Stay down. The gas tank might blow.”

“It’s empty,” she gasped, under the weight of him. “But there’s other stuff in there. All my mom’s things.”

Her heart stuttered as she thought of all the precious things she’d packed, immolated by the cruel flames.

Naldo scrambled to his feet and pulled her roughly to hers. “I called the fire department, but they’re fifteen minutes away. Ricky’s getting water from the irrigation house; he should be here any minute. What happened?”

Anna stamped out a spark in the grass, then another, as Naldo poured more water on the scorched grass.

“I don’t know. I woke up and smelled smoke.” The heat of the fire was becoming unbearable, like fierce midday sun on unprotected skin. “The van was already engulfed.”

She stamped and stamped at a stubborn patch of smoldering grass, only to notice too late that a thick ember had leapt from the van onto the grass in front of the steps. In an instant the ancient wood steps ignited, flames licking along the paint and into the dry wood.

Naldo ran forward and poured water on the flames, but the thin stream from the hose was no match for the burst of flame that ran up the wood trim and ignited the small decorative cornice above the door with a loud whoosh.

Anna stamped at the grass, losing ground against the hail of sparks and streams of fire spreading across the lawn in all directions.

The front window of the house exploded, hurling glass at them, and she screamed as she threw up her arms to cover her eyes. Fine particles scratched her skin.

“Are you injured?” Concern contorted Naldo’s features.

“Oh, my God. The flames are inside.” Through the black hole of the broken window she could see flames roaring up the old flowered curtains.

“Ricky! Drive it right up here.” Naldo gestured furiously as a tractor came into view, pulling a big plastic water tank on wheels. Other workers came pelting into view through the thick black smoke, carrying buckets and shovels.

“It’s spreading across the road, toward the groves,” Ricky shouted through the din of the fire.

“Make a firebreak. Don’t let it get into the groves,” Naldo shouted back. He seized Anna’s arm and pulled her close, his voice right in her ear. “It’s probably too late for the cottage. They have to protect the groves. You and I, we’ll do what we can.”

“Oh, God.” An upper-story window blew out and flames shot through the vent of the air conditioner. Naldo tugged her away from the rain of glass and sparks, around to the still dark rear of the house.

Her hands shook. “The cookbook. It’s upstairs. I took it up there to read. And the jewels, they’re in the attic.”

“There’s nothing we can do about them.”

“I have to save them. I can go up through the back door.” She stared at the black rectangle of glass, pulse pounding in her head as adrenaline flooded her limbs. No flames had reached this side of the house yet. There was still a chance.

“No.” Naldo seized her arm roughly. “It could go up at any moment.” He had already turned the hose onto the dry grass behind the house. Embers were flying through the air thicker and faster as the fire grew. Unmowed and scraggly, the grass pricked her ankles as she hopped from one foot to another, or beat the grass with her bare hands.

“I should have let Ricky mow it,” she said quietly, biting back harsh tears rising in her throat.

“Yes.” Naldo focused on creating a strip of wet grass about ten yards away from the house, between the fire and the small grove of Summer’s Shadow trees his father had planted behind it.

Then he grabbed a shovel from the small tool shed and started to dig a trench behind the area. In no time he’d dug a wide, shallow firebreak across the lawn. Then he started on another. She soaked the grass as far as the hose would reach.

She looked up with a start as the high-pitched wail of the first fire engine pierced the roar of the flames and the roar of panic in her brain. “The fire department is here!”

But already the upper windows now glowed orange with flame.

A window under the roof blew out with little more than a whoosh and orange flames licked the gutter.

Unshed tears tightened her throat as panic pounded through her. It was all going up in the merciless rush of flames. The house, the jewels, the cookbook-everything that tied her to Naldo’s world.

Ten

A fireman ran around the house. He ripped off his oxygen mask and shouted, “You’ve got to get out of here. These old houses can blow apart in seconds.”

Anna still couldn’t process what was happening. Flames now danced along the ridgeline of the roof.

“Come on.” Naldo tugged at her arm. “The walls are probably lined with newspaper, it’s all over.”

“I can’t! I can’t leave it. All my mother’s things!”

“Anna.” Naldo put his arm around her. “We’ve done all we can. Come away before falling debris can hurt you.” For a moment the warmth of his strong arm soothed the terror leaping inside her like the bright flames piercing the night.

“Naldo!” A hoarse shout accompanied the appearance of a soot-stained man Anna hadn’t seen before. “It’s in the old orchard-the branches are dry. It’s spreading fast.”

Naldo cursed under his breath and tugged her with him as he ran forward. “Anna, you have to go back to the house. Take my car, the keys are in the ignition.”

“I can’t. I want to help.”

“No.”

“Please!” How could she go sit in the house when he and the estate were in danger?

Naldo put his hands on her shoulders, his strong fingers gripping her with gentle force. “Everything will be okay.” His eyes flashed in the darkness. “But right now you’re just one more thing to worry about. Go to the house and tell Pilar I asked her to give you a room.”

She hesitated and glanced over her shoulder. The horrifying sight of flames blazing in the wide canopy of a mature orange tree made her throat close tighter than all the smoke billowing in the air.

“Go.” Naldo’s command wasn’t issued politely.

“Okay. Take care of yourself, Naldo.”

He looked at her fiercely for a second, pressed a hot, melting kiss to her lips, then turned and jogged across the already burnt grass to where the blaze was spreading through the groves.

Smoke stung her eyes, making it hard to see as she picked her way over the hoses trailing from the well and the pump trucks, past the shouting strangers and flashing lights.

Naldo’s car was parked off the road, out in the darkness. She managed to start the unfamiliar ignition with shaking fingers and pull onto the access road. She drove about a hundred yards before the flashing lights of more fire engines made her pull off again to let them pass.

“What have I done?” The sound of her own wail, in the dull artificial silence of the tightly sealed car, scared her almost as much as the fiery disaster spreading behind her.

The house was ablaze with lights and panicked staff members when she pulled up in the circular driveway.

“You’re hurt!” Pilar’s panicked reaction startled her. She glanced down, half-expecting to see raw, puckered flesh or oozing blood. The sight of her skin and clothes-soot-smudged but undamaged-brought a stinging wave of relief.

“I’m okay, it’s just smoke. Are there more engines coming? The fire is spreading.”

“Oh, my God.” Pilar crossed herself. “They’re trying to find trucks around the county. It’s been so dry and windy. There are other fires-” She gripped hold of Anna’s forearms. “Has anyone been hurt?”

“No one was injured when I left, but they had an ambulance standing by.” She’d seen it, with the doors open and a gurney already set up in anticipation of casualties.

Please don’t let Naldo get hurt.

“You!” A shout from the top of the stairway made her look up. Isabela stood on the landing, her long black hair streaming over her shoulders. “This is all your fault! I warned you. I knew that you staying here would bring disaster.” She clutched a big lavender handkerchief to her face. “Is my brother safe?”

“Yes.” Anna’s voice came out very quiet and subdued. “He stayed to fight the fire in the groves.”

“The groves are burning?” Isabela stared at her, black eyes boring a hole right through her.

She nodded.

“I told you to leave. I told you!” With a dramatic sob, Isabela turned in a swirl of chiffon and marched off down the hall. Anna heard a door slam.

“She’s highly strung.” Pilar placed a soothing hand on Anna’s arm. “She doesn’t mean what she’s saying. She’s just worried about her brother. He’s the only family she has left.”

Anna sucked in a shaky breath. Maybe Isabela was right, and it was her fault that the estate was under siege.

“Why don’t you go take a shower. I’ll make up a spare room for you.”

“Okay.” Anna let Pilar lead her upstairs into the brightly lit hallway. She showed her into a vast bedroom decorated with a sunny floral motif, and ushered her into the big, adjoining bathroom.

Anna avoided the sight of her shocked and dirty face in the bathroom mirror. She peeled off her clothes and climbed under the hot stream of water.

The thought of Naldo out in the heat and smoke and flames made her heart clench with terror.

I do love him. I know I do.

By the time she’d emerged from the steaming water, someone had whisked away her dirty clothes and a simple cotton nightgown-probably one of Pilar’s-was laid on the bed.

Dressed, she took a deep breath as she pulled up the window sash. The room faced away from the fire, but she could still smell smoke in the air and hear distant shouts.

The reality of the situation sucked the wind from her lungs.

Everything was gone. Not just her mother’s sentimental treasures-the old alarm clock, the porcelain figures, the silly seashells-but the cookbook, the cottage.

The jewels.

Naldo’s family treasures would be nothing but dust and ashes by now. Why had pigheaded stubbornness made her keep them back at the cottage when they would have been so much more secure here in a safe at the house?

She’d proved her point all right: the cottage and the land and the jewels were all hers. Her very own pile of smoking rubble.

And probably all uninsured, in the De Leon tradition.

Her fingers turned cold despite the hot smoky breeze pouring through the windows. She pulled down the sash.

A knock on the door made her jump. “Come in.”

She turned and saw a strange man in uniform. “Ms. Marcus?”

“Yes.”

“Investigator Davis. I’d like to ask you a few questions about how the fire got started.”

“Oh.” A rush of cool fear washed through her. Did they think she’d started it? “I don’t know how it began. I woke up and smelled smoke.”

“May I come in?” He took a step into the room even as he asked the question.

“Um, sure.” She ushered him to a sofa with a cheerful leaf pattern.

He was young, with bright blue eyes and ruddy razor-burned cheeks. “I understand you and Mr. De Leon were having some kind of disagreement over the cottage and the land?”

“No, not at all. He wanted to buy it from me and I intended to sell it.”

“But you hadn’t sold it.”

“No, not yet, but I…Am I suspected of something?”

“We’re investigating the cause of the fire. There’s a possibility that accelerants were used. Traces of gasoline were found on the lawn near the cottage.”

A single name instantly tumbled into Anna’s mind.

Isabela.

Naldo’s sister obviously hated her and wanted her gone. She’d planted the article in the paper, wanting to stir up trouble. She might be just crazy enough to start a fire in order to get rid of her.

She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I think I know who might have started it.”

Anna hovered behind the closed door of her room as all hell broke loose.

Predictably, Isabela didn’t take well to being questioned by an officious young policeman. Finally, she insulted Officer Davis in French and slapped him hard across the cheek, which led to her being taken to the station.

The way she screamed and cried in protest as they dragged her away made Anna even more sure that she was guilty.

Once Isabela was gone, a painful silence fell over the house. Anna slipped out of the bedroom to see if she could get any news on the fire and on Naldo.

She found Pilar weeping at the large granite island in the kitchen with Tom, one of the other staff members, consoling her.

“Poor Miss Isabela. Naldo will be so upset when he finds out. First the fire, and now this!” She let out a wail.

Anna froze in the kitchen doorway. “Did they take her for questioning?”

“They arrested her! She assaulted an officer.” Pilar sobbed into a paper towel. “She has a terrible temper, she’s so proud, but she’d never do anything like this, never!”

“The fire, is there any news?”

“Yes. Thank goodness, they have it under control. Naldo just called. They’re soaking down the ground and breaking the cottage apart to make sure there are no burning embers.” She looked up at Anna with teary eyes. “I’m sorry about your mother’s cottage.”

“Me, too.” But relief roared through her that Naldo was alive and that the fire was over. All she wanted was to feel his strong arms around her again, to hear him reassure her once more that everything would be okay.

“Naldo’s back!” A young employee burst through the door with the news that made Anna jump to her feet. She ran out into the hallway.

“Naldo!”

He was filthy from head to toe but alive and unharmed. “They took Isabela.” Disbelief echoed in his voice. He strode up to Anna and seized her arm. His eyes shone with a look she’d never seen there before. “Why?”

“They think she may have started the fire.”

He shook his head and incredulity creased his smudged features. “It’s ridiculous.” He let go of her arm. “I’m going to the station.”

Adrenaline zipped through her at the thought of losing him again already. “But Naldo, think about it. She might have started the fire to get rid of me. She came to me last night and told me that by staying I’d only bring disaster-”

His black stare withered the rest of the words on her tongue. “You think my own sister would start a fire on the estate? She’s a difficult woman, I won’t deny it, but she’s family and I know her like I know myself. She would never do something like this.” He’d already turned and strode toward the door.

“If she’s innocent, she’ll be fine. Please don’t go-” The front door slammed behind him as he swept out into the night.

Of course Isabela started the fire. Naturally, that was hard for Naldo to accept, but once he thought about it, he’d see the sense in it.

Unease prickled along her arms to her fingers and made her shiver in her borrowed robe.

“You accused Miss Isabela?” Pilar’s voice, right behind her, made her jump.

“I…She came to me yesterday evening, threatened me.” She turned to face her.

Pilar looked stunned. One of the most respected employees on the estate, she had reputedly come from Spain with Naldo’s mother some forty years earlier. No doubt her loyalty to the family prevented her from seeing what Isabela was capable of.

The older woman stared at her, lips parted.

Tom stepped between them and placed his hand on Anna’s arm. “Everyone’s safe from the fire. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

She nodded, anxious to get away from the housekeeper’s accusing eyes. No way could she sleep, but maybe she could just lie down and catch her breath until Naldo got back.

As a thick, warm finger of sun crept across the bed and pointed directly at her face, Anna opened her eyes.

She sat up with a jolt, heart pounding.

I fell asleep?

How had she managed to drift off amidst all the drama? She scrambled out of bed and padded across the cool, polished wood to the wide, arched window. By the height of the sun it must be at least nine o’clock.

She turned and saw her clothes, freshly laundered and laid out on the chaise at the end of the bed. Next to them was that morning’s issue of the Sunshine Post.

Fire at De Leon Estate screamed the headline. Her heart in her throat, Anna scanned the byline. Different reporter, thank goodness.

Fire ripped through an old estate cottage, sparking a brushfire that destroyed several acres of orange groves late last night. The Round Lake fire department responded along with engines from several nearby companies, and the blaze was reported to be under control at the time of going to press.

Known as Paradiso, the De Leon estate boasts more than four hundred years of existence, so this is not the first setback they’ve weathered, but could it be the last?

Elder daughter Isabela De Leon was questioned by police last night amid rumors that she’s bitter about her brother inheriting the entire estate. Is she suspected of setting the blaze?

Gossip that the fire in the dilapidated worker’s cottage could be a scam to collect insurance on the old structure were soon quashed by the disturbing news that the De Leons have always scorned insurance, like the British Royal family whose Windsor Castle was uninsured when it burned to the tune of 90 million dollars in 1992.

Will Round Lake’s “royal family” survive this latest blow in the wake of patriarch Robert De Leon’s death? Or will the younger family members-beset by inheritance squabbles and lacking the experience of their forebears-decide to throw in a four-hundred-year-old towel and sell up? There are plenty of developers who’d like to bite off a piece of the largest privately owned estate in Central Florida.

Anna closed her eyes and leaned against a bedpost. Naldo would go through the roof when he saw this. It amounted to a personal insult to him and his ability to run the family and the estate.

Her name wasn’t mentioned, which probably only meant they hadn’t figured out the cottage that burned was the one she and Naldo were wrangling over. But when they did…

Her heart thumped so hard she had to gasp for air. Where was Naldo? She needed to see him, to see his face, to reassure herself-

Of what? That he didn’t curse her and the ground she walked on?

Someone had obviously put a lot of effort into cleaning her clothes and sneakers, which was good as they were the only clothes she had in the world right now. The grim thought drove home the ugly desperation of her predicament.

No van. No cottage. No gems. No money.

Somehow it was all too awful to seem real, and wouldn’t really sink in. She kept trying to reassure herself that things would “be okay,” as Naldo had predicted.

Would they?

As she ran her fingers through her uncombed hair and wished she had a scrap of makeup to paint a brave face on, a commotion from downstairs made her ears prick up.

She turned the brass doorknob and stepped out into the second-floor hallway. Silhouetted below in the sunlit doorway stood Naldo, his arm wrapped tightly around a weeping and obviously hysterical Isabela.

Anna shrank back into her room for a second.

“Fetch some iced tea,” Naldo barked. “Get some food for her. Those beasts had her up all night.”

He’d found the time to shower and change. He looked crisp and elegant in a dark suit.

His face, however, looked blacker than ever. Not from soot, but from dark, seething anger. Anna’s empty stomach started to knot.

Isabela looked shockingly tragic, leaning in her tall brother’s arms, her long black hair hanging wild to her waist and her eyes ringed with smudged mascara. Naldo spoke some soft words to her that Anna didn’t catch, then began to help her across the wide, marble-floored foyer toward the living room.

Suddenly he glanced up.

His gaze seized Anna’s and held her fast like a rat in a trap. Her mouth fell open, but words didn’t come out.

“How could you do this?” His voice rang coldly through the huge foyer. “How could you accuse my sister of this terrible crime?” Isabela pressed her head to his shoulder, and he stroked her disordered hair.

“As I suspected, it was your van that started the fire. That deathtrap on wheels had an electrical malfunction and that is what started the blaze. The accelerant on the grass occurs only in places where you’d parked your van and carelessly allowed its leaking fuel tank to spill gasoline onto the grass where it could feed the flames.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip.

Hard.

Until it hurt.

He’d offered to call his mechanic. She knew the van leaked a bit, but never thought much of it. Didn’t all old cars leak?

“The cottage,” she stammered. “Did anything survive?”

“Nothing.” Naldo held her gaze for one more searing moment, then turned and walked toward the living room, his arm around his sister.

Throughout this exchange Isabela was uncharacteristically silent. In fact she seemed somehow…pathetic.

Even Anna couldn’t imagine this shaking, weeping woman being the type to slosh gasoline around a house and set a match to it.

Isabela was wealthy and had a life in Europe. Sure, she wanted Anna gone, but enough to jeopardize her freedom?

Hardly.

And would someone so neurotically concerned about her reputation risk making the papers as a jealous arsonist?

No way.

The grave error of her accusation began to sink in, turning her fingers and toes to ice. She slid back into the bedroom and closed the door.

Family and the estate were everything to Naldo. She’d injured both in ways that could never be put right.

In that instant she knew nothing would ever be “okay” again.

Eleven

Naldo didn’t come to her room. Eventually she crept downstairs, heart in her mouth. She heard voices on the other side of the living room door, which was uncharacteristically closed. Should she go in and apologize?

I’m sorry about my pigheaded refusal to maintain my van or admit that I couldn’t afford it. I’m sorry I wouldn’t let your gardener cut the grass. I’m sorry I kept the gems in the cottage. I’m sorry I didn’t just take your money and go when I had the chance…

She clenched her hands so tight that her nails dug into the skin of her palms.

I’m sorry I fell in love with you and didn’t want to leave.

It was all her fault. And now all her hopeful fantasies of living here in Paradiso had come to smoldering ruin.

She’d accused his sister of arson. Yes, Isabela was an opera diva to the core, but an arsonist and potential murderer?

Anna blew out a hard breath. She needed to apologize to Isabela.

She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and marched to the living room door.

Her hand shook as she reached for the ornate brass knob and turned it. The voices hushed as she pulled open the heavy door. Everyone turned to stare.

Isabela lay on the sofa, her head resting on Pilar’s lap while Pilar braided her long hair.

An older man she recognized as a lawyer from the will reading sat in a wingback chair while Tom refilled his glass with iced tea from a large jug.

No sign of Naldo.

As soon as Isabela saw her she sat up, tugging her braid from Pilar’s fingers. “You? What are you still doing here? You gold-digging whore, get out!”

Anna’s apology evaporated into a mist of indignation. “I’m not a gold digger. I’ve never wanted anything but what’s rightfully mine.”

“Dennis, how much exactly did you say the contract gave her?”

The lawyer placed his hand on a sheaf of papers in his lap. “Four million dollars.”

“Four million dollars.” Isabela’s eyes narrowed. In pants and a plain shirt, and without her usual glossy makeup, she looked younger and more ordinary, and somehow far more dangerous. “My brother offered you four million dollars, but that wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

“I was planning to accept the money.”

“Oh? You were planning to take it? And there was my poor brother thinking you were too noble or some such rubbish. I knew better all along. Give me the contract, Dennis.”

She leaned forward and snatched it from his hand. “Four million dollars.” She looked up at Anna. “For the jewels, which are now destroyed.”

Anna bit the inside of her mouth. Isabela traced a line in the contract with a nail. “For the cottage, which is a heap of charred rubble.” Her icy stare made Anna’s shoulders tighten. “For some cookbook that is now a pile of cinders, and for the land.”

Isabela rose to her feet, which were uncharacteristically bare. She walked around the coffee table and pointed an accusatory finger at Anna. “That’s my brother’s land, and you know it. Do you still mean to try to extort money from him after all the destruction you’ve caused? Five acres of orange groves burned. Do you know how much that hurts Naldo? He loves those trees, like, like-”

“Like family.” Anna heard her own voice as if it was someone else’s. The room and everyone in it felt strangely disconnected from her, as if she’d already left it. “May I have the contract?”

“You can’t sign it now.” Isabela’s eyes narrowed. “You have nothing to bargain with.”

“Here’s another copy.” Dennis fished one out of a leather case on the floor beside his chair. “I’m sure Mr. De Leon would like to resolve the matter of the land if you could see your way to-”

“Do you have a pen?” Anna interrupted him, her voice shaking.

“Of course.” He produced a tortoiseshell ballpoint pen from an inner pocket of his suit jacket.

She flipped through the contract to the page where the amount of money was printed. $4,000,000. It didn’t look real, even as she crossed out the full amount with the ballpoint pen and wrote in the number one. “The land is his,” she croaked.

She cleared her throat. “Does anyone have a dollar to pay me for it? I want it to be legal and I know the exchange of money is an important part of-”

“Here.” Dennis whipped a dollar out of a billfold inside his jacket.

Anna took the single dollar bill and signed her name on the final page. “It’s done.” She handed it to the lawyer.

Isabela’s mouth sat in a grim line, but satisfaction shone in her eyes.

“Where’s Naldo?” It took the rest of Anna’s courage to ask the question.

“He’s at the courthouse.” Isabela spoke calmly. “Trying to persuade them to drop the charges against me. I’m accused of assaulting an officer and resisting arrest.” She stared at Anna for a withering second. “Of course we both know why I resisted arrest, don’t we? Because I was being falsely accused of a crime I did not commit.” She crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Please, don’t wait for Naldo. He does not wish to see you.”

Anna blinked. Her usual fire seemed to have flickered out and there was nothing left but smoke and ash. Like the smoke and ash that remained of her mother’s precious things and all her hopes and dreams.

Isabela strode past her and pulled open the door to the room. She held it, and gestured for Anna to leave.

She left.

No one was in the foyer as she made her exit, clutching one worn dollar bill. A burned smell hung in the air as she made her way down the front steps.

You came here with nothing, and you’re leaving with nothing.

And that’s okay.

She was uninjured, which was a huge blessing under the circumstances. She was young and strong and smart and hard-working.

She owed the local motel two hundred and thirty dollars.

The motel owners seemed like a nice couple. Perhaps they’d let her work off her bill? It was worth a try.

Pay off her bill and get out of town. She’d always been a planner, but right now that was as far as her grand schemes extended.

She set out through the groves in the direction of the motel, which sat outside Round Lake on an empty stretch of highway. She knew the land like she knew her own body, and the cross-country route would be quicker. She could avoid the sight of the burned cottage she didn’t want to lay eyes on, and this route had the advantage of keeping her off the long driveway so she wouldn’t run into Naldo on his way back from the courthouse.

At the thought of him, her stomach clenched and her throat tightened. She didn’t want to see the disgusted look he’d have on his face when he thought of her.

He’d offered her so much. And she’d turned her nose up at it and caused irreparable damage to the estate and to his sister’s reputation. Would he ever forgive her for all the harm she’d caused?

How could he? The family jewels he’d wanted so badly were gone forever. The cookbook his father had lovingly illustrated was destroyed, along with all traces of her mother and the love they’d quietly shared for so many years.

A breeze rustled the shiny leaves around her as she marched through the sandy soil down a long, fragrant row of orange-laden trees. The sun shone bright overhead in a sharp blue sky, already burning her uncovered skin.

Paradiso was not to be her home.

For the first time in her life she felt truly alone. She’d wanted it all and held out for everything.

She cringed as she thought how after the latest altercation over the cookbook Naldo must think she’d wanted a stake in the estate. What she’d really wanted was a stake in his heart.

Her uncompromising attitude and stiff-necked pride had left her with nothing, and no one. Her mother may not have been called Mrs. De Leon, but at least she had love and affection and a place to call home.

Her journey took her into a grove of early-bearing trees in full fragrant flower, then into a grove where oranges hung heavy on the branches, ready to be plucked and eaten.

She’d had no breakfast and her stomach growled with increasing ferocity as her legs ached from her long walk. The lush, round oranges called to her, with their delicious rich scent and deep color. But she’d rather starve than take yet one more thing from Naldo. She didn’t deserve it.

It was past noon, the harsh sun burning overhead like a movie spotlight, by the time she approached the county road. She could just make out the rumble of a big transport truck, maybe taking oranges for processing. The soles of her feet pricked and tickled inside her hot sneakers as her footsteps slowed. Once she left the estate, this was it.

Goodbye.

Her footsteps slowed in the heat and the dry dust in the air. The sand beneath her feet seemed heavy, pulling her back. The sun hurt her head and an agonizing sense of loss hurt her heart.

Her pulse started to pound in her head with irregular beats that made her press her fingers to her temples. Her own heart sounded almost like the muffled thuds of a horse’s hooves.

Then again, it sounded like a real horse’s hooves. Was there a horse nearby? The ghost of a De Leon ancestor so enraged by her presence on his sacred turf that he’d come to scare her off?

A breathy snort in the next row of trees told her a real beast was very close. She stopped walking and stood still, terror streaking along her nerves.

It couldn’t really be a ghost. The foreman come to investigate a report of trespassing?

The hoofbeats moved farther away, and she pressed her hand to her pounding heart. Almost at the road. The roar of a tanker passing at high speed didn’t sound any less appealing than the mysterious horseman, but at least it was familiar.

Suddenly a huge black horse crashed through the trees right in front of her. At the sight of her it whinnied and reared high in the air, hooves flailing. She shrieked and the rider turned the horse hard in a circle and brought it to a panting halt.

Naldo.

He jumped down, holding the reins.

Her blood pounded in her brain as she stood there wordless, rooted in the sandy soil. Naldo’s face wore a stony expression. His hair wet with perspiration and tossed by the wind, his white dress shirt flung open at the collar, he looked wild-and dangerous.

“Where are you going?” His deep voice thundered with accusation.

She straightened her shoulders. “I’m leaving. You won’t see me again.” She swallowed. “I apologize for all the harm I caused. It wasn’t intended.”

Naldo stared at her for one intense second then blew out an exasperated blast of air. “You think you can just leave?”

She blinked rapidly. “I deeded you the land. I know the land is all that’s left now. I’m sorry.” Her legs felt weak. How could she think that one lousy acre of land would make up for the loss of the gems, the cottage, the orchards…

“The land?” His mouth curved into a snarl of disgust. “You really are crazy.”

The horse jerked at the reins and Naldo soothed it with a word, then turned back to her, eyes blazing. “You think it’s all just about the money?”

The force of his stare made her shiver. “I know you must think I’ve behaved badly.”

“Yes.” He nodded. A strange spark appeared in his eyes. “You’re damn right. For someone so smart, you act very dumb sometimes.”

Anger tightened her muscles as her heart started to break right in two. Naldo hated her. “Don’t insult me. I know I owe you. I’ll pay you back. I made a mistake. Anyone can make a mistake.”

“A mistake? Only one? Let’s see…refusing to maintain your van, refusing to mow the grass, insisting on keeping the gems, refusing to take the very large amount of money I offered you, accusing my sister of arson-”

“Are you going to sue me?” She held her chin high, proud of the way she kept her voice steady.

“I probably should.” He petted the neck of his restless horse again. His eyes glinted with a strange look she’d never seen before. “But I wouldn’t dare.” He let out a chuckle. “You’re far too dangerous as an opponent. Lord knows, next time I go up against you I might lose my shirt.”

He looked like he was in danger of losing his shirt anyway, with the buttons undone in front to reveal a broad strip of tan muscle. A stray rush of heat made her cringe.

“You love this place, don’t you?” Naldo’s question, spoken softly, took her by surprise.

“Yes,” she whispered, without thinking.

“That’s why you couldn’t leave. Why you wouldn’t take the money.” His eyes narrowed as his head tilted very slightly.

Tears rose in her throat, and she gulped them away. She nodded, afraid to speak and have her words come out pathetically teary.

“You truly are crazy, Anna.” He shook his head. His majestic brow furrowed. “I offered you four million dollars. Do you have any idea what most people would do for four million dollars?”

She shook her head, still afraid to speak.

“And you wouldn’t take it. It just wasn’t quite enough for you.” He looked at her steadily, black eyes boring into her.

“I know you think I’m greedy,” she protested, as the silence threatened to steal her last breath.

“I know you’re greedy,” he responded. He took a step forward. “So am I. We’re alike, you and I.” He stared at her with force. “We both want it all and can’t settle for anything less. It’s not in us.”

Her heart thumped painfully as he took another step toward her and dropped his horse’s reins. The intense look in his eyes stole her breath. Did he mean to destroy her? To exact revenge in the way that only a man with the wealth, power and influence of a De Leon could?

He could make sure she never worked again. That she never had a penny to eat with. That anything she might achieve could be seized in reparation for the terrible mistake of crossing Naldo De Leon.

The fire in her flickered back to life. “I know you must hate me. And why not? I’m hard and tough and unfeminine. I’m ambitious and aggressive and competitive and all those things that women aren’t supposed to be.” She lifted her chin. “I’m a bitch. There I’ve said it. It’s nothing I didn’t already hear a hundred times from my ex-husband.” She paused and sucked in a shaky breath. “You can hate me all you want, and trust me, you won’t hate me as much as I hate myself right now, but don’t poison your life or mine by seeking revenge on me.”

She searched his face for his reaction. His brows had lowered and his eyes narrowed to dark slits. A storm cloud of angry emotion covered his features.

“Damn it, Anna-” His eyes flashed.

She had no idea what he was about to say next, because he grabbed her around the waist and arrested her lips with a brutal kiss.

Heat surged through her, roaring along her limbs, firing her heart and lungs. As Naldo’s tongue pushed into her mouth, she pressed herself against him, desperate to hold tight to his hard body. Thoughts deserted her in a wash of stinging relief at being in Naldo’s arms again.

Nothing mattered but being here, right now, in Naldo’s angry, hungry embrace. His long fingers shoved into her hair, gripping her skull, pressing her face to his with feverish intensity.

She heard his groan, low and coarse, and felt the strength of his feeling in the way he held her like he couldn’t ever let go. She clung to him even tighter.

“I love you, Naldo.”

She didn’t care if he knew. If he’d mock her for it. All the mistakes she’d made stemmed from that simple fact.

“I know.” He pulled back a few inches, holding her face in his hands, his eyes and lips inches from hers. His hot breath tickled her skin. “I love you too, Anna.”

Her heart tightened into a fist as feelings too powerful to name or comprehend surged through her.

Naldo pushed a strand of hair roughly but tenderly off her face. Passion burned in his eyes. “I love the way you fight for what you want, that you can’t settle for less.”

He lowered his lips to hers and kissed them. His touch was gentle, but the force of his emotion stung her. He pulled back again, his breath and hers coming in unsteady gasps.

His broad thumb caressed her cheek. “I know you love the estate. I’ve seen it in your eyes, and in the way you couldn’t sell out and give up your home here, even for more money than most people ever dream of.” His black eyes shone. “Stay here with me, Anna.”

Every nerve in her screamed the word yes, but it didn’t emerge from her mouth. Her brain was more cautious. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend, Naldo. Here at your discretion, until you tire of me.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why I love you. All-or-nothing Anna.” Humor flashed in his eyes, then faded. “When they told me you’d gone-” He shook his head and blew out a breath. “I need you, Anna. I need you here, with me.”

Still holding her hand he lowered himself heavily down onto one black-suit-pant-covered knee in the sandy soil.

Anna’s pulse pounded at her temple as her hopes soared far beyond any safe level.

He took her hand, which was shaking like an orange blossom. “Anna.” His face was solemn. “I love you and I promise to care for you and cherish you always if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

His words swam in her brain and she wasn’t sure she’d understood them right. He held her gaze with frightening intensity. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” The word flew from her mouth, and in an instant Naldo was on his feet, enveloping her in his strong embrace.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she wasn’t even embarrassed.

Naldo’s big hands roamed over her back, chafing her skin through her T-shirt, sending shivers of happiness through her. “You belong here, just like I do.”

His strong arms wrapped around her and held her tight. She pressed her cheek to the hard muscle of his chest, tears wetting his shirt and skin. “I do. This is the only place I’ve ever felt at home, and you’re the only man I’ve ever truly loved.” Her voice emerged as a whisper.

Naldo threaded his fingers into her hair. “Sometimes you have to lose something to know how much you need it.” His voice resonated with emotion. “I don’t ever want to lose you again, Anna.”

She shuddered at the realization of how close she’d come to losing Naldo along with everything else. “I’m so sorry about the trees and the jewels and the cottage. If only I’d…”

“Shh.” Naldo put his finger on her lips. “They’re just things.” He kissed her wet lashes and drew in a ragged breath. “They have no value compared to a lifetime together.” He buried his face in her neck, his breath hot on her skin, and she hugged him with all her might. Her heart swelled painfully and she wondered if it could just burst from too much joy.

“I’m glad to be home.” She breathed the words into his warm, fragrant skin. Birds chirped in the trees and the horse nickered peacefully nearby as Naldo held her steady in his powerful embrace.

The warm sun and gentle breeze kissed their skin, and Anna could almost feel herself sending down roots into the rich, fertile soil, drawing strength to grow a vigorous new branch on the four-hundred-year-old family tree planted here.

Epilogue

“It’s like a miracle.” Anna sat on a blanket next to Naldo, as sun filtered through leafy branches in the Summer’s Shadow orchard. Less than six months had passed since the fire and the trees were ablaze with lush green foliage.

“It’s nature. I guess it is a miracle.” Naldo rubbed a broad hand over the rough bark of the trunk. “You can see how the burned bark has healed over and trees have put out new shoots where the dead branches were cut away.” He reached up and took a shiny new leaf between finger and thumb. “The life force of the tree is strong. It’s in their nature to heal and recover.”

“Just like it’s in ours.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Your dad would be so proud of what you’ve done in the orchards, and how you’ve brought the family back together.”

“Me? You can take the credit for making Isabela happy. I can’t believe you talked me into buying her that big vineyard in the Loire Valley.”

“She deserves it after what I put her through.” She still cringed inwardly when she remembered that night.

“Stop feeling guilty.” Naldo stroked her cheek with his knuckle. “That whole experience knocked down a lot of the walls between us. We’ve been getting along much better since then.”

“True. She had a blast at the wedding. No wonder the paparazzi love her, she knows how to party. I can’t believe all those photographers flew here from Europe.”

“It was ‘the wedding of the decade.’” Naldo winked.

“Geez. We only had a thousand guests! I don’t know what the big deal is. You ask a few buddies over and suddenly you’re big news. At least we don’t have to worry about not having enough wedding pictures.” She pretended to take a picture of Naldo. “Seriously, though, I’m glad I made up with Isabela. I’m looking forward to visiting her. She even suggested I should come up with some products to make with the grapes from her estate. I guess she’s not horrified by my culinary roots anymore.”

“Yeah, not since you turned out to be a genius in the kitchen yourself. Speaking of which, don’t you have a new product to test on me?”

“I might.” She reached into the old picnic basket and pulled out a small mason jar with a mischievous smile on her face. She couldn’t help a rush of pride that she’d inherited her mom’s talent for cooking.

Naldo lay back, hands behind his head, as she unscrewed it, dipped a finger into the jar and brought it out glistening with amber liquid. “Try it.”

Naldo obediently sucked the tip of her finger, dark eyes fixed on hers. “Mmm-hmm. Orange and ginger.” He licked his lips. “Can I spread it all over you and lick it off?”

Her skin stirred as she imagined the rasp of his lips and tongue on her aroused flesh. “That would be a very thorough taste-testing.”

He lowered his head, a gleam in his eyes. “It’s this kind of hard work that’s grown our retail sales by two hundred percent in the last year. We owe it to our customers.”

“So true. We mustn’t neglect our duties.”

“Spoken like a true De Leon. But before we eat, I have something for you,” he whispered into her hair.

She fought the urge to smile. “Let me guess, another gem?”

“Smart as well as beautiful.” Naldo fished a box out of his pants pocket. “Check it out. Narciso’s outdone himself with this one.”

Anna took the box, a smile creeping across her mouth. Naldo’s old family jewels had been found amidst the charred ruins of the cottage. The box had burned to nothing and the dated settings melted into the ash, but the brilliant gems had emerged from the fire unscathed.

Naldo was getting a ridiculous amount of pleasure having them reset by a friend of his from college who’d become a renowned jewelry designer.

“Wow.” She lifted out a large brilliant stone glittering at the center of several interwoven strands of gold. “Is this the Star of the Sea? The one from India?”

He nodded, his dimples appearing. “Yes, carried here by my ancestor Pedro Amador De Leon. He fought a maharaja’s tiger to win it. May I put in on you?”

“Sure.” She couldn’t help grinning. “I feel kind of bad for the tiger, but it is amazing. It’s huge!”

His fingers tickled the back of her neck as he fastened the clasp. She sensed his smile beaming down on her from behind. It was sweet how Naldo loved to pamper her with his family treasures, and damn if it didn’t feel good to be cherished.

As she turned to face him, he glanced at the gem resting between her collarbones then raised his intense gaze to meet hers.

“Exquisite.”

He said the word looking into her eyes, so she wasn’t sure if he meant the priceless diamond in its elegant new setting…

Or her.

Her answer came when he closed his lips over hers in a greedy kiss.

She kissed him back hard, pushing her fingers into his thick hair and inhaling the intoxicating outdoor scent of his suntanned skin.

When they pulled apart, Naldo whispered into her ear. “I love you, Mrs. De Leon.”

She shivered with raw pleasure. Somehow she never got tired of her new name. Not because of the status and power that came with it, but because she shared it with the man she loved.

Four hundred years of growth, change and the resilient force of life hummed in the soil, in the trees and the air. As her lips stung with their kiss, Anna had a sudden, fierce sense of their place in that cycle, as heirs to a legacy of passion-for the land and for each other-that nothing could destroy.

***