Anyways, I know I've been quite delayed in posting chapters, with random things popping up. So in spirit of the season, I've finished Animal Instincts and will be posting the remaining chapters (4 w/ epilogue). However, I don't know if you readers want them all in one shot, or dragged out for the next two weeks (one chapter every few days). Let me know. On a side note, after Animal Instincts, I plan on taking an indefinate amount of time for a break, meaning that I could be back within a week or never again, depending on how I feel about writing. Or if a fresh idea pops up. So, I am formally taking this time to thank all readers, especially those that have been reading since the beginning of my postings. From my unnamed vamp story to Animal instincts, THANKS! AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Sincerely, Lucy C.
P.S. Santa Never Looked So Good.

Animal Instincts (Chapter 18)Pre-Christmas Gift! So, Happy Holidays! ^_^
Chapter EighteenIf you allow another animal to have power over you, you will slowly sink back to life as a dependent cub. Your emotions will not be your own. Your activities will not be your own. A little over a week passed, and I used the time to get used to being a girlfriend. Royce came to my apartment every evening. First, we'd work on party preparations. Then, we'd make—uh, have sex. He didn't ask me to marry him, but each night I went to bed in his arms (happily content, thank you very much) and mulled the idea over in my mind. I still broke out in a cold sweat, and I still wanted to vomit. Just not as badly as before. I wasn't the marrying kind of gal. Royce had never done anything to deserve my distrust, but still, doubts were stubborn things. Royce was a man. A beautiful, virile man desired by legions. Women of every age went crazy for him. And I had to wonder how long his fascination with me would last. One month? Two? Or until after vows were spoken? Was happily-ever-after truly possible? I just didn't know. Before, I would have said hell no. Now… Mel and Colin were dating, much to Kera's glee. Mel had been unable to resist him that night at the club, and now they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Would they last, though? After breakfast with the twins, I'd climbed in this cab and was now headed toward Powell Aeronautics. Royce had offered me the use of one of his cars, but I hadn't accepted. I was holding part of myself back, determined to depend on him as little as possible. I'd buy a car soon, and then there'd be no need to borrow his. When the cab stopped, I stepped onto the sidewalk and removed my sunglasses. The sun beat down, blinding me for a moment. I blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light, and pushed into motion. Like a steady heartbeat, my high heels thumped with every step I took. The security guard, Johnny, knew me by sight now and let me pass without a qualm. Upstairs, Elvira, Mistress of the Damned, was boxing her belongings, and a tall, lanky, very feminine man was unboxing his. Today, Elvira wore a clean-lined black suit. Her hair was slicked back in its usual twist, but though she wore a bit more makeup than usual, she looked paler than ever. Her lips pinched together when she spotted me. I wouldn't have been surprised if her nails elongated like a cat's. "What's going on?" I asked. "I've been relocated," she said stiffly. "As I'm sure you planned." "I'm taking her place," the man said, excitement bubbling from him as he fingered the necklace hanging around his neck. He had painted his nails pink. Smiling, he held out his hand and we shook. "I'm Weston Cross. Oh, it's so wonderful to meet you." He tapped a finger to his glossed lips. "You're Naomi, right?" "Yes.'" "I recognize the lips." My features crinkled with my confusion. Royce had transferred Elvira and brought in an obviously gay man? For me? I couldn't help it. I grinned. What a darling, wonderful man. "Wipe that smirk off your face," Elvira snapped. "So what if you won this round. Royce will hire me back when Idiot Cross messes everything up." "Look, Elvira," I said, and she gasped. "Royce is never going to be yours. Deal with it." She hissed. Weston clucked under his tongue. "Should I ring security and have you escorted out, Elvira?" Scowling, she grabbed her box and stormed out of the office. "You're my hero," Weston said, grinning over at me. "Mr. Powell told me to let you go in without notice if you ever came up. So go on. Go in." Practically floating, I entered Royce's office. Royce glanced up from his desk when he saw me. He smiled in welcome, radiating warmth. "Naomi. What a pleasant surprise." "As if you didn't know I'd stop by," I said dryly. "You're the one who programmed the BlueJay , gifting me with such a harmonious reminder that we were meeting today." "Well, I'm glad you finally decided to heed it." His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Would you care for something to drink?" "No, thank you." I settled in my chair, took out my notebook and pencil, and set my briefcase aside. "You've put this off long enough, and we're running out of time. Only a few weeks left till the party. You must choose a location. I need to get the invitations printed ASAP." "I've decided." At that, I glanced up. "You have? Remember you promised I wouldn't have to fly," I told him. His smile widened. "I haven't forgotten." "Then where will it be?" "The Palace Hotel." "Thank God," I muttered under my breath. I'd planned parties there before, so I knew the exotic hotel intimately. "I'll have to make sure the ballroom isn't already booked. We waited so long—" "I've, uh, already booked it." Something in his tone caused my back to straighten. My eyes narrowed on him. "How long ago did you book it?" His cheeks brightened a little. "That's not important," he said. "Uh, yes." I crossed my arms over my middle. "It is. When?" "I booked it the day we decided on the Arabian Nights theme." I could have gotten mad. I should have gotten mad. Honestly, though, I liked that he'd gone to so much trouble to take me on those trips. Maybe that wasn't the politically correct reaction, but I'd gotten multiple orgasms out of the deal, so who was I to complain? Still… "You deserve some type of punishment," I said. "So come by my house tonight and make me pay," he said, a seductive edge underlying the words. "I'll finally give you your present. And while you're there," he added, regarding me intently, "I want you to think about moving in." Everything inside me froze, warmed, then froze again. So far, he hadn't pushed me for more. A part of me had known it was coming, that it was only a matter of time. "Royce—" "Hear me out. I'm not asking you to marry me. When you're with me, I'm happy. When we're apart, I'm not. I don't mind going back and forth between our apartments, but I'd rather have you near me all the time." "It's too soon." "It's not too soon. Not when I love you." Only the sound of my shallow breath emerged. No, no, no. I didn't want to hear those words again. Not now. "I love you, Naomi," he said again. "Don't say that." I had trouble drawing in a breath. "I don't want to hear those words. Love only complicates things." "I love you, Naomi," he repeated, ignoring my words. "I do. I think I loved you the first moment I saw you. Since that day, I haven't been romantically involved with another woman. Only you." He moved from the desk and knelt in front of me. Reaching up, he caressed the softness of my cheek. "I love you. I love you so much I'm miserable without you." By far, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. And the most painful. I couldn't give him the words back. I just couldn't. That would mean trusting him completely, forsaking my fears, and taking a dangerous, uncertain plunge. "Royce, I don't know what to say." My voice quivered. "Say you'll give me a chance. Say you'll think about my offer." Not knowing if I could tell him what he wanted to hear, I could only nod. "Ah, such enthusiasm," he said, shaking his head and grinning. "But it's good enough for now. You'll come over tonight?" I gulped and nodded. I could give him that at least, no matter how much the prospect scared me. At the moment, though, I wanted to rush home, to bury myself under a mound of covers and think about nothing at all. Not Royce. Not moving in with him. Not his words. But I wouldn't. That wasn't the way I lived my life anymore. "About your offer… Give me a little time. Okay? I'll think about it. I promise." "All right." Leaning down, he whispered in my ear, "While you're thinking about it, I want you to remember the way I made love to you against the wall in Colorado. I want you to remember the way I tasted between your thighs at the cabin." My chin snapped up. He tugged me to my feet and gave me a gentle push, easing me into the hall. Then he promptly shut the door in my face. Every muscle inside my body tensed. I went from conflicted to sexually charged to frustrated in less than one point two seconds. He'd done that on purpose, the jerk. Now I would be able to imagine nothing else but the way he kissed me. The way he used his tongue on me. The way he loved me. Oh, God. I scowled all the way home. Security allowed me to go to Royce's apartment without question or comment, even though I'd never been there before. I guess Royce had told them to expect me, had shown them my picture, or something. All afternoon, I'd thought of only two things: living without Royce and actually living with him. I didn't want to do either, not permanently, but I had to choose one. Anything less was unfair to Royce. I realized that now. Unfortunately, I was no closer to a decision than I'd been earlier. My pro-and-con list balanced out equally. Pros:Unlimited sex with Royce.Spending more time with Royce.Eating breakfast off Royce's chest. Cons:Worrying about what Royce was doing if he came home late.Worrying if Royce still loved me every second of every day.Worrying if Royce would get tired of me sooner rather than later. How did a person conquer their deepest fears? I'd searched my Tigress manual, but all I'd come up with was that I needed to kill them and feast on their remains. That didn't really answer my question, though. After four hard knocks, Royce opened the door. When he spotted me, he smiled that seductive smile of his that drove me wild. "Come in." He motioned backward with a wave of his hand. "Thank you." I glided past him. I'd never been here, but I'd wondered about his place of residence. I drank in the details. The walls of the living room were painted in classic ivory. A white Tergal scarf was draped over each of the five windows. At first glance, every piece of furniture appeared to be the same monochrome shade of white. Yet at closer inspection, I saw pillows with cream-colored beaded jackets, wraps with eggshell trimming. Behind the couch was a long, narrow table of dark wood. A chandelier boasting hundreds of tiny crystal raindrops hung over it. Chinese root tables flanked each side of the couch. It was a room that spoke of wealth, not comfort. I didn't like it. "Who decorated this place?" I asked, not even trying to hide my distaste. Nothing about the place fit with Royce's open personality. "My mother." "It, uh, lacks warmth." "So does she, for the most part. Fixing the place up made her feel wanted, so I let her do it." He clasped my hand in his. "Come on. I'll show you the rest." I eagerly followed as he led me through a generously proportioned kitchen. High marble counters were scrubbed clean. No dishes sat in the sink. No pots or pans were out of place. In fact, the area looked as if it had never seen a meal prepared. Next, he showed me the game room. It was nothing like the rest of the apartment. It had a dark, comfy couch, a large-screen television and more stereo equipment than I'd ever seen in one room. All of those gave it a nice, "lived in" feel. He spent most of his time in here, was my guess, and I doubted his mom had decorated it. "And this," he said, "is my bedroom." It, too, suited him, boasting deep blue and gold colors that spoke of warmth and masculinity. The decadent four-poster bed held my attention longest. Glossy wood, rumpled sheets. How I would love rolling naked on those Egyptian cotton sheets.Sandalwood scented the air. Just the smell of it turned me on. We strolled back to the living room hand in hand. I loved the feel of my hand in his. Where I was soft and small, he was callused and strong. A delicious contrast."Where's my present?" I said. Was I too eager? Too go-get-it-now-or-I'll-die? "You promised to give it to me if I came over." He grinned. "Give me a minute." He raced away and disappeared into the hall. He soon reappeared holding a medium-sized red box. "For you." Too large to be a ring. Too small to be… anything else. My hands were shaky as I accepted the box and hesitantly lifted the lid. When I saw what was inside, I gasped. A glass orchid with blue petals sat in the center of pale green foam. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, delicate and almost dreamlike. "I—I don't know what to say. I love it." "I had it made for you." The dainty petals glistened from the overhead light, shining like pearls. As I looked at it, my defenses crumbled faster than I could patch them. I gulped past the lump in my throat and forced myself to look up at him. "I'll, uh, have the party invitations printed and mailed ASAP," I said, bringing us back to the business at hand. I think I was pretty close to bursting into tears. He drew me into his arms, but I kept the box between us as a shield. His gaze was heavy-lidded and focused on my mouth. "You're pale all of a sudden. Why?" My heart was inexplicably in my throat. "I—I have to tell you something." Something hard and cold flicked in his eyes, followed quickly by determination. He pried the box from my fingers and set it on top of the coffee table. In the next instant, he had me pinned to the wall, his mouth on mine, his tongue taking possession. That's all it took. One touch, one caress and I wanted him with an urgency that never seemed to leave me. My bones began the slow process of liquefaction. Unable to stand on my own, I let him hold me up. Kiss me. Devour me. A shiver rippled over me as his thighs trapped me further. I breathed in his scent, warm and male and all Royce. His tongue battled mine. Hard. Quick. I didn't think I'd ever get enough of him. "Royce," I said. "No talking." He slowed the kiss down, making it soft and gentle. I pressed deeper into him. His arms braced around me, familiar anchors. He tasted hot, like sunshine and rain mingled together. His fingers cupped my jaw. "Royce, I—" "Love you." His lips lowered to mine, still a gentle conqueror, savoring the taste of me, taking time to explore every hollow of my mouth. I shoved away from him. "What's wrong?" he said, his expression filled with concern. Everything! I almost shouted. Absolutely everything. How could I tell him he threatened me in a way no other man had? What a mess I had gotten myself into and now, I realized, it was do or die time. I had climbed out on a limb, and I was holding the saw. I had a choice—cut myself down or continue to dangle there. The fire in his eyes vanished, leaving only that cold blue shield I'd seen moments ago. "If you're going to do this," he said softly, "you might as well do it while we're comfortable." He pulled me onto the couch. I dragged in a deep breath and let it out. What the hell was I going to say to him? "I—" He didn't even let me get the second word out before he said, "Damn it, Naomi. I can't believe you're going to push me away." Jumping up, he paced the room, stalking from one side to the other. "That's what you're about to do, isn't it? Tell me we're over?" Sweat beaded on my palms. My throat was so constricted I couldn't get a word out. What would my inner Tigress do? What would she say? She'd never let a man tame her, that was for sure. Marriage doesn't have to be about taming or changing, my mind whispered. It can simply be about love. Some men can remain faithful. Let him try and prove it. "We belong together," Royce continued, barely sparing me a glance. "You love me. You may not admit it to yourself, but you do. You love me. You don't kiss a man like that unless you care for him." "I do care for you." There. I'd said something. "I care for you a lot." He didn't seem to hear me. "I can't believe you're willing to give up what we have because you're afraid. Well, I can't make a guarantee about the future. No one can. But I'm willing to try." "So am I." The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and there was no taking them back at that point. I wanted him, and if I had to marry him to keep him, I would. Would I regret it later? Maybe. Would I be hurt in the end? Probably. Did I want to give him up? No. Relationships were about give and take. I couldn't take everything from him and give nothing in return. "So am I," I repeated. He whipped around and pinned me with a wide-eyed stare. "What did you say?" Gathering my courage and forcing my fear at bay, I smiled shakily. "I'm willing to give it a try." "What are you willing to try, Naomi?" There was fear in his eyes and a tentative kind of happiness. "Spell it out for me." "Marriage." I closed my eyes, squeezing the lids tightly shut. "Marriage to you." He watched me, still not approaching me. "Are you sure that's what you want? That you're not doing it because it's what I want?" "Yes." No. "I'm sure." Kind of. Finally he closed the distance between us and bent between my legs. He ran his hands up my thighs. "How long of an engagement do you want?" "Two years?" He chuckled. "That's what I'd thought you'd say. That's a point we'll have to negotiate, then, because I want a one-day engagement." Little flutters of fear and dread mingled in my chest. "No way. I can't plan a wedding in one day." My fingers gripped the fabric of my pants, twisting. "I need at least a year." Yes, a year sounded good. Surely I could conquer my doubts in twelve months. "One week." "Six months." "Two weeks." "Five months." "Sweetheart," he said, his hands spanning the width of my stomach. His thumbs caressed back and forth. "I don't want to give you time to change your mind." That was a very real possibility, and I couldn't deny it. "I would never hurt you, never cheat on you. Let me prove it. I want to be with you, Naomi, and only you." He kissed me then and the heat of his mouth sizzled hotter than flames. Rational thought skidded to a halt. My senses reeled. I felt transported on a soft wispy cloud of desire. Inch by inch, he was tearing down the stones I'd worked so hard to erect against him. "I can't believe this," I said, pulling away and going cold with shock. "Shit. I'm getting married again." His lips lifted in a slow, satisfied, triumphant grin. I felt so vulnerable at that moment, but I knew that I wanted him. "Okay," I said. "We'll do the deed the day after your mom's party." Maybe that was for the best. Less time to worry. Less time to panic. Leaning toward me, he softly kissed my lips. "You won't be sorry. I swear to you now, you won't be sorry I have to go out of town for the next week, but when I get back—" A cold chill slithered down my spine. God, the wifely what's-he-doing-while-he's-away worry had started already. "You're going out of town again?" I tried not to pout, tried not to cry. "So soon?" "I'm looking at another plane." He kissed both of my hands. "You can come with me." "No." I shook my head. "I have to stay here and plan the we—event." I only prayed I could go through with it when the time came.

Forgive me for the large delay and the crappy chapter. Things can, and usually do, come up. So without further ado, chapter 17!
Chapter SeventeenAn apology is a curse word to a Tigress. By admitting guilt, you are saying your actions were wrong. A Tigress is never wrong. I spent the next several mornings shopping for table centerpieces. Finally I found shiny, to-die-for "magic" lamps. I bought bags of fake gemstones and planned to glue them around the lamps' bellies. In the afternoons, I waited at Jonathan's office and followed him on his lunch hour. He and Nora had lunch together only once, and they hadn't done anything sexual, hadn't even kissed. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to snap his neck for that or hug him. Whether he was cheating or not, I just didn't know anymore. Why continue to lie to my mom, though, if he was an innocent man?I had tried to listen to his conversations with Nora, but I just hadn't been able to get close enough to them. Wednesday afternoon, I followed Jonathan to a nearby park. He met his daughter, Rachel, and his granddaughter there. I recognized them from the photo I'd found. The three of them I played and talked and laughed, appearing to all the world like a happy family. But seeing them together made me sad. I'd never had that with my real dad. He'd lived and died a bastard. I'd never really had that with Jonathan, either, because, even though I loved him, I'd always set myself a little apart from him. The next day I actually met Rachel in person at a nearby park. . As trees swayed around us and children laughed and played on the swing set, we sized each other up. Jonathan sat on a bench, silent (for once), letting us have this moment to ourselves. "So," I said. I eyed her. She had dark hair and a vivid emerald gaze. Pretty, conservative. Every man's dream daughter. Gag. "How'd your mom hook up with Jonathan?" "They went to school together," Rachel said stiffly. "And she never mentioned you to him?" "No." Now she sounded defensive. I think she was as happy to meet me as I was to meet her. "But we're together now, and that's all that matters." "I'm glad for you," I said. And I tried to mean it when I really wanted to say, "he's mine!" Kind of. I guess. She bit her lip and glanced away. "My mother passed away a few months ago and left me a note about him. I hunted him down and you know the rest." Hearing that she'd recently lost someone dear to her, I softened. "I'm sorry for your loss." She softened, too. "Thank you." For a long, silent moment our gazes met and held, gray against green. "I guess this means we're sisters now." To be honest, I'd always wanted a sister. Someone to talk and laugh with. A playmate. "I've always wanted a sister," she said wistfully, parroting my thoughts. I grinned slowly. And that was all it took. After that, we were able to relax around each other. To really talk. We spent more than an hour together, discussing our culinary likes and dislikes, the men in our lives (she was a single parent), Jonathan's therapy sessions and promised to stay in touch. Jonathan beamed the entire time. I left the park feeling lighthearted, like I truly had made a new friend. A friend I hadn't wanted but had, perhaps, needed. I spent the evenings all that week on the phone with Royce, caressing my BlueJay as if it were my favorite toy. I never asked, and he never asked, but I wanted him to come over. Needed him to come over and rock my world again. But every phone call was the same. Me: I think we should have sex again. Royce: Bad idea. Me: Why? Royce: I want more from you than sex. Me: Goodbye, you prudish bastard. We'd switched rolls , Royce and I. He was the waiting-for-marriage woman and I was the let's-hop-into-the-sack man. This morning, while I lingered in the hot, steamy shower, I realized my only recourse was to talk him into being my—God, I felt juvenile saying this—boyfriend. We'd try that out, see how it went. It wasn't marriage, but it was close to it. That's what he wanted (kind of), and I wasn't so selfish (I hoped) that I couldn't at least try the give-and-take thing. We talked on the phone every day, anyway. Why not spend the holidays together? Why not go on romantic dates? We'd have lots and lots of exclusive, amazing sex. I wouldn't tell him I loved him or anything like that, but I would try—try, mind you—to act like a proper girlfriend.Friday arrived too quickly and not soon enough. As we soared down the highway, I found myself buckled in yet another car of Royce's, this one a plush, dark blue Jag. "Are you sure you don't want to have sex with me?" I asked. "We could pull over and do it right now. I'm willing." He flicked me a heated glance, and that glance lingered on my bare thighs. I'd purposefully worn a short pink skirt I'd borrowed from Mel, knowing it would rise every time I sat down. I wasn't without my wiles. "I want to make love to you." His voice emerged hoarse, a little raw. "Believe me, I'm close to combustion." "But you tell me no every day." Could I sound any whinier? "And you haven't made a pass at me this last week." "Remember what I told you before I left for Florida? Remember what I told you on the phone? I meant it. No sex until we're committed." "I'll be your girlfriend, okay, and you'll be my boyfriend," I grumbled. "That's a commitment." Everything went still, silent. He kept his eyes on the road, but I noticed his hands were ultra-tight on the wheel. "What about being my fiancé?" "One thing at a time. Girlfriend is all I can offer right now." He sighed, but it was a happy sound. "Fair enough." Reaching over, he clasped my hand in his. "This is a big step for you. I know you never planned to be in another relationship." So big a step I could hardly believe I'd said it out loud. "Maybe we should lay some ground rules." "No rules." "But—" "No rules." "But—" "Rules are for the military and naughty children. The only restriction we need is fidelity. No seeing other people." Hearing him say that warmed me in and out. "No asking for my hand in marriage, and no asking my Step dad for my hand in marriage." The corners of his lips twitched. "Those sound like rules to me." "You stated a rule, so I got to name some." "Fair enough," he repeated. "So I guess we're a couple." "The enthusiasm in your voice is awe-inspiring. It really is," he said dryly. His eyes twinkled with mischief, happiness and heat, all at once. I twisted in my seat, facing him more fully. The sun created a bright halo around him, and my throat suddenly constricted. "So you can rock my world later. Right?" "No." He shook his head in regret and pushed out another sigh. "Sorry." "No? No! What do you mean, no? I said I'd be your girlfriend." "I'm saving myself for marriage." I bared my teeth in a scowl. "Why you dirty little sneak! I take back everything I said. I'm not your girlfriend. I'm your worst enemy." "You can't take it back." He pressed his lips—his gorgeous, pleasure giving, traitorous lips—together to keep from laughing. "You'll respect me more this way." My eyes slitted . Fine. He wanted to play this game, I'd play it. But I was fighting dirty. When we arrived at the cabin, I was going to seduce him right out of his pants! Deciding to take our relationship to the next level really had been a huge step for me, and I expected—no, I deserved a reward. Just you wait, Royce Powell. An hour later, he eased the Jag down a gravel driveway and I had my strategy mapped out in my mind. Show skin, say wickedly sexy things and tease him at every opportunity. We'd just see who caved first. The cabin came into view. It was small and homey, and overlooked a large body of glistening, crystal water. The car stopped completely. Without a word, I threw open the passenger door and jumped out. "Leave your stuff," he said when I walked around to the trunk. "I'll take care of it." Being a girlfriend did have some advantages. I strode away, making sure my hips swayed with every movement. Sharp gray rocks bit into my soft-soled shoes. The air was fresh and clean, like pine and summer sky. Trees swayed in the light breeze. At the door, I gave the knob an experimental turn, surprised to find it unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I forged inside. And gasped. Sensual, perfect, and every woman's most erotic dream, the cabin appealed to me on every level. A large Jacuzzi sat in the main room, already filled, the fireplace only a few feet away. Supplying a breathtaking view of the lake was a large paneled glass window that covered the entire back wall. It was the perfect spot to watch the sunset. It was the perfect spot to relax. It was simply…perfect. I smiled slowly. Royce would never be able to resist me. Wait for marriage, would he? We'd see about that. "What do you think?" I whirled around. Royce stood in the entry, holding my overnight bag in one hand and his own bag in the other. "What do you think?" he asked again. "I love it. It's like a paradise hideaway. It won't work for the party, of course, but I love it." His brows arched. "You can tell already?" "Do you really think you can fit three hundred people in here?" "I can decrease the number of guests if needed. We've had this conversation before." "I'll take a look around," I grumbled. "Good. I'll cook lunch." His footsteps tapered off as he disappeared beyond a door. I saluted his back and said, "Yes, sir." I dug the tape measure out of my bag and began working. By taking measurements of the room, I would know how many people could fit combined with just how many decorations I could use. Half an hour later, I had a list composed. Instead of planning for the party, however, I noted every corner, crevice and room where I wanted to have sex with Royce.I went to the kitchen to begin my seduction. Unnoticed by Royce, I stood silently off to the side, watching him putter around. I couldn't help but notice the way his arm muscles flexed when he reached for bowls. The way he sucked in his upper lip as he concentrated. A rich, warm aroma floated past my nostrils and my stomach growled. Royce placed a large dish on the table. "You cooked lasagna?" I asked, incredulous. "Are you kidding?" he said, flicking me a glance. "I didn't want you to suffer another bout of food poisoning." He grinned with wry humor. "I paid someone to come out here. She stocked the fridge, took care of the Jacuzzi. All that stuff." I didn't care who made the lasagna, as long as I could eat it. My stomach rumbled again. "Hungry?" "Ravenous." In only ten minutes, I gobbled up the delicious pasta and consumed four glasses of juice. Royce had barely touched his food. "Hurry up and eat," I told him. "When you're done, we can get naked." The last was spoken in a throaty purr. "No thanks." He quickly turned his attention to his plate. Everything about him, from the way he looked to the way he moved, promised pleasure, and I was going to collect. When he finally finished eating, he stood and carried our plates to the sink. Once back at the table, he took me by the hands and pulled me up to my full height. "Come on." He tugged me toward the door. "Let's go outside. There's a swing on the back porch." "No, let's stay in." I focused my weight into my feet, bringing us to a quick halt. "I'd rather sit in the Jacuzzi. The bubbles will feel so good against my skin." "I didn't bring a swimsuit." I licked my lips. "Neither did I." He jolted away from me as if I'd singed him. "I, uh, think I'll take a nap instead." He gave a feigned yawn. "I'm tired from all that driving." "Don't be a baby. We're adults, and we can swim together without it being sexual." If he believed that, he'd be inside me within the hour. He frowned. "How do you suggest we go about this?" "Nude, of course." "I don't think so," he replied, folding his arms over his chest. "That's about as sexual as two people can get." A bead of sweat trickled down his temples as he stared at my hardened nipples. He gulped. "Yeah, bad idea." I crossed my arms over my chest, too. The battle lines were drawn. "I thought you liked to be daring. We're boyfriend and girlfriend now. We can get naked together. It's acceptable." "No." "Where's your sense of adventure?" "I left it at home." I gave him a pointed once-over, even took a step closer. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," I clicked under my tongue. "I think you're lying." He continued to back away. This trip had been his idea. I hadn't wanted to come, but I think I'd successfully managed to switch our viewpoints. "Stop it, Naomi." "Are you afraid you can't stick to your principles?" I reached out and traced a fingertip over his erection. "If you can't, I promise I'll still respect you in the morning." The hard, thick length of him jerked at my first touch. He squeezed his eyes closed. "You're not playing fair." "I want you to touch me," I said. "I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen." "What happened to the woman who was determined not to sleep with me?" The lines around his mouth were taut, and he stretched his shirt collar with two fingers. Daring, bold, I pressed myself against him fully. Chest to chest. Hardness to softness. "Please go swimming with me, Royce. I'm dying to get into that water, to feel it lap against me. It's not like we haven't seen each other naked before." "That was different," he said, streams of sweat now dripping from his temples. I placed a feather light kiss on his chin. "Different how?" "It just was." My teeth ground together, and I released him, stepping backward. At this rate, the stubborn man might be able to refuse me all night. I had to try a different angle. "If you don't want to swim, why don't we play a game?" His shoulders relaxed, and he even managed a half smile. "What do you want to play?" "How about strip poker?" Losing all traces of that smile, he paled and shook his head. "No." "What about twenty questions?" I could see the wheels turning in his head as he calculated just how sexual that game could be. Obviously (and foolishly) he decided I couldn't do much damage, because he nodded and said, "All right. Twenty questions." Grinning internally, I led him to the only sofa in the cabin. A black leather lounge made for pleasure. He claimed one side, I claimed the other. "Why don't I go first?" I suggested. He eased back and nodded. I crawled my hands toward him and leaned over until I was merely a breath away. "If I take off all your clothes, will you let me lick you all over?" I whispered next to his ear. He almost jumped off the couch. "No!" Oh, this game was going to be fun. I smothered my smile. "It's your turn. Ask me a question. Anything you want." A long while passed before he spoke, and he spent every second of that time studying me, looking for…something. "How long were you and your ex-husband together?" "Which one?" "You were married more than once?" he shouted. I laughed. "No, I just wanted you to ask and waste another question. I was married only once, and that was for six hellish years." "Why did you—" "No, no, no." My words came out in a singsong taunt. "Your turn is over. I refuse to answer another question until you answer another one of mine." Nuzzling my cheek against his shoulder, I said, "What's your naughtiest fantasy?" "Making love to my wife." That wiped away my grin as he intended, I'm sure. The jerk. "Have you dated anyone since you've been single?" he asked. "Only you. It's hot in here, don't you think?" I asked next, removing my shirt and revealing my lacy pink bra. "Is that your question?" "Maybe." I tossed the material aside. Shifting in his seat, Royce's eyes roved over my clothes. Or lack thereof. "No, it's not hot, it's cold. And is that strip of cloth supposed to be a bra or a Band-Aid? The fabric is so sheer I can see your nipples," he accused. "I know." "Enough games," he all but shouted. "I need something to drink." He didn't wait for my reply. He just got up, strode to the bar and downed two shots of Scotch in quick succession. I loved the way his hands shook, as if he teetered on the edge of losing control. Made me feel powerful and seductive and all woman. Something I'd only ever felt with him. When he returned to the couch, easing beside me, I said, "You finally up for that swim?" His gaze raked over me again and he groaned. He tunneled a stiff hand through his hair. "Give me five minutes to change," he said. Shaking his head, he stormed into the bedroom. The door slammed behind him with a resounding thud. I laughed, muttering, "Into what?" Not feeling an ounce of shyness, I stripped down to the skin and entered the steamy, relaxing water. Another chuckle escaped when I imagined Royce in the other room, searching frantically for some type of swim trunks. My grin disappeared the moment he opened the door, however. He had a white cotton towel draped around his waist. It was more provocative than if he'd emerged naked. Strength emanated from him. Strength and pure sex appeal. His gaze met mine, making sure I was watching. And then he dropped his towel. My breath snagged in my throat. Oh, my, but this man wanted me. He was rock hard, huge and as beautiful as a sculpture. "You look tense. Why don't you come over here and I'll massage your back?" I motioned to the water directly in front of me. "No thanks." Slowly, so I got a view of every movement, he entered the water, the clear liquid caressing his skin the same way I wanted to. I guess he'd decided to play the game as unethically as I was. "I'm fine where I am." With that, he relaxed against the rim of the tub, his eyes closed, as if he hadn't a care in the world. I frowned. "Then I'll just sit here all alone, thinking of things we could be doing. If you hear me moan, don't think anything of it. I'm probably in the throes of unbridled—" He cursed and his eyelids popped open. "Damn it, Naomi. You win. I lose. Come here." Well, well, well. My eyes widened, a thrill of anticipation and victory thrumming through me. I hadn't expected him to cave so early. Obviously I didn't move fast enough for him because he clasped me by the shoulders and jerked me into his body, turning me so that my back rested against his chest. His fingers glided over the sides of my breasts, plumping, then moved over my nipples, rolling. I bit my bottom lip. He licked a drop of water from my shoulder, and I shivered with heat that had nothing to do with the water. "You were right," he said softly. "I can't fight you, knowing you're naked. Knowing you want me." My head lolled back, onto his shoulder. I tingled. I ached. I desired.I remembered. He spun me around, water sloshing over the rim of the tub. "I need to hear you say this isn't just sex. I need to hear you say this is making love." "I—no." I shook my head. "I can't say that." The more I admitted, the more eager he would be to convince me to marry him. I knew it, felt it. A harsh scowl tightened his lips. "You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" "So are you." "If we're together tonight, I won't promise not to ask you to marry me," he warned. I shook my head again, and this time my hair rippled over his shoulders and stomach. "My answer won't change." "So you say." "So I know." "You changed your mind about being my girlfriend." "Yeah, well…" I didn't know what to say to that. He was right. He kissed my jaw. Our chests rubbed together, slick from the steam and water. One of his hands trailed down my stomach. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and desire, and I'm positive they were a mirror of mine. Using our positions to his advantage, he hoisted me onto his lap, my legs straddling his waist. "No more talking," he said. "I've got a better use for our tongues." "Prove it." His mouth meshed with mine; his tongue swept inside and mine was there to greet him. I tasted the Scotch, but mostly I tasted Royce, a heady male flavor that was all his own. This is what I'd wanted. This is what I'd needed. To be with him. To lose myself and my fears in the pleasure only he could give me. Water churned around us, lapping at my skin, acting as another stimulant. I tightened my legs around his waist and pressed intimately against him. His erection brushed the core of me, and we both jerked in blissful response. My hands roamed over him, every inch. Sliding down his chest. Circling his nipples. Wrapping around his thick, hard penis. "You're killing me," he growled. He nibbled my collarbone, sucking away every drop of liquid. "What a way to die, hmm?" His strained chuckle wafted over me, cool against my heated, wet skin. "You're like my kryptonite. I weaken just being around you." "I'm glad." I nipped at his neck, all the while rubbing myself against him. A moan slipped from my mouth. God, he felt so good. "If it weren't for your four-hundred-dollars-an-hour lips, I might, might have been able to hold out another minute or two." "Only four hundred?" The water and steam made his skin slick and sultry, and I slid down him until my mouth reached his nipples. I licked, circling the sensitive area with my tongue. "Hundred thousand, sweetheart." His hands cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. He gazed deeply into my eyes. "Your lips are four hundred thousand dollars an hour." I grinned slowly. With my legs still anchored solidly around him, he pushed to his feet. My back straightened and I kissed him, and I didn't stop kissing him as he stepped out of the tub, groping blindly for the bedroom door. We made it inside and toppled onto the cool, dry sheets. We rolled and strained and writhed against each other, our excitement mounting, the tension building. He pushed me to my back and crawled low, between my legs. His tongue licked inside me. I almost screamed. He brought his fingers into play, moving them inside me as his tongue worked at my clitoris. My limbs shook with the force of my pleasure, and I was just about to—He sat up, his every muscle pulled tight. "Condom?" "Yes," I quickly replied, though a part of me screamed no. I was going to have to have a long, stern talk with that ridiculous part of me. "One sec," he said, his voice so husky and raw I barely heard him. He pulled away and raced to his bag. "Why'd you bring condoms if you planned to wait until marriage?" He smiled sheepishly, but never moved his focus from the bag. "I know my limitations." I lay atop the bed, panting, needy, achy. "Hurry." He was on top of me in the next instant, slipping, sliding inside me to the hilt. I welcomed him eagerly, crying out his name, arching my back, clawing at his arms. Oh, the exquisite pleasure of being with him. He paused, staring down at me, the lines around his mouth and eyes taut. "Can you handle a rough ride?" "I'm a Tigress, remember?" He pulled back and slammed forward. I moaned in rapture. Over and over, he repeated the action, taking me higher, close to the edge. "Naomi, Naomi, Naomi." He chanted my name as he moved. A prayer, or maybe a curse. "Royce," I chanted back. Definitely a curse. His tempo increased, and so did my pleasure. I was almost there, so close I would die if I didn't get there soon. Suddenly he reared back, then pounded forward and hit me exactly where I needed him most. My climax ripped through me. Stars winked behind my eyes; blood pounded through my veins. I think my soul even left my body for a moment. As I spasmed around him, he roared loud and long. His body stiffened and he gripped my hips. He shouted my name again, and this time I knew it was a prayer.


P.S. Santa Never Looked So Good. Lucy C.
Sincerely,On a side note, after Animal Instincts, I plan on taking an indefinate amount of time for a break, meaning that I could be back within a week or never again, depending on how I feel about writing. Or if a fresh idea pops up. So, I am formally taking this time to thank all readers, especially those that have been reading since the beginning of my postings. From my unnamed vamp story to Animal instincts, THANKS! AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Anyways, I know I've been quite delayed in posting chapters, with random things popping up. So in spirit of the season, I've finished Animal Instincts and will be posting the remaining chapters (4 w/ epilogue). However, I don't know if you readers want them all in one shot, or dragged out for the next two weeks (one chapter every few days). Let me know.I'M OFFICIALLY ON WINTER BREAK!!!
Dear Livejournal Readers,

Chapter SixteenWhen your paws get muddy, emotionally speaking, clean them on your opponent's finest fur. This reveals your complete power, as well as intimidates, and the more intimidated your opponent is, the less likely they are to attack you again. Royce took care of me all morning, making tea, holding my hair out of the way when needed (i.e. when I vomited) and covering me with blankets while I lay in bed. Despite my abject humiliation and the fact that I was freakishly sick, I loved every minute of it. He was so much better everything than I ever could have predicted. So much more wonderful. So much more giving. So much more kind. Today, we almost seemed like an old married couple. That should have caused me to puke yet again, but it didn't. I liked that he'd taken a shower at my place. I liked that he'd washed his clothes here—never mind that it was to get rid of stains and smells I'd caused. His clothes were in the dryer, so right now he was walking around in a pair of sexy black boxers. Did food poisoning cause a fever? Because I was burning up just looking at him. His stomach was ripped with muscle, his skin bronze and beautiful. His legs were long and lean. I'd seen him naked before, but at the time I'd been looking at him with sex on the brain. Now, without the energy to jump his bones like a wild cowgirl, I could appreciate him like an art connoisseur. And appreciate him, I did. Fluid strength, he was, and all man. He strode to the edge of my bed and gazed down at me, warmth and tenderness in his blue eyes. His black hair fell at his temples in complete disarray. "You need anything?" Now there was a loaded question, and one I could interpret in so many ways. "I could use some company," I said. A hint of satisfaction curled the edges of his lips. "I found your BlueJay under a bunch of magazines—which, by the way, have some great quizzes on relationships. You should read them. Anyway, I left it on your kitchen table. Uncovered." "You're too good to me," I said dryly. "You know, we could see this sickness as a sign." "That it's my time to die?" He laughed. "That you're pregnant." I stiffened. "Not another word on that subject," I said. "I don't need the stress of that now." Slowly he sobered. "Would it really be so bad?" "I'm not going to answer that." Because if I said yes, I'd be lying. And I didn't want to say no. That would lead to a whole different conversation. Sighing, he eased down, propping his weight over my legs and onto his elbow. Without his tall, strong body blocking the view in front of me, I was afforded a glimpse of myself in my dresser mirror. I gasped, horrified. "I'm a hideous beast monster." My hair was messy and tangled. Black mascara smudges coated the skin under my eyes. "You have to leave," I told Royce. "You have to leave right now." "Don't worry," he said on a laugh. "I'm not going to sell pictures of you to the Tattler." The entire world could see me like this, but not Royce. Anyone but Royce. "Seriously, you need to go." "Naomi, sweetheart, you threw up all over me. I think it's a little too late to be worrying about appearances." Please Lord, I thought then, let me be one of the lucky souls who actually dies from food poisoning. I tossed the cover over my head, shielding my haggard features from his view. "I look so ugly." He tugged the covers out of my kung-fu grip and cupped my jaw in his hand. "You look like you need me, and I think that's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen." Oh. My chin tilted to the side and I found myself feeling all dreamy and goo-goo."I got you a present while I was in Florida. You'll have to come to my place if you want to open it, though." No way was I going to his house. Too personal. Too… tempting right now. What if I never wanted to leave? But… "A present? For me?" A shaft of warmth speared me. Like any normal human, I loved receiving gifts. "What is it?" A necklace? An airport snow globe? A ring? "I'm not telling. You'll just have to see for yourself." His hand climbed up my leg and onto my stomach, gently rubbing away any lingering pain. "I found your Tigress book. It makes for some interesting reading. To be honest, I think you've already unleashed yours." I closed my eyes as I savored the feel of him next to me, touching me. Offering me praise. I simply enjoyed. "What makes you think that?" "You're strong. You don't take any crap. I'm willing to admit you've left me in a bleeding heap on more than one occasion. I doubt you'd ever let me take you for granted." I was feeling sublimely peaceful, something I hadn't felt all night. What little sleep I'd had had been constantly interrupted with bouts of sickness and phone calls. Royce's voice drifted in and out of my mind, soft one minute, a little louder the next.I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard him say, "But even tigresses have mates." It was the last thing to float through my mind before I sank into a deep slumber.How many hours passed, I didn't know. I only knew that Royce had taken care of me as I slept another day away, and that my phone was ringing again. So was the BlueJay that had been placed on the nightstand beside my bed. Where was Royce? Groggy, disoriented, but no longer in pain, I lifted the receiver. "Hello." "Miss Delacroix, please," a sweet female voice said. I woke up a bit and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "This is she." "This is Hannah Carroll from Powell Aeronautics." "Who?" "Mr. Powell's assistant." Elvira, I realized. "Yes?" "I've been instructed to ask how you're feeling," she said. My glance shifted to my bedside clock. Nine a.m. I blinked in confusion. I'd slept for nearly the entire weekend. It was no longer Sunday. No, it was now Monday morning—breakfast with the twins. I'd already missed it I realized with disappointment. "I feel fine," I said. And I did. My stomach was empty, and I was a little weak, but that was the extent of it. "I'm so glad to hear that." Her agreeable tone morphed into one of contempt. "Since you're feeling better, I've been instructed to confirm your appointment with Mr. Powell today at ten-thirty. If, however, you feel bad, I've been instructed to tell you to stay home." Now she sounded hopeful. "You're mistaken." I rolled to my back, stretching my legs. "I don't have an appointment today." "You're the one who's mistaken. I actually have you down in the appointment book this time." "But isn't Royce here, at my place?" I searched every direction, looking for any hint of him. All that remained was the lingering scent of sandalwood. "No, he is not at your place," Elvira growled. "He's here at the office. Where he belongs." "Good for him. Goodbye, Ms. Carroll." I inched forward to replace the phone in its cradle, but her frustrated what-kind-of-monster-are-you yelp stopped me. Phone back at my ear, I said, "What now?" "Because Mr. Powell just arrived back in town, today's schedule is tight. I absolutely cannot squeeze you in at any other time." She added grudgingly, "And he was adamant that he see you today if you were feeling better." I sat up and propped my elbows on my knees. The thought of seeing Royce again made my heart leap and my blood heat. Sighing, I rested my head in my hands. "I'll be there," I said. Which didn't give me long to get ready, and I wanted to look my best. I needed to look my best, if only to make up for the fright show I'd been yesterday. If I didn't blot that image out of his mind, I might as well end our association now. I threw down the receiver, popped out of bed and climbed into the shower. The hot, steamy liquid cascaded over me, washing away all hints of sickness. I brushed my teeth three times and rinsed my mouth with burning, antibacterial mint wash for over two minutes. The bottle claimed thirty seconds would do it, but I wanted to make sure all germs were annihilated. After I applied makeup, I blew dry my hair until it shone like an evening star, and I hurriedly shimmied into a dark red dress that hugged my curves and hit just below my knees. Not too businesslike, but definitely sexy. To be daring, I forfeited a bra. Surely a braless woman could replace the memory of a hideous, puking beast monster. Still, I didn't want the rest of Powell Aeronautics to see me braless, so I pulled on a dress jacket. I checked out the finished product in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. As good as it was going to get. Time to confront Royce Powell. Somehow, and Lord only knew how, I managed to make it to Powell Aeronautics with ten minutes to spare. Elvira spotted me and glared. She looked immaculate behind her desk, as cold as stone and just as hard. She seethed with… jealousy? Oh my god. She wanted Royce for her own, I realized. I don't know why I hadn't figured it out earlier. Maybe because she didn't look like the kind of woman who had hormones. Or blood. Or a heartbeat. Still, she obviously viewed me and any other woman interested in him as a threat.I couldn't help but wonder if she and Royce had ever had a relationship. Office affairs were the most common, after all. If they had, well, I'd—I'd—I didn't know what I'd do. Royce and I had slept together, yes, and he'd asked me to marry him. But I'd said no, so I couldn't really demand he fire his assistant and hire a fat old woman who smelled like mothballs and cheese. Better yet, a fat old man who smelled like mothballs and cheese. Still, I knew how it felt to yearn for the attention of a man I couldn't have. (See any and all mentions of my marriage to Richard the Bastard for proof). Be nice, be nice, be nice. Polite smile in place, I glided past her. "Good day to you, my good woman." Her features lit with astonishment, but she didn't try to stop me. I didn't knock on Royce's office door, but swept inside. When I saw him seated at his desk, head bowed, I came to an abrupt halt. "I believe I have the ten-thirty appointment." His eyes lifted from the papers on his desk and our gazes met. Blue against gray. Pleasure against pleasure. He offered me a warm, sexy smile. "I'm glad you could make it." God, he looked good. Really, really good. Instead of skin and boxers, he wore a suit, minus the tie. His white button shirt was open at the collar. His hair looked like rumpled black silk, as if he'd just rolled out of bed. "How do you feel?" he asked, setting the papers aside. He leaned back in his chair and rested one of his elbows against the armrest. "Much better. Thank you for taking care of me." "That was my pleasure." Pleasure…yes, pleasure. I needed more of it. As I stared over at him, all my desires, all my body's needs, leapt to life. My (bra-less) nipples hardened, my mouth watered. I had to have this man again—and soon. I wanted Royce in my life. I did. I'd already promised myself I could seduce him, but in that moment I admitted I wanted a sexually exclusive relationship. For as long as I could have him. "My God," he suddenly breathed. "What?" Automatically, I stepped back. "Your dress." So he'd noticed. Grinning inwardly, I twirled. The red hem danced around my knees. "Do you like it?" "Darlin'," he said in a delicious Texas accent. "I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful." Standing, he propped his palms on the desk. "You're driving me crazy—you know that, don't you?" "I'm glad." "Glad?" he asked, incredulous. "You should be apologizing. I left an out-of-state meeting to see you. I think about you all the time. I dream about you." "Well—" I licked my lips and gathered my courage "—you're driving me crazy, too. Where's my apology?" "I'm willing to give you anything you want, sweetheart. I just wish you'd ask for more than an apology." "All right. I have a question for you and I'd like an honest answer," I said, settling in a chair. I set my briefcase at my feet and folded my hands together in my lap. Very prim, very proper. "Have you and Elvira ever slept together?" His face wrinkled in confusion. "What are you talking about?" "Your assistant. Have you ever slept with her?" "Hannah? God, no." Truth lay in his surprise and intensity, and I found myself breathing easier. "I know it's not any of my business, but—" "Of course it's your business. Just like any other men in your life are my business." He paused, daring me to contradict him. When I didn't, he added, "There aren't any other men, are there?" "No, of course not. I can barely tolerate you." He plopped back into his seat with a snort. Before the conversation delved into any talk of rings, flowers or babies, I hurriedly changed the subject. I had the information I'd wanted. "Did you sign me up for this appointment because you wanted to give me my present?" "No." He slowly grinned. "I told you, you have to come to my place for that." My shoulders slumped a little. "I'm here for business, then. All right, well, I know you're busy, so let's get this over with." I reached in my briefcase, pulled out two pieces of paper and handed them to him. "As you can see I've made an itemized list of things I need to be reimbursed for and things I still need to purchase, with estimated cost, as well as a list of businesses requiring deposits from you. For the first list, I need money. I accept all types of cash. Small bills, large bills, wadded bills. Extra-crisp bills. For the second list, signed checks will work." Without protest, he opened his wallet and handed me every piece of green paper in it. I inhaled deeply. Ah, the smell of real money. "That's eight hundred dollars. A little more than you're asking for on your list, but you never know if something will cost more than estimated." He trusted me with his money, the dear, sweet man. "You'll notice that I need to make a down payment to the caterer as soon as possible so we can concretely reserve the desired date. However, I can't do that until you've decided on a location. Which brings me to my next point of business. Location. Have you chosen yet? The sample invitation is printed and ready for approval." I pulled my notebook from my bag, flipped it open and lifted the invitation. "All it's missing is the address." He took the sample from me and gave the burgundy coloring and gold lettering a thorough inspection. "Wow. You're good. My mother will like it, too," he added, knowing I'd ask. "As for the location, I don't know yet." "Why not?" I shoved to my feet, fearing his next words. "I want to visit a cabin in Oklahoma." "Out of the question. It's too late in the game." "We leave in four days. I've already made arrangements." "But—but—" "Don't worry. We'll have fun." "I'm not flying again. I won our bet in Colorado, and you swore I wouldn't have to step foot in another plane. Is that correct?" "Yes. That's correct." "Then I don't have to go to Oklahoma. You can't make me." His lips lifted in another slow smile, this one a wicked grin of pure pleasure. "I can make you. We're driving. It's only a three-hour drive, sweetheart." I crossed my arms over my chest. I did not want to rough it in some primitive cabin. How sexy could I look then? "My answer is still no." "I'm afraid you don't have a choice. I'm paying you triple, remember?" "I refuse to go. Do you understand me?" "Great. Try to be ready by three on Friday."

Chapter FifteenWhen the jungle's leaves and bushes are too thick, quickly chop them down so that you can see your path more clearly. Music blared from speakers hanging overhead. Undulating bodies littered the floor as men and women clanged together. Smoke and chatter wafted all around us. We'd been here only ten minutes and I already wanted to leave. Why had I agreed to come? Desperate for a little alone time, I made a quick trip to the ladies' room, where I attempted to force my skirt to elongate. Mel had given me the dress at my non-party. It was short, tight and green, and it barely concealed my ass. I felt like a piece of candy on display at a day care. Worse, I felt as if I had a neon sign around my neck that read Free, Take One. Several men had already attempted to take me up on the unintentional offer. The bathroom was growing more crowded, women flocking inside to check their hair and makeup. With a sigh, I maneuvered back to the table and reclaimed my seat. Mel and Kera were surrounded by admirers. Nothing new. Men loved the whole idea of twins. Double the love, or something like that. Colin stood watch at both girls' sides, frowning at any man who glanced their way. He sometimes looked to the door, as if he couldn't wait to leave. Kera had invited him to join us, much to Mel's chagrin. Women brushed against him, flirted with him and smiled at him, but he ignored them. And that surprised me. The only woman he seemed to notice was Mel. He didn't just notice her, either. He watched her through eyes filled with longing and desire. Mel pretended not to notice, but she constantly darted stealthy glances his way. "Colin," Kera said. "Why don't you ask Mel to dance? She could use the exercise." Mel ignored her and pushed a shot glass in my direction. Her red bangs appeared ultra-bright in the strobe light. Her top was cropped just under her breasts, showcasing her tanned, flat stomach and the tattoo of stars around her belly button. "Drink." I shook my head no. Ginger ale was my drink of choice tonight—for reasons I wasn't sharing with my cousins. I grabbed onto my half-full (bet you expected me to say half-empty) glass. "I've already got a drink." "You need alcohol. You look like Death in a Green Dress." "Then why the hell did you insist I wear this?" "I thought it would look good on you. I can admit when I'm wrong." She pushed another drink at me, and I shook my head. "If you won't drink, eat something." My stomach growled at the word ea . I was hungry. Famished, actually. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and the thought of Buffalo wings made my mouth water. I waved the waitress/bartender/whatever the hell she was over and ordered two dozen. The wings arrived soon after. Thick red sauce dripped from each boneless delicacy. I ate the first one slowly, the tangy flavor exploding on my tongue. The rest, well, I shoveled them in like a Hoover. Mel tried to steal one, but in my starved haze, I stabbed her hand with my fork. The men at our table cheered me on. "Maybe you've had enough, Naomi," Kera said, grinning. "You've got sauce around your lips." Cheeks reddening, I rubbed my napkin over my mouth. A man chose that moment to scoot in beside me. "What's your name, sugar?" he asked. Why did men insist on calling women by food endearments? Sugar. Sweet cakes. Honey pie. Richard the Bastard had called me by other women's names. Royce called me sweetheart, as if I actually held a special place in his heart, so it meant something when he did it. I think my inner Tigress would have preferred Sex Goddess of Wet Dreams, though. That had a nice ring to it. I cast a glance in my new admirer's direction. "You may call me Your Highness," I said. "Or Empress Beauty." He chuckled. I wasn't kidding. "I love a woman with a healthy appetite." He leaned into me, pretending he couldn't speak over the loud music. "The way you ate those wings, well, it turned me on. You're not going to run to the bathroom and throw them up, are you? Some women do that." I studied his face and frowned. He was cute, with brown hair and big puppy-dog brown eyes. He was a little older than most of the other people in the bar, I noticed, which screamed midlife crisis . Suspicious, I peeked at his left hand. His fingers were wrapped around a beer and the beer was resting on the tabletop. Sure enough, his fourth finger possessed the telltale white band left by a ring, where the skin around that symbol of lifelong commitment had tanned. Either he was recently divorced or he'd removed his ring for tonight. My inner Tigress suddenly roared to life, demanding that I claw out the man's stomach and present it to the women at my table for consumption. Ah, she'd become vicious. I liked that. "Where have you been?" I muttered to her. Midlife Crisis heard me and assumed I'd been speaking to him. "I've been waiting for you, sugar." "You married?" I asked him innocently. He had the audacity to stare me dead-on and say, "Never wanted to take the plunge. I guess I just never met the right woman." His voice dipped as low and seductive as he could make it. "You?" "I haven't met the right woman, either." He blinked, but then his lips stretched wide in a grin. "You like women? Well don't worry, I'm open-minded. I'm all about equality." "I'm not sleeping with you," I snapped. "No, she's not," a deep, rich, familiar voice said. I spun in my seat, my eyes going wide, my heart racing. "Royce," Colin said, relief heavy in his tone. "About time you got here." Royce shot Midlife Crisis a pointed stare. "If you want to live, I suggest you leave." Midlife paled and scampered away. Royce was here. Actually here. Shock and pleasure wound through me, tightening around every limb, cell and hollow of my body. Richard had never come home early for anything, had never acted eager to see me. I stood, my knees unsteady. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in Florida?" His arm wrapped around my waist, as strong and warm as I remembered. He pulled me into his side and kissed my temple. "I came back early. Colin called me and told me you were coming here. Since I love the music," he said dryly, "I decided to come, too." "The music, hmm." I bit my lip, wanting to prompt him for more of an admission. I couldn't help it; I loved his sweetness and I wanted him more in that moment than I ever had before. "That's all?" His eyes flared with heat and fire and possessiveness. "Maybe the real reason is I missed you like hell." I leaned more snugly against him and breathed in his sandalwood scent. "How was your trip?" "Miserable. Like I said, I missed you." He nuzzled my cheek with his nose. A shiver stole through me, warm, delicious. "You didn't get married or anything like that, right?" "I thought about you every second of every day, and ended up walking out on a roomful of buyers in the middle of a meeting. What do you think?" God, I wanted him. Reaching up, I caressed a fingertip down his cheek. He sucked in a breath. I think Kera said, "How adorable." I think Mel chimed in with, "Do it on the table, why don't you. I don't mind being a voyeur." "Let's dance," Royce said on a husky chuckle. He led me onto the crowded dance floor, maneuvering us through bumping and grinding bodies. Colin dragged Mel onto the dance floor, too, I noticed, and she didn't protest. She actually slid her arms around him and pressed her body into his. Smoke wafted around us, arms flew toward us. The music belted out a fast, writhing rhythm, but Royce held me tightly and we swayed slowly. I loved being in his arms. "I'm glad you came," I admitted.Gently he smoothed my hair from my temples. Another of those wonderful shivers raced through me. "I do believe that's the first time you've ever admitted to any type of affection for me." "Yeah, well. Don't get used to it." His fingers trailed down my shoulder to the curve of my waist, stopping at the hem of my ultra-short dress. "It drives me crazy when you wear green," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "The only thing I like better is when you're wearing nothing at all." I stared into his eyes, those gloriously blue, heartwarming eyes. This man was tearing me apart inside, but I couldn't walk away from him. "What am I going to do with you, Royce?" I whispered. His arms tightened around me and smoothed a path up my bottom and to the small of my back. "Love me. Trust me." I shook my head almost violently. My stomach cramped with enough force to make me gasp. I stilled. My blood went cold even as my skin heated several degrees. "I think I'm going to be sick," I said. I flattened a hand against my stomach, trying to tamp down another cramp. He frowned. "What I said wasn't that bad." "No, really. I think I'm going to be sick," I said, then hunched over and threw up boneless wings all over his expensive Italian loafers. Loud, nefarious ringing penetrated the darkness blanketing my mind—and it wasn't from my hidden BlueJay . The screeching thundered in my ears with deafening intensity. I hadn't drunk any alcohol, but I felt hung over. The ringing continued. Damn phone. I blindly reached out, meaning to pound it into a thousand tiny pieces, but I found nothing but air. By the time I sat up, my lips bared in a scowl, the ringing had ceased, going silent. With a sigh, I laid my heavy head back on the pillow and burrowed deeper in the covers. God, my brain ached. My stomach still felt queasy. "Death by chicken wing," I muttered. I had already spent most of the night hunched over the toilet, throwing up. I wanted to die, but sometime during the night, I'd decided to be brave and live. I thought now that I had made the wrong choice. Another bout of ringing erupted. Jumping up from the bed—anything to make the noise stop— I tripped over the tangled sheets. It had to be another reporter from the Tattler . They'd called me all night long, in between bouts of vomiting, wanting to know about my (alleged) relationship with Royce, when my triplets were due and if Royce and I had set a date for our wedding. I hadn't spoken with them myself, but had heard their questions over my answering machine. I'd had enough. I planned to tell this reporter exactly what he could do with himself. Rot in hell! Sprawled out across the floor, I made a grab for the receiver. "Hello." My voice was croaky, as if I'd spent the night sucking on Brillo pads. "Naomi, darling? That you?" Mom. If I hadn't felt like killing myself already, I would have then. "Yeah. It's me," I said. "Barely." "Darling, you sound horribly sick." "I am." "Oh, dear. I'd thought you were lying when you said you were sick at my house, but you were telling the truth, and now you're even worse, and that makes me the worst mom in the world for—" "I was lying," I interjected. "I'm just a little out of sorts right now." Pause. "Good, then. I won't keep you long. I just have to get a few things off my chest before I burst. Now that you know about Rachel, Jonathan really wants you to meet her. I'll let you know when and where. And—and I've decided we were wrong, that Jonathan just isn't the type of man to cheat on me." "Mom, that's—" "No, no. He's an honest man. And so sweet. He brought me flowers yesterday and we spent a romantic evening together, dinner, wine, the works." Most likely the romantic night had been born of Jonathan's guilt. Why couldn't my mom see that? My stomach chose that moment to cramp again, and I moaned. "Do you see what that kind of talk does to me, mom? It makes me want to throw up." "Want me to come over and take care of you? I'll bring soup. I think I have a can of chicken noodle here. If not, I'm sure I have tomato." "Oh, God." I pressed my lips together to keep from barfing right then and there. "Are you trying to kill me? No soup. No mention of soup ever again. I'll be fine. People don't die from food poisoning." "Yes, they do," she said matter-of-factly. "All the time." Great. "Thanks, Mom. I really needed to hear that." "Are you sure you don't want me to come over?" "Positive." "I'll let you get some rest." "Wait." I fought through the pain long enough to say, "I know you want to think the best of Jonathan. So do I. But I also wanted to think the best of Richard." "This isn't the same thing. They aren't the same man." "That's where you're wrong. They are the same man. Every man ever born is the same man." Except Royce. Maybe. "Don't you remember Daddy? I was only a child, but I remember his late nights, his 'female business associates.'" While my mom pretended not to notice. "And you saw how I made excuses for my husband. You saw how I suffered, so why are you putting yourself through the same thing?" "We have no proof," she said defensively. "I saw him, okay. I saw him with a woman." Silence. A horrified gasp. A sob. "Who? What did they do? What did she look like?" I scrubbed a hand down my face. This was not a good time for this conversation, but there was no help for it. "It was Nora Hallsbrook , his secretary." "What did they do?" she repeated brokenly. "Talked, smelled oils." "That's…that's all? Nothing sexual?" "No. Not this time, but—" My mom cut me off with a shaky, relieved breath. "Well, then, there you have it. He's not sleeping with her. They were working." "At her home? With massage oil?" "They are not sleeping together," she said, a desperate edge to her voice. "Mom—" "I've got to go, dear." Click. I stared down at the phone and shook my head. Why did women in love insist on making excuses for their men? Even women who'd been burned in the past, like my mom had? "Your mom reminds me of mine." I spun around, which was a mistake. My stomach cramped yet again, doubling me over. I clutched my side, croaking out, "What are you doing here?" "I couldn't leave you, not like this," Royce said. "I tried to turn your ringer off, but your phone resisted me every step of the way. Stubborn, like its owner. And I didn't want to answer and give the Tattler something more to talk about. Come on, I'll help you back into bed." He closed the distance between us and curled his arm around me. He'd actually stayed to take care of me. Only men in movies did that. Richard would have taken off, claiming he couldn't afford to catch whatever I had. In that moment, I slipped a little further under Royce's spell. Unemotional fling. Apparently I'd still never had one.

Chapter FourteenTurn your back, and you will be attacked. Guard yourself constantly. Never relax. Not even while you're alone. At any moment a Tiger, or even another Tigress, could be planning your demise. Jonathan left the house right on schedule, and Royce and I were right behind him. Mom's eavesdropping proved accurate; he didn't go to his office. He drove to Nora's. "That blatant bastard," I growled, reaching for Royce's digital camera. Nora answered the door wearing jeans and a tank top. Her eighties hair was ratted at her temples, and she wore enough makeup to send a cosmetic company's stock through the roof. She didn't kiss Jonathan when she saw him, but she did hug him and step aside. I snapped a few pictures of Jonathan entering the house. "That isn't his sister, I take it?" Royce asked. "His secretary." "Not all men are like that, you know." I snorted. "Can you prove that?" Without waiting for his answer, I pushed my way out of the car. I stalked toward the small but well-maintained house. I heard another car door slam, heard Royce mutter under his breath, and knew he was following me. It was a workday, so most of the neighborhood residents were gone. No one was mowing their lawn. In fact, the only person out in the open was a young woman on a morning jog. I smiled hello to her, rubbing my belly to show her I was merely an innocent pregnant female having a nice stroll, and continued on my path to the house, the camera gripped tightly in my hands. I didn't go to the front door, but stalked to the nearest side window. A dog barked and growled, the sound so menacing I jumped and whirled around, my gaze darting in every direction. There, behind the chain fence, was a Chihuahua. He continued to bark and growl at me. "Shut up, or you'll be breakfast," I whispered fiercely. His ears flattened, but he went silent. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned my attention back to the window. The curtains were lacy and split down the middle. By pressing my eye to the glass, I had a perfect view inside. Unfortunately, the living room was empty. Had those horny cheaters already adjourned to the bedroom? "I can't believe you're doing this," Royce said from behind me. "I can't believe you dragged me into this." "I can't believe those two don't even have the willpower for a conversation before jumping into the main event. And dragged you? Please." Just then, Nora rounded a corner, Jonathan close at her heels. "Wait," I said. "They're coming this way." Nora carried three clear bottles filled with…oil? I gasped. "Those sick, perverted shits. I think they're going to massage each other." "Come on, sweetheart. You don't need to see that." He tugged on my arm, but I resisted. "Oh, no. I'm not leaving." The couple sat on the couch at the far wall, facing me, and I snapped several pictures through the lace curtains. Nora held up one of the bottles and Jonathan sniffed. His nose wrinkled and he shook his head. Nora rubbed some on her arm and he sniffed again. They repeated the exact same action with the other two bottles. I watched as Jonathan ran a hand through his hair, his expression frustrated. His mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. "Uh, sugar bottoms," Royce said. "I think we need to go." "Not yet. They're about to do something. I can tell." "Sweetie. Maybe you didn't hear me. We need to go." "Just a min—" "What are you two doing?" a scratchy female voice snapped. I whipped around. In my haste, my camera slapped against the window glass with a loud clang . An elderly woman wearing her bathrobe and rollers stood in front of us, her hands on her hips. Her wrinkled eyes were narrowed and her lips were pulled taut. My heart almost leapt out of my chest. I stood frozen, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do, only knowing that at any moment Jonathan and Nora were going to come sprinting out of that house. "Nora!" the old woman called. "Nora, get out here. You got peepers." "Run," Royce shouted. There was laughter in his voice. He grabbed my wrist and we took off in a mad dash. I was hooting with my own half hysterical, half disbelieving laughter as I grabbed my hat to keep it from flying off my head. My belly bounced up and down with every step. We jumped into the car—which he'd wisely left running— and peeled out, the tires squealing all the way down the street. From the rearview mirror, I watched Jonathan and Nora stop abruptly in front of the old woman, who was pointing in our direction. "That was close. Too close," I panted. Another chuckle slipped out. My blood was pumping at lightning speed, and my breath emerged ragged and shallow. Royce's smile grew wider. "Did you get the evidence you wanted?" "No. They were doing some sick, pre-sex ritual, I think. Five more minutes and I would've nailed him." Royce shook his head, causing his fake beard to fall and hang at one side. "Maybe he's not cheating." "Not cheating!" I lost all traces of humor. "What was he doing at that woman's house, then? Why did he lie to my mom about his whereabouts?" "Okay, he's cheating. Want me to beat the shit out of him?" I plopped against the seat rest. "Let me get back to you on that." On the way home, we stopped at the printer and dropped off the invitation. We received several odd looks because of our attire. "It'll be ready for your approval when you return from Florida," I told Royce. We arrived at my apartment soon after, and he walked me to my door. I was eager to load the pictures onto my computer and see if there was something in them I had missed at the scene. "Naomi," Royce said, an odd note in his voice. I was just about to insert the key in the lock, but I stopped and turned to him. "Yes?" Our gazes locked. He'd removed the beard and his lips were slightly lifted at the corners. I loved— no, hated—loved—hated the way his scent and heat surrounded me every time he was near. "I'll miss you while I'm gone." I gulped. I'd miss him, too. Horribly. He made me laugh, made me ache, made my hormones spike. He made me crazy, made me ache, made me feel so wonderfully alive. He confused me, made me ache, branded me, made me ache. Did I mention he made me ache? He leaned down and lightly brushed his lips over mine. The kiss was soft and sweet and oh, so tender. Filled with promise. I shivered, desperately craving more. Maybe… maybe I'd just invite him in and show him my bedroom. I mean, saying goodbye properly would be okay. If I didn't allow myself to linger in his arms afterward, surely my emotions would be safe. I'd already decided to sleep with him again. Hadn't I? I couldn't remember, I'd changed my mind so many times. My fingers fisted around the fabric of his shirt, and I opened my mouth to ask him if he wanted to stay. "I'm dying to have you again," he said, cutting off my words, "but I'm going to wait until you realize this isn't a sexual relationship. This isn't—what did you call it? An unemotional fling." I frowned. "I want your affection. I want your trust. You don't have to worry about me," he said. "Ever. There isn't a woman out there who compares to you on any level. I'm not going to be with someone else while I'm gone. I'm not going to have a one-night stand or any type of sexual relationship in Florida." "How can I be sure?" I asked softly. Dare I admit, desperately? "It's called trust, baby, and you're just going to have to give me yours. You're the only woman I want. Think about that while I'm gone." He left me standing there, my fingers tracing my lips, his heady, intoxicating words ringing in my head. For the next several days, I worked feverishly on the decorations for Mrs. Powell's party, despite the fact that Royce still hadn't approved a location. I didn't think about him—and how he'd abandoned me to go on his trip, how spying on my step-dad had been fun because he'd made it fun. I didn't think about Jonathan, either—and how the pictures revealed nothing sexual had happened at Nora's. Nor did I think about anything related to either of them—like the fact that both men had me tied in knots. I concentrated only on the party, on the vivid blue, green and violet table drapes, the multi-hued satin pillows I planned to scatter over the floor, and the perfect exotic lanterns I'd rent. On the fourth (lonely) morning after Royce's departure, I went to Kera's for an impromptu breakfast (at Kera's insistence) only to learn my cousin had prepared one of her new, exotic recipes. Some kind of fried meat with a disgusting egg sauce. I should have called in sick. I was destined to be sick anyway, if I ate that crap. "So what's going on with you?" Kera asked after taking a huge bite of her meat. She chewed as if it were one of the most delicious things she'd ever eaten. "You've been ignoring us for days." I started with business. "What kind of food can you make for an Arabian Nights party?""Hmm. Let's see… what about ashta with honey, baclawa, kounafa, mafrouki and stuff like that?" "I'm not sure." I had no idea what any of that stuff was. "They aren't new recipes of yours, are they?" "No, dummy. They're Lebanese." "Do you think Royce's trip to Florida was his way of giving you the boot?" Mel asked suddenly, cutting into our conversation. Business forgotten, my stomach dropped. I hadn't considered that. "I would sob if Colin dumped me," Kera said, fighting a smile. "We know." Mel sent me a will-you-shut-her-up gaze. "No boot," I said firmly. All right, hopefully. Royce had said he wouldn't be with another woman while he was gone. He'd said that he wanted me, that no other woman would do. He'd proven himself trustworthy so far. "I like Royce," I told them, swirling milk in my glass. "And I miss him. I do. More than I should. He's an amazing lover and I—" "Wait. Back up. Amazing lover? You told us you'd kissed him, and that's all. You've slept with the guy and this is the first we hear about it?" Kera sent me a very curious look. "I should have guessed from the way your skin is glowing," Mel added. I plopped my elbows on the tabletop and dropped my head into my upraised hands. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just… I don't know. I wasn't ready to give details.""Why? I always share my details." Mel again."We know," Kera and I said in unison. Over the years, we'd heard all about Mel's love life in vivid description. Way too much description. The girl liked it wild, no doubt about it. "What if he finds someone else while he's gone?" Mel asked, pouring more of the yellow gravy mix over her meat. "In fact, what if the man comes back married?" Again, I hadn't thought of that. Nausea churned in my still bottomed-out stomach.I must have gone seriously pale, because Kera said, "Don't listen to her. The man is obviously in love with you. He asked you to marry him, not some other woman. He'll come back to you. Single," she added with a firm nod. "So what should I do?" My voice cracked. How long would Royce be content to wait for me? "I'm not ready to give him up. Should I marry him like he wants? He said he won't sleep with me again until we're committed." "The bastard," Mel said. Kera's shoulders hunched as she considered my words. Her lips dipped into a soft, little frown. "I honestly don't know what you should do." Life sucked. "We need to think about this," Kera added. "Why don't we spend the rest of the day and night thinking about Naomi's problem, and we'll meet back here in the morning." The next morning: "Okay, I've thought about it." I sat across from my cousins, buttering a piece of toast. "See, I knew a day and night of reflection was all you needed." Kera passed me the strawberry jelly. Praise the Lord, she hadn't cooked today. "What have you decided?" I closed my eyes, opened them, preparing myself to remain strong. "I'm going to seduce him until he forgets about any type of commitment issues." Kera rolled her eyes. "Good luck with that." She munched on a bite of her cereal, thoughtful as she chewed. "In theory, I'm sure ignoring his desire for a commitment seems feasible. But in actuality, you'll start to feel guilty." "She's right." Mel nodded. "You're better off ending things now." Now they offered advice. After I'd spent the night agonizing. "I hate how complicated this is." "You're such a complainer, Naomi." Mel pushed her bowl away. "If Royce were to ask me for advice, I'd tell him to never see you again." "And that would be the best advice you've given all week," I said with a frown. "Well, I think you're in lu-ve ,"Kera sang. "Me, too. What's so bad about marrying Royce, anyway? I know you think you're not ready. But hey, if it doesn't work out, get a divorce. It's as easy as one, two, three." Mel snapped. "Divorce isn't easy. It's hard and it hurts and it can turn into a blood bath. Hello, did neither of you pay attention during my divorce from Richard?" "If Colin asked me, I'd already be at the altar." "Will you shut up about Colin, Kera ? I'm sick to death of hearing about him. You're dating him, but he calls me. Comes on to me." Kera smiled, barely managing to hide her gloating. "He's probably got you confused with me." "Maybe I should marry Royce," Mel snapped. "Then this entire conversation would be moot. I'd never have to hear about Royce or Colin again, and I could go back to my peaceful existence." I stiffened, not liking those words at all. "You can't marry Royce. The two of you would never get along." She ran her tongue over her teeth. "Oh, really?" "Yes, really." "Why not?" "Because you don't play backgammon, that's why. The article in the Tattler specifically stated that Royce wants a woman who plays backgammon." Mel chuckled. "You'll have to do better than that, Naomi. You don't know how to play backgammon, either, and he asked you to marry him." "That's not the point." "What about green?" Mel asked. "Green is my best color, or so I've been told. And Royce's favorite color is green." "So what?" I said defensively. "He prefers women who don't talk back. You're disqualified for that alone." Kera tapped her fingernails on the tabletop. "So are you, Naomi. I mean, you could tear the flesh from someone's bones with that razor-sharp tongue of yours. Especially recently." To soften her words, she smiled. "Maybe we should get Jennifer's opinion about your tongue. She would know better than any of us." We stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Tears trickled from the corners of Kera's eyes, she laughed so hard. "Look," Mel said between chuckles. "The point I'm trying to make here is that you don't like the image of Royce with other women. So there's your answer. You want him all to yourself. So take him before it's too late." Wise words. Could I do it, though? Risk everything? "Hey!" Kera exclaimed. "Why don't you take on another client? That'll keep your mind off of Mr. Sexy." "I can't," I said after swallowing a bite of toast. "Why not?" "Royce dictated at the very beginning that I couldn't work on another project while planning his mother's party. Which makes it impossible to bury myself in work." My legs kicked out and rested on the empty seat across from me. "You and I have discussed the menu. I've ordered the flowers, reserved a DJ. I've already ordered some of the decorations and drafted an invitation. There's nothing left to do now except wait for him to contact me once he's back in town." "Don't wait for him to call. Take the initiative. Pick up the phone and call him. You have his cell-phone number, right?" Mel downed her glass of apple juice. "Men love phone sex." I rubbed a hand down my face, considering the idea. "You know, before walking into Royce's office, I had my life mapped out. No men. No relationships. Then Royce rocks my world— several times—and it's changing everything. The jerk." "Yeah, a real bastard." Kera rolled her eyes. "How dare he change your life for the better." "Hey! Let's TP the asshole's house tonight," Mel suggested. "We haven't done something like that in years." Grinning, I shook my head. "I am not toilet papering his home." "Then we're going club hopping tomorrow night and drowning our sorrows in beer and sexy men." "Now that I can do," I said. My phone was ringing when I walked into my apartment. I hurried into the kitchen and picked it up. "Hello." "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" my mom demanded. "Wha—what are you talking about?" How did she know about that? "There's a picture of you in the Tattler with a very large, very pregnant stomach. The article says you're having triplets. The next words out of your mouth had better be that you're getting married, young lady." "Mom, I'm not pregnant," I said, wishing I knew the truth of those words. "Nor am I getting married." I wished to God I knew the truth of those words, too. "I've got to let you go now. I'm going to sell all of my vital organs on eBay."

Chapter ThirteenThe only absolute in life is death. A Tigress knows this and avoids anything that could render her own absolute, be it physical or emotional. Even though Royce slept in another hotel room, I tossed and turned all night, confident I'd made the right choice one minute, hating myself for making the wrong choice the next. I was so confused. Maybe I'd acted hastily. Maybe I shouldn't have told him no so quickly. I wanted to be with him sexually—truth. I didn't want to see him ever again—truth. When I looked at him, I melted inside— truth. At the same time, when I looked at him, I panicked— again, truth. Would he agree to a phone relationship, maybe? I discarded that idea as quickly as it formed. His voice was as sexy and mesmerizing as the man himself. Maybe I just needed to kick him out of my life for good, party be damned. Great, now I wanted to cry. When subtle, golden rays of sunlight peeked through the window, I gave up trying to rest and lumbered out of bed. This was exactly why I hadn't wanted to get involved with him in the first place. I hated the confusion, the insecurity. I took a much needed shower, lingering in the steamy water, allowing the wet heat to relax me. Afterward, I dried my hair, brushed my teeth and dressed in my new black pants with ivy and flowers sewn in the seam and a matching blouse. To my surprise, Royce was waiting in my room when I emerged from the bathroom. He sat in the cushy recliner, watching the news on TV. I stilled, my heartbeat picking up its pace. He looked delicious. His deep tan was displayed perfectly by the black pants and shirt he wore. Now that I knew exactly what was under those clothes, I found myself picturing his hard, tanned muscles bunching, coiled and ready for my touch. "Are you ready?" he asked, barely sparing me a glance. His cold, hard expression cut me deeply, but I should have been prepared for it. Should have been glad for it. "Yes." "We still need to drive to the cabin. We'll look around, then fly home." "Just let me get my things." I turned, went to the divan and lifted my bag. Then I followed him out the door, my gaze boring into his back. Did he hate me?We stayed at the cabin for less than an hour before driving to the airport. The plane ride home passed in agonizing slowness. Neither of us spoke. I sat still, eyes closed, not wanting to face Royce or the land so far below. At that point, I wasn't sure what would have been better. Crashing and dying or carrying on a conversation with Royce. After we landed, he drove to my apartment building. The same uneasy silence filled the car. I hated it. We'd been so comfortable with each other before, and I already missed that. Had he decided that I wasn't the right woman for him after all? My hands tightened into fists, the thought not sitting well with me. Yes, I realized how contradictory my thoughts were, how silly I was acting, but I had no control over my emotions. I had no control over the way this man made me feel. I constantly swung to both sides of the pendulum: I wanted him, I didn't. I needed him, I didn't. One part of me constantly battled the other. When his luxury sedan came to a stop just outside my apartment, he removed the key from the ignition. "I'll help you inside." "That isn't necessary," I told him, deciding to get as far away from him as possible so I could think about all that had happened. "I can get myself in." "I'll carry your bag." "I told you, I can get myself in." He frowned. "Let me do this, Naomi." "Fine." I held my head high as I emerged from the car. And even as I unlocked the front door, I kept up the casual facade of a woman who cared about nothing more important than the weather. When the lock clicked, Royce leaned forward. His chest brushed my back as he held the door open and out of my way. I stepped inside, away from him, and turned, blocking any move he might make to come inside. "If you'll set my bag down," I said primly, "I'll get it the rest of the way in." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I don't know what gave you the idea that I'd let a woman of mine leave me outside without any kind of goodbye, but I assure you, it's the wrong idea." My heart skipped a beat, and I opened my mouth to respond. No sound emerged. "We're not finished, sweetheart, and you can't get rid of me so easily. If you think you can shove me aside because you're afraid of the past and the future, you need to readjust your thinking. And I'm more than willing to help you with that." "H-how?" I didn't know what else to say. He shrugged and leaned in a little closer to me. "You'll just have to wait and see." I gulped. His words were innocent, but his tone was so suggestively sensual a tremor swept through me. "Right now," he said, "there are some things I need to discuss with you. We can have the discussion out here, for all your neighbors to hear, or you can invite me in." The man was simply too tempting, a smooth talker who could easily charm me out of my clothes. "I can't let you in." He took a step closer to me. "I don't have a single qualm about making a scene guaranteed to keep your neighbors entertained for weeks. Who knows? Maybe the Tattler wants to snap another picture of you." "You wouldn't," I gasped. "Try me." There was a hard edge of determination to him that I'd only seen a few times before. Yeah, he'd do whatever was necessary to get inside. I moved out of his way. He brushed past me and set my bags beside the couch. He plopped down on the oversize cushions and motioned for me to take the space next to him. I ignored his gesture and stood off to the side. One whiff of him and I might crumble like a condemned house. Before he could speak, I said, "I don't think we should discuss last night. It would be best if we just pretended it never happened." "Maybe you can do that, sweetheart, but I'll never forget how you screamed my name so many times." "Perhaps we should stop working together, as well," I continued, as if I hadn't heard him. I needed the money, yes, but I needed my sanity more. "I can put together a list of planners suited to y—" He cut me off. "You agreed to help me with this, Naomi. Quit and I'll sue you for breach of contract." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why don't you go ahead and try it. We never signed a contract." "You don't really want to fight me on this. I can be a bastard when I have to be." "Like that's news," I muttered. If I were honest, though, I was immensely relieved he hadn't taken me up on my offer. I don't know why I'd even suggested it. The thought of never seeing him again rocked me to the core. In a horrible, horrible way. "By the way," he drew out. "I want to know if you're pregnant." I shook my head, trying to block out the P word and ensuing thoughts of the M and B words. "I'm not." "You can't be sure." "I'm just not, I tell you." But what if I was? A little thrill worked its way through me, the same kind of thrill I'd ignored last night, giving precedence to my panic and fear. I might not be ready for the M word, but the thought of the B word, a baby—there, I'd thought it—didn't make me panic nearly as much for some reason. The thought of having Royce's baby suddenly made me feel all warm and tingly. God knows when I'd know for sure. My periods had always been irregular. "Are you psychic?" he asked. "I've been known to correctly guess the future," I lied. He rolled his eyes. "Your voice got higher. You really need to work on your bluffing skills." I stomped my foot and slitted my gaze at him. "Damn it—" "You will let me know if—" "—I told you—" "—you're pregnant because I—" "—I'm not—" "—have a right to know." "—pregnant." He stared me down, and long minutes passed in silence. "Fine," I finally said. "Yes. I'll tell you." Maybe. Before I could protest, he rose and placed a hard kiss on my forehead. My lips puckered of their own accord, hoping he'd kiss them, too. "You still work for me, Naomi. I won't let you quit." "Fine," I said again. "I won't quit." "I'm not leaving until I have your word." "I said okay, and I meant it. On both counts." Making a shooing motion with my hands, I said, "Now leave. I need to unpack." "Tell me truthfully, first. Did you enjoy being with me?" "I guess," I grudgingly admitted. "And you'd like to be with me again?" Damn him. "Yes, but that doesn't mean—" "Yes," he said smugly. "It does." He strode out the door with a smile on his face, all hints of his dark mood gone. What the hell kind of lame-ass Tigress was I? I couldn't lie worth a damn, and I hadn't told Royce to get the hell out of my life. I decided to order a pizza and call it a day. I gorged myself on pizza and worked on Mrs. Powell's party invitations. Which, I had to admit, were pretty amazing. I'd decided to go with something new, something different. The top portion featured a woman's bright emerald eyes, a paste-on jewel between them, and covering what would have been her nose and mouth but was actually the wording was a thin, wispy pink veil. Sometimes I amazed myself. When that was done, I had a long chat with my inner Tigress about her too frequent disappearing acts, then threw pepperonis at the old newspaper article about Royce that I'd saved, and decided I might—would probably—was destined to—sleep with Royce again. He was right, damn him. We weren't done. I had needs. He had needs. I'd had a taste of him, and like an addict, I wanted more. Already. He was that potent. I'd just have to fight harder to keep my emotions under control—and his emotions, as well. I sighed. It was time to call my mom. I'd keep it casual. See how things were going. What I really wanted to know was what Jonathan was up to. I picked up the phone and dialed.She answered on the second ring. "Hello." I jumped right into the conversation as if she'd said, What can I help you with, Naomi? "Tell me what Jonathan's been up to these last two days." How was that for casual? "Darling," she said with a nervous laugh, "now isn't a good time." "Is he in the room?" "Well, yes." "Move to another room or talk in code." Pause. Several moments passed in silence. Then I heard, "Where are you going, Gloria?" More nervous laughter. "I have to change my tampon, dear." Dead silence. "Uh, take your time," Jonathan said. "All right," she whispered a few seconds later. "I'm in the bathroom." "Please tell me you weren't telling the truth. That you're only in there to talk to me privately." "What do you think? I've already gone through menopause, silly. I doubt your step dad will recall that fact, stupid man." With barely a breath, she continued more sternly, "Have you been screening your calls, young lady, because I've called and I've called and you haven't answered." "Mom, concentrate. Tell me about Dr. Johnnie." Shetsk-tsked with her tongue. "Last night he came in three hours late." Her voice shook with the force of her frustration and disenchantment, and I actually thought I heard tears in the undercurrents. "He told me a client needed extra therapy. Well, obviously that client likes to rub gardenia-scented massage oil on his—" "Information overload. Stop right there. Did you say anything to him?" "No. I didn't know what to say. I came close to punching him in the nose, though." "The action of a true Tigress," I said. "Why didn't you?" "I keep thinking that I'm blowing this all out of proportion. What if he really was working late with a patient? He's not like your father. He's really not." Had I sounded like this at one time? Had I sounded so needy and sad and hopeful? So wrong? "Don't lie to yourself." I purposely made my tone hard and unflinching. "You're a better woman than that." "Did…did you find anything when you were here?" I hadn't wanted to tell her anything until I had solid proof, but she needed to know something was going on, that her first instincts were correct. "I found pictures in his desk. Pictures of a woman and child." "Oh, is that all?" My mom exhaled a deep sigh of relief. "Is that all? Uh, hello. Can you say secret lover and illegitimate child? What do you mean, is that all?" "I wanted to tell you about this," she hedged, "but Jonathan didn't think it would be a good idea." My confusion soared. I gazed up at the ceiling, hoping for a little divine intervention. "Tell me what?" "A few months ago, Jonathan learned he has a daughter and that daughter has a daughter of her own. She's been searching for him, isn't that neat? He didn't want you to think you were being replaced in his life, so we didn't mention it." Okay, I totally hadn't expected to hear that. "That's… wonderful," I said. "I'm happy for him." And I was. Still, a hint of jealousy swept through me. Jonathan was my step dad, but he was the only father I'd ever really accepted and I didn't like the thought of sharing him with another woman, no matter how much I hated him at the moment. What was with my emotions lately? They were unpredictable. They were erratic. They were so damn stupid. I rubbed my temples in a vain effort to ward off the oncoming ache. "What's her name?" "Rachel." I cursed the name in my mind. So he had a daughter named Rachel. Fine. That explained the photos, but not the after-hour phone calls to his secretary. Not the perfume on his clothes. Not Nora's trips to Body Electric. "I still think he's cheating on you, Mom." "You may be right." She sighed again. "I heard him talking on the phone a little while ago and he told whoever it was that he was closing the office Friday morning. He never goes in late. He's just like you, an early bird. I think he might be spending the morning with her.'" Friday huh. Well, I would be there, camera in hand. "Gloria?" Jonathan's muffled voice crackled over the line. "I just realized something. You shouldn't be having a period." "Oh, is that so?" she said with another of her nervous laughs. "Silly me. He remembered," she whispered fiercely into the phone. "If you're bleeding, we should take you to the hospital." "I'm not bleeding. Who said I was bleeding?" "Then why were you wearing a tampon?" "To, uh, double my pleasure?" To me, she whispered, "I've got to go, darling." The line went dead just as my doorbell erupted in a series of chimes. I shook my head at the chaos that was my life and placed the phone in its receiver. I strode into the living room, trying not to think about Jonathan and his real daughter. Rachel. "Rachel," I sneered. My nose crinkled in distaste. I was pissed enough at the man to want to use him as live bait during a shark-fishing expedition, but still… He was my dad. After a quick peek through the peephole, I opened the door. Kera swept inside, her expression determined. She dropped her purse on the foyer table and twirled around. "You'll never guess what happened." You made insane love with your client—several times—told him to get lost, then decided you wanted to sleep with him again? Wait. That was my news. You think your step dad is cheating on your mom, you hate him, but you don't want him to have a daughter of his own that he might love more than you? Wait, me again. You might very well be knocked up with the aforementioned client's baby? Damn, me again. "What happened?" I asked her. Smiling as if her fondest desire had just been granted, she splayed her arms wide and twirled again. "I met the man of Mel's dreams." I blinked. "Who?" "Colin Phillips. Mel is pretending she's not interested in him, though." Hey, wait. "When did you two meet him? I hadn't set anything up yet." "Friday we were bored, so we sneaked into Powell Aeronautics. We just wanted to get a look at Colin, you know, but the security guard chased us up the stairs. Thankfully, we lost the jerk and managed to get to the nineteenth floor." Mouth agape, I threw my hands in the air. "I can't believe you guys went to Powell Aero." "Don't worry. Colin wasn't mad." That was the least of my worries. "He was so sweet about the whole thing. Even thanked us for coming." "What's the rest of the story? The part about Mel pretending she's not interested in him?" "I'm telling you, they clashed right from the beginning," Kera said, radiating amused glee. "Mel called him a corporate dust bunny." "A what?" "Someone who's always at the office, but doesn't do anything except sit around and pollute the air. Don't feel bad. I didn't know, either." "How did you get past Elvira?" "Who—oh, you mean the assistant. What a sweet, sweet woman. She just told us to go straight back to Colin's office." What? No dirty looks? No superior attitude? Bitch. "Anyway—" Breezily, Kera waved a hand through the air "—Colin wanted her, and she wanted him. You were right— they're perfect for each other. I could feel the sparks." "But?" She ran her bottom lip between her teeth. "But they were acting like silly children and I was afraid they'd never get around to actually dating. Not without a little help, that is." Kera the matchmaker. Jeez. "What'd you do?" "I, well, asked him on a date myself. Mel almost tackled me, even though she claimed she didn't want him. She's reminding me a lot of you lately." I gave her a good frown to let her know I didn't appreciate her barb. She padded into the kitchen and snatched a soda from the fridge. I followed. "He said yes," she added with a grin. "First, what about George? Second, if Colin is willing to date you, even though he likes Mel, he's a bastard and not worth Mel's time." "First, things are going very well with George. He asked me out, and I said yes. Second, I didn't say Colin and I were dating. I just said he agreed to go out with me. We talked about Mel the entire night. I think he's going to pursue her," she said, clapping happily. She twirled, spilling dark liquid all over my (formerly clean) kitchen floor. "You know how Mel is. When she doesn't like someone, she's a mean, mean bitch." I loved her, but that was a known fact. "That's why I'm going to make her miserable and jealous and let her think I'm after the man. She won't be able to get him out of her mind then." I shook my head. "I thought Mel was the twin with the devil on her shoulder, but it's been you all along. You pulled this crap with me, too, didn't you? Pretending to want to date Royce." She laughed. "Everything I do is for your own good. Mel's, too. She's too stubborn. Like you. So anyway, how was your trip?" She settled at the table and gazed expectantly at me. "You, Royce, together. All night. Did you share a room?" "No." And that was the truth. We hadn't shared a room. He'd left in the middle of the night. "Everything went very well." Without meeting her eyes, I grabbed a paper towel and mopped up the spill. "If everything went so peachy, why is your jaw clenching? Why is your eye twitching? Why is your voice so high?" Had everyone known about my being deceitfully challenged but me? "All right, all right, all right." I popped to my feet and slammed the wet paper towel into the trash. I needed to work through at least one of my troubles. "The more time I spend with Royce the more confused I am about our…relationship." I almost gagged on the last word. "One minute I'm positive I never want to see him again, the next I'm wishing he were with me so I could rip off his clothes." "That's called being human, sweetie, and I know just what to do." She leaned over and flipped through my basket of magazines. When she found the one she wanted, she held it up for me to see. "When Mel gets here, we're all taking a relationship quiz." Oh joy. Mel arrived soon after and Kera dragged us into the living room, where she proceeded to give us assigned seats. "Naomi, you sit here. Mel, you're there." She pointed, forming a circle on the floor. She sat between us and opened the latest issue of City Girl . "We're taking the Keep Him or Cut Him Loose test. It's just what we need to see where we stand romantically." There was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I think we'll all understand ourselves and our men a little bit better after this. Are you ready?" "Yes." Me. "Uh, whatever." Mel. "I don't have a man." "You will in the future," Kera said confidently. "As if." That didn't dim Kera's enthusiasm. "Okay, here we go. Question one." She read, "Your man is going out of town. Do you A) throw a party in his honor. B) cry. Or C) take up a new hobby to keep your mind occupied." None of those sounded right to me. So I said, "What about D? Drink yourself into oblivion because you aren't sure what you want to do." Now that seemed like the perfect solution. "You can't make up your own answers. That defeats the purpose." Kera frowned. "My answer is B. If Colin left," she said, aiming her words in Mel's direction, "I'd be too upset to do anything except cry." How had I never seen Kera's acting potential before? Mel stiffened. "As much as D appeals to me," she said through a tight jaw, "my answer is definitely A. Party time." "Commitment-phobia must be contagious, because I swear you both suffer from a severe case," Kera said with a shake of her head. "Yes, but I enjoy every second of it. Now, question two." Mel swiped the magazine and read, "Your man has just given you an expensive gift that you hate. Do you A) jump up and down with excitement because he only wanted to make you happy and keep the gift. B) toss it in the trash and call him a bastard. Or C) exchange the gift for something else." I recalled the orchids Royce had given me, and my chest constricted. "B," I said. "Toss it in the can so I won't have to look at it and remember how he has no business being so sweet to me." "I would exchange the gift, no question," Mel said. "There's no need to toss a free item. Ever. And Naomi and I both know what your answer is, Kera . You'd pee your pants from excitement." There was a sullen quality to her voice. "Very funny," Kera said, grinning. Then she frowned. "Hey, is anyone keeping track of our scores?" She jumped up and raced into the kitchen. Several minutes later, she returned with pen and notebook in hand. She immediately jotted down our previous answers. "All right. We're all caught up. Let's move on." Mel tossed me the magazine. "It's your turn to read." I lifted the pages between my fingers as if they were nuclear waste. "Question three. You've just finished making love. Do you A) relax beside your man and enjoy the rest of the night. B) try to slither away in the dark. Or C) see if you can generate the world record for number of sexual positions attempted in one night." I already knew my answer. At least, the only one I could say out loud. "B," Mel and I said in unison. I didn't mention that Royce and I had lived C. Nor did I mention that after our second marathon, I hadn't been so eager to get away. Kera: "I'm A." "Too bad for Colin," Mel grumbled, a hard glint in her eyes. "What's the next question?" "I'll read." Kera swiped up the quiz. "You're dating one guy, but another, super-hot guy asks you out on a date. Do you A) turn him down—after all, you're perfectly content with the man you have at home. B) accept and tell your man you're going to see your sick aunt Ruby. Or C) accept and tell your man you thought you had agreed to see other people." "A." Kera . "C." Mel. "D. Never get involved in the first place so you don't have to worry about this type of situation." Me. Kera pursed her lips. "I thought we discussed not making up your own answers." "All right. All right. I'll take A." I could never, never do to a man what had been done to me. I'd never be able to live with myself if I made someone doubt their appearance, their personality and their intelligence. "Now," Kera said. "It's time to calculate our scores." She flipped open the calculator. Five minutes later, she smiled. "Naomi scored a five. Mel, an eight. And me, a fourteen." "So what does that mean?" I asked. "Let's see." Kera flipped a page in the magazine. "If you score a ten to fifteen—that's me," she said, then read, "your man is a keeper. Did you hear that Mel? Colin is a keeper. What's more, you are a keeper. You are highly motivated to succeed and care about those around you." "What's it say about me?" Frowning, Mel grabbed the magazine and read, "If you scored a six to nine you need to readjust your priorities. Spend a little time thinking of all the wonderful things others have done for you because you may not be worthy of your man." She tossed the magazine to the ground. "That's the worst bunch of shit I've ever heard. I think of others all the time." I couldn't wait to see what the stupid quiz had to say about me. Maybe I'd get the answers I needed and would know what to do about Royce. "My turn." I swiped City Girl from the floor. "If you scored a one to a five," I read, "seek professional help." I looked up. "What else does it say?" Kera asked. "That's it." I couldn't believe it. That was the advice the quiz had for me? Seek help? What kind of dumb-ass advice was that? The stupid kind, that's what. It was like telling a burn victim to put salve on their wounds. So I needed professional guidance. So what. I'd known that already. Dumb quiz.Early Friday morning, I wolfed down two blueberry muffins and made a list of everything I wanted to get done that day. Call Royce and ask to borrow his car and a camera.Follow Jonathan and snap photos of him acting like a male whore.Take Mrs. Powell's invitation mock-up to printer so I could present a sample for Royce's approval. After a moment's consideration, I scratched out number one. Added it back. Scratched it out again. I should avoid that man like the plague. However, I scowled and picked up the phone, hurriedly dialing his number. It wasn't like this was a social call. I needed his help and, by God, I wouldn't be afraid to ask. Wouldn't be afraid to hear his voice. I would control my hormones or die trying.And you know what? As the phone rang, I heard that stupid BlueJay beeping from the trash can. I ignored it. Royce finally answered, his voice scratchy with sleep. A shiver snaked down my spine, and an image of him lying in bed, naked, swept through my mind, his mouth finding my breasts, and his fingers—I growled. Damn hormones. "Uh, hi Royce. It's Naomi." "Hey, sweetheart. Something wrong?" Another shiver. If only he hadn't uttered the endearment with such warmth and tenderness. "Can I borrow one of your cars?" Pause. "Why?" "I have to do something." "What?" "Can I borrow one of your cars or not?" Another pause. "With me in it?" "No." "With me in it?" he asked again. "And you better answer it right this time, because your answer is the same as mine." "Yes." Stubborn man. "Do you never have to work? You'll have to take a couple hours off if you go with me, because I need the car this morning." "I'll call you right back," he said and hung up on me. Openmouthed, I stared down at the phone. "No you did not," I muttered and redialed his number. He didn't answer. That demented piece of— The phone rang. I almost jumped out of my skin. "What?" I barked into the receiver. "Done. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." My pulse fluttered at the thought of seeing him again. "Bring your camera. And wear a hat. And sunglasses." "And a fake beard?" he asked on a husky laugh. "If you have one," I said in all seriousness. "Drive your cheapest, most unnoticeable car. No limo today." "What's going—" This time, I hung up on him . I'd clue him in when he got here. Time to get busy. As I strode into my bedroom, I stripped. I belted a pillow over my stomach. The condom incident with Royce had given me an idea for a disguise. Dr. Johnnie would never know the pregnant woman following his every move was actually his stepdaughter, Detective Delacroix. I slipped the largest dress I owned over my head and shimmied it down the rest of me. The plain, light blue material was tight around my middle, emphasizing my rounded belly. I ran my hands over the pillow and a thought occurred to me: This image might actually become a reality in the coming months. My heart skipped a beat. Don't think about that, Naomi. For God's sake, don't think about it. As I slipped into comfortable shoes, I stuffed Mrs. Powell's party invitation in my purse. I twisted the long length of my hair under a hat, then locked up my apartment. Fighting a sense of eagerness, I headed outside to wait for Royce. Thankfully, no Tattler reporters were behind the bushes—I checked—nor was anyone waiting beside the building. Fifteen minutes later, I was a hot, sweaty mess—and still freaking waiting outside. Did no one believe in timeliness anymore? Royce finally eased his shiny, expensive sedan in the parking slot right in front of me. I would have preferred something less expensive, less noticeable, but this would have to do. I slid into the passenger seat, sighing as the cool, conditioned and sandalwood-fragranced air washed over me. Lord, he always smelled so good. I slammed the door with a flick of my wrist. When I turned to Royce, I noticed he was staring at my belly in openmouthed astonishment. As I'd requested, he was wearing a hat, sunglasses and even the fake beard. He was also wearing yellow-pink-and-blue golf pants and a yellow T-shirt. The sight of him made me go all weak and needy inside. He looked so cute, and he'd done this for me. Just because I'd asked. How sweet was that? "What the hell is going on?" he choked out. "Is that some kind of hint?" He pointed to my puffy belly. "We're going to follow my step dad, and I didn't want him to recognize me. Did you bring the camera?" "It's in back." Brow furrowed, Royce reached under my skirt and smoothed his hand up my calf, my thigh, and onto the pillow. I gasped at the sudden liquid heat pooling between my legs. Before I begged him to go ahead and give me an orgasm while he had his hand up my skirt, I slapped his arm away. "Stop that." "I had to feel for myself." I cleared my throat and pulled at the collar of my dress. "Yes, well, thank you for rearranging your schedule for me, but I wish you'd worn jeans or something. Everyone will notice those pants." "I had no idea what we were doing. You hung up on me, remember? Besides, the pants go well with the beard and your, uh, belly." I had to clear my throat again. Shifting in my seat, I rattled off my parents' address. "We need to hurry. Jonathan always leaves the house at eight-thirty." Minutes later, Royce and I were speeding along the highway. "I could hire a P.I. to follow him," he suggested, keeping his eyes on the road. "That's not necessary. I'm perfectly capable of catching him in the act." Plus, it was horrible of me to admit, but I was taking a perverse sort of satisfaction in doing the investigating myself. I hadn't done anything like this with Richard. I hadn't had the courage. So, in a way, this was kind of like therapy for me. And Jonathan was big on therapy. "Naomi," Royce said, then stopped himself. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and massaged his neck with the other. "What?" I stiffened. He'd sounded… upset. "Tell me." "Remember that trip to Florida I mentioned? I'm flying out tomorrow. I'll be gone for a week." I immediately began to analyze the situation, last night's quiz replaying through my mind. If your man goes out of town, what would you do? Did I want to throw a party? Cry? Or take up a new hobby? I was pretty certain I wanted to go with B, like Kera , and cry like a goddamn infant. I frowned, my lips pulled down so tightly my jaw began to ache. "You want to come with me?" he asked. Yes was the answer that first leapt to the surface. "No. No, thank you." I did want to grab him by the shirt and command him to stay. After all, a true Tigress knew how to fight for what she wanted and keep what she won. The thing is, I had never really fought for Royce, which meant I hadn't really won him. I'd all but pushed him away. What if Royce found another woman in Florida? What would I do then? The quiz hadn't given simple answers for that question, but I suspected I'd do more than cry. You have told him over and over you want no claims on him. Damn non-relationships. They sucked ass.

Chapter TwelveA true Tigress will fight for what she wants with every weapon available. Manipulation? Absolutely. Screaming? Without a doubt. Fists, teeth, legs? Get in her way and find out.Royce heaved me up and carried me to the wall. The second my back hit, the hotel picture crashed to the ground. He dropped my feet so he could kick the frame out of the way, and pushed me harder against the cold paneling.I gasped at the sensation. Our hands were frantic, our breath choppy.But then, all of a sudden, Royce slowed down. He ceased the frantic need of our kiss and brought it to a leisurely exploration. With one hand, he caressed my neck, my collarbone and my breasts. With the other, he skimmed downward, over the taut hollow of my stomach."I want to take off my panties," I gasped out. "Help me take them off.""I knew you were sexy, but I don't think I realized exactly how sexy until this moment," he said, gazing down at me. His voice strained with suppressed ferocity."Mmm." Who had time for conversation? I didn't. I wanted to come now. Right now. It had been so long, too long. I ripped at his shirt buttons. "Take. Panties. Off. Me."He stilled my hands. "Not yet.""Do you want to have sex or not?" His fingers glided over my hard, waiting nipple. I jerked at the deliciousness. Everything in me was coiled and poised for release. I was so close to the edge, so unbelievably close."I want to savor you.""Savor later." I arched against him. "Climax now."He closed his eyes. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "Not yet." The words were more strained this time, barely audible.I was burning up and he said "Not yet?""What's the problem?" I breathed. Everywhere he touched, heat rippled under my skin, but not deep enough to make a difference. "Stop being lazy and kick it into gear.""Lazy? Honey, you're going to thank me for my laziness when I'm done with you. I promised you that first day that I'd go slow with you, and I'm damn well going to go slow."I reached between our bodies, opened his pants and slipped my hand inside. I clasped the long, thick length of his erection in my hand. "So you want to go slow? Fine." I moved my palm up, down with agonizing slowness.He groaned, the vibration touching me all the way to my toes. "Think you're smart, do you?" he said, doing exactly as I had done. His hand dipped inside my panties and he pressed his fingers against my clitoris, circled, and pressed again.Actually, I thought I was a freaking genius. His actions were just enough to make me come. I screamed. I spasmed. Bright stars winked behind my eyelids. Fire swept through my blood."Look at me," he commanded.My eyes refused to open."Look at me. See me."I forced my lids apart. With his gaze never leaving mine, he buried two fingers deep inside of me and I clenched around him. His other hand gripped my hips. Pulling me up, helping me imitate the rhythm of sex. Once. Twice. He pushed inside. Over and over, pulling back, sinking in, making my climax last forever and ever.And that easily, he had me ready for another round."See, Naomi," he said. "I can give you pleasure. You could have this for the rest of your life. I could have this for the rest of my life.""Just a few nights." I barely managed to say it, much less breathe.He growled. "You're too damn stubborn. Maybe I haven't shown you just how good it can be between us.""Then do it. Show me." One orgasm wasn't enough. I wanted more, needed more.The tips of his fingers grew bolder, pushed deeper, teasing and taunting. I writhed beneath his hands, sensation eclipsing time."I'm going to taste you," he said.I turned his command into a command of my own. I was in charge of this show, after all. "Yes. Do it. Now."His scowl said he knew what I was doing, but he immediately dropped to his knees.He jerked my panties down, and I quickly stepped out of them. He slid his hands up my calves, gripped my knees and urged them apart. It was a little disconcerting, being naked with such a sexy man poised between my legs, but I was too excited to worry much.Richard had never, ever done this to me. No man had. I wanted it so badly.Royce's warm breath tickled me before I felt the first stroke of his tongue, the heat of it. The pleasure.He licked, caressed, moved his mouth against me, creating a dizzying friction. My bones liquefied. My nerve endings sizzled. I moaned, low and hungry, and the sound filled the room."Mmm…" I couldn't speak, could only moan. The room around me ceased to exist. My second climax ripped through me, this one even stronger than the first. Making me arch and clench and scream. I flew back to the stars.How long until I returned to earth, I didn't know."I came twice," I said, awed by that fact. Royce was standing now, staring down at me with fire in his eyes. "I came twice.""And that was only the appetizer," he promised.I could barely stand, but Royce released me and stalked toward his pants. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Get back here. We aren't done." Pause. "Are we?""Condom," he said, suddenly holding me up again. "Not done, but can't savor anymore. Too…much…"With a roar, he buried his cock inside me.Pure pleasure rocked me, intense, consuming. I wrapped myself around him. He began to move deep, deeper still, lifting me up, pulling me down. Little by little, his rhythm began to quicken."I had no idea you'd be this wild once I got your clothes off." His breath stroked my ear."Thank you."I couldn't help a grin as I rotated my hips, taking more of him inside. Oh, yeah. I gasped. "Well, I knew you'd be this good."His hand reached down between us and pressed. His fingers moved in a circular motion; his body slipped in and out of me, increasing in speed, increasing in urgency. Yes, faster and faster. Sure enough, my sensitized body responded, dampening, aching for another orgasm.I clawed at his back, bit the cord of his shoulder and tugged at his hair. I was an animal, a Tigress, my true, wild nature suddenly released. He surged once more, hard, and I propelled over the edge. As my body spasmed for the third time, he growled low in his throat and surged deep, so deep. Deeper than I'd thought possible. His body stiffened and he roared my name. "Damn, Naomi," he panted. "I think you almost killed me." With what little energy I had left, I sighed happily. Take that, Richard the Bastard. When engaged in a wild, no-strings fling, how many times in one night was the couple in question allowed to make—uh, have sex? Once? Twice? Three times or more?Hopefully the latter because Royce and I had just finished round three. On the bed, this time. I lay limp as a rag. Royce was beside me, the heat of his body like a warm blanket. A dewy sheen of sweat caused our bodies to cling and stick to the other.I was naked, not an inch of covering over my body, and I realized I might never regain the strength to do anything about it. I knew my hair was a tangled mess, knew that my lips were slightly swollen. Knew, too, that pink scratches lined my breasts from his beard stubble. I probably resembled a beat-up prostitute. And there was no better way to look, to my way of thinking. A satisfied smile curled my lips.I don't smoke, hate cigarettes actually, but I would have liked one right then.Royce anchored his weight on one elbow, hovering above me, his eyes heavy-lidded and seductive.Silver moonlight surrounded his tousled hair. I smoothed several strands from his face and stared up at him."Thank you for tonight," I said.His turquoise gaze suddenly glowed like the clearest ocean. "I'm the one who should be doing the thanking."I grinned. "You're probably right."Chuckling, he rose from the bed. "Cocky girl." His chuckle became a grimace, and he rotated his shoulders. As he padded into the bathroom, he said, "I think you did major damage when you threw your legs around my neck.""Big baby." A cool blast of air wafted around me, and I forced my jelly-like arms to grab onto the sheet and pull it up to my chin. I heard a splash of water. Then silence.He exited the bathroom with a wet washrag in his hand, saw me, and paused. "Now you're shy?" he teased."Now I'm cold," I said. If I were honest, I was beginning to feel a little self-conscious. This man had slept with some of the most beautiful women in the world. Models. Surgically enhanced heiresses. And now imperfect me."You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, as if reading my mind. He grunted with pleasure as he settled beside me, then spent the next several minutes cleaning both of our bodies. Once the towel was discarded, he cuddled me to him, his body half covering mine.I'd never been a cuddler . Hated it, in fact. I always felt pinned down, shackled—and not in a good way. But… I found that I loved it with Royce. The tenderness. The illusion of caring. I didn't want to move, could have stayed in his arms forever.And that suddenly scared the living shit out of me.My heart kicked into overtime, pounding sporadically in my chest. Being here with him like this felt too good, too… right. Was I…could I be— No. No! I absolutely refused to believe I was falling in love with him. This was a fling. Only a fling.Emotions were not allowed.Emotions meant a relationship. A relationship meant marriage. Marriage meant trusting, giving my heart totally and completely. And giving my heart eventually meant hurt, pain and perhaps betrayal. Not even my mom's marriage was going to survive, and I'd thought their union unbreakable.A cold sweat broke out all over my body; my breathing became shallow, ragged. I began to feel claustrophobic. A wave of dizziness assaulted me. A deafening ring filled my ears and my stomach cramped. I had to get out of here. Had to get away from Royce. Right. Now."I have to use the bathroom," I blurted.He untangled his limbs from mine. "Hurry back."I raced away. When the door locked behind me, I sucked in a panicked gulp of air. What was I going to do? I couldn't stay here all night, but I couldn't pick up my clothes from the floor and take a cab home, either.I collapsed onto the toilet lid and hunched over, putting my head between my legs. Breathe. Just breathe . There was no reason to panic. I'd think of something.How long I stayed like that, I don't know."Are you okay in there?" he called."Fine," I croaked.When the ringing and dizziness subsided, I forced myself to stand and splash cold water over my too-pale face. "You don't seem to worry when he's inside you," I told my reflection. "So get him inside you again and your worries will melt away. He's your sex toy. Nothing more."With a deep breath, I stepped out of the bathroom and sashayed toward the bed. Royce was splayed out, rumpled and sexy, looking satisfied but concerned. My chest constricted at the sight of him. His torso was lined with scratches and bite marks."You sure you're okay?" he asked, his tone dripping with worry."Yeah." He's my sex toy. Nothing more ."Come here." My sex toy patted the empty space beside him."Do you want me again?" I asked hopefully."I want to hold you."Well, crap. I dragged my feet. Slipped in next to him. Wanted to snuggle up to him—what the hell was wrong with me—but remained a short distance away. He's my sex toy. I frowned and turned my back to him. My stomach began to churn again. My palms began to sweat again. He's my sex toy."Naomi?"Please don't ask me if I want to spoon. "What?""Is this about the condom?"I paused. "What do you mean?""It broke that last time."My mouth went dry. My blood mutated into ice. Total and complete silence surrounded us as my world crumbled. Oh my god . Oh. My. Freaking. God. My lungs quit working and another rush of dizziness slammed into me. "Tell me you're joking. Please, tell me you're joking.""I wish I could."I twisted to face him, meeting his gaze. "How the hell. Could that. Have happened?""Hey, I'm healthy. No reason for so much worry.""I'm glad to hear it, but what about the other thing, huh?" At the moment, I couldn't say the B word.Couldn't even think it.He ran a hand down his face. "Aren't you on the Pill?""No, damn it!" A horrible thought raced into my mind and my nostrils flared. "Is this your way of trapping me in a relationship? Because if so—""Hell, no." He jolted upright, pinning me to the bed with the fierceness of his gaze. "I don't have to resort to that kind of tactic to keep a woman."I believed him. I'd even known it, deep down, before the words had rushed out of my mouth. Some of my anger and panic eased, and I was able to identify another emotion, the barest glimmer, underneath the surface of everything else. An emotion I didn't yet want to name.My hand fluttered over my mouth, then dropped to my heart. "I'm sorry," I told him. "I shouldn't have said that.""I understand." He nodded stiffly and eased down beside me. He tangled a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, too. This has only happened to me once before."I licked my lips as images of Royce playing blocks with a child, another woman's child, filled my mind.The tabloids had never printed a story about him being a father, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened."Did the girl get—you know?""No.""Maybe you're sterile," I said hopefully."Thanks a lot." Reaching behind himself, he folded his pillow in two and created a higher rest for his head. "Listen, I didn't mean to spoil the mood, but I thought you knew. And if you didn't, you needed to.""You're right," I sighed.A pause."I really enjoyed being with you, Naomi."The words dangled like a lifeline, and I grabbed onto them for all I was worth. I didn't want to even consider diapers and the things that wore them—I still wasn't saying the B word. And I still didn't want to identify the ridiculous emotion swimming so determinedly through my veins."You roared so loudly," I said, "I think every person staying in this lodge knows you enjoyed yourself."He chuckled, easing more of the tension between us, and pulled me into his arms."Before we got in the plane, you mentioned an inner Tigress. I've been dying to question you all day."A topic I could handle. "What do you want to know?""What exactly is it?"I shrugged. "A Tigress is the part of a woman that is strong, self-assured and brave, able to do anything, say anything and always come out the winner. And—" I leaned toward him, lifted my hand and tapped him on the end of his nose "—a Tigress isn't particularly fond of Tigers.""Hmm…" He took my fingers and kissed them, sucking them one at a time into the wet heat of his mouth. "Is there anything a Tiger can do to gain favor with a Tigress?"As a delicious shiver ribboned through me, and even with the condom thing looming over my head, I knew I'd let him take me again. Like I'd realized in the bathroom, I didn't worry about anything but pleasure when he was inside me. Not emotions, not consequences."There is one thing," I said.His dark brows slashed together. "And what's that?""He has to obey her every command."Royce's deep, rich laughter echoed off the walls. "C'mere, kitty, kitty, and give me a command."I leaned toward him, saying huskily, "You're going to let me kiss you right here."My fingers circled his cock. "And then you're going to pleasure me until I'm incoherent. You're going to pleasure me until I'm so sated I can no longer move." No longer think or worry."As a dedicated patron of the animal arts," he said, cupping my jaw, "I consider it a matter of pride to heed such a command."We met in the middle. Our lips meshed together and our tongues collided. All worries forgotten. He tasted so good, like passion and heat and forbidden desire. My hands slid up his chest, the hard strength of his muscles covered by velvet-smooth skin.When his lips moved away from my mouth, he placed a wet, hot caress along my jaw. "I really like this Tigress thing.""You're about to like it even more." I inched my way down his body and took him in my mouth. He was big, very big, and my jaw stretched wide to accommodate him. I sucked him up and down, loving the heat and feel of him."Shit," he growled. "I'm going to come.""Meeeooow," I said, a hint of wickedness in the undertones, then swallowed the taste of him.An hour later, we hadn't moved from the bed. Rumpled linens had sprung from their corners and fit untidily around us. After two more rounds of intense sex, I didn't have the strength to race to the bathroom and have another mini-panic attack. I liked where I was, and even though that still scared me, I wasn't moving.I'd allow myself tonight. Nothing more. Tomorrow I'd fight my attraction to him. Tomorrow I'd worry about possible consequences."I know you've told me you don't want to get married," Royce said, cutting through the silence.He was lying on his back, hands propped behind his head. I was curled beside him, arms splayed over his chest. Every muscle in my body tensed at his words. If that was the beginning of our next conversation, I needed to seriously reconsider my decision not to move from the bed."But…" He hesitated here. "Did tonight change your mind?"I tried not to cringe, tried not to scream in horror. I couldn't handle this, not right now. I'd told Kera and Mel this would happen. Damn it! Why couldn't he have waited until tomorrow?When I didn't answer, he rolled over and braced himself on his elbows. He gazed down at me. "I want to marry you. You know that.""I told you before, marriage is not for me."Slowly he eased off the bed. "Tonight didn't change your mind?""No.""We're amazing together." He tangled a hand in his hair. "You can't deny that.""Maybe not." Despite the renewed roaring in my ears, the new bout of dizziness in my head, and the sick, cramping feeling in the pit of my stomach, I managed to remain calm. "But I'm never going to change my mind. Not for any reason."He leapt into a fast back-and-forth pace, and his muscles rippled beneath his skin with every movement."Have you already forgotten the way you clung to me, the way you moved beneath me and screamed my name?""Just because we had sex," I told him, "doesn't mean we need to—you know." I didn't even want to say the word. It was as foul to me as the B word. My heart was already pounding against my ribs and the ringing in my ears was growing louder."What do you have against marriage? "Everything. "It's not for me, that's all.""It could be." He softened his voice; even his gaze softened as he stopped and regarded me. "We're perfect together, sweetheart."I tried not to shudder. "No. I'm sorry.""Help me understand." His pacing renewed. Step by step, his feet sunk into the plush rose-colored carpet. And step by step it was clear his determination intensified. "Help me understand what's brought you to this point. Please."The ringing reached a fevered pitch, and my next words exploded from my mouth. I couldn't stop them."You really want to know? Well, here it is. My ex-husband didn't get the memo about fidelity. He preferred other women, and lots of them. He professed to love me while he nailed everything that breathed. Maybe I could have written that off as Richard's depraved moral character and the fact that he's a male whore, but I can't write off my step dad. He's a decent, hardworking guy and he's cheating on my mom. I will never willingly give my heart to another man only to have it thrown back in my face. How's that for an answer?"By the time I finished, I was huffing. My hands were shaking. And Royce wore an expression of utter shock. I tried to calm myself down with a few deep breaths, tried to picture myself in my meadow of happiness.A bit more rationally, I added, "I need to leave now. I need to be alone.""You're staying here, Naomi." He ran a hand down his face. "Even if I have to lock you in the bathroom.""Royce—"He shook his head, his features dark and fierce. "You're going to hear me out. I'm not your ex, okay. I've never cheated on a woman, and I swear to you now I never will. I know what I want, and I want you. And, baby, you'd better understand now that I can be ruthless when it comes to getting what I want."I threw my hands in the air. "There's nothing special about me." Why couldn't he understand that?The distant rustle of wind sliced through the sudden silence. A thin layer of mist clouded the unadorned window. The mountainous landscape just beyond our room looked as harsh as Royce's face."Nothing special about you?" He stalked to that very window, gazing out at that very scenery. "Honey, I told you how you affected me at that party. And when you stepped into my office that first day, everything inside me went on alert. Your hair was messy, you had a streak of dirt on your face and when you sat down I saw the scrapes on your knees. And you know what? I'd never seen anything more beautiful. One glance at your lips, and I knew I had to have them all over me."My cheeks reddened and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You're just saying that because you're desperate to get married.""You've said that before. I didn't answer you fully then, but I will now. I want to get married, yes, and I want a family. I want to belong to a woman and for her to belong to me. I want a woman to come home to—the same woman every night. I want our children running through our house. I want to know I have a partner who only wants the best for me, who will love me through everything. I want that with you. It's always been you."The beauty of his words was shattering, and something lurched inside me at the happily-ever-after he described. Something that had nothing to do with panic, nothing to do with my hatred of marriage."You've received thousands of applications. What if your Miss Right is in the stack, waiting for you? What if you find her after you've committed yourself to me?" I asked, softly speaking one of my deepest fears."I threw all the applications away the day you came into my office.""But—""No buts. My mother ran the story. We were arguing, again, about my lack of dating. She said you obviously weren't interested in me and decided to introduce me to women who were available. I refused to date any of the applicants, and even talked her into having a birthday party with you as the planner."Royce turned toward me, his gaze clashing and locking with mine. "There's no other woman who has your spirit, Naomi. Your humor. Your ability to set me on fire."I covered my face with my hands. If he'd said this to me six years ago, I would have caved. I would have been all over him. Now, I bore too many scars.I couldn't give Royce what he wanted. I just couldn't put my heart on the line like that. The thought of permanent, legal ties made me nauseous. I wasn't ready. Hell, I might never be ready."I'm sorry, Royce, but my answer is still no."

Chapter ElevenBe aware. Always aware. A Tiger will create a distraction on one side of the jungle to better attack you on the other. Unfortunately, we were still on the plane half an hour later. Silence stretched between us. It had been like that since our kiss had ended, and I didn't know why. I didn't know why he had pulled away, why he was now ignoring me. Had I done something wrong? Did he know something about the plane that I didn't? Fear slowly began to take root in my mind again. I couldn't fight it. I was soon squeezing my eyes shut, refusing to look out the windows behind or in front of me. Images of blood and death poured through my mind. I jerked completely upright. We were on a path to certain death. Royce remained stiff at my side. He knew the plane was about to crash, the sick bastard, but didn't know how to tell me. That was why he was still so tense. We were going to die! I just knew it. Big breath in. Big breath out. Big breath in. Big breath out. Dizziness assaulted me. I forced myself to calm down before I had a major panic attack. I tried to meditate, to imagine a tranquil meadow with lush green foliage, just like Jonathan had taught me. It had never worked before, but this time I actually felt a summer breeze caressing my skin like the brush of a feather. A small measure of peace settled over me—until the aircraft careened and rattled. A loud popping sounded. I immediately lost that peaceful center. My eyelids flew open; I gripped Royce's forearm, afraid if I didn't, I would fall out the window and spin out of control as I slid down, down, down to the hard surface of the earth. "Everything's fine," he said. "We hit an air pocket, that's all." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, but ruined the "calming" action by trying to unbuckle my seat belt. Panicked, I glued my hand over his. "What are you doing?" "Getting you comfortable." I slapped at his wrist. "That will never happen if you don't get your hand off my safety harness." "Safety harness, hmm?" He chuckled. "Naomi, if the plane were to plummet—" I gasped. He zipped his lips, but it was too late. The damage was done. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God." I couldn't breathe. Wait. Did I smell smoke?Ohmygod, Ohmygod ,Ohmygod . The plane was plummeting and was about to become a fiery ball. He nuzzled my neck. I didn't relax this time. I couldn't. Everywhere I looked, I saw my own death. "This worked before," he said. "Well, it isn't working now." "There's no reason to worry," he said against my ear. "Nothing bad will happen. I promise." "How can you promise something like that? Are you psychic?" "No!" "Then shut the hell up." He did. Probably because I wore an I'll-eat-you-alive-expression. Happy meadow, happy meadow. Where was my freaking happy meadow? I'm not going to die , I chanted. I'm not going to die . I had to kill Jonathan first. Surely God would let me live long enough for that. After a while, I began to calm down again. Tranquil waters, a happy meadow. I was a strong woman and the plane was gliding smoothly through the air. Royce must have sensed my new state of serenity because he motioned with a tilt of his chin to the window. "Go on," he said. "Take a peek. This will be like therapy for you." I'd had all the therapy I could take, thank you, but knew he was right. It took five long, agonizing minutes to work up the courage to look down—with my heart pounding sporadically in my chest all the while—but I finally managed to do it. I looked. A gasp escaped me and I squeezed my eyes shut. Opened them. Cars lolled along city roads, reminding me of ants meandering atop a hill. Buildings appeared like little more than specks on the horizon. I wondered where we were so I could chart a rescue mission in my mind. I didn't ask, too afraid I'd jinx myself. "Okay, that's enough," I said, easing back. "I'm cured." He chuckled. "While we've got this time to ourselves, why don't you tell me what made you decide to open a party-planning business." I knew he was only trying to distract me, but I was perfectly willing to go along with his plan. "Nothing glamorous," I said. I wiped my sweaty hands on my slacks. "I was never any good at schoolwork. I hated math, hated writing research papers and studying of any kind, but loved all social events. One day I saw an ad in the paper for an assistant planner, and I knew it was the job for me. And since I'd worked at my aunt and uncle's catering business, it was a good fit." I sighed. "I was developing a good name formyself just before I left the business for a few years." "Why did you leave?" "I foolishly thought I needed to be available for my husband twenty-four hours a day. Anyway," I said, not wanting to go down that road, "after my divorce, Kera ad taken over the catering business and things just worked themselves out." "I'm very glad that they did." "What about you?" I asked. "Why fly instruments of death?" He shrugged. "At first, it wasn't the planes. I was eight, maybe nine, when my father first took me with him to Powell Aeronautics. I watched the employees jump to do his bidding and knew I'd found my calling. I wanted everyone to take my orders." "Somehow I'm not surprised," I said dryly, though a chuckle underlined my tone. "After my first time in a cockpit, bossing people around stopped being my first priority." "Besides flying planes and bossing people around, what is it that you actually do?" "Mostly I buy and sell airplanes. My company also sells parts, does title searches and generates daily aeronautic reports. That kind of thing." "I can't imagine having enough money to buy an entire airplane. A seat belt, maybe, but not much else." "I always make back double my initial investment, so it's no hardship." Yeah. No hardship. I could hear the buyer/seller interaction now: Buyer: You only want a million for the plane ? Seller: Yeah. I paid four mil, but I just don't like the thing anymore . Buyer:(Chuckles) Well, do you take checks ? No hardship. Yeah, you can bite me. "Are you purchasing a plane anytime soon?" I asked. "There's a SJ30-2 I've had my eye on. In fact, you can fly to Florida with me at the end of the month and check it out." "No thanks." I meant it with every fiber of my being. A slow grin lifted the corners of his lips. "I might just decide to hold the party in Florida. Then you'd have to go." "That might put you on my Must Kill list." His grin became wicked. "I'd rather be on your Must Seduce list." He was. He was the only name on that list, but he was on it. Not that I'd admit it out loud. "This is a milestone for me, you know. I don't even like to stay in a hotel room that has a balcony. I've never understood my fear of falling, but I've learned to live with it. I'm proud of myself right now. This is the first time I've ever done anything so…scary." "Except for the fact that you've almost squeezed my wrist off every time the plane jostled and left me with a bloody stump, you've done great." I snorted. Soon afterward, we arrived at a private airstrip on the outskirts of Eagle Airport. Thankfully, the plane landed with no complications. Had anything gone wrong, I felt certain I would have done serious damage to the inside of my cheek instead of simply biting it raw. I think I'd already lost enough blood to warrant a transfusion. With stiff limbs, I stepped out of the death trap and onto the ground. Thank you, God! Royce grabbed my bag, threw it over his shoulder. He shuffled me inside a waiting limousine. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He settled in beside me. "It was quite enjoyable, actually." A smug gleam lit his features. "If I were a masochist," I added. "Ha, ha." Grinning, he shook his head. "We've got a half hour drive ahead of us. The cabin has already been stocked with everything we'll need. All we have to do now is relax." "Is the cabin isolated?" "Technically, no. It just seems that way at times. It's about a mile from Mountain Lodge. A resort," he clarified when my expression turned questioning. "What's the square footage of the cabin?" "Two thousand." "Hmm." I pictured his guests squeezed inside that amount of space, one standing on top of the other. "Forget the cabin for a moment and concentrate on the lodge. Does it have any areas designated for large gatherings?" His eyes narrowed, blocking out the sudden, suspicious darkening, but he answered me anyway. "Yes." "Well, the lodge sounds better suited for a party than the cabin does. Let's go there." Now he frowned. "I prefer the cabin." We were safely on the ground and my thoughts were clear, focused. So I wasn't taking his crap. "Still," I said, "I'd like to view the resort first, if you don't mind." "I do mind." "I didn't want to fly here, but I did. The least you can do is stop at the lodge." "Damn it, Naomi." Silence. I wasn't backing down, wasn't going to rescind my request. "Damn it," he said again. "We'll stop at the lodge." He massaged his neck and gazed up at the car ceiling. "I don't know why the hell I'm putting up with your bossiness. I'm in charge here. You work for me." "I work with you. There's a difference. And just so you know, you're seriously starting to piss me off." "Well, just so you know, this is the last time you're getting your way." Jeez, what a sore loser. "So, what do you think?" Royce asked. I regarded him for a moment. We were in a secluded corner of a smoke-filled bar, drinking wine and listening to the hum of a saxophone in the background. The area was dim, lit only by candles. We had finished our tour of the lodge only a short while ago. I didn't want to argue with him, but realized I might have no other choice since the information I was about to give him wasn't what he wanted to hear. "As lovely as this place is," I said, "it simply won't do." "Have you already made a list as to why not?" Amusement glinted in his eyes. He wasn't angry, at least. I exhaled a relieved breath. "As a matter of fact," I told him, "I have." "This, I need to hear." "This building isn't large enough, for one, and the cabin, which is smaller, won't be, either." "And two?" He tried to cover his smile with his palm, but I caught the action. His levity should have ruffled me. After all, if he truly wanted the party here, I had no other choice but to comply. Instead, I felt strangely at ease. The wine, perhaps? Or the company? "Two," I said, "this is too rustic for our Arabian Nights theme." "So we'll make it Arabian Nights meets Urban Cowgirl." "Three," I said, acting as if he hadn't spoken, "I don't want the party held here." "That's not a reason." "It is to me. What about flying the guests here?" "They'll love being flown in my jet, I promise you. And my mother will adore the clean mountain air." "You can't fit three hundred people in your death trap of a plane." "We'll cut down the list. Make it a small, private gathering." He had an answer for everything. Loud, raucous laughter suddenly rang out. A thirty-something man with long, wavy brown hair stood onstage, tapping on a microphone. "It's time for the karaoke entertainment hour," he said, his voice booming throughout the bar. "I know we've got some eager beavers out there, dying to get up on this stage and belt out a few tunes. Well, tonight's your lucky night. We've got a great selection." The crowd cheered. Several people even raised their glasses. "Who's first?" One young man stumbled to his feet. His constant swaying and glassy-eyed expression made it obvious he'd had a little too much to drink. "I'll do it." His words were slurred, almost unrecognizable. The girl at his table giggled hysterically, urging him on. "I want to sing a sappy song." More giggling. "Anyone else. Please," the man onstage begged, an edge of desperation evident in the tense profile of his body. Silence. I looked around and noticed that everyone else was doing the same. An instant later, I heard, "I dare you." I whipped around, staring over at Royce. Surely he'd misspoken. He wouldn't have said— "I dare you." He gave me a devilish smile. I wasn't someone who usually responded to dares. I mean, who wanted to run outside naked screaming, "The sky is falling?" I also knew Royce didn't think I'd accept his dare. My own devilish sense of humor—or maybe the simple desire to prove to him that I truly did possess an inner Tigress— rose within me, insisting I leap out of my seat and pole-vault onto that stage. I tapped a finger on my chin and regarded him intently. "What do I get if I take you up on your dare?" I asked. He held out his arms in invitation. "Me." I should have expected such a reply. Smiling, I shook my head. "Good try. But that prize doesn't appeal to me." Lie. "Name something else." "A night of wild sex." "Nope." Bigger lie. Royce stroked his jaw with deliberate slowness. "Hmm. What will tempt you, Naomi Delacroix?" "Probably nothing." Biggest lie of all. I refilled my glass and sipped at my wine, savoring the robust flavor, relishing the comforting warmth it gave me. And the courage. "Try and tempt me. Just try." "What if I promised the party won't be held anywhere that requires stepping inside an airplane?" he said. "Does that appeal to you?" No more plane rides? I almost did a table dance right then and there. He'd chosen the one prize I could never refuse. Was the embarrassment of missing a note, of watching him snicker at my attempt to sing worth it? I didn't have to think about it. "You've got a deal," I said. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I held out one hand to shake and seal the bargain. His big hand dwarfed my smaller one and his calluses sparked a delicious friction. "Good luck." He shot a glance through the restless crowd. "This doesn't look like a receptive audience." He was trying to dissuade me, anything to win the bet. I surprised him by pushing to my feet. "I'll do it," I said, loud enough for the man onstage to hear. I made a face at Royce. Ha! I might make a fool of myself, might have to endure jeers and snickers and catcalls, but I'd be damned if I'd leave this bar a loser. All at once, the crowd quieted. Every eye in the room found me, riveted by the spectacle I must surely make. My knees began quaking. A slight brush of Royce's palm against my hip drew my gaze back to him. "What? Wishing you'd kept your mouth closed?" I asked. His brows rose in mock salute. "Are you sure you want to do this?" "A bet's a bet, and I simply can't let you win." With that, I pivoted on my heel and strolled to the stage, unwinding the twist in my hair and letting the long, dark tendrils cascade down my shoulders and back. Though my hand shook, I took the microphone from the announcer's outstretched hand. "Do you have 'Achy Breaky Heart'?" He offered me a relieved grin. "Never have karaoke night without it." A few seconds later, music blasted from the speakers, penetrating the sudden silence. The sound continued to climb in volume. Words appeared on a screen just in front of me. Deciding simply to have fun, I assumed a laugh-with-me-not-at-me pose: one hand on my hip, silly grin on my lips. I began to sing. When the first note left my mouth, all movement in the audience stopped. Even the drunk guy stared up at me like I belonged in an institution. But I worked the stage like a pro, flipping my hair, copping an attitude and, at last, someone chuckled. That was all it took. "Oh, yeah," a man yelled. "Give it to me, baby. My heart is hurtin'." "You can break me anytime," another called. All around, hands clapped to the beat, urging me on. I went for it, giving the performance my all. I'd never admit it aloud, but I had the time of my life on that stage, belting out the lyrics and strutting my stuff. When the end arrived, my voice slowly tapered to quiet. I waited for a reaction. Suddenly applause erupted and loud, buoyant cheers peeled like bells. Catcalls and whistling abounded. I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at Royce. I'd done it. Really done it. I had won my bet with him. Na, na, na, na, na, na. Take that, Mr. Royce Powell, god of the airplane world and superhero of sexiness. No more airplane rides! My grin became a smirk as I looked to Royce. He saluted me with his wineglass.Intending to gloat, I descended the stage and strolled to him. When I reached the table, he helped me settle into my chair, but didn't wait around to let me wallow in my victory. "I'll be back in a moment," he said. And before I could protest, he sauntered away. He didn't even send me a backward glance. My lips pursed. How dare that sore loser not lavish me with compliments. A few minutes later, my shock and anger at Royce's abrupt departure dissolved. I was too busy praying God would make me invisible. A very untidy, very intoxicated man was stumbling my way. "Hey, baby." He was in his late thirties or early forties, and smelled like he'd just bathed in Jack Daniel's best for at least an hour. He breezed into Royce's vacant chair. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes glassy and red. "You really rocked onstage. I thought you were a real singer or something." At least he was coherent. Kind of. "Thanks," I said. "Can I buy you a drink?" While he spoke, his gaze locked onto my breasts, small targets though they were. "No, I'm not thirsty," I answered. And neither were my breasts. Actually, I really was parched, but I didn't want to invite this man to stay any longer than necessary. Where the hell was Royce? My unwanted visitor didn't get the hint. He threw an arm over my stool, as if he had every right to invade my space. I'm surprised he didn't try the yawn-and-grab routine. He gave me a lecherous grin, and I shuddered. There was something black lodged between his front teeth and I really, really hoped it was food. "What's your name?" he asked. "Naomi." I fanned the air in front of my face before I passed out from the fumes. "Naaaomi," he said, sounding it out. "Na-oh-me. I'm Doug." He paused. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" I tried not to cringe. Really, there was only one way to get rid of a guy like this. "I'm so glad you came over here, Douglas." I planted my elbows on the table and gazed over at him as if he were the most beautiful sight I'd ever beheld . "I've been dying to talk to someone about all the things that have been going wrong in my life lately. My ex-husband Richard, may he choke on his own tongue, get an STD and win a free one-way ticket to everlasting damnation, called me the other day and asked me to get back together with him. As if I need another cheating bastard in my life. One at a time, thank you very much." Doug tried to interrupt me, but I kept right on talking. "You're probably thinking that the other cheating bastard in my life is my step dad, and you're right. I do have plans to castrate him, though, don't you worry." All color drained from Doug's face. "I bet you're wondering why I haven't done it yet. Killed and castrated him, that is. Well, the answer to that is simple, really. First I've got to find the perfect knife. A regular household blade simply won't do. I really hate cheaters, Douglas, and I think—" Just as Doug cut into my speech to mutter, "Excuse me, I think I see someone I know," Royce returned. He watched Doug race away through litted eyes before sinking back into his seat. "Where were you?" I demanded. "Five more minutes and I might have had to ask Dougie Boy to be the father of my children in the hopes of scaring him away." "I was getting a room. I don't want to make the drive to the cabin tonight." My anger faded, replaced by dread—and anticipation. I shook my head. "Wait a sec. Getting a room? As in one ?" "That's right." He reached under the tabletop and slowly, oh so softly, grasped my thigh. I nearly jumped out of my skin. He grinned slowly. "What are you doing?" I asked in a scandalized whisper, looking all around to make sure no one watched us. "Seducing you." The darkened atmosphere and the corner placement of our table guaranteed privacy from everyone except the person walking directly by. Which happened to be Doug. He stumbled past once, twice, staring at me with jaundiced suspicion. The third time, he actually stopped at the table. "She plays with knives," he told Royce before racing away. "She's vicious, I know," Royce said, keeping his eyes on me. "You were adorable onstage." "Thank you." I tried to push his hand away; I didn't push too hard, though. It felt too good. He merely moved those naughty fingers of his higher, to a better place. "Where'd you learn to sing country music like that?" "In the shower." My blood heated, and I so wanted to open my legs and invite him to feel all he wanted. "We've been building to this point and you know it," he said, getting to the heart of the matter. "Ever since I picked you up this morning, I've wanted to strip you down and taste you. All over." I swallowed. Hard. There was a reason I needed to tell him no, to wait until after his mom's party, but at the moment I couldn't think of what that reason was. "I have this fantasy of us in my mind. You ride me and your hair tickles my chest. Your breasts are pushed forward, and you keep screaming my name." "Do I, uh, have an orgasm every time I scream?" The words escaped on the barest whisper and I was unable to stop them. He nodded. "Oh, yeah." My nipples hardened and my heart began a frantic boom-boom rhythm. "Once we make love, Naomi, you'll only want more," he promised. "Much, much more." No. He was wrong. I couldn't let myself want more. He came closer to me, his gaze stroking my face like a caress. "I'll touch you here." He palmed one of my breasts through the fabric of my shirt. The fingers covering my thigh inched down my calf, not stopping until they reached bare skin. Those naughty fingers tunneled underneath the flare of my pants, then started going higher. Higher still. The material tightened at my knees, not allowing him to go farther. I almost shouted a string of curses. My breath hitched in my throat as he abandoned my knee and moved his hand to the waist of my pants, unsnapping the button. His pushed his hand inside, his fingers making dead-on contact with the lacy fabric of my panties. "I'll touch you here as well," he said, gently stroking the material. Of their own accord, my hips rocked slightly with his touch. "And you'll beg me to take you over the edge." "I've already decided to sleep with you," I admitted in a whisper. "After the party." His nostrils flared. "After. Before." Pause. "Now." Now…so tempting. God, I wanted him. I did. I needed him. "I haven't changed my mind about a relationship." Unlike the way men treated women, I didn't want him to misinterpret what was about to happen. "We can sleep together, but that's it. Nothing more." His fingers stilled, and I nearly moaned. "Maybe you didn't want a relationship," he said, his expression fierce, "but you're in one, anyway." "No." I had to stay strong, had to fight my body's needs until he agreed. "I want you. I do. Just—" breathe "—nothing else." "Well, I want everything. And I want you against a wall." His fingers began their tormenting search again, this time bolder, moving up and down over the now-damp material. "Have you ever fucked against a wall, Naomi?" He was deliberately being crude, I knew, trying to force me to admit I wanted more than a hard, emotionless screw. It had the opposite effect, however. I ached all over, and hearing him talk like that increased my excitement. Maybe, at heart, I was a bad, dirty girl. A closet sex kitten, like my cousins had said. "Have you?" he demanded. Slowly, I shook my head. My experience was limited to the back seat of a Chevy and a cold, forgotten mattress. Don't get me wrong. I've had orgasms and even enjoyed the sex. But this was something altogether more pleasurable. "I'll press your back against the wall and brace your legs around my waist." Breathless, I glanced at a wall and pictured exactly what he described. Two naked bodies, straining together, standing up and tangled. My throat constricted. The scene was carnal. Primal. Raw. I'd die if I didn't experience it. "All right," I told him, my voice hoarse with longing. "Now. Before the party." He paused, his eyes widening with disbelief. He hadn't expected me to agree. "What did you say?" "I said yes. I'm willing to do it against the wall." A blaze of heat caught fire in his irises, sparking blue flames. Those flames licked at me. His gaze moved over me with blatant possessiveness, and I licked my lips. His nostrils did the flare thing. Royce clasped my hand and jerked me to my feet. I hurriedly buttoned my pants. No longer concerned about those around me, I raced behind him through the bar, past the reservation desk and into the elevator. Royce quickly punched a button. The doors slid shut. In the next instant, he had me pinned to the corner, plundering my mouth with his tongue, rubbing his erection into the crevice of my legs. I almost climaxed right then. A bell sounded. The elevator doors slid open. It required a conscious effort to tear my mouth from Royce's. He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the hall. "I got the lowest floor I could," he said. A shiver of anticipation slipped down my spine. Helpless to do otherwise, I kept moving. Okay, so I nearly beat him to the door. Big deal. He jabbed the passkey into the electronic box. The green light winked its assent. Royce shoved open the door, hustled me inside and let the heavy wood slam behind him. We were finally alone. I raced to the bed, trying to shed my top along the way. It took a few minutes for me to notice Royce hadn't followed. I turned and faced him. He had his back to the entrance. He was watching me, a predator-like gleam in his eyes. Without taking his gaze from me, he clicked the lock. "Now," he said. "Now," I agreed. He advanced. I didn't move, just let him come. When he reached me, my head fell backward with the force of his kiss. His tongue dove immediately inside. It was a hard and demanding caress, not meant to be gentle. But then, I didn't crave gentleness. I craved the weight of his body, the sear of his lips, the domination of his hands. He couldn't be stopped. I couldn't be stopped. We were wild for each other. His hands sifted through my hair and fisted it before he began working at my bra. Next he tackled my pants. Those, too, pooled at our feet. The lights were on. I tried not to let it bother me. I was so thin. Royce didn't seem to mind, though. He was all over me. I loved every second, every squeeze of his hands, and returned the favor. He was caught in the avalanche of my lust. Again, he didn't seem to mind. Just when I thought I might collapse, I was lifted in his arms and placed on the bed. The soft mattress cushioned my back. "Wait!" I shouted. Had he forgotten? I cast a meaningful glance to the wall. A large floral picture hung in the center. I could almost feel the ridges pressed into my back. Royce gave me a slow, wicked grin of agreement and nodded. "Oh, yeah. The wall."

Sorry LJ-Cut doesn't seem to work on this chaper!


Chapter TenJust as a Tiger searches for and uses your weaknesses against you, you must find and use his against him. Exploiting a weakness can make the difference between victory and defeat. I spent the next day, Friday, on the phone. Royce called me. Richard did, too. I told Richard to die and go to everlasting hell. I hung up on Royce without a word. He called me back, and I said, "Nice photo of you with Gwendolyn. Your non-girlfriend. Did you ask her to marry you, too?" He laughed. Actually laughed. "She's a friend, nothing more. We do the charity circuit together. I'd love for you to be my date from now on. Are you interested?" He sounded so sincere, but then, Richard had always sounded sincere as well. I told Royce, "No thanks," and ended the call, not knowing what to think. Should I believe him? And why the hell was I so concerned? We weren't in a relationship—I'd made sure of that. I avoided my mom's "did you find anything" call. I avoided Jonathan's "how do you feel" call. I did answer Jennifer's "would you like to go on a date" call and explained the kiss I'd planted on her. She took it well. Through it all, my BlueJay never shut up. It continued to beep and beep and beep. Finally I drop-kicked the little bastard out the window, taking immense satisfaction when I heard it shatter. Feeling better, I dialed every number on Jonathan's cell-phone bill, giving everyone the same story. "Your number was on my caller ID. Who are you and why did you call this number?" The responses were wide and varying. Only two disturbed me, however. Jonathan had called Nora Hallsbrook, his secretary, numerous times during the middle of the night. He'd also phoned a local beauty salon six times. Body Electric. That meant only one thing: the lying little prick was having phone sex with his slutty secretary, then paying for her beauty appointments. How cliché . How infuriating! I knew he hadn't called the salon to book an appointment for my mom. She wouldn't have been able to talk about anything else. As mad as I was at my step dad, though, I was also deeply hurt and feeling unbelievably betrayed. He was supposed to be different than my father. He was supposed to guard our family unit. He was supposed to love my mom, cherish her. He was supposed to love me. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I would have liked a copy of Johnnie's Visa bill to see exactly what he'd purchased for Nora. Tanning? Laser body hair removal? Total body rub to assuage the guilt she felt for helping destroy a marriage? I'd seen Nora on numerous occasions. She was a semi-attractive woman in her early forties with big, ratted hair and lots of makeup, but she wasn't the woman I'd seen in those photos, the young woman with the child. Could Jonathan be seeing two women on the side? It wasn't too far-fetched. Richard, may he fall into the ocean and be torn apart by a pack of wild, vicious, man-hungry sharks, had had booty available in every apartment building and housing unit in every city in the United States. God, what was I going to tell my mom? Nothing, I decided in the next flash. Not yet. I shouldn't go to her without concrete proof. Otherwise, she might blow off everything I said. Make excuses for Jonathan and wallow in disbelief. Like I had done for so many years. Like she had done before. Jumping up, I raced to my kitchen and grabbed my phone book. Proof. Oh yeah, I'd get her proof. I looked up the address for both Nora and the salon. Just as I finished writing them down, my phone rang. Caller ID showed Powell, Royce. I grabbed the phone and barked, "What?" "I've decided whether or not you go with me, I'm not going to escort Gwen to any more events. I only want to go with you." My skin tingled at the sound of that rich, husky promise. His words shouldn't matter, but they did. I might be an idiot (again), but I believed him (kind of).Dumb ass , my Tigress said. Was I just like my mom? "Are you hungry?" he asked. "No, sorry," I said, regret pounding through me. "I'm busy." "Doing what? Working on my mother's party?" "Actually, no. Now isn't a good time to talk. I'm on my way out." "Where's your BlueJay ? I programmed a meeting today and it should have been beeping all morning. You should be on your way to my office." "Hmm, well, I haven't heard a thing." A knock sounded at my door. I pushed out a frustrated sigh, hating to end the conversation, but knowing I needed to, and walked into the living room. "I'll talk to you later. We need to discuss tomorrow's trip to Colorado and the fact that I still don't want to go." I hung up before he could utter a single protest and tossed the phone on my couch. From the coffee table, I snatched up my keys and purse—I had yet to replace the stolen one, so I had to make do with this old, ugly white one. Right now I wore brown pants and a white top. Brown sandals, perfect for the two-mile walk ahead. My hair was in its usual twist. Hopefully I presented a completely unnoticeable and unmemorable package. Without stopping to check who wanted to visit with me, I jerked open my door, ready to send whoever it was scurrying. I stopped dead in my tracks instead. Royce smiled down at me. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. The material clung deliciously to his biceps and pecs , outlining every ridge and peak. I'd never seen him dressed so casually, and the sight made my mouth water. My nipples immediately took notice, jumping up to say, Hi, Royce. We love you and really want to introduce ourselves to you properly . "I worked late last night, and I took the day off because I'd planned to meet with you today," he said, pocketing his cell. Still smiling—perhaps because he'd caught a glimpse of my naughty nipples—he said, "I'm going with you, wherever it is you're going in such a hurry." I fought a shiver of anticipation. The thought of spending the day with him appealed to me in so many ways. I'd get to hear his voice, feel his warmth, even stare at him if I wanted. I'd also get a distraction that I, Detective Delacroix, couldn't afford. "No, you're not." I scooted around him, doing my best not to touch him, and locked the door. Not sparing him a glance, I stalked toward the main lobby. I loved having a bottom-level apartment. No stairs or elevators for me, thank you. "Where we going?" He was barely a step behind me. As I pretended to ignore him, I felt the heat of him all the way to my bones. I stopped before going outside. The scent of sandalwood taunted and teased my nose. "You're not going to get rid of me," he said, before I could tell him to go away. "Royce—" "Naomi. I'm coming. End of conversation." If I didn't invite him to come with me, I realized, he'd follow me and draw all kinds of unwanted attention my way. He was just too damn noticeable with that sexy, recognizable face of his. I'd rather deal with a distraction than the possibility of being spotted by my prey. "Can you be sneaky, Royce? Can you blend into a crowd?" "Yes," he answered, his forehead furrowed in confusion. "Do you have a car with you?" "Yes." "Fine, you can come." Silver lining: I wouldn't have to walk, nor would I have to pay for a cab if I changed my mind about walking. I hated cabs, hated buses more, but I didn't yet have the money to fix my jalopy. "We're going to a salon on Main Street. Body Electric." "The joy in your voice is making me feel all warm inside." "Then my day is complete," I said with a sarcastic edge. He snorted. Lord, he was even sexy when he snorted. I felt myself melting, my bones liquefying in anticipation of a touch. Already my hands itched to explore him. Itched to touch his skin, itched to wrap around his— "What are you having done at the salon? You're perfect just the way you are." I tossed him a frown before pushing open the door. He was doing it again. Being sweet and irresistible, making me go disgustingly gooey inside. "Don't be nice to me, okay?" I'd already established I couldn't resist him physically, but I really needed to resist him emotionally. He made that extremely difficult with his devilish, charming personality. "What?" He gave a choked little laugh. "Why?" "Just because." Bright sunlight and sweltering heat hit me full force, and I was suddenly thankful he'd insisted on coming. I would have hated to spend more than a few seconds in this heat. Beside me, bushes swayed together despite the fact that there was no wind. Odd. But then I spotted the shattered remains of my BlueJay , forgot about the ghost bushes, and steered Royce away, trying to direct his attention somewhere else. "Uh, to answer your first question, I'm not having anything done. I just want to look around. Where's your car?" Without a word, he sauntered to a black stretch limo and opened the passenger door. Such wealth and luxury appeared odd in front of my modest apartment building, with its un-mowed, brittle grass and peeling stucco. Royce waved me inside. "After you." I remained in place, floundering in a puddle of shocked awe. "Are you trying to impress me? Because it's working." "Actually," he said, a sheepish grin on his gorgeous face, "I just wanted my hands free."Yippee, my nipples cried. I hope he plays with us first, my thighs chimed in. "Damn it!" I muttered. I had to get my thoughts under control. I might—might—believe him about Gwendolyn Summers, but I was on a mission to save my mom. Nothing else mattered at the moment, not even pleasure. "What?" Royce asked, all innocence. "You better keep those hands to yourself." I slid inside the car… and felt like all my troubles instantly melted away. Luxurious air-conditioning enveloped me. The seats were so plush and perfect I couldn't help but revel in their delicious decadence. Soft as clouds they were. I could have sunk into a coma of bliss. Royce scooted inside until our shoulders brushed. A shiver rolled down my spine. "Body Electric," he told the driver. Seconds later, the limo eased into motion. "Want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked me. "You've got shadows under your eyes, and you're unusually pale." I didn't want to talk about my cheating step dad, so I said, "Did you see the article about me in the Tattler ?" "Well, yeah. I think everyone in Dallas saw it." "They called me an alien. I should sue." He uttered a short, booming laugh. "On what grounds?" "I'm sure my attorney could think of something." My head lolled back on the pillow rest. "I'm surprised no one was waiting outside my apartment, snapping pictures of us as we walked out." "They were." I jerked upright and stared wide-eyed at him. "What!" "There was a woman behind the bushes. She had a camera aimed right at us." "And you didn't say anything? Argh . I can't believe this." I slapped his thigh. "You better do something. Pay her to give you the film or threaten to get her fired. Just do something. Anything! I do not need another hideous picture of me circulating. The last one nearly killed my mother." Royce wrapped his fingers around mine and leaned toward me, bringing with him that delicious sandalwood scent. "I'll take care of it, okay?" He kissed my temple before settling back in his seat. "No worries." He didn't release my hand. That single kiss affected me deeply and unequivocally, but the fact that he kept our fingers linked meant more. I yearned to melt into him, to absorb his strength, his complete ease with our being together. But I remained where I was. I would not rely on a man for anything. Especially not comfort. That's where dependency began. I didn't allow myself to consider the fact that I was relying on him to fix the little unwanted photographer problem. "Thank you," I said stiffly. "You're very welcome," he replied, using the same rigid tone. "Now, why don't you tell me why you want to look around this salon." I shrugged. "I want to see what type of services they offer." It was the truth. I didn't tell him that I also wanted to speak with the employees and find out if Nora had visited. "Why?" he persisted. Ignoring his question, I shifted and faced the opposite window. Trees and cars whizzed past. The people in those cars strained, trying to see inside the limo, but the darkened windows blocked us from view. "Do you think you could get me a list of their employees?" If Nora wasn't the other woman, that employee list would give me somewhere else to look. "Absolutely," Royce said. "Just tell me why you want it." "Well," I said, turning to him, a lie forming in my mind, "my mother is a twin, and they were separated at birth. She's been searching for her sister all her life and I suspect one of the employees is that twin. And now, with my mother dying of cancer—" I pretended to wipe away a tear "—I want to give her this gift." "How tragic," Royce said dryly. "Did you know your voice creeps higher when you're lying?" Damn it, my mom had warned me about that betraying fact. I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned. "Maybe a better gift for your dying mother would be grandchildren," he suggested. My lashes sprang up and I was given a full-on view of his amusement. "You are so not funny." But I was covered in a cold sweat by the time the limo stopped in front of a white stucco building. "We're here." Royce didn't wait for the driver, but opened the door himself and emerged. He held out a hand for me. The dry heat clamped tight fists around me as I stepped out. "Do we need to be incognito here?" he asked. When my brow crinkled in confusion, he added, "Before we left your apartment, you asked me if I knew how to be sneaky." Oh, yeah. "I don't want them to know my name, but they can know yours." He nodded. "Let me do the talking." We entered side by side. A long desk loomed in front, manned by several young, attractive women. Too young for Johnnie, that was for sure. While he might be willing to destroy his marriage, I didn't think he'd be willing to destroy his practice for an underage hottie . But what did I truly know about men? "How can we help you?" the only blonde asked. "I'm Royce Powell, and I need to speak with the owner." He voice reeked of suave authority. "My fiancé isn't sure which salon she wants to use the day of our wedding. I'm here to see what type of services can be provided so my little sugar bottoms feels extra special that day." My stomach dropped at the word fiancé —then twisted at sugar bottoms . Sugar bottoms, indeed. "Money is not an object," Royce continued. "We'll want the works, of course." I could be mistaken, but I think dollar signs flashed in the blonde's eyes. "Right this way," she said. "Brenda is in her office, and I know she'd love to speak with you." "While my dear, sweet snookie-wookie is busy chatting," I said, "I think I'll have a look-see around, 'kay?" Without waiting for consent, I sailed past the desk and down a long hallway. "I'll come with you," one of the girls said, at my side in the next instant. For the next twenty minutes, I scoped out the entire salon, meeting and speaking with the employees. The masseuse, thearomatherapist . The nail tech, the facial tattoo artist. The tanning specialist. I asked all of them the same question: "Is my Aunt Nora, Nora Hallsbrook , a client here? Because if she's not I want to get her in ASAP. She'd love this place." Confirming all my fears, each one answered, "Yes, she's a regular." Jonathan the Jerk was paying for Nora's days of pampering while he treated his own wife like a bothersome insect. He was going to suffer. I was going to make him suffer. Once I returned from Colorado, I would follow him with a camera and catch him in the act. Then I would help my mom take him for everything he owned. Fucking bastard! When my tour ended, I strode to the front entrance. Royce was waiting at the door, and the pert receptionist was flirting with him, running her fingertip over his arm as she spoke. She was wearing a green bracelet, I noticed with a scowl. To my surprise, Royce discreetly moved his arm. He even stepped away from her. His shoulders were stiff, and he radiated a discomfort that helped extinguish the raging fury in my blood. "Snoogiebear," I called. "I'm back." His gaze snapped up, colliding with mine, and he smiled with relief. "Sugar bottoms. Did you see everything you needed to see?" "Yes." I tried to walk to him, but I suddenly couldn't move my feet. They were frozen in place. As I stood there, my gaze still locked on Royce, something… odd welled up inside me. Something sad and vulnerable. Tears sprang into my eyes. In three quick strides, Royce was at my side, his arm slipping around my waist. I let him wrap himself around me. I hated all men at the moment, but I let him. My Tigress seemed to be on hiatus, and I didn't have the strength to protest or push away his comforting touch. Maybe, deep down, I didn't really want to protest. Royce wasn't like Richard the Bastard. Royce wasn't like Jonathan the Jerk. Royce said sweet things and wanted to be around me. He didn't flirt with pretty receptionists. Royce called me just to hear my voice and made me feel important and needed. "Come on," he said gently. "Let's get you home." He led me to the limo. We didn't speak the entire drive. I was grateful. I didn't know what was wrong with me, didn't know why my emotions had chosen that moment to overtake me. "We're here, sweetheart." I pushed open the door and tried to step outside, but he stopped me with a hand on my wrist. He held out the list I'd wanted with the other hand. I grabbed it and ran inside the building before I burst into tears. I cried most of the night, and my tears only made me angrier. At Jonathan. At myself. At Royce and Gwendolyn. I believed Royce one moment, I didn't the next. Did that make me as foolish as my mom? Worse, did that make me the same foolish Naomi I'd been before? No, surely not. None of the above meant I trusted Royce completely. Cheating… Why did men do it? Why did any man think it was okay to trample on a woman's heart by lying to her and giving the best of himself to a woman other than his wife? It wasn't okay. It wasn't acceptable. It was disgusting and disrespectful, vile and wretched. When Royce arrived the next morning, my eyes were still red and puffy. I hated that I was leaving town. There was so much I needed to do: follow Nora, take pictures of her with my step dad and, of course, the most important item on my list, kill Jonathan. Maybe I needed this trip, though. Royce always proved a good distraction. Plus, my mom kept calling me, and I kept ignoring her. I'd even turned off the ringer. I couldn't lie to her and tell her I'd found nothing, but I couldn't tell her what I had found. Not yet. Not while she could deny it. I pulled open the front door to see Royce. He held out what must have been four dozen orchids, a mixture of yellow, white, pink and blue petals. Blue? Caught off guard, I was momentarily incapable of speech. "For you," he said. "I know blue is your favorite color, so I had some of the petals dyed." I'm sure my expression was horrified as I accepted the bouquet, holding it in my hands like it was a stink bomb about to go off. Richard the Bastard always brought me flowers—always red roses—when he'd done something wrong. My heart fluttered, though, because this felt different. Royce had gone to so much trouble, had thought about my individual tastes. And he'd done it to make me feel better, I suspected, not to throw me off the scent of his bad behavior. "I had to search the whole damn state for those," he told me. "They're beautiful," I said softly. "Thank you." "If you start crying, I'll be forced to cut out my heart and give it to you. How are you feeling?" "Better." I pushed out a breath and gazed down at the dewy, sweet petals. "Thank you for, well, everything." He grinned, a bit of self-deprecation hanging at the edges of his lips. "I was going to give you a list of to-do chores, but everything on the list was raunchy and I'd rather wait until you're receptive to give you something like that." I laughed; I just couldn't help myself. And it felt good, forgetting my troubles, releasing my tension and simply enjoying him. "Are you going to invite me in?" Royce asked gently. "I have another present for you." "Oh, sure. Come in. What kind of present?" I couldn't hide my excitement. He brushed past me, turned, then placed a brand new Blue-Jay in my free hand. "For you." Damn it all to hell! "I noticed yours had sprouted wings and flown itself out of your window, so I thought you'd like another one." "Gee, thanks." "You ready to go?" "Let me put these in water first." Without a backward glance, I strode away. Royce gave me a slow, wicked grin of agreement and nodded. "Oh, yeah. The wall." "Wait!" I shouted. Had he forgotten? I cast a meaningful glance to the wall. A large floral picture hung in the center. I could almost feel the ridges pressed into my back. Just when I thought I might collapse, I was lifted in his arms and placed on the bed. The soft mattress cushioned my back. He was all over me. I loved every second, every squeeze of his hands, and returned the favor. He was caught in the avalanche of my lust. Again, he didn't seem to mind. His hands sifted through my hair and fisted it before he began working at my bra. Next he tackled my pants. Those, too, pooled at our feet. The lights were on. I tried not to let it bother me. I was so thin. Royce didn't seem to mind, though. We were wild for each other. I couldn't be stopped. He couldn't be stopped. He advanced. I didn't move, just let him come. When he reached me, my head fell backward with the force of his kiss. His tongue dove immediately inside. It was a hard and demanding caress, not meant to be gentle. But then, I didn't crave gentleness. I craved the weight of his body, the sear of his lips, the domination of his hands. "Now," I agreed. "Now," he said. I raced to the bed, trying to shed my top along the way. It took a few minutes for me to notice Royce hadn't followed. I turned and faced him. He had his back to the entrance. He was watching me, a predator-like gleam in his eyes. Without taking his gaze from me, he clicked the lock. We were finally alone. He jabbed the passkey into the electronic box. The green light winked its assent. Royce shoved open the door, hustled me inside and let the heavy wood slam behind him. A shiver of anticipation slipped down my spine. Helpless to do otherwise, I kept moving. Okay, so I nearly beat him to the door. Big deal. It required a conscious effort to tear my mouth from Royce's. He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the hall. "I got the lowest floor I could," he said. A bell sounded. The elevator doors slid open. I almost climaxed right then. No longer concerned about those around me, I raced behind him through the bar, past the reservation desk and into the elevator. Royce quickly punched a button. The doors slid shut. In the next instant, he had me pinned to the corner, plundering my mouth with his tongue, rubbing his erection into the crevice of my legs. A blaze of heat caught fire in his irises, sparking blue flames. Those flames licked at me. His gaze moved over me with blatant possessiveness, and I licked my lips. His nostrils did the flare thing. Royce clasped my hand and jerked me to my feet. I hurriedly buttoned my pants. "I said yes. I'm willing to do it against the wall." He paused, his eyes widening with disbelief. He hadn't expected me to agree. "What did you say?" "All right," I told him, my voice hoarse with longing. "Now. Before the party." I'd die if I didn't experience it. Breathless, I glanced at a wall and pictured exactly what he described. Two naked bodies, straining together, standing up and tangled. My throat constricted. The scene was carnal. Primal. Raw. "I'll press your back against the wall and brace your legs around my waist." Slowly, I shook my head. My experience was limited to the back seat of a Chevy and a cold, forgotten mattress. Don't get me wrong. I've had orgasms and even enjoyed the sex. But this was something altogether more pleasurable. "Have you?" he demanded. He was deliberately being crude, I knew, trying to force me to admit I wanted more than a hard, emotionless screw. It had the opposite effect, however. I ached all over, and hearing him talk like that increased my excitement. Maybe, at heart, I was a bad, dirty girl. A closet sex kitten, like my cousins had said. "Well, I want everything. And I want you against a wall." His fingers began their tormenting search again, this time bolder, moving up and down over the now-damp material. "Have you ever fucked against a wall, Naomi?" "No." I had to stay strong, had to fight my body's needs until he agreed. "I want you. I do. Just—" breathe "—nothing else." His fingers stilled, and I nearly moaned. "Maybe you didn't want a relationship," he said, his expression fierce, "but you're in one, anyway." Now…so tempting. God, I wanted him. I did. I needed him. "I haven't changed my mind about a relationship." Unlike the way men treated women, I didn't want him to misinterpret what was about to happen. "We can sleep together, but that's it. Nothing more." His nostrils flared. "After. Before." Pause. "Now." "I've already decided to sleep with you," I admitted in a whisper. "After the party." "I'll touch you here as well," he said, gently stroking the material. Of their own accord, my hips rocked slightly with his touch. "And you'll beg me to take you over the edge." My breath hitched in my throat as he abandoned my knee and moved his hand to the waist of my pants, unsnapping the button. His pushed his hand inside, his fingers making dead-on contact with the lacy fabric of my panties. I almost shouted a string of curses. The fingers covering my thigh inched down my calf, not stopping until they reached bare skin. Those naughty fingers tunneled underneath the flare of my pants, then started going higher. Higher still. The material tightened at my knees, not allowing him to go farther. He came closer to me, his gaze stroking my face like a caress. "I'll touch you here." He palmed one of my breasts through the fabric of my shirt. No. He was wrong. I couldn't let myself want more. "Once we make love, Naomi, you'll only want more," he promised. "Much, much more." My nipples hardened and my heart began a frantic boom-boom rhythm. He nodded. "Oh, yeah." "Do I, uh, have an orgasm every time I scream?" The words escaped on the barest whisper and I was unable to stop them. "I have this fantasy of us in my mind. You ride me and your hair tickles my chest. Your breasts are pushed forward, and you keep screaming my name." I swallowed. Hard. There was a reason I needed to tell him no, to wait until after his mom's party, but at the moment I couldn't think of what that reason was. "We've been building to this point and you know it," he said, getting to the heart of the matter. "Ever since I picked you up this morning, I've wanted to strip you down and taste you. All over." "In the shower." My blood heated, and I so wanted to open my legs and invite him to feel all he wanted. He merely moved those naughty fingers of his higher, to a better place. "Where'd you learn to sing country music like that?" "Thank you." I tried to push his hand away; I didn't push too hard, though. It felt too good. "She's vicious, I know," Royce said, keeping his eyes on me. "You were adorable onstage." The third time, he actually stopped at the table. "She plays with knives," he told Royce before racing away. "Seducing you." The darkened atmosphere and the corner placement of our table guaranteed privacy from everyone except the person walking directly by. Which happened to be Doug. He stumbled past once, twice, staring at me with jaundiced suspicion. "What are you doing?" I asked in a scandalized whisper, looking all around to make sure no one watched us. He grinned slowly. I nearly jumped out of my skin. "That's right." He reached under the tabletop and slowly, oh so softly, grasped my thigh. My anger faded, replaced by dread—and anticipation. I shook my head. "Wait a sec. Getting a room? As in one ?" "I was getting a room. I don't want to make the drive to the cabin tonight." "Where were you?" I demanded. "Five more minutes and I might have had to ask Dougie Boy to be the father of my children in the hopes of scaring him away." He watched Doug race away through litted eyes before sinking back into his seat. Just as Doug cut into my speech to mutter, "Excuse me, I think I see someone I know," Royce returned. "I bet you're wondering why I haven't done it yet. Killed and castrated him, that is. Well, the answer to that is simple, really. First I've got to find the perfect knife. A regular household blade simply won't do. I really hate cheaters, Douglas, and I think—" All color drained from Doug's face. Doug tried to interrupt me, but I kept right on talking. "You're probably thinking that the other cheating bastard in my life is my step dad, and you're right. I do have plans to castrate him, though, don't you worry." I tried not to cringe. Really, there was only one way to get rid of a guy like this. "I'm so glad you came over here, Douglas." I planted my elbows on the table and gazed over at him as if he were the most beautiful sight I'd ever beheld . "I've been dying to talk to someone about all the things that have been going wrong in my life lately. My ex-husband Richard, may he choke on his own tongue, get an STD and win a free one-way ticket to everlasting damnation, called me the other day and asked me to get back together with him. As if I need another cheating bastard in my life. One at a time, thank you very much." "Naaaomi," he said, sounding it out. "Na-oh-me. I'm Doug." He paused. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" "Naomi." I fanned the air in front of my face before I passed out from the fumes. "What's your name?" he asked. My unwanted visitor didn't get the hint. He threw an arm over my stool, as if he had every right to invade my space. I'm surprised he didn't try the yawn-and-grab routine. He gave me a lecherous grin, and I shuddered. There was something black lodged between his front teeth and I really, really hoped it was food. "No, I'm not thirsty," I answered. And neither were my breasts. Actually, I really was parched, but I didn't want to invite this man to stay any longer than necessary. Where the hell was Royce? "Can I buy you a drink?" While he spoke, his gaze locked onto my breasts, small targets though they were. At least he was coherent. Kind of. "Thanks," I said. "Hey, baby." He was in his late thirties or early forties, and smelled like he'd just bathed in Jack Daniel's best for at least an hour. He breezed into Royce's vacant chair. His clothes were rumpled, his eyes glassy and red. "You really rocked onstage. I thought you were a real singer or something." A few minutes later, my shock and anger at Royce's abrupt departure dissolved. I was too busy praying God would make me invisible. A very untidy, very intoxicated man was stumbling my way. "I'll be back in a moment," he said. And before I could protest, he sauntered away. He didn't even send me a backward glance. My lips pursed. How dare that sore loser not lavish me with compliments. Intending to gloat, I descended the stage and strolled to him. When I reached the table, he helped me settle into my chair, but didn't wait around to let me wallow in my victory.My grin became a smirk as I looked to Royce. He saluted me with his wineglass. No more airplane rides! I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at Royce. I'd done it. Really done it. I had won my bet with him. Na, na, na, na, na, na. Take that, Mr. Royce Powell, god of the airplane world and superhero of sexiness. When the end arrived, my voice slowly tapered to quiet. I waited for a reaction. Suddenly applause erupted and loud, buoyant cheers peeled like bells. Catcalls and whistling abounded. All around, hands clapped to the beat, urging me on. I went for it, giving the performance my all. I'd never admit it aloud, but I had the time of my life on that stage, belting out the lyrics and strutting my stuff. "You can break me anytime," another called. "Oh, yeah," a man yelled. "Give it to me, baby. My heart is hurtin'." That was all it took. But I worked the stage like a pro, flipping my hair, copping an attitude and, at last, someone chuckled. Even the drunk guy stared up at me like I belonged in an institution. Deciding simply to have fun, I assumed a laugh-with-me-not-at-me pose: one hand on my hip, silly grin on my lips. I began to sing. When the first note left my mouth, all movement in the audience stopped. A few seconds later, music blasted from the speakers, penetrating the sudden silence. The sound continued to climb in volume. Words appeared on a screen just in front of me. He offered me a relieved grin. "Never have karaoke night without it." "Do you have 'Achy Breaky Heart'?" Though my hand shook, I took the microphone from the announcer's outstretched hand. "A bet's a bet, and I simply can't let you win." With that, I pivoted on my heel and strolled to the stage, unwinding the twist in my hair and letting the long, dark tendrils cascade down my shoulders and back. His brows rose in mock salute. "Are you sure you want to do this?" A slight brush of Royce's palm against my hip drew my gaze back to him. "What? Wishing you'd kept your mouth closed?" I asked. All at once, the crowd quieted. Every eye in the room found me, riveted by the spectacle I must surely make. My knees began quaking. He was trying to dissuade me, anything to win the bet. I surprised him by pushing to my feet. "I'll do it," I said, loud enough for the man onstage to hear. I made a face at Royce. Ha! I might make a fool of myself, might have to endure jeers and snickers and catcalls, but I'd be damned if I'd leave this bar a loser. "Good luck." He shot a glance through the restless crowd. "This doesn't look like a receptive audience." "You've got a deal," I said. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I held out one hand to shake and seal the bargain. His big hand dwarfed my smaller one and his calluses sparked a delicious friction. I didn't have to think about it. No more plane rides? I almost did a table dance right then and there. He'd chosen the one prize I could never refuse. Was the embarrassment of missing a note, of watching him snicker at my attempt to sing worth it? "Does that appeal to you?" "What if I promised the party won't be held anywhere that requires stepping inside an airplane?" he said. "Try and tempt me. Just try." "Probably nothing." Biggest lie of all. I refilled my glass and sipped at my wine, savoring the robust flavor, relishing the comforting warmth it gave me. And the courage. Royce stroked his jaw with deliberate slowness. "Hmm. What will tempt you, Naomi Delacroix?" "Nope." Bigger lie. "A night of wild sex." I should have expected such a reply. Smiling, I shook my head. "Good try. But that prize doesn't appeal to me." Lie. "Name something else." He held out his arms in invitation. "Me." I tapped a finger on my chin and regarded him intently. "What do I get if I take you up on your dare?" I asked. My own devilish sense of humor—or maybe the simple desire to prove to him that I truly did possess an inner Tigress— rose within me, insisting I leap out of my seat and pole-vault onto that stage. I wasn't someone who usually responded to dares. I mean, who wanted to run outside naked screaming, "The sky is falling?" I also knew Royce didn't think I'd accept his dare. "I dare you." He gave me a devilish smile. I whipped around, staring over at Royce. Surely he'd misspoken. He wouldn't have said— I looked around and noticed that everyone else was doing the same. An instant later, I heard, "I dare you." Silence. "Anyone else. Please," the man onstage begged, an edge of desperation evident in the tense profile of his body. More giggling. One young man stumbled to his feet. His constant swaying and glassy-eyed expression made it obvious he'd had a little too much to drink. "I'll do it." His words were slurred, almost unrecognizable. The girl at his table giggled hysterically, urging him on. "I want to sing a sappy song." "Who's first?" The crowd cheered. Several people even raised their glasses. Loud, raucous laughter suddenly rang out. A thirty-something man with long, wavy brown hair stood onstage, tapping on a microphone. "It's time for the karaoke entertainment hour," he said, his voice booming throughout the bar. "I know we've got some eager beavers out there, dying to get up on this stage and belt out a few tunes. Well, tonight's your lucky night. We've got a great selection." He had an answer for everything. "We'll cut down the list. Make it a small, private gathering." "You can't fit three hundred people in your death trap of a plane." "They'll love being flown in my jet, I promise you. And my mother will adore the clean mountain air." "It is to me. What about flying the guests here?" "That's not a reason." "Three," I said, acting as if he hadn't spoken, "I don't want the party held here." "So we'll make it Arabian Nights meets Urban Cowgirl." "Two," I said, "this is too rustic for our Arabian Nights theme." His levity should have ruffled me. After all, if he truly wanted the party here, I had no other choice but to comply. Instead, I felt strangely at ease. The wine, perhaps? Or the company? "And two?" He tried to cover his smile with his palm, but I caught the action. "This building isn't large enough, for one, and the cabin, which is smaller, won't be, either." "This, I need to hear." I exhaled a relieved breath. "As a matter of fact," I told him, "I have." "Have you already made a list as to why not?" Amusement glinted in his eyes. He wasn't angry, at least. I didn't want to argue with him, but realized I might have no other choice since the information I was about to give him wasn't what he wanted to hear. "As lovely as this place is," I said, "it simply won't do." I regarded him for a moment. We were in a secluded corner of a smoke-filled bar, drinking wine and listening to the hum of a saxophone in the background. The area was dim, lit only by candles. We had finished our tour of the lodge only a short while ago. "So, what do you think?" Royce asked. Jeez, what a sore loser. "Well, just so you know, this is the last time you're getting your way." "I work with you. There's a difference. And just so you know, you're seriously starting to piss me off." "Damn it," he said again. "We'll stop at the lodge." He massaged his neck and gazed up at the car ceiling. "I don't know why the hell I'm putting up with your bossiness. I'm in charge here. You work for me." I wasn't backing down, wasn't going to rescind my request. Silence. "Damn it, Naomi." "I didn't want to fly here, but I did. The least you can do is stop at the lodge." "I do mind." We were safely on the ground and my thoughts were clear, focused. So I wasn't taking his crap. "Still," I said, "I'd like to view the resort first, if you don't mind." Now he frowned. "I prefer the cabin." "Well, the lodge sounds better suited for a party than the cabin does. Let's go there." His eyes narrowed, blocking out the sudden, suspicious darkening, but he answered me anyway. "Yes." "Forget the cabin for a moment and concentrate on the lodge. Does it have any areas designated for large gatherings?" "Hmm." I pictured his guests squeezed inside that amount of space, one standing on top of the other. "Two thousand." "What's the square footage of the cabin?" "Technically, no. It just seems that way at times. It's about a mile from Mountain Lodge. A resort," he clarified when my expression turned questioning. "Is the cabin isolated?" "Ha, ha." Grinning, he shook his head. "We've got a half hour drive ahead of us. The cabin has already been stocked with everything we'll need. All we have to do now is relax." "If I were a masochist," I added. A smug gleam lit his features. "It was quite enjoyable, actually." "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He settled in beside me. With stiff limbs, I stepped out of the death trap and onto the ground. Thank you, God! Royce grabbed my bag, threw it over his shoulder. He shuffled me inside a waiting limousine. Soon afterward, we arrived at a private airstrip on the outskirts of Eagle Airport. Thankfully, the plane landed with no complications. Had anything gone wrong, I felt certain I would have done serious damage to the inside of my cheek instead of simply biting it raw. I think I'd already lost enough blood to warrant a transfusion. I snorted. "Except for the fact that you've almost squeezed my wrist off every time the plane jostled and left me with a bloody stump, you've done great." He was. He was the only name on that list, but he was on it. Not that I'd admit it out loud. "This is a milestone for me, you know. I don't even like to stay in a hotel room that has a balcony. I've never understood my fear of falling, but I've learned to live with it. I'm proud of myself right now. This is the first time I've ever done anything so…scary." His grin became wicked. "I'd rather be on your Must Seduce list." "That might put you on my Must Kill list." A slow grin lifted the corners of his lips. "I might just decide to hold the party in Florida. Then you'd have to go." "No thanks." I meant it with every fiber of my being. "There's a SJ30-2 I've had my eye on. In fact, you can fly to Florida with me at the end of the month and check it out." "Are you purchasing a plane anytime soon?" I asked. No hardship. Yeah, you can bite me. Buyer:(Chuckles) Well, do you take checks ? Seller: Yeah. I paid four mil, but I just don't like the thing anymore . Buyer: You only want a million for the plane ? Yeah. No hardship. I could hear the buyer/seller interaction now: "I always make back double my initial investment, so it's no hardship." "I can't imagine having enough money to buy an entire airplane. A seat belt, maybe, but not much else." "Mostly I buy and sell airplanes. My company also sells parts, does title searches and generates daily aeronautic reports. That kind of thing." "Besides flying planes and bossing people around, what is it that you actually do?" "After my first time in a cockpit, bossing people around stopped being my first priority." "Somehow I'm not surprised," I said dryly, though a chuckle underlined my tone. He shrugged. "At first, it wasn't the planes. I was eight, maybe nine, when my father first took me with him to Powell Aeronautics. I watched the employees jump to do his bidding and knew I'd found my calling. I wanted everyone to take my orders." "What about you?" I asked. "Why fly instruments of death?" "I'm very glad that they did." "I foolishly thought I needed to be available for my husband twenty-four hours a day. Anyway," I said, not wanting to go down that road, "after my divorce, Kera ad taken over the catering business and things just worked themselves out." "Why did you leave?" myself just before I left the business for a few years."I knew he was only trying to distract me, but I was perfectly willing to go along with his plan. "Nothing glamorous," I said. I wiped my sweaty hands on my slacks. "I was never any good at schoolwork. I hated math, hated writing research papers and studying of any kind, but loved all social events. One day I saw an ad in the paper for an assistant planner, and I knew it was the job for me. And since I'd worked at my aunt and uncle's catering business, it was a good fit." I sighed. "I was developing a good name for He chuckled. "While we've got this time to ourselves, why don't you tell me what made you decide to open a party-planning business." "Okay, that's enough," I said, easing back. "I'm cured." I wondered where we were so I could chart a rescue mission in my mind. I didn't ask, too afraid I'd jinx myself. A gasp escaped me and I squeezed my eyes shut. Opened them. Cars lolled along city roads, reminding me of ants meandering atop a hill. Buildings appeared like little more than specks on the horizon. I'd had all the therapy I could take, thank you, but knew he was right. It took five long, agonizing minutes to work up the courage to look down—with my heart pounding sporadically in my chest all the while—but I finally managed to do it. I looked. Royce must have sensed my new state of serenity because he motioned with a tilt of his chin to the window. "Go on," he said. "Take a peek. This will be like therapy for you." After a while, I began to calm down again. Tranquil waters, a happy meadow. I was a strong woman and the plane was gliding smoothly through the air. He did. Probably because I wore an I'll-eat-you-alive-expression. Happy meadow, happy meadow. Where was my freaking happy meadow? I'm not going to die , I chanted. I'm not going to die . I had to kill Jonathan first. Surely God would let me live long enough for that. "Then shut the hell up." "No!" "How can you promise something like that? Are you psychic?" "There's no reason to worry," he said against my ear. "Nothing bad will happen. I promise." "Well, it isn't working now." "This worked before," he said. He nuzzled my neck. I didn't relax this time. I couldn't. Everywhere I looked, I saw my own death. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God." I couldn't breathe. Wait. Did I smell smoke?Ohmygod, Ohmygod ,Ohmygod . The plane was plummeting and was about to become a fiery ball. I gasped. He zipped his lips, but it was too late. The damage was done. "Safety harness, hmm?" He chuckled. "Naomi, if the plane were to plummet—" I slapped at his wrist. "That will never happen if you don't get your hand off my safety harness." "Getting you comfortable." Panicked, I glued my hand over his. "What are you doing?" "Everything's fine," he said. "We hit an air pocket, that's all." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, but ruined the "calming" action by trying to unbuckle my seat belt. I immediately lost that peaceful center. My eyelids flew open; I gripped Royce's forearm, afraid if I didn't, I would fall out the window and spin out of control as I slid down, down, down to the hard surface of the earth. I forced myself to calm down before I had a major panic attack. I tried to meditate, to imagine a tranquil meadow with lush green foliage, just like Jonathan had taught me. It had never worked before, but this time I actually felt a summer breeze caressing my skin like the brush of a feather. A small measure of peace settled over me—until the aircraft careened and rattled. A loud popping sounded. We were going to die! I just knew it. Big breath in. Big breath out. Big breath in. Big breath out. Dizziness assaulted me. Fear slowly began to take root in my mind again. I couldn't fight it. I was soon squeezing my eyes shut, refusing to look out the windows behind or in front of me. Images of blood and death poured through my mind. I jerked completely upright. We were on a path to certain death. Royce remained stiff at my side. He knew the plane was about to crash, the sick bastard, but didn't know how to tell me. That was why he was still so tense. Unfortunately, we were still on the plane half an hour later. Silence stretched between us. It had been like that since our kiss had ended, and I didn't know why. I didn't know why he had pulled away, why he was now ignoring me. Had I done something wrong? Did he know something about the plane that I didn't? Be aware. Always aware. A Tiger will create a distraction on one side of the jungle to better attack you on the other.Chapter ElevenBe aware. Always aware. A Tiger will create a distraction on one side of the jungle to better attack you on the other. Unfortunately, we were still on the plane half an hour later. Silence stretched between us. It had been like that since our kiss had ended, and I didn't know why. I didn't know why he had pulled away, why he was now ignoring me. Had I done something wrong? Did he know something about the plane that I didn't? Fear slowly began to take root in my mind again. I couldn't fight it. I was soon squeezing my eyes shut, refusing to look out the windows behind or in front of me. Images of blood and death poured through my mind. I jerked completely upright. We were on a path to certain death. Royce remained stiff at my side. He knew the plane was about to crash, the sick bastard, but didn't know how to tell me. That was why he was still so tense. We were going to die! I just knew it. Big breath in. Big breath out. Big breath in. Big breath out. Dizziness assaulted me. I forced myself to calm down before I had a major panic attack. I tried to meditate, to imagine a tranquil meadow with lush green foliage, just like Jonathan had taught me. It had never worked before, but this time I actually felt a summer breeze caressing my skin like the brush of a feather. A small measure of peace settled over me—until the aircraft careened and rattled. A loud popping sounded. I immediately lost that peaceful center. My eyelids flew open; I gripped Royce's forearm, afraid if I didn't, I would fall out the window and spin out of control as I slid down, down, down to the hard surface of the earth. "Everything's fine," he said. "We hit an air pocket, that's all." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, but ruined the "calming" action by trying to unbuckle my seat belt. Panicked, I glued my hand over his. "What are you doing?" "Getting you comfortable." I slapped at his wrist. "That will never happen if you don't get your hand off my safety harness." "Safety harness, hmm?" He chuckled. "Naomi, if the plane were to plummet—" I gasped. He zipped his lips, but it was too late. The damage was done. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God." I couldn't breathe. Wait. Did I smell smoke?Ohmygod, Ohmygod ,Ohmygod . The plane was plummeting and was about to become a fiery ball. He nuzzled my neck. I didn't relax this time. I couldn't. Everywhere I looked, I saw my own death. "This worked before," he said. "Well, it isn't working now." "There's no reason to worry," he said against my ear. "Nothing bad will happen. I promise." "How can you promise something like that? Are you psychic?" "No!" "Then shut the hell up." He did. Probably because I wore an I'll-eat-you-alive-expression. Happy meadow, happy meadow. Where was my freaking happy meadow? I'm not going to die , I chanted. I'm not going to die . I had to kill Jonathan first. Surely God would let me live long enough for that. After a while, I began to calm down again. Tranquil waters, a happy meadow. I was a strong woman and the plane was gliding smoothly through the air. Royce must have sensed my new state of serenity because he motioned with a tilt of his chin to the window. "Go on," he said. "Take a peek. This will be like therapy for you." I'd had all the therapy I could take, thank you, but knew he was right. It took five long, agonizing minutes to work up the courage to look down—with my heart pounding sporadically in my chest all the while—but I finally managed to do it. I looked.

Once in the kitchen, I stuffed the BlueJay under a stack of magazines (never to look at it again!) and arranged the orchids in my favorite crystal vase. A fresh, dewy scent washed over me. I closed my eyes and savored it, holding my breath for as long as I could, then releasing it. I liked that Royce had gone to so much trouble for me. But I hated it, too. I was beginning to feel all mushy inside. Frowning, I practically shoved the arrangement onto the table as a centerpiece, then moved the pink carnations my step dad had sent me this morning to the counter. I don't know why I'd kept them. To remind me he was really a turkey-on-rye sandwich hidden in a Krispy Kreme coating, perhaps. The note attached had congratulated me on landing such a lucrative job and hinted that I needed to fill out an application for the position of Mrs. Royce Powell. He also apologized for pushing me to get back together with Richard. How could he be so sweet, yet treat my mom so badly? "Who sent you those?" Royce asked from behind me. He was suddenly so close I could feel the heat of him. His arms reached out and anchored on the counter in front of me, trapping me with his body. Surrounding me. I swallowed. I shivered. I licked my lips and perhaps—and this is not a confession— arched my back slightly and allowed the best part of him to rub against the crease of my bottom. Tendrils of desire unfurled, wrapping and winding around me. My defenses were down, and I didn't know whether it was because I'd been through an emotional wringer the last few days or because I was destined to respond to Royce no matter what. Either way, I wanted him. Maybe I needed to rethink my sexual time line. Maybe being with him before his mom's party wasn't such a bad idea. "Who, uh, sent me what?" He leaned forward, his sandalwood fragrance wafting around me as surely as his heat. He pointed and said, "Those," in a tone that reeked of anger and attitude. What was this? Another bout of jealousy? "None of your business," I said, turning my head to see how my words affected him. Right before my eyes, Royce's seemingly casual facade mutated into black fury he couldn't hide. "Who's sending you flowers, Naomi? Are you seeing someone else?" I studied the hard line of his jaw. He'd been jealous at the thought of me flirting with Colin, but this was different. This was more potent. Raw. Like before, a part of me reveled in the thought that this man, this wonderfully sexy man, felt strongly enough about me to harbor feelings of possessiveness. Maybe I was playing with fire by goading him, but I kind of liked the thought of being burned. "Like I told you, Royce, it's none of your business." "Who is he? I have a right to know. Are you seeing someone else?" I pressed my lips together, refusing to answer. A pulse ticked in Royce's temple. If his teeth clenched any tighter, I feared his jaw would break. Was it cruel of me to enjoy this so much? My ex—may he become stranded on a deserted island, his only companion a legion of man-hungry bees—had been a jealous man, but it had been an accusing, projecting I-know-you're-cheating-on-me jealousy, not a possessive one. Feeling bold and dangerous, I plucked a petal from one of the carnations and breathed in its scent, pretending fascination with the flower. "They're beautiful, aren't they?" Royce clasped my arm and spun me all the way around, effectively gaining my undivided attention. The petal floated unheeded to the floor. Heat fairly sparkled in his eyes. "Are you seeing someone else?" he asked again, each word bit out. "And if I am? You've been seen with Miss Summers." "That's not an answer, and I explained about Gwen. I've already called her and told her I won't be escorting her again. Now, are you seeing someone else?" "No," I sighed, inexplicably relieved he'd done as promised and told Gwennie goodbye. "Are you happy now?" He released me, suddenly relaxed and completely at ease. "Who are they from?" he asked curiously, as if he hadn't been on the verge of eruption. "My step dad." "Good." He tucked a stray tendril of dark hair gently behind my ear; his fingers lingered at the rise of my cheek, caressing the skin there. "I refuse to share." Then, "Get your stuff and we'll head out." He didn't give me time to disagree, he simply exited the kitchen. He refused to share me. I gripped the counter behind me and frowned. That was just the kind of thing a domineering Triple C would say. How macho. How revolting. How sweet. I heaved a deep exhalation. You don't like to share, either, Naomi. Remember? And there will always be other women vying for Royce's attention. How long do you think he'll retain this attraction to you and you alone ? My frown deepened into a scowl and I stomped to my room. I shouldn't want to be with him, not this much, and his legendary conquests shouldn't matter to me. Again, not this much. As I gathered my bag and briefcase, a sense of unease stretched and awoke inside me, obliterating all other thoughts. I was about to board a plane, aka a flying instrument of death. My stomach bottomed out, leaving a hollow ache in my side. A bit shaky, I trudged through the apartment in search of Royce. He was lounging across the bright red cushions on my couch, looking at home as he waited for me. His expression warmed when he spotted me. "All set?" I managed a convincing nod. I'd rather face the burning pits of hell than step one foot inside an airplane. Maybe I should have had Jonathan hypnotize me for this. Not that it had ever worked before, but I was desperate. "You're going to have fun, I promise," he said. With the erratic pounding of my heart, the ride to the airport proved maddening. Royce talked the entire time, asking me about my fears, trying to comfort me with statistics and a list of requirements for all his mechanics and planes. He'd even brought charts for me to view. I didn't say a word. I was simply too nervous to make conversation. When we reached our destination, a quiet ring sounded in my ears. I shook my head to clear the noise, but it persistently remained. I hadn't brought that stupid BlueJay , had I? "What's that ringing?" I asked raggedly. "Do you hear ringing?" "No. Sweetheart, it's going to be okay," Royce said. "I promise. I hate that you're so afraid." As we walked down a winding corridor hand in hand—I didn't even try to pull away—I cast a sidelong glance at his profile. He seemed in perfect control. Our steps echoed throughout the empty hangar. The closer we came to the plane, the stiffer I became. I squeezed his hand, hoping to make him stop, or at the very least, slow him down. I thought I could do this. I couldn't. The ringing in my ears increased in volume, a frantically rising crescendo of string instruments. "Please, Royce. Choose somewhere here in Dallas to host the party." He didn't stop, didn't pause for that matter, just continued to guide me down the corridor. "We've got to conquer this fear of yours. I have to travel, it's part of my job, and I want you to be able to go with me. Once we're in the air, you're going to love it. I know you will." "Please," I repeated, a bit more desperately. "Sweetheart," he said, glancing in my direction. "Do you trust me? You have to know I would never let you get hurt." "Can't we drive? I'm sure it won't take us long." Sweat beaded on my forehead. He laughed, a husky laugh he tried to squelch. "That's a twelve-hour drive. No," he said, shaking his head, "we'll fly." That said, he tossed me a wink. As if winking at me solved all my problems! "It'll be fun," he said. "You'll see." I knew I'd have more fun strapped naked on top of a cab going two miles per hour through downtown traffic. "Once you've flown in a plane like this one, you'll never want to touch the ground again." He didn't understand. I had to make him understand. The only word to escape my constricting throat, however, was "Please." The ringing in my ears was so loud now, I could barely hear myself. The desperate plea finally stopped him in his tracks. There was an edge of disconsolateness in my voice this time, along with cold-blooded fear. He looked down, his eyes filling with concern. "It's going to be okay," he repeated. And I knew he kept repeating the same phrases to drill them into my mind. "I'd never let anything happen to you." "You're right, okay, about me being afraid. I—I hate planes," I whispered. The knuckles clasping my overnight bag turned white with the force of my grip. "I can see that." Using the tip of his finger, he lifted my face until our gazes locked. "Want to tell me why?" Where was my Tigress when I needed her? I bit my lip, hard, the action close to drawing blood. "If you don't stop that, I'm going to kiss you so I can ease the sting your teeth are inflicting." Looking away, I said, "It's not the plane. Not really. It's the fear of crashing." He enfolded me in his arms, causing the ringing to subside. I buried my head in the hollow of his neck. His hands caressed my back, offering comfort. "You're more likely to be in a car accident than a plane crash." "You told me that before, but now I want you to tell that to everyone who's ever been in a plane crash." "Have you ever flown before?" "Yes. Once." "And you didn't die." "No, but the wheels twisted on takeoff and we had to fly around for hours, getting rid of fuel. I've never been so scared in my life." "But you did land safely." "Yes," I admitted. "With me as the pilot and having checked the plane myself, nothing bad will happen this time." "I—I just can't. I had to be heavily sedated last time, and even that didn't stop my panic." "It's okay to be afraid. I'll be with you. Right beside you the entire ride." "I can't do it." "Yes, you can." Pulling away, he left one arm draped possessively around my shoulders. He began walking again, slowly this time. I didn't protest, just let him lead the way. "The best medicine for fear is confrontation." Confrontation. That word made me queasy. Still, I pushed a puff of air past my lips. "You're right," I said. "I know you're right, but that doesn't stop me from wishing you were wrong." He didn't reply, giving me time to overcome my riotous fears. "I'll do it." I forced myself to say the words. "I will. I'll do it." The hand at my shoulder tightened. "Good girl. Come on," he said, quickening his pace and forcing me to keep up. "It's not as bad as you think." Unfortunately, we had reached the plane. The death trap. How could something so heavy stay in the air? Small as it was, it looked like it weighed a gazillion pounds, with a heavy white metal body and wide expanse of wings. "Let me prove how safe it is. You'll love every second in the air so much you'll beg me to take you again." Not in this lifetime. The terror I had managed to set aside while snuggled in the crook of his arm reared its ugly head again, stronger than before, mocking my determination to push onward. That terrible ringing erupted in my ears once more, so loud I almost screamed in fright. Blood rushed from my head, running like ice through my veins. The overnight bag I held fell from my cold, clammy fingers and thumped to the ground. For the space of a heartbeat, the world around me disappeared, replaced by bright, blinking lights. Then the blackened tar beneath my feet shifted, consuming my vision, squelching all hint of light. Why did I feel like I was falling slowly, falling down? The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, everything quiet. I searched through a dark mist for Royce. "Naomi," I heard him call. It sounded as if he stood at the end of a long, narrow tunnel. "Talk to me, sweetheart." The heavy shroud around my mind began to recede and the fog clouding my thoughts thinned. Suddenly, I saw Royce. He was staring down at me, his features drawn tight with worry. Why was he worried? I blinked in confusion. Slowly comprehension dawned. And with it came mortification. Holy Mother of God, I'd fainted. Never in my life had I done anything so childish. My inner Tigress finally decided to show herself, only to roar in displeasure. Displeasure with me, not Royce. Weakling, she said. "Come on. Talk to me," Royce said again. "I'm all right," I assured him, my voice little more than a whisper. When I tried to sit up, he gently held me down. "Not yet. You shouldn't move. I'm calling the paramedics. Hang on." "No." Stronger now, I squeezed his hand. "I'm fine. Really." "I don't believe you." The anxiety darkening his eyes warmed me. Seeing it made me feel as if a blanket had been placed over my body, heating my flesh, giving me strength. Tentatively, I reached up, touched the side of his cheek with my fingertips. "I'm not hurt. I promise." After a terse nod, he replaced his cell phone in his bag and helped me to my feet. Thankfully, I felt no ill effects from my rendezvous with the ground. I tried to smooth the wrinkles from my slacks. "We can stay," he sighed, surprising me. I brightened instantly. "Really?" "Damn it." He jerked a hand down his face. "It was like watching you in slow motion as your knees buckled and you plummeted to the ground. I wasn't able to do anything except catch you and lower you the rest of the way." He massaged his neck. "I'll get your bag and take you home." "No." The intensity of that one word shocked him, as well as myself, but something had just hit me with the force of a jackhammer. I was acting like the old Naomi, the doormat afraid of the world. I wasn't that woman anymore, and that meant I had to be strong. "I can do this. I can. It's time to conquer my fear, just like you said. Besides, my inner Tigress will kill me if I don't." That gave him pause, and he blinked down at me. "Your inner Tigress?" "That's right." A slow smile spread, and I was sure it lit my entire face. "My inner Tigress. She's fierce and bloodthirsty and brave." He spread his fingers over my head, feeling for a bump. "I think you hit your head a little too hard." "Careful, or I might have to scratch you to death." "I might let you, but it depends on where you want to scratch me," he muttered. He frowned and shook his head. "I'm taking you home, Naomi. No," he said when I opened my mouth to protest. "The thought of watching you faint dead away once more makes me shudder. I'll help you overcome your fear another way." "Please, Royce." "I said no arguments. That means no pleading, begging, crying or cajoling. And no wetting those luscious lips." I planted my fists on my hips, my determination increasing with every second that passed. "Either you go with me or I pay someone else to take me and go alone. That's your choice." "Damn it, Naomi." He let out a forceful breath. "How do you feel about riding in a large company jet instead of a small aircraft?" I mulled it over, then nodded. I could pretend the large jet was a hotel room and hopefully forget I was soaring thousands of feet in the air, ready to crash at— "Uh, much better." "My crew can have it ready to go in half an hour if you don't mind waiting." The force of my relief was almost tangible. "But what about you? Do you mind not being the pilot?" "I mind—I wanted to impress you, but I'll live through it." He hustled me inside an air-conditioned room, then made a quick call. It didn't take the thirty minutes he'd predicted. His flight crew had the Gulf Stream ready in twenty. And, God help me, I boarded it. Once inside the large craft, Royce gave me a tour. I couldn't help but gasp at the luxury. A soft, ivory wraparound couch graced the front entrance. A large-screen television was positioned overhead, perfect for viewing from a reclining position. There was an office fully equipped with chairs, table and drawing board. Next, I entered a bathroom that was larger than mine at home. And last…the bottom of my stomach dropped out. My eyes widened as I took in the bedroom. It had a small, comfortable-looking mattress and glossy headboard with silk sheets and a soft comforter. The room was used for napping, I was sure, but that didn't matter to my brain. I pictured Royce there, naked and beckoning me over with a seductive motion of his finger. I'm pretty sure I spent more time imagining Royce naked than I did anything else. If only I could get paid for fantasizing about him… Oh well. On with the fantasy: His bronzed skin glistened against the soft, white sheets. His entire body was hard. Hot. Ready. He continued to motion me over with a crook of his finger, wicked intent in his eyes. I gulped. "Let's get ready for takeoff." The real-life Royce placed one hand on my waist, and the contact sent currents of desire down my spine. I didn't move. Couldn't. My gaze slashed up and collided with his. How could I get so worked up, so quickly? He sucked in a breath. "Or if you'd rather wait and do other things," he murmured, "I'm all for that." We stayed completely still for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts, thoughts that were too naughty to voice. Thankfully—and with much effort—I collected my wits. This wasn't the time; this wasn't the place. Distance. I needed distance. I stepped back, trying to act annoyed, though I was tempted to take what he offered. Always tempted. "Not on your life," I managed. "I want to get this flight over with." His fiery stare lingered on my lips for a long while. "Too bad. Maybe next time." Taking my hand, he led me to the wraparound sofa and latched my seat belt into the proper hook. My body began to tremble. I was careful to keep my expression blank, passive, lest he tried to halt the trip. I had to prove to myself that I could do this. That fear didn't rule me. "It takes courage to face your fear," he said. "I'm proud of you." "Thank you." I was proud of myself, too. After several minutes, the engines roared to life and the plane jostled, going slowly at first, then picking up speed as it moved down the runway. The captain said something over the speaker. My ears were ringing again, so all I heard was "Mmmm-mmmmmm-mmm ." "If the plane collides with the ocean, there's a very good chance the sharks will eat me alive." "We're not flying over an ocean. We're flying over mountains." "Even worse! Mountains have bears." I clutched Royce's hand and stiffened—if it was possible to become any more rigid than I already was. I looked ahead, knowing my complexion grew greener by the second. Silver lining: green was Royce's favorite color. I probably seemed like a goddess of beauty to him. "What if the pilot doesn't see one because the snowcaps look like clouds and he slams us right into it?" "Then I swear to God I'll fire him." Royce clasped my chin and lowered his head. His lips met mine; his tongue swept inside without waiting for permission. Hmm, delicious. My fears slowly diminished as thoughts of crashing were replaced with thoughts of sweaty bodies, tangled limbs and gasping pleasure. Royce tasted like pure sin today, hot and masculine with a dash of the forbidden. Maybe his saliva possessed an addictive chemical and that's why I couldn't get him out of my mind. It was possible. Within minutes, we were soaring through the air. To be honest, I barely noticed that we had taken off. Who cared, anyway? If I died today, it would be with a smile on my face. Royce certainly knew how to kiss. Oh, did he know how to kiss. He used his entire body. His hands. His chest. His legs. His masculinity consumed me, making me feel as if his whole existence was centered on me. Maybe it was. What a refreshing change from Richard's how-far-can-I-get-my-tongue-down-your-throat-before-I-can-get-into-your-pants kisses. His hand moved to my breast, plumping and kneading. He groaned. I moaned. The sounds traveled over me, heating my blood. How easy it would be for him to shove down my pants and take me, I thought dazedly. How easy…and how wonderful. I spread my legs, about to beg him to touch me there. I ached so, so much. He suddenly tore away, completely releasing me. His hands fisted at his sides. His breathing was shallow, quick, just like mine. "One day soon, Naomi, I'm going to show you just how much pleasure I can give you. And neither one of us will be able to walk for a week.""Let me put these in water first." Without a backward glance, I strode away. "You ready to go?" "Gee, thanks." "I noticed yours had sprouted wings and flown itself out of your window, so I thought you'd like another one." Damn it all to hell! He brushed past me, turned, then placed a brand new Blue-Jay in my free hand. "For you." "Oh, sure. Come in. What kind of present?" I couldn't hide my excitement. "Are you going to invite me in?" Royce asked gently. "I have another present for you." I laughed; I just couldn't help myself. And it felt good, forgetting my troubles, releasing my tension and simply enjoying him. He grinned, a bit of self-deprecation hanging at the edges of his lips. "I was going to give you a list of to-do chores, but everything on the list was raunchy and I'd rather wait until you're receptive to give you something like that." "Better." I pushed out a breath and gazed down at the dewy, sweet petals. "Thank you for, well, everything." "If you start crying, I'll be forced to cut out my heart and give it to you. How are you feeling?" "They're beautiful," I said softly. "Thank you." "I had to search the whole damn state for those," he told me. My heart fluttered, though, because this felt different. Royce had gone to so much trouble, had thought about my individual tastes. And he'd done it to make me feel better, I suspected, not to throw me off the scent of his bad behavior. I'm sure my expression was horrified as I accepted the bouquet, holding it in my hands like it was a stink bomb about to go off. Richard the Bastard always brought me flowers—always red roses—when he'd done something wrong. "For you," he said. "I know blue is your favorite color, so I had some of the petals dyed." I pulled open the front door to see Royce. He held out what must have been four dozen orchids, a mixture of yellow, white, pink and blue petals. Blue? Caught off guard, I was momentarily incapable of speech. Maybe I needed this trip, though. Royce always proved a good distraction. Plus, my mom kept calling me, and I kept ignoring her. I'd even turned off the ringer. I couldn't lie to her and tell her I'd found nothing, but I couldn't tell her what I had found. Not yet. Not while she could deny it. When Royce arrived the next morning, my eyes were still red and puffy. I hated that I was leaving town. There was so much I needed to do: follow Nora, take pictures of her with my step dad and, of course, the most important item on my list, kill Jonathan. Cheating… Why did men do it? Why did any man think it was okay to trample on a woman's heart by lying to her and giving the best of himself to a woman other than his wife? It wasn't okay. It wasn't acceptable. It was disgusting and disrespectful, vile and wretched. No, surely not. None of the above meant I trusted Royce completely. Worse, did that make me the same foolish Naomi I'd been before? I cried most of the night, and my tears only made me angrier. At Jonathan. At myself. At Royce and Gwendolyn. I believed Royce one moment, I didn't the next. Did that make me as foolish as my mom? I grabbed it and ran inside the building before I burst into tears. I pushed open the door and tried to step outside, but he stopped me with a hand on my wrist. He held out the list I'd wanted with the other hand. "We're here, sweetheart." "Come on," he said gently. "Let's get you home." He led me to the limo. We didn't speak the entire drive. I was grateful. I didn't know what was wrong with me, didn't know why my emotions had chosen that moment to overtake me. Maybe, deep down, I didn't really want to protest. Royce wasn't like Richard the Bastard. Royce wasn't like Jonathan the Jerk. Royce said sweet things and wanted to be around me. He didn't flirt with pretty receptionists. Royce called me just to hear my voice and made me feel important and needed. In three quick strides, Royce was at my side, his arm slipping around my waist. I let him wrap himself around me. I hated all men at the moment, but I let him. My Tigress seemed to be on hiatus, and I didn't have the strength to protest or push away his comforting touch. "Yes." I tried to walk to him, but I suddenly couldn't move my feet. They were frozen in place. As I stood there, my gaze still locked on Royce, something… odd welled up inside me. Something sad and vulnerable. Tears sprang into my eyes. His gaze snapped up, colliding with mine, and he smiled with relief. "Sugar bottoms. Did you see everything you needed to see?" "Snoogiebear," I called. "I'm back." To my surprise, Royce discreetly moved his arm. He even stepped away from her. His shoulders were stiff, and he radiated a discomfort that helped extinguish the raging fury in my blood. When my tour ended, I strode to the front entrance. Royce was waiting at the door, and the pert receptionist was flirting with him, running her fingertip over his arm as she spoke. She was wearing a green bracelet, I noticed with a scowl. Fucking bastard! Jonathan the Jerk was paying for Nora's days of pampering while he treated his own wife like a bothersome insect. He was going to suffer. I was going to make him suffer. Once I returned from Colorado, I would follow him with a camera and catch him in the act. Then I would help my mom take him for everything he owned. Confirming all my fears, each one answered, "Yes, she's a regular." For the next twenty minutes, I scoped out the entire salon, meeting and speaking with the employees. The masseuse, thearomatherapist . The nail tech, the facial tattoo artist. The tanning specialist. I asked all of them the same question: "Is my Aunt Nora, Nora Hallsbrook , a client here? Because if she's not I want to get her in ASAP. She'd love this place." "I'll come with you," one of the girls said, at my side in the next instant. "While my dear, sweet snookie-wookie is busy chatting," I said, "I think I'll have a look-see around, 'kay?" Without waiting for consent, I sailed past the desk and down a long hallway. "Right this way," she said. "Brenda is in her office, and I know she'd love to speak with you." I could be mistaken, but I think dollar signs flashed in the blonde's eyes. "Money is not an object," Royce continued. "We'll want the works, of course." My stomach dropped at the word fiancé —then twisted at sugar bottoms . Sugar bottoms, indeed. "I'm Royce Powell, and I need to speak with the owner." He voice reeked of suave authority. "My fiancé isn't sure which salon she wants to use the day of our wedding. I'm here to see what type of services can be provided so my little sugar bottoms feels extra special that day." "How can we help you?" the only blonde asked. But what did I truly know about men? We entered side by side. A long desk loomed in front, manned by several young, attractive women. Too young for Johnnie, that was for sure. While he might be willing to destroy his marriage, I didn't think he'd be willing to destroy his practice for an underage hottie . He nodded. "Let me do the talking." Oh, yeah. "I don't want them to know my name, but they can know yours." "Do we need to be incognito here?" he asked. When my brow crinkled in confusion, he added, "Before we left your apartment, you asked me if I knew how to be sneaky." The dry heat clamped tight fists around me as I stepped out. "We're here." Royce didn't wait for the driver, but opened the door himself and emerged. He held out a hand for me. My lashes sprang up and I was given a full-on view of his amusement. "You are so not funny." But I was covered in a cold sweat by the time the limo stopped in front of a white stucco building. "Maybe a better gift for your dying mother would be grandchildren," he suggested. Damn it, my mom had warned me about that betraying fact. I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned. "How tragic," Royce said dryly. "Did you know your voice creeps higher when you're lying?" "Well," I said, turning to him, a lie forming in my mind, "my mother is a twin, and they were separated at birth. She's been searching for her sister all her life and I suspect one of the employees is that twin. And now, with my mother dying of cancer—" I pretended to wipe away a tear "—I want to give her this gift." "Absolutely," Royce said. "Just tell me why you want it." Ignoring his question, I shifted and faced the opposite window. Trees and cars whizzed past. The people in those cars strained, trying to see inside the limo, but the darkened windows blocked us from view. "Do you think you could get me a list of their employees?" If Nora wasn't the other woman, that employee list would give me somewhere else to look. "Why?" he persisted. I shrugged. "I want to see what type of services they offer." It was the truth. I didn't tell him that I also wanted to speak with the employees and find out if Nora had visited. "You're very welcome," he replied, using the same rigid tone. "Now, why don't you tell me why you want to look around this salon." "Thank you," I said stiffly. That single kiss affected me deeply and unequivocally, but the fact that he kept our fingers linked meant more. I yearned to melt into him, to absorb his strength, his complete ease with our being together. But I remained where I was. I would not rely on a man for anything. Especially not comfort. That's where dependency began. I didn't allow myself to consider the fact that I was relying on him to fix the little unwanted photographer problem. Royce wrapped his fingers around mine and leaned toward me, bringing with him that delicious sandalwood scent. "I'll take care of it, okay?" He kissed my temple before settling back in his seat. "No worries." He didn't release my hand. "And you didn't say anything? Argh . I can't believe this." I slapped his thigh. "You better do something. Pay her to give you the film or threaten to get her fired. Just do something. Anything! I do not need another hideous picture of me circulating. The last one nearly killed my mother." "There was a woman behind the bushes. She had a camera aimed right at us." I jerked upright and stared wide-eyed at him. "What!" "They were." "I'm sure my attorney could think of something." My head lolled back on the pillow rest. "I'm surprised no one was waiting outside my apartment, snapping pictures of us as we walked out." He uttered a short, booming laugh. "On what grounds?" "They called me an alien. I should sue." "Well, yeah. I think everyone in Dallas saw it." I didn't want to talk about my cheating step dad, so I said, "Did you see the article about me in the Tattler ?" "Body Electric," he told the driver. Seconds later, the limo eased into motion. "Want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked me. "You've got shadows under your eyes, and you're unusually pale." Royce scooted inside until our shoulders brushed. A shiver rolled down my spine. "You better keep those hands to yourself." I slid inside the car… and felt like all my troubles instantly melted away. Luxurious air-conditioning enveloped me. The seats were so plush and perfect I couldn't help but revel in their delicious decadence. Soft as clouds they were. I could have sunk into a coma of bliss. "What?" Royce asked, all innocence. "Damn it!" I muttered. I had to get my thoughts under control. I might—might—believe him about Gwendolyn Summers, but I was on a mission to save my mom. Nothing else mattered at the moment, not even pleasure. I hope he plays with us first, my thighs chimed in. Yippee, my nipples cried."Actually," he said, a sheepish grin on his gorgeous face, "I just wanted my hands free." I remained in place, floundering in a puddle of shocked awe. "Are you trying to impress me? Because it's working." Royce waved me inside. "After you." Without a word, he sauntered to a black stretch limo and opened the passenger door. Such wealth and luxury appeared odd in front of my modest apartment building, with its un-mowed, brittle grass and peeling stucco. Beside me, bushes swayed together despite the fact that there was no wind. Odd. But then I spotted the shattered remains of my BlueJay , forgot about the ghost bushes, and steered Royce away, trying to direct his attention somewhere else. "Uh, to answer your first question, I'm not having anything done. I just want to look around. Where's your car?" "Just because." Bright sunlight and sweltering heat hit me full force, and I was suddenly thankful he'd insisted on coming. I would have hated to spend more than a few seconds in this heat. "What?" He gave a choked little laugh. "Why?" I tossed him a frown before pushing open the door. He was doing it again. Being sweet and irresistible, making me go disgustingly gooey inside. "Don't be nice to me, okay?" I'd already established I couldn't resist him physically, but I really needed to resist him emotionally. He made that extremely difficult with his devilish, charming personality. "What are you having done at the salon? You're perfect just the way you are." Lord, he was even sexy when he snorted. I felt myself melting, my bones liquefying in anticipation of a touch. Already my hands itched to explore him. Itched to touch his skin, itched to wrap around his— He snorted. "Then my day is complete," I said with a sarcastic edge. "The joy in your voice is making me feel all warm inside." "Fine, you can come." Silver lining: I wouldn't have to walk, nor would I have to pay for a cab if I changed my mind about walking. I hated cabs, hated buses more, but I didn't yet have the money to fix my jalopy. "We're going to a salon on Main Street. Body Electric." "Yes." "Do you have a car with you?" "Yes," he answered, his forehead furrowed in confusion. "Can you be sneaky, Royce? Can you blend into a crowd?" If I didn't invite him to come with me, I realized, he'd follow me and draw all kinds of unwanted attention my way. He was just too damn noticeable with that sexy, recognizable face of his. I'd rather deal with a distraction than the possibility of being spotted by my prey. "Naomi. I'm coming. End of conversation." "Royce—" As I pretended to ignore him, I felt the heat of him all the way to my bones. I stopped before going outside. The scent of sandalwood taunted and teased my nose. "You're not going to get rid of me," he said, before I could tell him to go away. "Where we going?" He was barely a step behind me. "No, you're not." I scooted around him, doing my best not to touch him, and locked the door. Not sparing him a glance, I stalked toward the main lobby. I loved having a bottom-level apartment. No stairs or elevators for me, thank you. I fought a shiver of anticipation. The thought of spending the day with him appealed to me in so many ways. I'd get to hear his voice, feel his warmth, even stare at him if I wanted. I'd also get a distraction that I, Detective Delacroix, couldn't afford. "I worked late last night, and I took the day off because I'd planned to meet with you today," he said, pocketing his cell. Still smiling—perhaps because he'd caught a glimpse of my naughty nipples—he said, "I'm going with you, wherever it is you're going in such a hurry." Royce smiled down at me. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. The material clung deliciously to his biceps and pecs , outlining every ridge and peak. I'd never seen him dressed so casually, and the sight made my mouth water. My nipples immediately took notice, jumping up to say, Hi, Royce. We love you and really want to introduce ourselves to you properly . I stopped dead in my tracks instead. Without stopping to check who wanted to visit with me, I jerked open my door, ready to send whoever it was scurrying. From the coffee table, I snatched up my keys and purse—I had yet to replace the stolen one, so I had to make do with this old, ugly white one. Right now I wore brown pants and a white top. Brown sandals, perfect for the two-mile walk ahead. My hair was in its usual twist. Hopefully I presented a completely unnoticeable and unmemorable package. "Hmm, well, I haven't heard a thing." A knock sounded at my door. I pushed out a frustrated sigh, hating to end the conversation, but knowing I needed to, and walked into the living room. "I'll talk to you later. We need to discuss tomorrow's trip to Colorado and the fact that I still don't want to go." I hung up before he could utter a single protest and tossed the phone on my couch. "Where's your BlueJay ? I programmed a meeting today and it should have been beeping all morning. You should be on your way to my office." "Actually, no. Now isn't a good time to talk. I'm on my way out." "Doing what? Working on my mother's party?" "No, sorry," I said, regret pounding through me. "I'm busy." "Are you hungry?" he asked. My skin tingled at the sound of that rich, husky promise. His words shouldn't matter, but they did. I might be an idiot (again), but I believed him (kind of).Dumb ass , my Tigress said. Was I just like my mom? "I've decided whether or not you go with me, I'm not going to escort Gwen to any more events. I only want to go with you." Caller ID showed Powell, Royce. I grabbed the phone and barked, "What?" Jumping up, I raced to my kitchen and grabbed my phone book. Proof. Oh yeah, I'd get her proof. I looked up the address for both Nora and the salon. Just as I finished writing them down, my phone rang. Like I had done for so many years. Like she had done before. God, what was I going to tell my mom? Nothing, I decided in the next flash. Not yet. I shouldn't go to her without concrete proof. Otherwise, she might blow off everything I said. Make excuses for Jonathan and wallow in disbelief. I'd seen Nora on numerous occasions. She was a semi-attractive woman in her early forties with big, ratted hair and lots of makeup, but she wasn't the woman I'd seen in those photos, the young woman with the child. Could Jonathan be seeing two women on the side? It wasn't too far-fetched. Richard, may he fall into the ocean and be torn apart by a pack of wild, vicious, man-hungry sharks, had had booty available in every apartment building and housing unit in every city in the United States. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I would have liked a copy of Johnnie's Visa bill to see exactly what he'd purchased for Nora. Tanning? Laser body hair removal? Total body rub to assuage the guilt she felt for helping destroy a marriage? As mad as I was at my step dad, though, I was also deeply hurt and feeling unbelievably betrayed. He was supposed to be different than my father. He was supposed to guard our family unit. He was supposed to love my mom, cherish her. He was supposed to love me. How cliché . How infuriating! I knew he hadn't called the salon to book an appointment for my mom. She wouldn't have been able to talk about anything else. The responses were wide and varying. Only two disturbed me, however. Jonathan had called Nora Hallsbrook, his secretary, numerous times during the middle of the night. He'd also phoned a local beauty salon six times. Body Electric. That meant only one thing: the lying little prick was having phone sex with his slutty secretary, then paying for her beauty appointments. Finally I drop-kicked the little bastard out the window, taking immense satisfaction when I heard it shatter. Feeling better, I dialed every number on Jonathan's cell-phone bill, giving everyone the same story. "Your number was on my caller ID. Who are you and why did you call this number?" Through it all, my BlueJay never shut up. It continued to beep and beep and beep. I avoided my mom's "did you find anything" call. I avoided Jonathan's "how do you feel" call. I did answer Jennifer's "would you like to go on a date" call and explained the kiss I'd planted on her. She took it well. I told Royce, "No thanks," and ended the call, not knowing what to think. Should I believe him? And why the hell was I so concerned? We weren't in a relationship—I'd made sure of that. He sounded so sincere, but then, Richard had always sounded sincere as well. He laughed. Actually laughed. "She's a friend, nothing more. We do the charity circuit together. I'd love for you to be my date from now on. Are you interested?" I told Richard to die and go to everlasting hell. I hung up on Royce without a word. He called me back, and I said, "Nice photo of you with Gwendolyn. Your non-girlfriend. Did you ask her to marry you, too?" Royce called me. Richard did, too. I spent the next day, Friday, on the phone. Just as a Tiger searches for and uses your weaknesses against you, you must find and use his against him. Exploiting a weakness can make the difference between victory and defeat.Sorry LJ-Cut doesn't seem to work on this chaper!