 
### Hearts Aflame Collection III: 4-Book Bundle

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 by Melissa F. Hart. All rights reserved worldwide.

No part of this book may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written consent of the author/publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

http://www.melissafhart.com/

***

**Table of Contents**

Exposed

1 - Chapter One

1 - Chapter Two

1 - Chapter Three

1 - Chapter Four

1 - Chapter Five

1 - Chapter Six

1 - Chapter Seven

Heat in the Kitchen

2 - Chapter One

2 - Chapter Two

2 - Chapter Three

2 - Chapter Four

2 - Chapter Five

2 - Chapter Six

2 - Chapter Seven

Negociation

Forests Dark and Deep

***

Exposed

***

Synopsis

Jeanine is a private assassin for a secret government organization. She and her partner Liam, who is also her sometimes lover, are tasked with killing a Saudi official. However, they are intercepted before they can complete their mission, yet still framed for the murder. Both are sent to prison and disavowed. Liam manages to escape, but is unable to rescue Jeanine.

John, Jeanine's first love, reads about her situation in the newspaper. He's been looking for her for ten years, ever since he broke her heart and she ran away from him. He visits her in prison and promises he can help her escape. Can Jeanine let go of her old anger and resentment toward John and accept his help?

***

Chapter One

It was a cold night; not the coldest of the season, but definitely cold: you know, that residual freeze you get in Washington DC around mid-February. As I stood out in the street, my teeth chattering, goose bumps growing on the skin underneath my leather stealth suit, I imagined somewhere, someone was having a nice dinner. I imagined a family of four sitting in the warmth of a DC townhouse, enjoying a pot roast in front of their fire. There might have been music playing in the background, the Jazz kind that dads usually liked to play. Or maybe not, maybe Dad liked soft rock from the 80s. Or maybe he liked complete silence.

Sitting across from Dad at the other end of the table was Mom. She loved conversation, but could never introduce a topic interesting enough for Dad's approval. So, instead of asking little Sally, or little Eric, how their kindergarten school day was, she ate in silence. She scooped her mashed potatoes, taking care not to scrape her spoon against the plate, because she knew Dad hated the noise. He hated the screech and the scrape. He hated the extemporaneous humanness of it all.

Dad, in fact, would have rather eaten his dinner completely alone. The satisfied smirk on his son's face when he passed gas in that silent but deadly way and assumed no one at the table noticed, pinched at Dad's last nerve. He hated children, hated the sight of them, hated the fact that they were so spontaneous, so uncontrollable. He wanted them to be sterile. He wanted sameness. He set his gaze on Sally who sat next to Eric. She used her knife to cut out each piece of meat, meticulously folding her small fingers around the handle of each utensil. She wanted to be proper so that Daddy would notice.

She wanted to put a smile on Daddy's face, and she fancied she was only a moment away from witnessing his true happiness. She stared at her mother, at the way she sat in her chair, folding her legs together, barely scooping the plate with her spoon, making herself as small as possible. Even as a child, Sally could see the pain in her mother's eyes, could feel the dejection in her stare. She could never make Dad happy; she was too sad herself. She was too helpless and hopeless. Her frail fingers looked as if they would crack under the weight of her utensils. Her eyes seemed as if they would fry under the glare of the light above the table. Her pale skin looked as if it could melt off of her bones at any moment. Sally gazed at her mother, a hateful look in her eye. She knew, with more certainty than she had ever felt in the eight years of her life, that she never wanted to be her.

"Stop," I muttered. That was enough of that. I tore my eyes away from the lone lit window on the third floor of the high rise towering up in front of me. In the cold dark night, it could have been the warmest place anyone had ever been in. I envied whoever stayed there, even if it was just a dysfunctional family of four.

I sighed, shifting my weight from my right foot to my left. A draft of cold air passed in between my arms. I shuddered at the impact of it. A quick look at my phone told me it wasn't time yet. Five more minutes of this hell.

The silence was a pressing force, an ominous being. It penetrated every part of me until I began to imagine sound for the sake of preserving my own sanity. I imagined a rat scurrying at the base of my foot, weaving in and out of the two dumpsters I stood between, looking for so much as a mere crumb to take home to his family. I imagined the muffled roar coming from a nearby dwelling as a new bottle of champagne was opened in order to celebrate a 75th birthday. Sharp giggles echoed off the walls of high rises as a drunk couple approached the alley. A male voice murmured things followed by the amused screeches of his date. The sound increased as they approached, then began to decrease as they walked away. I held my gaze on the empty wall in front of me.

It could have been anything; a secret passage, a hiding place, a mirror. I fancied if I looked hard enough, I could see my reflection amongst the black concrete. I imagined the sharp hairline made by my red hair pulled as far and tight back as it could go, my plump lips, made all the more plumper by my choice to use bright red lipstick, my high cheekbones, and full body.

I looked away.

The sound of a truck passed by, the increasing roar of its approach, followed by the decrease of it as it disappeared farther and farther down the road.

I gulped, swallowing what little saliva I had left. My fingers curled and uncurled, the skin on my palm slick under a thin layer of cold sweat. I blinked back the dry tears forming in the edges of my eyes, telling myself it was only the wind, when I knew it was much more than that.

I heard the footsteps before I saw the man. "Hey, you got a cig?"

I glanced in his direction, committing his dark tennis shoes, faded jeans, and brown leather jacket to memory. He raised an eyebrow in expectation, ready for my affirmative answer, and, no doubt, for me to give the cigarette away. There was something about his confident lean, or the invasive gleam in his dark eyes that made me say, "No," even though I had just finished my fourth one.

His smile widened as he nodded at me, taking a step in my direction. I tilted my head to the right, not a retreat, but a negative response. "Come on. Don't be like that."

"What?" It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

He grimaced. As far as he knew, he was alone with a girl in a dark alley. He couldn't reason with himself why I could possibly be challenging him, why I was so confident.

His confusion amused me.

"Why are you lying?"

I folded my lips into a mock frown. "You shouldn't make judgments like that about people you don't even know."

"I can smell the smoke on you," he breathed.

"So can I," I replied, trying not to look uncomfortable under his gaze.

He narrowed his eyes. "Give me a cigarette."

I shrugged, a vacant smile on my face. "Mother told me not to give things to strangers."

"I don't think it works like that."

"Oh, I'm sure it does."

He tilted his head back and forth, stretching out his neck.

I lifted my chin, pursing my lips together in a stance of defiance. I had decided the moment he approached me with that confident smirk that I wasn't going to give him what he felt like he was entitled to.

He lifted one large finger to my face, stroking my cheek. "Why are you provoking me?"

"Awe. I'm sorry you feel provoked," I whined in a mocking voice.

He continued to stroke my cheek. His thumb rubbed the other side of my face. I flicked my chin, brushing his hand off.

"Well, you have to give me something," he murmured.

I scrunched my nose at his sharp, smoke-infested, rancid-tuna breath. "I'm sorry, but you're going to be a little disappointed."

He grabbed my chin with his hand.

I blinked twice, taking care to suck in deep breaths from my mouth.

"I don't like being disappointed." His grip tightened as he said this.

"That sounds like a personal problem."

He grunted, thrusting his body into mine. I huffed as my back hit the dumpster with a thud. A gust of wind bit my face. I pressed my hands against the dumpster, trying to make my body as small as possible in order to get away from him. In the next moment, I could feel his left hand snaking up my leg.

"What are you doing out at a time like this dressed in a body suit?"

I furrowed my brows in an effort to get a coherent sentence out under the pressure of his hold. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you?"

"You're going to tell me, aren't you?"

I winced at his sharp hold on my thigh. "I'm not really a fan of questions."

Through the dark shadows, I could see his eyes harden. His thin lips hung open, releasing the warm breath of a man in heat. The foot of air in between us had solidified until it was beyond malleability. Beads of sweat sprouted on my forehead as my heart began to race, my pulse chasing itself around my body. My fingers tingled in anticipation. And yet, I wanted him to go farther.

"That's too bad," he murmured, drawing in a deep breath.

I frowned, drawing in shallow breaths as he pressed his lips against mine. They were sharp, yet wet at the same time. I didn't kiss back, but left my lips hanging limp against his aroused, one-sided struggle. I could feel the hesitation in his grip, sense the confusion in his tongue.

"Five minutes," I murmured as he went up for air.

"What?" he snapped, too wrapped up in his own ecstasy to wonder why he didn't have to force sex from me.

"Your five minutes are up." I examined him as I said this, taking in every square inch of his confused frown, his bushy, furrowed eyebrows, his unkempt, fuzzy chin. His false sense of confidence made him all the more vulnerable.

A smile played at my lips as I felt his hands fiddling with my stealth suit, desperately looking for the point of entry I knew he wouldn't find. "This is quite an outfit," he murmured.

As I brushed his hands off, he gripped my fingers, squeezing them in between his large rough hands. I narrowed my eyes as a sharp pain traveled through my arms. He continued to claw at my legs. Even through the thick leather, I could feel the tips of his nails raking at the skin underneath my suit.

"You're not getting in," I whispered into his ear.

He struck me. I gasped as the blow ripped a tear in my cheek. A loud bang echoed through the alley as my head hit the side of the dumpster. Sensing the scream that would follow, he immediately covered my mouth with his hand. I banged my fist against the dumpster in agitation at this, shaking my head in an attempt to escape his grip. He continued to fiddle with my suit despite my feeble protests, removing his hand from my lips only to force his lips onto mine and his tongue into my mouth. As he kissed me, I drew my face back, maneuvering my lips around his. Once his tongue was firmly in between my lips, I bit, clenching my teeth together. He let out a short wail of pain then drew back, covering his mouth with his right hand.

"I don't approve," I muttered, a smirk on my face. I watched with amusement as the hurt in his eyes hardened, as his pained frown became an angry sneer. I had him exactly where I wanted him.

He lunged at me, cupping my face in both of his hands. Before I could catch a grip of anything, he drove my head into the dumpster twice. The dark night swirled around me and his face became blurry in my own dizziness. A deep ache rang through my skill, as each neuron, completely on edge, burned in the flames of my own pain.

I decided to go with the most basic of defenses to start off with and stomped on his foot. My stealth cleats easily penetrated his comparatively thin shoes. His grip loosened a bit around my face as he stepped back. I took advantage of this, ripping both of his hands from my face. However, as soon as I had accomplished this, he took a step toward me and struck me again. I winced as his hand caught in the blood that I was sure splattered my face. I drove a punch straight into his nose, smiling internally as I heard the sharp crack of cartilage and felt his bones give way to my hard fist. He huffed in pain, then immediately drove his fist into my torso. My lungs screamed for air as I held my mouth open, feeling more and more suffocated with each shallow breath.

As he pinned my arms to the dumpster, I could feel his hard cock against my leg. I lifted my foot, driving my cleats into his package. He wailed in pain, ripping his body away from me. I chuckled in triumph, slipping from in between him and the dumpster. The wind brushed against my face, drying sweat and blood as I ran, my legs carrying me farther and farther away, my feet propelling me forward through empty air, the ground becoming nearly non-existent as I flew.

One

Two

Three.

Sure enough, I felt something yank at my ponytail. My eyes widened as my neck whipped backwards. A smile played at my lips, as, once again, my predictions were correct. I raised my hand, grabbing his arm and ripping it away from my hair. In one motion, I had twisted it behind his back.

In the silence of the night, I could hear his panting echoing off the walls of the narrow alley. I could practically feel his wheezing breaths from in between my grip. By sheer will and strength, he was able force himself out of my hold. As soon as he was upright, he drove another punch into my torso, in the exact same spot. I winced at the second contact on my bruised stomach but laughed at his predictability.

I lifted my foot, drawing the compact pocket knife from inside the small compartment above my foot, and immediately mounted his back. He instinctively thrashed against me. I winced at the burn of his hands chaffing against my arms as he tried to force himself out of my grip. This time, it wouldn't work. I had the height advantage. In light of this failure, he began to hit his back, and subsequently, me, against the cemented wall of the high rise. I grunted at each impact, forcing myself to breathe right through it.

One

Two.

Three.

The fourth time, my hair caught on an uneven point in the concrete. I snagged on it and had to let go of him, for fear of losing my entire ponytail. I fell to the ground with a thud, once again breathless. He stood over me, then paused, his posture erect as he tried to enjoy this moment. I took the opportunity to drive the knife into his shin. He screeched in pain, tumbling to the ground next to me. I allowed myself two deep recovery breaths before bounding up next to him. A quick look at my phone told me I still had thirty seconds to spare. I reached into a small pocket in between my lower thighs, pulled out an entire half pack of Lucky's. Through the blood covering his face, I could see two deep-set, angry eyes glaring at me. I threw the cigarettes at him and left the alley.

***

Chapter Two

"You're late, Kitty." His voice reached me before he did.

"That's not my name, Liam." I replied as we fell into step together. I struggled silently to keep my breath as we power-walked through the cold night to our destination. I was starting to regret my fun little encounter.

"What happened to your face?" he demanded, referring, I assumed, to the blood that must have been dripping down it, or the bruising from the man's strong grip.

I glanced at Liam's sharp cheekbones and strong jaw with a smile. "Nothing. What happened to yours?"

"Nothing."

"Exactly." We turned our last corner, ending up at a side entrance of the Saudi Embassy.

I stood there for a moment, gazing up at the structure as Liam pulled out his backpack and began to remove all the supplies we would need to scale the building.

"You know, I'm getting really fucking tired of having to climb things all the time," he muttered, his German drawl becoming more apparent in his agitation.

"I think you're just getting pretty damn lazy," I scolded as I flexed each of my ankles back and forth in order to limber up more.

"You're one to talk. You never carry the damn supplies."

I paced back and forth, squeezing my eyes closes, trying to shut out the memory of that man's tongue in my mouth. My fault. All my fault. Don't complain about it. You could have just given the guy a damn cigarette. I pushed my own anxieties away and chuckled at Liam's comment. "Man up," I hissed, slapping his ass for good measure.

He perked up. "Done."

"Awesome," I muttered, pursing my lips and stretching out my neck one last time. As I stood there, he took the liberty of securing the harness around my waist himself, lingering around my hipbone. I huffed as he brushed his hands across my butt. As he reached the last strap across my shoulder, I felt the soft peck of his kiss on my neck. My flesh tingled at his touch.

"What really happened to your face?" he asked as we began to climb.

I pursed my lips in concentration, having to expel extra effort because my muscles had been weakened from the fight. "Eh. The usual."

"Is there such a thing as usual with you?" he demanded in that condescending way.

I tilted my head. "Well, you do have a point there."

"Did you run into trouble?"

I could sense the real concern in his voice. "No. It wasn't anything real. Some guy tried to rape me."

Liam guffawed in amusement. "Fat chance."

"You have the information, right?" I asked, as we had reached about halfway up the building.

My heart skipped a beat at his silence. "What information?"

My fingers began to tremble in anxiety. "Liam, I only got the codes. I thought you had everything else..." I began to climb faster, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

He followed my lead. "I thought you had. I didn't get anything."

I took a deep breath, but only out of habit. My heart began to beat against my ribcage, begging to be free as my blood boiled within my veins. A cold sweat sprouted on my forehead. My fingers began to slip and fumble on the sides of the walls as we climbed. I could visualize the note in my head, see every piece of information it held as if I were staring at it for the first time. There was no location, no room number, no face, nothing for us to go by. Liam had all of that, or, at least, he was supposed to.

I reached the edge of the roof and propelled myself over, sliding out of the climbing gear as quickly as possible. As I unhooked the rope and straps off of my stealth suit, my eyes darted around me, scanning the roof for anything unusual. There was nothing, and that worried me more than anything else. I braced myself in the silence, irrationally paranoid at how open and quiet everything was. I flipped through every image in my brain, my neurons firing as I tried to come up with a plan in the absence of one, a solution to a problem I had never had to deal with before.

"Wait, but doesn't this mean that—"

"Someone must have intercepted it," I interrupted with an obvious answer to the obvious question.

I peered through the darkness, trying to make out the shapes I knew lurked in the shadows. My hair stood on end as I stood there, my trembling hand glued to the butt of my handgun. One glance told me that Liam did the same. We had entered the first phase of this situation without a plan and now that we were here, we were trapped.

"Liam..." I demanded in a rough voice.

"I'm thinking," he snapped.

I blinked, taken aback at a shadow I could have sworn moved in the darkness. I imagined I could have heard footsteps to go along with the moving image.

"Did you hear..." he began.

"Yes," I replied, glancing around for an easy cover. I turned away from him, straining my neck in order to see around what looked like a doorway from my angle.

"Kitty." Liam wrapped his fingers around my arm, yanking me behind him, then immediately pulled his gun. Before I knew what was happening, he fired a shot, gunning down a man at pointblank range.

By the time I caught my breath, I could see moving shadows, bodies, slowly surrounding us. "Liam, what the fuck?" I breathed.

"I don't know," he replied.

There were men everywhere. I could hear guns being loaded and cocked, of knuckles being cracked. At that point, there was no question that we had been intercepted. Liam's chest gently rose and fell with his deep breaths as we stared, each of us concentrating on our own half of the crowd, devising an exit strategy.

I tightened my grip on my gun, determined not to fire a shot unless absolutely necessary. I didn't like using guns and really only carried one because I couldn't punch someone to death from a hundred feet away. Either way, I liked the fist fights. I liked the proximity of it all. In fact, this scenario would have been a dream simulation for me. The only problem was that this was not a simulation, and I was already bogged down by the fact that this was even happening on a routine hit and run.

They closed into us even tighter until I was only a foot away from the nearest man. They were not here to kill us. If that were the plan, they would have done it already. I felt the iron grip of a man around my wrist. I swung with my free hand, hitting him in his temple with the butt of my gun. As he staggered back, another man lunged to grab me. I took two steps back, completely disoriented by the surprise of the situation and still a bit sore from my earlier encounter and the climb all the way up to the roof. I fired the gun twice, hitting him in his abdomen. He tumbled to the ground, contracting in pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just catch Liam fighting with three guys.

In my momentary lapse in attention, another man pulled at my hair, I elbowed him from behind and began to run, hoping Liam would take the cue. I could hear angry Arabic shouts and the sound of footsteps rushing behind me. My shaking fingers fiddled with the zipper on my side pocket as I struggled to retrieve the rope and hook I always kept with me. The wild sound of bullets firing added to the chaos. I could feel the heat of them as they ricocheted off the ground at my feet, hear them as they whizzed past my ears and in between my arms and legs. Finally, I had the rope hooked securely onto me. My lungs contracted dramatically as they reached for the air I denied them. My feet had already begun to burn in the heat of the action.

I reached the edge of roof and paused only long enough to bend down in order to hook the other side of the rope onto it. Without thinking about it, I hoisted myself onto the edge and jumped.

Only as I fell, my hair flying wildly in the howling wind, my limbs flailing about me, tears of exertion filling my eyes, did I allow myself to accept the truth: we had been betrayed.

***

Chapter Three

The faucet cut on, releasing rushing water into my sink. I turned it as high as it would go, hoping to fill the silence and drown out the worries in my head. There were voices: mine and my parents, my cousins', my teachers, and my doctor. They converged until I could no longer make out individual words. The sound was incoherent and meaningless, and yet, I couldn't get it out of my head. I sucked in deep breaths through my open mouth, hoping that the sting of dry oxygen on my sore throat would help calm me. It didn't.

The ground seemed to sway underneath me. I rocked back and forth, squeezing my toes together in an attempt to keep them from trembling by force. Sweat arose on my forehead and trickled down my cheeks, stinging as the salty substance reached the cuts on my face. With shaking fingers, I snatched a towel off the wall and dipped it into the sink full of warm water. A moan escaped my lips as I raised the steaming towel to my face. I blinked as blood dripped into the water, turning it a sickly pink color. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn't get the smell of his breath out of my skin, or rid myself of the sensation of his hands grabbing my face.

A heavy knock on the door interrupted my attempts. I sighed, throwing the towel into the sink, and opened the door to find Liam standing on the other side. He seemed relaxed and clean as he stood there in a T-shirt and boxers, his shoulder-length hair still wet from the shower he took just moments earlier. I shot him a weak smile, then stepped aside so that he could come in. He went straight for the cabinet, grabbing his toothbrush and the toothpaste we shared.

With a sigh, I returned to my sink full of water and blood. As he brushed his teeth, he shot me a sideways glance.

"Are you okay?" he asked in between gargling.

I shrugged, taking extra care not to look at him. "Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Someone tried to rape you." He meant the statement as a scold, as if it were my fault I was attacked.

Well, it was. "It's not like he wasn't provoked..." I murmured, gently covering my face with the towel, breathing in the steam.

I heard him huff before he asked, "What happened?"

I told myself the concern in his voice was the benign concern of a partner for a partner, nothing more. I had to tell myself that. I shrugged. "He wanted a cigarette."

"And you wouldn't give it to him," Liam finished, taking the towel from me. He emptied the sink full of dirty water and refilled it.

I raised my shoulders and dropped them, repeating the process in an attempt to stretch out. A chuckle escaped my lips. "Of course not."

He shook his head as he gently placed the towel on my face. "I honestly don't understand what the issue is," he murmured.

"What?" I snapped, annoyed at his scrutiny.

"If a man asks for a cigarette, give him a damn cigarette," he replied.

I snatched the towel from him, turning away. "It wasn't about the cigarette," I muttered.

He grabbed my shoulder and turned me around, forcing me to look at him. "It's never just about the cigarette."

I tried to ignore the concern in his eyes. "He practically expected me to give it to him!" I cried. I didn't need anyone judging me.

"So?" Liam demanded.

I dropped the towel and walked away, leaving him in the bathroom on his own. It bothered me when people scrutinized me, when they judged my actions, and especially when they disapproved. I entered our bedroom and began to rip the warm-up suit I was wearing off. Once naked, I rummaged around in my drawer for my night clothes. I quickly slipped into an oversized purple T-shirt and boy shirts, then made my way back into our living room.

Liam was sitting on our brown leather couch, surfing through the television channels, a scowl on his face. I passed quickly in front of him, ignoring him as I went straight for a cabinet in the back corner. A half-painted canvas stared at me once I had gotten the door open. I carefully grabbed it, then exited the room.

Once I had it securely on a stand and had squeezed a bunch of random colors onto a plate, I began to rip the colors across the canvas. My fingers trembled in the effort, my hands cramped at the exertion, my lips pursed in concentration, but I kept going, completely out of touch with myself. I painted nothing and everything. My thoughts and my dreams leaked out of me through the brush, splattering along the unsuspecting canvas. I tried not to think of home, or of family. I tried not to think of loneliness or hospitals. I threw all of those thoughts away, forcing them onto the canvas in front of me.

I heard the click of the door as Liam opened it and came to join me. I held my breath to keep from groaning at his presence. There was no being alone or away from Liam. Every moment with him was spent under a microscope. I felt examined and vulnerable under the power of his love and concern, love I could never feel for him.

"I don't mean to boss you around," he began.

"I know." I cut him off, hoping he would realize I didn't want to talk.

He didn't. "It's just..."

"What?" I snapped. I could hear the carpet giving way to his feet as he stepped closer.

"I just don't think it's really necessary." He sighed.

"What's necessary?" I asked, gathering my brushes. What little calm I had achieved was completely gone now.

"The way that you risk your life like this. It just isn't... It just doesn't make any sense."

I brushed past him to the bathroom in order to rinse out the bristles. "What doesn't make any sense?" I called from the bathroom.

"It isn't worth it," he called back.

I rolled my eyes, wishing he would just get to the point, as I shut off the water and came back to my bedroom. "What's not worth it?" I asked, as I slid the canvas on its stand out of the way.

He threw his arms up, an exasperated sigh escaping him lips.

I chuckled at this, deciding to take the comedic route. Simply trying to avoid the subject was not going to be enough. I had to draw him away from it, distract him somehow. Once I had successfully put all my supplies away, I approached him, a smile on my face.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my head. "I honestly don't think you care about yourself at all."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. This was exactly why I didn't do relationships, why men were only good for sex. If you gave them anything more, they started to get smart. They started to reach inside of you and unearth things you would rather forget about yourself. I spread my fingers across his back, trailing my hand up and down his spine.

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked. I could already hear his voice growing more serene.

"Hmm?" I replied, reaching up to kiss his neck. He responded by kissing me on my forehead. I strained, making my lips available to his. I gasped as he pressed his lips against mine. It was all so familiar and different at the same time. I couldn't fight the disappointment. I couldn't stop myself from comparing.

As he became rougher, holding my lips in between his, thrusting his tongue into my mouth, I gripped his waist, pressing my body into his, wanting to be as close to him as possible physically, but at the same time, as far away as possible.

I sucked in a deep breath as he began suck my neck. Warmth spread in between my legs as I felt him grow hard against me. I could feel his hands trailing up and down my torso. I winced as his cold fingers reached under my night shirt, a soft moan escaping my lips.

John.

But he wasn't John. He was Liam, and I had to keep telling myself that. I couldn't let my memories seep into our sex. Not this time. I wouldn't.

There was a knock on the door. It was loud and demanding, as if someone meant to beat it down.

We froze. All the anxiety from the last few hours hit me at once. We had run from the roof as quickly as we could, met up and immediately come back here. No one knew we lived here and the apartment was registered under a third party. So who could be knocking?

"Police!" I heard the shout as if it had been produced by my own mind. I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining the gun I knew was in the bottom drawer of my jewelry box in our closet. I could see the fire escape, feel myself grabbing at the railings I ran down it.

Initial reaction.

But everything was going to be fine. We couldn't have been in trouble for anything. The government would sort it out.

"Running won't help," I murmured into Liam's chest.

"I know," he whispered in reply.

***

Chapter Four

"I can't believe you missed it again!"

John jumped at the shrill voice of his girlfriend as she reentered their kitchen. He shrugged, took another drag of his cigarette, then tipped the ash off into his tray before he replied. "I told you I wasn't going to be able to make it," he muttered, an annoyed pinch to his voice.

She stalked into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge and grabbed a plate full of leftover casserole. She slammed it onto the counter, pulled the top off, and paused.

John took a deep breath, trying to ease his expression. He knew looking annoyed would only fuel her fire.

"What the fuck, John?! Why did you eat all of it?" she demanded, shoving the half-eaten bowl in his face.

He drew back and took another drag of his cigarette.

She huffed, flipping her long, blonde wet hair over her shoulder, then went to grab a plate from the cabinet. "I just don't understand why you can't think of anyone but yourself," she muttered, as she forked the food into her own plate.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured.

She froze for a moment, then slowly turned, fixing her blue gaze on him. "Do you even care?" she hissed, shifting her gaze for only as long as it would take to place her plate in the microwave and turn it on.

John watched the plate of food spin around in the microwave, wishing to himself that he could get radiation poisoning and die right then and there. "What makes you think I don't?" he asked in that condescending way.

She threw her fingers up in exasperation, punching the stop button on the microwave, yanking the door open, and grabbing her food. She sat down at the head of the kitchen table, the farthest point in the room from John.

He sighed, swiping a stray strand of hair from his forehead and lit another cigarette.

"Well, can you say something?" she demanded in between bites.

"What do you want me to say?" he replied, as he held the smoke from his first drag in the top of his lungs.

She shrugged dramatically, slamming her fork into the plate of food. "Well, I don't know. It just feels like you don't even care that we're fighting."

"We aren't fighting," John replied. "You are."

"God, I just don't understand what is so difficult about making one measly performance."

"I'm sorry, I had work." John didn't sound very sorry at all.

She scoffed, "Well, this is my work too, John. I don't I feel like we're in this relationship: you don't support me at all."

He put out his cigarette, then stood up, putting on his jacket. "It's been getting really busy at the office, and you know your work won't support us."

She dropped her fork, her mouth wide in hurt and surprise. "I can't believe you just pulled the bacon card."

John raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't pulling the bacon card, Marge. Please, just calm down."

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

He just shrugged. "To get some peace and quiet."

She ducked her head in disbelief. "You can't go now. We're in the middle of a discussion."

"Well, if you wouldn't yell at me..."

"I'm sorry, John, but the only way I can get you to notice me is if I yell at you," she cried.

John grimaced at the sound.

"It's just...I feel like you care more about your criminal clients than you do about me," she pouted.

John shook his head, huffing in exasperation, and left the room. In the next moment, he was in his car, revving the engine, contemplating closing the garage door and just sitting there. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to have to go back into his own house and the thought of that depressed him. He wondered how he even found himself in this position to begin with. He knew it wasn't fair to Marge, staying with her even though they both knew he didn't love her, but at the same time, what was either of them going to do?

He had felt a space growing in between them, so he decided that buying a house with her would make it go away. He was determined to do whatever was necessary to make that space go away. He wouldn't accept the possibility that it might not work out with her, because if it didn't work out with her, who would it ever work out with?

Despite his passive suicidal ideation, he decided to open the garage and pull out of the driveway. He had no plan and wondered at the possibility of simply driving around until his car ran out of gas, then staying wherever he ended up. He maneuvered his car through the streets of New Orleans, stopping once he had reached a small coffee shop.

With his car carefully parked, he sat for a moment, allowing the memories to flood through. He let himself think her name: Jeanine. Just once, or maybe twice. Not three times, because then it forms itself into a nostalgia, and that nostalgia becomes that longing and that longing grows until it's an unquenchable desire, something he ran from: unquenchable desires.

He longed to see her again, hoped and wished for the opportunity of one chance meeting. Yet, he couldn't be sure where she could have gone. After almost ten years of accepting her disappearance, John was ready to understand the fact that she could have very well been dead. With a sigh, he cut the engine and left his car.

The café was small, having only enough room to seat maybe ten or fifteen people. It was the secret hangout spot for him and his friends as a child, and when he grew older, became the place of choice while he was dating Jeanine. It was owned by an old woman who knew the two of them, since their diaper days and even now, when John entered, he could scarcely order a coffee without her making conversation about Jeanine, and high school. He rather liked the reminder though. With Jeanine having been completely gone for almost ten years, it was nice to have some proof that she had ever existed.

"Hello," he greeted the woman with a forced smile, but even she could see the dejection in his eyes.

"How are you, Johnny?" the old woman with graying hair and red lipstick asked, her voice shaking with age.

He chuckled. "Don't call me Johnny, Annie."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's Mrs. Annie to you."

John shrugged.

"How is the new girlfriend?" she asked.

A smile played at John's lips. "You know, she's not really new anymore. It's been two years."

"Well, she'll always be new to me," she replied as she grabbed a clean mug and placed it under a cappuccino machine. She could already guess what he would order.

"You can't discriminate against every one of my girlfriends who isn't Jeanine," John scolded.

She shrugged as she placed a cappuccino in front of John. He grabbed it, gratefully holding it in between hiss hands. She peered at him, a knowing gleam in her eyes.

"What?" he asked, a little unnerved.

"She isn't dead." She whispered, before slapping the front page of today's newspaper down in front of him.

Woman Arrested in Washington DC for the Attempted Murder of Saudi Arabian Ambassador

***

Chapter Five

The last three days were a complete blur. One moment, I was in my apartment pretending to be in love and the next, I was sitting in between four walls, trapped. I sat in the interrogation room, patiently waiting. My heart had begun racing again but I took a few deep breaths to calm it. There was no sense in freaking out now. I knew that eventually someone would show up, clear everything up with DC, and I would be able to leave.

I closed my eyes, listening to the silence, trying not to think of anything. However, despite all of that, my breath came more and more difficult with each passing moment. I began to lose control of my own mind. It began to run ahead of me, images flipping through my brain, anxiety freezing me to my place. I imagined the director's voice in my head, his dismay, his disappointment at finding out that we were caught.

Only, that didn't really make any sense. It couldn't have been my fault that we were unable to carry out the mission. If Liam wasn't lying and if I didn't make a massive mistake, than it was their fault. We weren't given adequate information. But even then, if the director knew something went amiss, he definitely had the resources and intelligence to get to me first. Nothing about this situation made any sense to me.

There was a low groan as a guard pushed the heavy door open. A tall, lanky man in a gray custom suit entered. He sat down across from me, unpacked two notepads from his briefcase and shot me a grim smile.

"How are you today?" His heavy northern accent echoed off of the walls.

I shot him a quick smile, then returned my gaze to my own hands. "Fine."

"Okay." He leaned in, folding his hands in front of him. "Do you know why you are here?"

"I haven't done anything wrong," I replied.

He nodded. "Right, well we have reason to think that you have."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's too bad."

"How do you know Liam?" he asked.

I shrugged.

He grimaced. "Are you saying you don't know how you know him?" His pitch raised as he was trying to convey how ridiculous his own statement was.

"I don't have to know anything without a lawyer," I sneered.

He sat back in his chair, darting his eyes first to the right, then to the left, as if in disbelief at what I just said. I watched as he folded and unfolded his fingers, rocking back and forth. He opened his mouth once or twice, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell me something. Eventually, he gave up, grabbed his stuff, and left the room.

The door slammed, the sound echoing through the room.

***

Chapter Six

The seconds ticked by slowly. I counted each one of them, moving my lips just enough to be able articulate the word: one, two, three, four, five, six... I was in the teens, then the hundreds. Eventually there were thousands of seconds. Thousands of minutes, hundreds of hours, days.... days. I sat on a rough mattress, sometimes staring at my cell mate, sometimes staring at nothing at all. My eyes grew dry, and I imagined they had degraded to nothing more than red holes in my face. My weak eyelids folded over them, and I slept.

A heavy buzzing sound interrupted my fitful nap. I sat up, immediately erect, suddenly aware of the thumping of heels against concrete floor, the cracks of shotguns being fired. My entire cell was bathed in red light. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as my feet touched the cold floor and ran to the door of my cell. I couldn't see anything from the small window except for the confused faces of other people staring out of their own windows.

The sounds began to swell as the sounds of footsteps grew louder and louder.

"What is it?" my cell mate screeched, just now waking up.

I turned to answer her question, yet as I opened my mouth to speak, I heard Liam's unmistakable voice. I clenched my lips together, my mind working a mile a minute, struggling to figure out what was going on.

There was a thump at the door. I turned to find Liam staring at me through the small window. He held an angry determination in his gaze. His blond hair, which he always kept brushed neatly back into a ponytail, now hung in unkempt wisps around his shoulders. There was a bruise on his cheek I hadn't seen before and the purple circles around his eyes indicated he hadn't slept for days.

"Jeanine!!!" I could see his veins bulging with the strain on his voice, but could barely hear his words through the door and over the sirens.

A nervous sweat soaked my nightgown to my skin. I swiped my damp hair away from my face. "Liam! What's going on?"

"I'm getting out!" he screamed, darting back and forth to make sure no one was coming.

I could hear the screams of guards quickly approaching. "So they've come for you!" I screeched, my stomach turning in excitement.

He shook his head violently. "No, Jeanine!"

"What's happening!?" I asked, impatient to find out what was going on.

"They aren't coming!!" he cried.

Before I could respond, he disappeared.

***

Chapter Seven

The salt from my dried tears crusted around my eyes. I closed them to make it easier for myself. There was no water from my cell to wash it out. I was curled up in a fetal position on my bed, trying to become as small as possible, hoping that I would eventually die from my broken heart.

I had been abandoned by my employer and the man I thought loved me in less than a month and I still couldn't understand why. In the flash of a moment, I was completely alone... again.

There was a buzzing sound followed by the moan of an iron door swinging open and the footsteps of what I imagined was the guard.

"Jeanine Warde?"

"What?" I croaked without getting up or looking at him.

"You have a visitor."

I sat up, raking my hands over my face in an attempt to clean myself up. Part of me hoped it was Liam, the other part hoped it was our director, and still part of me knew it wouldn't be either of them. I followed him out of my cell, my brow furrowed in confusion. I hadn't been in contact with anyone other than Liam and the government in years.

He led me into the visitors' room, a small cafeteria with five round tables. Three pairs of people sat together, talking in hushed tones. I scanned the room, my eyes resting on a man about my age with short dark hair. He sat as close to the table as possible, resting his elbows on it and folding his hands together. He stared at nothing in particular, but cast his gaze downward at the table. The guard silently led me to him. As I came closer, I slowly realized who I stared at.

My eyes widened in disbelief as my heart rate quickened. There was the warmth of a soft hug in the middle of my high school hallway, that happy ache in my stomach after having been laughing far too hard for far too long, my joyful tears shed alone in my room after having been kissed for the first time. Then all at once, there was gut-wrenching loneliness and grief as I mourned the death of a relationship with a man I thought I would one day marry.

"Jeanine," he breathed. He sounded just as relieved as I felt.

I dropped into the chair in front of him, still unable to believe that he was really here.

"I came as soon as I found out," he whispered.

I could see his eyes watering, feel the tremble in his voice. I knew every fold in his face, every inch of his skin as if it were my own. "It's been almost four weeks," I croaked.

He shrugged. "I had a lot of baggage."

A smile played at my lips.

"So..." He leaned in even closer.

I took a deep breath, smiling at the scent I recognized.

"How have you been?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Really, John?"

His lips folded into a crooked smile. "What?"

"Oh I've been just fine." I made to throw my arms up in exasperation but was restricted by the chains.

"No need to be sassy."

"No need to scold me," I retorted.

"Jesus, Jeanine. It's been ten years. I've found you after ten years and you're going to sass me?"

"You left," I sneered.

He huffed, looking away. "You don't know anything about that," he muttered with a hard voice.

"We are not having this conversation."

He shrugged, frowning. "Fine. We're not."

My stomach churned with the old feelings of hate and hurt I thought I had extinguished a long time ago. "Why are you here?" I demanded.

"I had to see you," he replied with a rough voice.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Jeanine, you disappeared for ten years."

I nodded. "I know. That's what I meant to do."

"I couldn't find you even if I had the will to."

"Which you didn't."

"Stop it."

"Fine." I shrugged and looked away.

"Jeanine."

"What?" I snapped.

He leaned in again and I couldn't resist the temptation of looking at him again. "I can help you."

"Fat chance," I spat at him.

"Jeanine," he pleaded. "At least listen to my idea."

I stared at him, a blank look in my eyes.

"You could plead insanity."

"What?" I hissed.

He raised a hand to silence me. "You've been charged with murder."

I narrowed my eyes. "I know."

"If you plead insanity, we can negotiate a deal."

A deal. No matter how much I hated him right now, a deal was exactly what I needed.

I forced the thought of romance out my head. I couldn't allow myself to assume John's coming to me meant he cared. But what else could it mean? After ten years, he had hunted me down. What if he had been looking for me this whole time? I shook my head, hoping it would dispel my thoughts. I'd take his suggestion. Anything was better than prison.

***

"Yes. Here," John muttered, twisting his arm around so that he could reach his wallet in his back pocket. He paid the cab driver twenty percent extra for taking him to the "wrong side" of town. The back streets of DC looked somewhat like the modern version of slums one would find in period movies.

John shut the door behind him, breathing in shallow wisps of air in order to avoid the rancid smell. He rushed through the alley, stopping only to bang on the door at the end of the street. There was one knock from the other side of the door as a response.

"Stop," John stated in a clear voice.

There was the scratch of a chain being drawn back and the click of a lock switching back before the door swiped open. A tall man dressed in dark jeans, a black T-shirt and sweatshirt stood on the other side of the threshold.

"John?" he murmured, a bit surprised.

"Remember that IOU?" John demanded in a confident voice.

The man tilted his chin in way of an affirmative answer.

"It's about time for you to pay up."

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

Saved - Volume 2

Finished - Volume 3

Memoirs of a Retired Assassin (Trilogy Bundle)

***

Heat in the Kitchen

***

Synopsis

As the billionaire head of a major company, Ethan Richmond feels the weight of his enormous responsibilities crushing down on him, until he meets the one woman who can set him free by tying him up. Jocelyn Ricci is the beautiful and talented chef he hired to work in his kitchen, but she has a passion for more than just cooking and can see the stress that her handsome boss is under. When Jocelyn offers to introduce Ethan to the kinky world of bondage and domination sex games by playing the part of his Mistress, things in the kitchen really heat up! The steamy affair turns Ethan into a new man, but not everybody is happy about it and will do everything they can to ruin him. Will things get too hot for them or are they just getting warmed up?

***

Chapter One

"Oh no!" Jocelyn Ricci cried out in a panic. She rushed to the stove and lifted the pan off the burner, but it was too late. Black smoke billowed from the pan and the sauce inside was ruined.

"Damn!" she cursed in a hot-blooded rage and poured the sauce into the garbage disposal of the sink. As she watched the blackened liquid disappear down the drain, she felt her anger wash away along with it.

"Time to start again," she said with a sigh. Jocelyn had always been quick to anger, but her temper was also quick to cool. She returned to the giant fridge and began to pull out fresh ingredients. As she measured and poured, she paused to brush her bangs out of her eyes. She noticed for the first time that her long, raven black hair had fallen out of the tight bun she normally kept it swept into. She shook her head to allow the rest of her hair to fall free and it cascaded down to her waist in luscious waves of ebony.

"That's better." She smiled, and her green eyes sparkled with merriment. As a professional chef, she was used to keeping her hair pulled back and often wore a hairnet as an added precaution to keep her unruly mane from contaminating the food, but she wasn't working right now. This time, she was cooking simply for her own pleasure.

Sure, she was using her boss' kitchen, but it was late in the evening, and she was certain he didn't have any need of it. In all the months that she'd been cooking for him, she'd barely ever seen him; which was too bad, because he was sexy as hell. During their brief interactions, he had made her feel weak in the knees in a way few men ever had. She felt certain that he was just as attracted to her, but for some reason he backed away from the heat between them, instead of embracing it. A real waste of passion, in Jocelyn's opinion.

As far as she could tell, Ethan Richmond did nothing but work, from early morning till the middle of the night. He didn't seem to date, socialize or relax in any way. It made Jocelyn think that he must be terribly lonely. Having billions of dollars and tons of power was a poor substitute for human companionship and the touch of skin on skin. It's why she tried so hard to make him meals she knew he would enjoy and that would bring some fire into his life. Although she never got to see him eat, the meals she prepared for him were always gone the next day, so she assumed her plan worked and that he liked them.

Jocelyn knew that her employer was under a particular amount of stress lately. The newspapers were filled with stories of how Richmond stocks were plummeting and how the company needed to make a drastic change or risk being bought out by its competitor. It made her want to create something extra special for him; something that would not only fill his stomach and sustain his energy all day, but also nurture his spirit and satisfy his soul. Jocelyn hoped that her next recipe would be just what he needed.

***

At the age of thirty, Ethan Richmond thought there'd be more to his life than what it had become. He was proud of the business empire his grandfather had built up from nothing and his father had expanded into a global giant. More than anything, Ethan wanted to make them both proud, and he'd be damned if he was going to let the company fail or go under. He would do whatever it took to keep the company going, no matter how hard he had to work.

Ethan had spent his entire childhood preparing to take his place as the head of Richmond Enterprises. He'd gone to all the best schools and worked hard to implement innovative ideas. Unfortunately, there were many who thought he was trading on nepotism, and he had not had time to earn their respect before stock prices plummeted. It was going to take an even bigger effort on his part to repair the damages done to the company's reputation and get those stocks to rise. Now he understood why both his grandfather and his father had died at early ages of heart attacks, and he feared he was heading down that same road.

"You've got to find a way to relieve your stress," his doctor had told him just than morning, when he'd squeezed in a brief appointment between back-to-back meetings.

"I don't have time to take a vacation," Ethan had said to him, with an exasperated sigh. He had run his hands through his wavy brown hair, and thought that he could already feel it starting to thin. He knew his eyes were no longer vivid blue, but tired and dull. Ethan confessed to his doctor, "There are hundreds of thousands of people who work for Richmond Enterprises and all of them are relying on the decisions I make. I have to find a way to increase our value. If I make a wrong choice, it could cost them their jobs, and have devastating effects on their lives. It's why I have to keep working so hard, so I can make sure I'm making the right decisions and save my grandfather's company."

"I don't care how you do it, but you've got to find a way to reduce your stress," the doctor insisted. "If you don't, then you'll be dead and who will make the decisions for Richmond Enterprises then?"

They had been harsh words to hear, and Ethan had been unable to stop thinking about them all day. During all the rest of his meetings, he'd hardly heard a word anyone had said until finally he just gave up and decided to leave his office early. Well, early for him at any rate. Technically speaking, it was still hours after everyone else had gone home for the night.

He expected his house to be empty as usual when he drove up to it. Since the death of his grandfather, and then his parents, the mansion was basically deserted. Ethan had been an only child, and he had never married or had any children. It was something he regretted, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. He barely had time to get four hours sleep a night, let alone meet a woman.

A full staff still maintained the mansion during the day, but with Ethan gone at work all the time, there was really no need. The gardeners and maids were just more people whose jobs depended on the decisions he made, so he kept them on. The one person he probably couldn't live without was the chef he'd hired several months ago, Jocelyn Ricci. From the delicious taste of her cooking, he'd expected her to be some fat, old Italian man. He'd been surprised to discover that she was a twenty-four year old, beautiful woman with a saucy figure and gorgeous exotic features. He'd felt an immediate attraction to her, and when she spoke he was equally drawn in by her intelligence, wit, and humor. She was a lethal combination of all the things he'd ever wanted in a woman, and he knew he'd have to keep his distance from her or she would be a distraction from the business he so desperately needed to attend to.

As his car rolled up the long driveway, Ethan was surprised to see that the mansion wasn't dark and deserted this evening. Several lights were on in the western wing. Looking through the windows, Ethan saw the lone figure of a woman in the kitchen and knew instantly that it was Jocelyn. She moved gracefully from stove to sink to counter, as if performing an intricate dance. He knew he should turn away from the enchanting vision, after all he had so much work to do, but for some reason he couldn't. She was mesmerizing.

He forced himself to turn away, shut off the engine, and carried his briefcase and box of files into the house. No sooner had he entered the foyer, than the scents of delicious cooking filled his nostrils and the sounds of gentle humming filled his ears like the song of a Siren. Ethan set down his burdens by the door and recalled the words of his doctor, who insisted that he find a way to relax. Perhaps having a late night snack was just what the doctor had ordered. He decided that for once in his life, he would set work aside for a moment and taste the good things in life.

***

Chapter Two

"Yes, Mr. Colder, I had the maid fax you all of Mr. Richmond's files this morning," Jocelyn said impatiently. She hated taking calls related to her boss' business, especially when they involved that pushy Chester Colder. She unplugged the kitchen phone as soon as she'd hung up to insure he wouldn't disturb her again. Cooking was supposed to be a pleasant experience and he was anything but pleasant!

With the phone no longer a distraction, she got back to the business of perfecting her sauce. She began to hum merrily to herself while she stirred, carefully making sure the sauce didn't stick to the bottom of pan or over boil. It was an old song that her ancestors used to sing in pubs and it always put her in a playful mood. She often would hum it when she tried to create new dishes and found it gave her the inspiration and boldness she needed to blend flavors together in unexpected and pleasant ways.

Suddenly, she heard a thumping sound in the dining room, as if someone had set down something heavy. Jocelyn quit singing instantly and froze with fear, dropping her wooden spoon into the sauce pan. All the housekeeping staff had left the mansion hours ago, and she knew her employer never came home this early. With all the security systems installed in this place, how had someone managed to break in?

She suddenly regretted unplugging the phone as she tried to dial 911 and discovered it was dead. The cord was clear on the other side of the spacious kitchen and the intruder was approaching quickly. There was no way she'd be able to plug it back in to call for help before he could get to her. Jocelyn realized it was up to her to defend herself! Her eyes darted around the kitchen for something she could use to protect herself. She picked up the skillet next to her, but it was a light-weight aluminum one and wouldn't do much damage to an attacker. She put it down as quietly as she could.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that it was difficult to think. Suddenly, her eyes fell upon the cutting board on the counter just a few feet away. A large chopping knife rested next to a partially diced onion, the blade gleaming in the light. That was it! She needed to get that knife!

Suddenly, the door to the kitchen swung open and a large, muscular figure walked through it, hidden by shadows. Quickly, Jocelyn lunged forward and grabbed the knife. Her body surged with adrenaline as she whirled around to confront her attacker.

"Easy! It's just me!" a familiar male voice said. Jocelyn stopped short of stabbing him and stared in surprise and relief when she realized it was Ethan, her employer. Jocelyn dropped the knife and it clanked noisily against the marble floor. Her hands flew up to cover her cheeks, which were now bright pink with embarrassment.

"Mr. Richmond! I thought you were an intruder!" she said, flushing brightly.

"I believe you're the intruder. I live here," he teased gently and guided her to a chair, where she could sit and regain her composure. "What are you doing here at this hour of the night?"

"I wanted to use your kitchen to try some new variations on a sauce I'm creating for you. I thought you were working late with Mr. Colder and I could surprise you with it," Jocelyn said.

Ethan laughed. "You surprised me all right. I guess we're both workaholics; I can't keep out of the office and you can't keep away from the kitchen."

"I suppose," Jocelyn said, feeling that chemistry between them again. His laugh was so sexy, and he smelled so good. She needed to put some distance between them before she reached out and kissed him. She crossed the kitchen to the stove to distract herself with her sauce, but he followed her. "I guess I do spend almost as much time here in the kitchen as you spend at your office, but I wouldn't consider this work, it's more like play. This new sauce is pure pleasure; here, taste!"

Jocelyn dipped a spoon into the pan of sauce and shoved it into Ethan's mouth before he had time to object. She grinned with satisfaction as his eyes flew open wide and a smile spread across his lips. A dribble of sauce ran down his chin and she wiped it up with her finger and slid into his mouth, making him grin self-consciously.

"That really is delicious," he complimented her with a blush. He moved to dip his finger into the pan for a second helping, but she blocked his hand with a light smack of her wooden spoon.

"Naughty boy. Use your manners." She smiled sexily and gave him a plate of homemade sourdough bread to dip into the sauce instead.

"As you wish," he said with a charming smile and took the plate from her and sat down at the small kitchen table. She was so sexy, it drove him wild. He wished he could just take her into his arms and kiss her, but that would be inappropriate. He was a businessman. It was his duty to concentrate on his job and help his grandfather's company. He should finish his snack, get out of the kitchen, and get back to work as quickly as possible.

Ethan began to eat quickly, but without joy. Jocelyn noticed the change in him immediately and knew something was on his mind. As he ate, she poured him a glass of wine from the fridge that she knew would complement the antipasto perfectly and sat down next to him. "What's your rush all of a sudden?"

Ethan's shoulders visibly slumped, as if suddenly he remembered that he had the weight of the world crushing down upon him. "I have a lot of decisions to make before the board meeting on Friday. I really should get back to work."

"It's always easier to concentrate when you've eaten." Jocelyn refilled his wine glass, then pulled her homemade cheesecake from the fridge and cut him slice.

As she expected, the rich dessert loosened his tongue and Ethan poured all his worries out to Jocelyn as they sat together, eating and talking for hours. Ethan had never confided in a woman like this before, but there was something about Jocelyn that made him feel safe. She wasn't an executive out to garner corporate secrets or judge him in any way. She was someone who just wanted to lend a sympathetic ear, a true friend that he could really talk to. It was incredibly liberating to unburden himself in that way, and yet he still felt the weight of the world crushing against his chest. The pressure he'd put himself under was still unbearable and they both knew it.

"I know what you need to do," Jocelyn said lightly, as she downed the last of the wine. Her voice was thick and sultry with desire. She'd always been attracted to her handsome boss, but hearing him open his heart to her made him even more desirable than ever before. She understood instinctively that he wasn't the kind of man who shared such intimate secrets lightly, and this moment they were having tonight was something special. She wanted to share something special with him in return; she just hoped he liked what she had to offer. Her instincts told her that he would.

"How do you know what I need to do?" Ethan asked, raising his brow skeptically. His own voice was rather thick too, as his head swam with the influence of the alcohol and being so close to such a beautiful woman. Jocelyn was not only sexy, intelligent, and an excellent chef, but she had a warmth and compassion that nurtured his soul. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anyone before, and it crushed him that he had to keep away from her.

"I know, because I've been listening to you. The solution is simple. You need to give up complete control."

"Sure!" Ethan laughed loudly at what he assumed was a ridiculous joke.

"I'm serious," Jocelyn said, and he could tell from the stern look in her eyes that she meant it. He stopped laughing and stared at her, wondering what she meant. "You feel an enormous amount of pressure to make the right decisions all the time. The cure is simple. Give up control. Take a break to let your mind and body rejuvenate."

"And how exactly do I just stop making decisions?" Ethan smirked, thinking it was impossible, but Jocelyn knew it wasn't.

"Like this," Jocelyn said with a sultry purr and everything suddenly went black.

***

Chapter Three

Ethan reached his hands up to remove the dishtowel that had been tossed onto his head and was now covering his eyes, but Jocelyn put a gentle hand over his own.

"No, keep your eyes covered. I'm going to show you how to give up control, relax, and find true peace and happiness," she said softly.

"With a dishtowel on my head?" Ethan teased, but he left it there and placed his hands back onto his lap.

"Not just a dishtowel, but a blindfold," Jocelyn explained. She folded the towel and tied it in a knot behind his head, securing it over his eyes so he was submerged in darkness. "This will prevent you from knowing what's going on around you and attempting to manage everything."

"Blind people are still capable of doing almost anything a sighted person can do," Ethan said defiantly. Suddenly, Jocelyn grabbed him by the hand and he felt the sensation of her binding his wrist to the back of the chair with a plastic twist tie.

"What are you doing?" he tried to object, but it was too late. He was already bound to the chair by both his arms and unable to move. Combined with being unable to see, he suddenly felt uncomfortably vulnerable. "What is the meaning of this ridiculous game? Release me at once!"

"I'll release you if you truly want me to," Jocelyn said gently and Ethan knew in his heart that her words were sincere. "If you don't want to do this, all you have to do is say the safety word Hippopotamus and I'll let you go. However, I think if you let me keep going that you'll really like what I have to show you. Surrender your control. Let me guide you to a place of complete relaxation and satisfaction. You'll be glad you did."

Ethan paused, considering her words. He knew what he should do. He should say the safe word, get out of this kitchen and get back to work. He drew in his breath, ready to say the word to end this ridiculous game, when his curiosity got the better of him. What would happen if he didn't quit the game? What magical trick did Jocelyn have to help him find relief from all this pressure he was under? Would it work? He decided that he had to find out. Besides, she smelled incredible! Now that he couldn't see or move, he was beginning to rely on his other senses and for the first time he became aware of the intoxicating scent of her perfume. It was light, but definitely there; the sensuous aroma of feminine wildflowers.

"Okay," he acquiesced. "What happens next?"

"That's the point of the game; you don't get to know what happens next," Jocelyn purred; her voice was silky and sensuous. It gave Ethan an erection just hearing it and he suddenly felt self-conscious as he realized he had no way to adjust his trousers to hide his desire. He tried shifting in his chair, but it was no use. He could feel her standing incredibly close to him, and it made him start to sweat. He wondered if he'd made a mistake and wanted to escape back to his office.

"Do you know why I want you to give up your control?" Jocelyn asked.

Ethan shook his head. She began to caress his head, running her fingers through his hair and down his jaw line. It was a delightful feeling and he leaned into her touch. Then, on a whim, he gave her fingertips a timid kiss with his lips.

"Because, when you had control, you used it to deny yourself your true desires and feelings," Jocelyn said. "I've known that you wanted to kiss me since the moment we met, but you always turned away and fled from your natural instincts. You're already loosening up because you no longer feel pressured by your choices. I'm in control now and I'm making the decisions for you. I chose for you to finally taste what you've been hungry for."

Suddenly, Ethan felt the full force of Jocelyn's lips upon his own as she kissed him. He was startled at first, but quickly relaxed into the kiss, opening his mouth to her and her allowing her tongue entrance. She drank deeply of him and their tongued intertwined as they kissed for what seemed like an eternity.

"I knew you were hungry for that," Jocelyn said when at last they broke apart. "Now sample these; I know you're hungry for them too. I've seen you looking."

Blindly, Ethan opened his mouth, wondering what she had for him. When she inserted something warm and soft into his mouth it took him only a moment to realize it was the nipple of her breast. Eagerly he devoured her, covering her breast with kisses, lapping at her flesh with his tongue, and suckling noisily with his lips. His erection strained even harder against his trousers and his entire body tingled with sexual excitement. He could hear moans of pleasure from Jocelyn's lips as her breathing became more rapid and he could smell the delicate scent of her desire.

"We should make love now," he said and Jocelyn suddenly withdrew herself from his mouth and stepped away from the chair. Ethan felt instantly abandoned and yearned for her return.

"Surrender your desires and decisions to me." Jocelyn's harsh voice came from across the kitchen now. "You don't decide when we make love. In this game, I am your Mistress and you are my sex slave. I am the only one who makes decisions of any kind in this game. You decide nothing. Your only task is to wait for me to tell you what to do and to obey me."

The superiority of her tone aroused Ethan in an unexpected way. He wanted her to dominate him in this kinky game of desire. He wanted to obey her and to submit himself to her as her playful sex slave.

Jocelyn saw that her words had the desired effect as his erection became even more pronounced and nodded to herself. She had been right in guessing that he would be a suitable playmate for this game. Picking up a pair of butcher scissors, she said, "Do you want to continue the game? If you do, say 'Yes, Mistress' and swear to obey me. If not, then I'll end the game right now."

"Yes, Mistress. I swear to obey you." Ethan felt completely liberated by the words. He was suddenly free from all his burdens; the pressure to make all the decisions for everything, the fear of failing or making a mistake, and the frustration of being lonely and isolated. By surrendering himself to Jocelyn's will, he was suddenly free to simply enjoy whatever pleasures she granted him and something told him that they would be many.

"Good boy." Jocelyn gave him a condescending pat on the head. Then she used the butcher scissors to slowly cut away all his clothing. As his flesh was gradually exposed, inch by inch, Jocelyn admired his muscular body. She caressed him with her fingers, massaged him with her hands, and kissed him with her lips. When at last she cut away his underwear and his most sensitive organ became exposed, she was delighted at the size of him.

Ethan groaned loudly with pleasure as she made love to him with her mouth. She did things to him with her lips and tongue that he'd never felt before and the pleasure was so intense he feared he would explode.

"Stop, I'm getting too hot," he moaned and suddenly felt a painful smack on his thigh.

"Naughty boy!" Jocelyn chastised angrily. She spanked him repeatedly with hard slaps on his thigh, making Ethan's leg radiate with burning pain that blended with intense feelings of sexual pleasure. He'd never felt anything so incredible in all his life.

Jocelyn's own sexual excitement rose as she punished her slave. It made her nipples pucker and she felt moisture between her thighs as she made him groan with each slap of her palm. "I make the decisions! If I want you to orgasm, it is not your place to stop it. Now, I will not grant you my favors until you've earned the reward!"

"I'm sorry," Ethan apologized. Although he couldn't see it, Jocelyn was smiling happily. She knew that this was the best part of the game and she was thrilled to have the chance to share it with Ethan. She knew that he would gain as much pleasure from it as she would. Still, the game required her to sound stern and so she made her voice sound angry.

She cut off the plastic ties that bound Ethan's wrists, removed the blindfold from his eyes and ordered him to kneel on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor.

Ethan blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light and then rushed to do as he'd been told. As he knelt on the hard marble floor, he felt even more aroused. Curiosity over what would happen next blended with fear and sexual excitement over what punishments she might inflict on him. Ethan was so caught up in the emotions and thrills of the moment that he didn't even realize that for the first time in years he wasn't thinking about work or worrying about the company. He was utterly free and enjoying himself.

"Remove my clothes, slave," Jocelyn commanded forcefully.

Piece by piece, Ethan peeled off Jocelyn's clothes until she stood before him naked. He trembled with delight when she ordered him to lick, suck and caress her bare flesh, concentrating on her nipples and ending with the triangle of her sex.

"Make me orgasm!" she commanded and Ethan eagerly complied, working furiously with his tongue until he was able to make Jocelyn scream out in pleasure. When she was finished, she stroked his cheek. "Good boy. You've earned your reward."

Ethan hoped that meant she would allow him to enter her most sacred folds, but instead she pleasured him with her hands and mouth. He was so aroused that his orgasm came quickly and powerfully. She massaged him with her finger at that secret spot where she knew a man felt the most pleasure when touched, just between the scrotum and anus, right at the moment before his orgasm. It made the pleasure of his orgasm so intense he feared he might pass out and nearly did.

"Thank you, Mistress! That was incredible!" Ethan sighed gratefully as he slowly recovered from the powerful climax.

Jocelyn smiled brightly, her eyes shining with merriment. "Good boy. Now go upstairs and go straight to bed. No work; just sleep. If you're good, I'll reward you again soon."

"When can we play this again? Tomorrow?" Ethan asked, sounding like a child begging for a new toy.

Jocelyn grinned. "That's for me to decide. Now go be a good boy!"

"Yes, Mistress," Ethan said submissively. He kissed Jocelyn goodbye and walked upstairs to his suite. He climbed right into bed and fell asleep within minutes.

***

Chapter Four

The next day at work, Ethan Richmond felt like a new man. He was alert, confident, calm, brilliant, and innovative. The changes in his personality were evident to everyone around him, especially Chester Colder, his Vice President of Product Promotion.

"I don't know what you had for breakfast today, but I want some!" Chester joked and gave Ethan a hardy pat on the back as they rode the elevator from the board room to his executive suite.

"Just chalk it up to having an incredible chef," Ethan said. His eyes glimmered with mischief, as he alone understood the hidden meaning of the seemingly innocent comment, but Chester wasn't willing to be brushed off so easily.

"Seriously, though; where did you come up with the idea for that new marketing strategy? This will blow our competition Lewis Inc out of the water! You didn't steal this from anybody, did you?"

"No. It's really just because I finally got some rest and was able to think. Releasing my stress really did open my mind," Ethan said with a laugh.

All the rest of the day the two men worked side-by-side, working out the details of how to carry out the new marketing strategy. It was exhausting work, and Chester knew they'd be at it until the small hours of the morning.

"I just told my assistant to order us in some dinner for tonight. She'll make sure it's delivered before she leaves for the night, along with an extra pot of coffee," Chester said as he closed the window blinds on the setting sun to block out the blinding rays.

"No need for that," Ethan said casually as he logged off his computer and began to put files away into his briefcase. "We won't be working late tonight. Tell her to cancel the order and you can both go home and enjoy an evening with your families for a change."

"What?" Chester was stunned and had to forcibly close his open jaw with his hand. "You always work late into the night. I figured tonight would be no exception, especially with all the planning we have to do for the new marketing campaign."

"Relax," Ethan said, snapping shut his briefcase and putting on his jacket. "There will be plenty of time to work on this tomorrow during office hours. The evenings are for relaxing and rejuvenating your mind and body. I have to get home; my chef has something special waiting for me."

Indeed she did. When Ethan got home to Richmond Mansion, Jocelyn was waiting for him, wearing nothing but an apron and carrying a sturdy wire whisk. Their lovemaking that night was even more incredible than the night before and fulfilled her just as much as it did him. After that, they made a point of playing together as often as possible, at least several nights a week and of course every weekend.

His time spent with Jocelyn gave Ethan a new outlook on what had once been a dreary existence. She released him from his burdens by taking him into a fantasy world where she was his Mistress and he was her adoring and devoted sex slave. It made her feel happy and content too, giving her an outlet for her creativity, passion, and inner fire. She didn't have to pretend to be someone less than who she was with Ethan and could express her dominant personality freely. The game was good for them both and as they continued to play it, they both enjoyed it and each other more and more.

When Ethan was naughty, Jocelyn punished him by spanking him with wooden spoons, whipping him with wire whisks, or torturing him by putting ice cubes against his nipples or throbbing member. Each new form of punishment brought them both to new heights of pleasure and made them yearn for more.

When Ethan was good, the rewards Jocelyn gave him were even better than the playful punishments. She lavished him with the expert touch of her hands, fingers, lips and tongue, bringing him physical pleasures far beyond anything he'd ever thought possible. In return, he obeyed her every command eagerly and devoted himself whole-heartedly to satisfying her sexual needs. The sweetest satisfaction came when they climaxed together, each of them crying out in ecstasy. It was a relationship of mutual respect and enjoyment and they were both thriving in it.

"I don't know how I ever survived without you," Ethan said to Jocelyn, as she cuddled against him one evening, softly scratching her fingernails against his bare chest.

"Good," Jocelyn teased. "That means you'll remain my devoted slave for as long as I want."

Ethan longed to wrap his arms around her and strained his wrists against the handcuffs that kept him bound to the headboard of his king-sized bed. Jocelyn gave his nipples a playful pinch to stop his squirming and he yelped at the sudden sharp pain. Then she kissed him on the lips, slow and long to ease away the pain.

"Be a good boy and lie still" she said to him in an authoritative voice.

"Yes, Mistress," Ethan said submissively. He closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure as she stroked his manhood and brought him to hardness. Then he moaned aloud as she mounted him, inserting him deeply into her wet folds. She commanded him to stroke within her and he moved his hips obediently to the pace she demanded.

"Good. Now suck my nipples," Jocelyn insisted. She held her breast to his mouth and he eagerly complied. Her nipples hardened into nubs as he sucked them and the pace of their gyrations quickened.

"I'm going to climax," Ethan forewarned and Jocelyn withdrew herself from him before it was too late. She left him to cool off, leaving him helplessly bound to the bed. When she returned, she showed her captive that she was holding a bottle of cooking oil from the kitchen in one hand and a lit candle in the other.

She straddled him at the waist and he groaned with pleasure to feel his manhood enter into her moist folds again, but this time she ordered him to lie perfectly still and he had to force himself not the thrust within her. Then she poured some of the cooking oil onto his chest and massaged it all over his muscular torso.

"The oil will keep the wax from sticking to your skin, but this will still burn a little," she warned. Lifting the candle high, Jocelyn let a small dribble of hot melted wax pour from the candle. As it fell the distance to his chest, it was able to cool slightly, but it still sizzled and burned when it came in contact with his skin.

Ethan grit his teeth and a low grunt of pain escaped his lips, but it wasn't as bad as he had feared. Still, the momentary flash of hot pain caused his muscles to involuntarily spasm and his hips bucked, forcing his member to thrust within Jocelyn. The feel of it was incredibly erotic and pleasurable to them both.

Jocelyn repeated the action, gently and carefully pouring small dribbles of melted wax upon his torso and delighting in the physical reaction it caused. Soon, the activity had them both so aroused; she simply set the candle down on the nightstand and ordered Ethan to make love to her with unhindered passion.

She released his wrists from the cuffs that bound him to the headboard and immediately he wrapped his arms around her and made love to her with all the fire he felt in his heart. She met him, thrust for thrust. She clung to him and they both cried out in delirious ecstasy as they climaxed together.

When at last they had finished, they collapsed on top of the blankets together and simply held each other close.

"I love you, Jocelyn," Ethan said softly. They both knew it was the first time he had ever said those words to a woman.

"I love you too," Jocelyn confessed. She hadn't thought it would have been possible to open her heart again after the last man had broken her heart. It's why she enjoyed the emotional distance the sex game had given her, but there was something special about Ethan that had broken through her defenses and allowed her to love again.

"Move in with me?" he asked, his eyes shimmering with hope and excitement. "Let me take care of you night and day. You'll never have to cook or clean. You can have every luxury money can buy. Say you will."

Jocelyn shook her head sadly and Ethan felt his heart drop.

"Why not? What use is it for me to have billions of dollars and be the head of a great corporation if I have to live alone all my life?"

"I'm sorry, Ethan, but it's just not me. I can't move into your mansion and let you support me in exchange for sex. I'd feel like a whore."

"It's not like that," Ethan said. "I love you and respect you. I just want to be near you all the time."

"I know, but I value my independence too much. Let's keep our relationship the way it is. I love visiting you several nights a week and on weekends, but I love being able to go home to my own apartment and know that I'm the one who made my life a success. I worked hard to become a chef and pay my own bills. I'm not going to throw that all away for some guy, even one as handsome, sexy, and wonderful as you. These past six weeks have been perfect; please don't ask me to change things."

Ethan could see in her eyes how important it was to her, and he loved her enough to put his own wants aside. Perhaps over time she would change her mind, and he was willing to wait for her to feel right about it. After all, he loved her. He nodded in understanding, too choked up with emotion to speak. Jocelyn knew that Ethan was making a great sacrifice for her by not asking her to sacrifice for him, and it made her love him all the more.

"How about a compromise?" Jocelyn suggested and Ethan instantly perked up. "Why don't we take a vacation together? Rent someplace for a week and I'll stay there with you. We can play house for five whole days and when the vacation is over I get to go back to my apartment and we go back to the way things are now."

Ethan was positively beaming with happiness at the idea. He kissed her hand and said playfully, "As you wish, Mistress."

***

Chapter Five

"You can't leave now!" Chester Colder shouted. All the secretaries looked up from their desks at the sound and the security guard posted by the elevator changed his stance to one of alert.

Ethan signaled at the guard that everything was okay and gave a meaningful glare at the secretaries, causing them all to return to their work quickly. Ethan closed the door to Chester's office and sat down in the chair across from his desk.

"I'm only going to be gone for a week. You'll be just fine," Ethan said calmly.

Chester still stood on the opposite side of the desk with his fists clenched and his face red. Forcing himself to regain his composure, Chester heaved a great sigh and sat down heavily in his padded chair. "How can you go on a vacation now, when we've just launched the new marketing strategy?" Chester asked with desperation. "A strategy you designed, I might add."

"That's what makes this the perfect time," Ethan said calmly. "We've all been working really hard on the marketing campaign. If it's as big a success as I'm expecting, our business is going to double and we'll all be working twice as hard. If I'm going to take a vacation, I'd better do it now."

"Ha!" Chester scoffed. "You haven't been working hard; you've been hardly working! You've left the office early almost every night, and you never come in on weekends any more. It's like you're an entirely different person!"

"I thank you for the compliment and urge you to follow my example. I'm not leaving earlier than the rest of the staff; I'm just not staying late and grinding myself to the bone anymore. You should follow my example and take more time for yourself too. It will do you a world of good. I've never felt more productive or fulfilled. I'm taking this vacation, Chester, and there's nothing in this world that could keep me from it."

Ethan left Chester's office with a spring in his step and headed straight for the airport, where Jocelyn was waiting for him, with her suitcase in her hand.

"So, where's my airline ticket?" Jocelyn held out her hand expectantly, but Ethan just chuckled softly.

"You don't need a ticket; we're not flying on a commercial flight," he explained. "We're taking my private jet."'

"And where are we going?" Jocelyn asked, trying not to look impressed but failing.

"I own a stretch of beach on a little island near here. There's sandy beaches, tropical jungles, gorgeous waterfalls, and a little cabin built just for two. You'll love it!"

"You own your own tropical island?" Jocelyn couldn't hold back her surprise and excitement any longer.

"Not the whole island, just a few hundred acres of one. I wanted it to be enough to keep all commercialism away so we felt like we were on our own private island together."

"Well, it sounds like you succeeded!" Jocelyn said with a huge smile.

"Just wait till you actually see it!" Ethan guided her onto the private jet and the pilot took them across the ocean to the tiny island airport. From there, they took a helicopter to Ethan's personal landing pad behind the cabin.

"You call this a cabin built for two?" Jocelyn exclaimed. The massive ranch house was two stories tall, spacious and elegant. While porters carried their luggage inside and put it away for them, Ethan took Jocelyn on a tour of the estate, complete with a gourmet kitchen stocked just for her.

"It's positively breathtaking!" Jocelyn gasped.

"I was thinking the same thing," Ethan said, but he was looking deep into Jocelyn's green eyes when he said it, and she knew he was talking about her and nothing else. He kissed her gently on the lips. "When can we play?"

Jocelyn looked around for the servants and porters and Ethan explained that they had already been flown away by the helicopter pilot. "We're completely alone, stranded on this island until the helicopter comes back for us five days from now."

"In that case, we can play right now." Jocelyn grinned and Ethan felt his heart leap with joy and anticipation. She said sternly, "This is my private island and you are my slave who will attend to my every need. Strip for me! I want my slave to be naked!"

"As you wish, Mistress," Ethan said submissively, grinning widely. This was just the vacation he was hoping for, one that took him out of the world of business and into the fantasy world they had created together. Obediently, he removed his clothing, slowly and seductively.

Jocelyn felt a thrill of sexual excitement as she watched him and began to come up with creative ways they could play together. This was the vacation she always wanted too, not just because of the luxurious surroundings and kinky sex, but because of the man she was sharing it with. She didn't want to admit it yet, but she could very easily see herself living with Ethan, not just as his girlfriend but as his wife.

"Good boy," she praised, when he was finished stripping. "Now, remove my clothing, but do not touch my flesh with your hands. You haven't earned that privilege yet."

Playfully, Ethan removed her clothing, allowing himself to delight her bare skin with everything except his hands. He rubbed his cheek against her stomach, kissed her nipples with his lips, and lapped at the folds of her sex with his long tongue. Not once, however, did he disobey by touching her with his hands.

"Well done, slave," she complimented, when at last, she was naked. "Now, I need a bath after that long plane ride here. Bathe me."

Ethan knew the perfect place to bathe his Mistress. There was a natural hot spring pool near the cabin, where hot water bubbled from the earth. Nearby was a waterfall of cool river water, giving bathers their choice of hot or cold water to soak in.

He carried Jocelyn to the pools and lovingly massaged her back with a soft cloth as she soaked in the soothing water. After a while she gave him a massage of his own, rubbing his private organ until it was rigid and ready to explode. Then she commanded him to make love to her in the rippling waters until they both orgasmed together.

Later that day, they made love again in the cabin, right in the middle of the living room floor and then again that night, in the luxurious bedroom, where she shackled Ethan to the headboard and he eagerly licked her folds until she orgasmed. Then she allowed him to enter her and they thrust passionately together until she climaxed yet again and clung to him while his body shuddered with the ecstasy of his own orgasm.

"This is the perfect vacation," he said softly, as he stroked her long, dark hair and she cuddled him in the darkness. Jocelyn agreed whole-heartedly and they drifted off to sleep together.

***

There was one person, however, who was not having a perfect time during their vacation; Chester Colder.

"What do you mean he can't be contacted?" Chester shouted out hysterically into the phone. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I know Mr. Richmond is on vacation at his island retreat, but surely there must be a way to contact him in an emergency!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Richmond cannot be reached until he returns in four more days. Please contact the Vice President of Richmond Enterprises with any issues until then," his private answering service responded coldly.

"Fine!" Chester shouted, as he prepared to slam down the phone. "In four more days Lewis Inc. will have shut us down and there won't be a Richmond Enterprises for him to come back to!"

***

Chapter Six

"That was the perfect vacation," Jocelyn sighed with a smile. The helicopter had picked them up again after five wonderful days and nights of perfect bliss. Now they were seated on Ethan's private jet and flying above the clouds, back to their normal lives.

"Are you sure you don't want to move in with me? Life could be like that for you every day," Ethan teased, but there was an element of truth in his words too. He really did want Jocelyn to move into his mansion with him so he could be with her every day.

"We already discussed this. Don't ruin things by pushing me," Jocelyn said hotly. She could feel her temper beginning to rise and was eager to end the conversation before she said something they'd both regret. She picked up the newspaper that had been placed on the console between their seats and opened with a flare to show that the subject was closed. She didn't really intend to read the paper but the top story in the business section caught her attention.

"Ethan, look at this!" she said with alarm.

Ethan took the paper from her and read the headline. Richmond Enterprises CEO Ethan Richmond Suspected of Industrial Espionage and Theft.

"What does it mean? What are they talking about?" Jocelyn asked with true concern as they read the article together.

Ethan crumpled the paper and threw it onto the floor. He turned to Jocelyn. "It means they think I stole my marketing strategy from my competitors. Lewis Inc. has files documenting the details of my strategy going back months. I didn't develop my strategy until six weeks ago, so it's only logical to say I stole my ideas from them."

"Why wouldn't everyone assume that you both just happened to develop the same idea? I know you're not a thief, so it must be a coincidence," Jocelyn said, stroking his arm in futile attempt to comfort him.

"If it was the same general strategy, sure; but there's more to it than that. We both had the exact same campaign, in every single detail. The same marketing slogan, the same materials, even the same artwork. This is no coincidence, this is industrial espionage!"

"Who could have done such a thing?" Jocelyn asked, but a memory flashed in her mind of sending copies of all Ethan's work to someone, and it was someone she had always had a bad feeling about. Something told her to listen to her intuition; it had never let her down before and she'd come to trust it.

"I don't know who could have done this, but if we don't find out, I'm ruined," Ethan said, looking heartbroken. "I may have to shut down my grandfather's company! Unethical business practices like this can destroy a company's reputation so no one will want to work with us or buy from us. I can't believe this has happened!"

"What if you get a full confession from the person who did it, proving that they were intentionally trying to ruin you and that you had nothing to do with it?"

"Well, that would save me and the company, but that would be a miracle. The odds of that happening are nearly impossible."

"You said that about finding happiness too." Jocelyn winked at him. "When we land, I need a car to take me straight to the mansion so I can get cooking. I have a special meal to prepare for a very special person."

"You know who did this?" Ethan asked in surprise.

"I believe I do, but I need to find out for sure. If he can't handle the heat, he'll be sure to want to get out of the kitchen. Go to the authorities and tell them to be ready to receive the confession. I'll do all the rest."

***

Chester Colder was in the middle of a board meeting when his secretary announced that their lunch delivery had arrived.

"Send them in," he said absently. A gorgeous young woman entered the meeting, wearing a simple white uniform, with her black hair pulled back into a bun and covered with a hairnet. She smiled as she passed the food containers and beverages around to all the members of the board, ending with Chester. Then she stood by his side with a patient expression, as if waiting for something.

"My secretary will pay you," Chester said after it became apparent that she wasn't going to leave.

"She's out of petty cash and told me to get it from you," Jocelyn said pleasantly and handed him a bill.

Chester flushed angrily. He was anxious to get back to the board meeting, where they were moments away from declaring Ethan Richmond unfit to act as CEO and Chester planned to make his bid to take over the role. It was going to be his shining moment.

"Fine, let me see what kind of cash I have on me!" he blustered. He reached into pocket and pulled out his wallet. As he counted out a wad of money, Jocelyn reached forward and pulled out a tiny piece of paper that was poking out of the edge.

"What's this?" she asked innocently. She opened the paper and read it aloud. It was a phone number followed by a series of alphabet letters. "What does all that mean?"

"Give me that!" Chester snatched the paper away from her hands and shoved it back into his wallet, but it was too late. The damage had been done. One of the board members recognized the information on the paper.

"That's the private phone number for Edward Lewis, the grandson of the CEO of Lewis Inc. I know because he used to call me all the time, trying to get information he could use to blackmail Mr. Richmond! I had the number blocked from my phone, but I'll never forget it. That snake would do anything to shut down this company!" one of the executives said.

Another spoke up from the other end of the table. "The letters after the phone number weren't the initials E.L., though. What were they?"

Jocelyn was happy to volunteer. "They were C. L. E. A. R."

Chester was furious with rage and waving frantically for the office security guards to come and haul away the fake delivery girl. She was ruining everything!

"I know that code!" the security guard said as he arrived and heard the discussion. "It's a code we use to override the lock for Mr. Richmond's office in an emergency!" The guard turned on Chester. "You're the only other person to have that code. You gave access to someone at Lewis Inc and they used the marketing materials in his office to set him up!"

"No, it wasn't me!" Chester cried out. His throat became dry as he squeaked, "I'm being set up! Probably by Mr. Richmond! He wants me to take the fall for his crime!"

Chester grabbed the drink Jocelyn had placed in front of him and gulped noisily. He was so nervous he could hardly swallow. No, it wasn't nerves making him unable to swallow, his throat was on fire! What had been in that drink? What had she done to him?

Chester clutched at his throat and his eyes grew wide with fear. He turned to Jocelyn and saw the look of merriment on her face and knew she had poisoned him. He turned to the board members for help, but they only glared at him unsympathetically. They knew he was the guilty one and that he had tried to set up Ethan Richmond.

"Okay, I confess!" Chester wheezed, barely able to get the words out. "It was me. I'll sign a full confession and resign my position! Now give me the antidote! Don't let me die!"

"You're not dying; it's just Habanero pepper. I'm glad to hear you're willing to clear Ethan's name though. It was his marketing strategy all along. I was with him when he came up with it," Jocelyn said, beaming with pride for her man.

Just then Ethan stepped into the room, with a squad of security guards who hauled Chester away. Jocelyn went with them to file a report about all the times Chester had called the house and asked her to send him secret documents. Ethan took over the board meeting and they came up with a solid plan for handling the scandal that was sure to follow about the Richmond executive who tried to frame the CEO of the company and sold marketing plans to Lewis Inc.

"Over time this scandal will pass, but my grandfather's company will continue to thrive," Ethan said to applause by the board members.

***

Chapter Seven

That night, Ethan went home feeling utterly exhausted but elated. It had been a difficult but successful day. He walked tiredly up to his bedroom suite and was surprised to find Jocelyn there, draped across his bed wearing nothing but a black lace teddy.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a tone of happy surprise. "I thought you intended to return to your apartment after our vacation."

"I did, but I heard you were a particularly good boy today." Jocelyn smiled. "Come here and let me reward you."

Ethan leapt onto the bed and scooped Jocelyn into his arms, making her giggle. He kissed her neck, nuzzling her where it tickled, just so he could hear her beautiful laugh.

"Stop it!" She slapped at him playfully, unable to stop laughing as he kept tickling her.

Suddenly, she grabbed him by the wrist and twisted his arm painfully behind his back. "Now you're being a naughty boy. I told you stop and you disobeyed me. Now you have to be punished."

The tone of her voice was tough, but it filled them both with happy anticipation. Time to play their favorite game once more!

"Kneel on your hands and knees!" Jocelyn commanded forcefully. The act of dominating the man she loved made tingles of sexual excitement ripple through her body. Her nipples became taut and her sex grew moist.

Ethan felt thrills of erotic pleasure as he took the position and his member grew hard in anticipation of the punishment to come.

Jocelyn produced a wooden chopping board from the kitchen that had a long handle, and used it like a paddle to spank Ethan with. Every smack across his buttocks sent thrills of pleasure through them both and made them desire each other more than ever before.

When she had punished him enough, the rewards came and lasted for hours as they kissed every inch of each other with soft, sultry workings of their mouths, lips, and tongues. It was as if they were drinking each other in, sip by sip, savoring the flavor of each other's bodies. All the while, Jocelyn used a length of soft rope to bind Ethan into new and exciting positions on the bed. In the end, he orgasmed three times throughout the night, and she climaxed over twice as many. It was the most incredible and satisfying night of their lives.

It's too bad they never heard the click of the camera or bothered to check the bedroom for hidden recording devices.

"My accusations of theft and industrial espionage didn't work, but blackmail surely will," Edward Lewis snickered to himself as he put the film safely in his pocket. As he skulked away, he smiled with satisfaction. "This isn't over yet."

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

Turning up the Heat - Volume 2

Into the Fire - Volume 3

Perfect Dish - Volume 4

Cooking Up Passion: Books 1-4 (4-Book Bundle)

***

Negociation

***

Synopsis

Lucy Smith is the only child of Charles and Abigail Smith. After her father's untimely passing, she is left as the owner of the third largest shipping company in the world. Lucy puts in a proposal that would make her father's company the second largest in the world. She has one small problem; her father sold 10% of the company to Jake Logan, the most gorgeous man Lucy has ever seen, but also the most hard-headed and stubborn. Lucy needs his signature to complete what will be the company's largest shipment to date.

Jake Logan knew the moment he laid eyes on Lucy Smith that she was the woman he had waited his whole life for. It was love at first sight. Jake has one hurdle to overcome in making Lucy his wife: Lucy herself. She has sworn off relationships and Jake is bound and determined to make her see she can have both; a successful marriage as well as a successful and thriving business.

***

Lucy hung up the phone with her largest import contractor. She was about to close her largest import shipment to date, a huge bonus in a male-dominated world, which assured continued respect from others in the industry.

It had not been an easy road, having to take over the business her grandfather had started, which was left to her at the unexpected death of her father, Charles Smith, at the age of 68. She had known this day would come, and her father had made sure she was as ready as she would ever be, but she had always thought he would be here to guide her as needed, calling from the golf course or the country club to check in and offer advice.

But fate offered a different hand. Charles succumbed to a massive heart attack after a weekend of golf with his buddies, leaving Lucy large and in charge with one fell swoop of the pen. So far she had succeeded. She hoped her father was looking down on her and was as proud of her as she knew he would be. He was unlike any other man; he always believed in her and never doubted her for one second.

That was probably why she had yet to marry; big shoes to fill for one man. She wanted a man just like her father, and he was one of a kind. It would be difficult to find someone who could put up with her and her hours; she was used to being in control, and she liked it that way. A nice long life as a bachelorette suited her just fine and she saw no reason to think otherwise.

She owned the third largest import/export company in the world and had billions to go along with that. What could a man offer her that she couldn't get with a fun-filled night and a "don't call me, I'll call you" line at the end? After all, men do it, and this was an equal society. At thirty-seven, she was old enough to take charge of her love life, if she had one.

Despite her money, most men of stature wanted the trophy wife by their side. Someone blonde and slim, petite, pretty to look at, but quiet. This did not describe Lucy at all; she was tall, almost six foot, definitely what one would consider BBW: a big, beautiful, woman. Yes, she had "extra" curves on her curves, but she did not care; when she spoke, she commanded, and got, the attention of all in the room. If the men did not like her for her brains, she did not need them anyhow. She was a tigress, ready to pounce and to dominate, which she did quite well. And she knew she would dominate this new deal and become the second largest shipping company in the world, come hell or high water, and no one was going to stand in her way.

***

Jake Logan pulled the large cargo ship into the dock and begun the process of unloading the shipping containers. He loved the excitement that came with crossing the ocean with his hull and deck full, only to pull in safe and sound to the port. He loved the sea and all it had to offer, he even joked he had "land sickness". He only felt comfortable and at home at the helm of a large ship, which was probably why he had not married yet, to the dissatisfaction of his nagging mother.

He loved her dearly, yet every call home ended in, "When am I going to get any grandchildren from you?"

He laughed her off, yet inside he was yearning to settle down and have kids. Problem was, people did not honor or respect marriage very much anymore. When he married, it would be for good. One woman to share forever with. Jake was waiting for that one special woman; she was out there, somewhere, waiting to find him. She would be extraordinary and be able to endure all his quirks and sea adventures.

He could well afford a beautiful home for his family now. He had saved his whole life and his mentor, Charles Smith, had sold him ten percent of the Smith Shipping at a much lower price than it was worth.

Chuck. How he missed him.

Chuck had been his best friend and had taught him everything he knew about the business. Chuck had made him a deck hand at the age of twenty-one and had kept him under his wing. He really was more of a father than his own father had ever been. Charles had paid for his college education and assured that he not only knew how to run a ship, but also the business end of the company.

He cleaned up well and could sit at the head of any negotiation table and hold his own; but the sea called his name, and he answered back. That didn't leave much time for love, but Jake was patient. He knew the right woman would be worth it.

***

Lucy walked through the front door of her penthouse and kicked off her heals. She considered her options for dinner and realized, as usual, she had no time and also no one to cook for. Most people did not know she also had a degree in cooking, which was her private passion; but she saw no reason to go all gung-ho for just herself, plus she had too much work to do if she wanted to land this contract. This deal would set in stone her place in this jungle called a corporation. She would be known worldwide in her field as a force to be reckoned with, and being the only female member of the Grand Alliance, a vessel consortium formed to aid in scheduling all shipping rotations and schedules, she needed all the boosting she could get.

Lucy went into her office after ordering from the local Chinese restaurant and started to work on her proposal. She had one week to complete the proposal, have it approved by her legal department as well as signed off by the silent partner in the business.

She had wondered about this since being told of the business decision, although she would never question her father's plans, seeing as he had never been wrong in business before, yet this stumped her.

She could never have envisioned any of the Smith Shipping Corp being in anyone's hands but a Smith. But it was, and she would abide by her father's wishes to include this person in any new contracts. One thing was for sure, she needed to secure the best captain the industry had to offer for this deal, even if it meant to hire from outside. As soon as she finished this proposal, she would make some calls and find that person and pray to God he was willing to take on this responsibility.

He would be taking command of the largest cargo ship ever built, The Abigail, which had been named after her beloved mother, who had died when she was ten. Charles Smith never married again; he had said no one could compare to her beauty or come close to stealing his heart and soul like Abigail did. Maybe this was why Lucy had not married yet, secretly she yearned for a love so pure, so whole, you knew that person would never love another. She would wait if she had to; she was content, and she would know him when she found him. He would be as tall and handsome as her father, strong and able bodied and commanding to boot.

As she looked out her window, she couldn't help but wonder where he was out there in the world, and what he was doing at that moment.

***

Jake sat looking out his window. He was pondering the meeting in the morning with his attorney, Landon Hall. Landon had called him that very evening and informed him that a business proposal from Smith Shipping to a major importer would be on his desk by ten tonight for review and signature. Landon had briefed him somewhat on what he knew of the proposition and Jake was worried.

This deal would be the largest haul in the company's history and he hoped Ms. Smith knew what she was doing. He would not take lightly the ruination of all that Charles and his father had built, family or not. Jake was mulling this over in his mind; he would look this proposal over with a fine-tooth comb. Charles had left him more leeway on contracts than ten percent would normally allow an investor, but Charles knew his strengths, and what he could offer this company, and he was never going to do anything that would diminish all that Charles had bestowed on him.

Better yet, he thought it best to make sure Ms. Smith was at this meeting as well. He always liked to look someone in the eyes when asking or answering questions, Jake felt the eyes were the windows to the soul. He would know exactly what kind of businesswoman he was dealing with the moment he shook her hand, and Jake hoped she was ready for him.

***

Lucy was up at the crack of dawn, going back over the proposal to make sure it was cut and dry. Mr. Hall had called back last evening and requested her presence at the meeting. She was to arrive at 10:30 this morning, giving time for him to go over the proposal with the investor.

This suited her fine, as she was spending all morning searching high and low for the best captain in the industry. This was proving to be no small venture, and she was running out of time. She would have to leave after this call, if she was going to make the meeting on time.

Oh well, it's not like she had to have a name today. She would resume her search at the office after lunch. Right now she had a meeting to attend and a proposal she needed signed, sealed, and delivered.

***

Jake had combed over the proposal not once, not twice, but three times. He could honestly say he was very impressed with Ms. Smith's business savvy. This proposal was as tight as they can get and provided very well in protecting all sides as well as providing a bid that was both acceptable in terms of profit for the company as well as making this deal comfortable on the pockets of the importer. Jake actually felt the company had a high probability of winning this bid, and he was going to do all he could to insure its success, and he had only one way to do that. I am going to captain the barge myself, or not sign off on the deal.

***

Lucy exited the parking garage of the Century Center and entered the elevator to go to the fourth floor. She checked her business suite as she exited the elevators, squaring her shoulders and preparing to do all she needed to insure a signature on this package. She entered the office and introduced herself to the secretary and took the seat that was closest to Mr. Hall's office.

After a few minutes, she was called into the office. She entered and spoke briefly with Mr. Hall before the door opened behind her; she pasted a smile on her face and prepare herself to meet the person she needed to complete this deal. She turned around to find the most beautiful man she had ever seen smiling back at her, and her heart dropped to her knees.

Jake braced himself for a small war of the wills that would, of course, end in his victory. He was not prepared for the reaction that seeing Ms. Smith had on him. He lost all thought and felt a shiver from the top of his head to the souls of his feet when his hand touched hers, and a cold chill where her touch had been when he let go. He felt like he was home in her presence and knew at that moment that this beautiful woman, all five-foot eleven, black-haired, blue-eyed wonder of her, with all her beautiful curves was going to be his wife, come hell or high water.

He gave a small chuckle. Charles' plan had at that moment become clear, that little rascal. God bless him. He knew he was not selling off part of the family business. He knew the 10% of the company he sold Jake would one day be back into the family again.

Landon Hall escorted both parties to the inner office to go over the proposal and his clients offer for closure on his end. "Ms. Smith, as you know, I represent Mr. Logan's business dealings. Mr. Logan and I have spent a great part of the morning going over your proposal and I do have to say, Ms. Smith, Mr. Logan and I agree we are most impressed with the proposal you have drafted and see no room for change or improvement. I do not think that even I could have done a better job with this proposal; I can see your father has left his company in very capable hands."

"Thank you, Mr. Hall and Mr. Logan. You are correct that my father has well prepared me for the day I would assume the head of the table in my family's business. Mr. Logan can rest assured that I will continue to uphold my family's success and position in this industry that we have spent years building. Mr. Logan has no worry about his stake in the business as long as I sit at the head of the table."

As she spoke, Jake could not help but be in awe of her, the perfect shape of her nose, her strong set jaw, and her beautiful full lips that begged to be ravished by him till she pleaded for mercy, and they would be. Jake always had gotten exactly what he wanted when he set his mind to it. And as he listened to her speak, her voice as warm as honey, he had a vision of her.

She would be all laid out on his bed begging him to stop as he kissed her all over, that silky voice calling out his name in the heat of the moment, begging him for mercy, for which he would show none as he ravished every inch of her.

"Jake!"

It took him a moment to realize that Landon was calling his name.

"Sorry," Jake said.

"Well," Landon stated, "I was just telling Ms. Smith that you had one small provision before you signed the contract; would you like to explain it to her?"

Lucy swung her chair around to look him fully in the eyes, instantly regretting it. Lucy usually dominated a meeting; in fact she usually commanded attention and had others feeling as if they were the small ones in the room. But this was not the case with Jake Logan; in fact he made her feel like a second seat. What was it about him that made her feel as if she was here to listen? Yes he was absolutely the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. Yes, he had the most gorgeous sea-green eyes she had ever seen and not an ounce of fat on him, unlike her. She was what they considered chubby. A man like Jake would never be interested in a chunky woman, ever. He probably had a string of blonde size-zero bimbos at his beck and call. Not that she cared. She had no time for him, or any man for that matter! She was thinking of how his voice could warm her on a cold winter night when her brain finally caught up to exactly what it was he was stating, and at that moment she recoiled.

"What? Did I just hear you say that you want to be the captain for this shipment, Mr. Logan? And what type of credentials do you have? Do you realize I am staking my family's name on this? Everything my family has spent their lives building since the end of World War II? Sir, I mean no disrespect; I do know my father knew you better than I or he would not have sold part of the business to you. But you must understand, Mr. Logan, I do not know you, or anything about you! I have seven days to research and find a captain and I do not have time for wannabe captains. I do not see how you could possibly fill this contract, Mr. Logan. I think it would serve the company better if I found a more suitable captain. I hope you understand."

Jake pondered this for a moment, trying to use this outcome from every angle. "Ms. Smith, I agree, you do not know me yet, but I cannot help think this is going to change very quickly. Yes, your father knew me as well as any person on this earth and I can assure you that if he were here right now, I would be the first person he called for this shipment. Now, as for my credentials and experience, I will explain them to you over dinner tonight."

"What?" Lucy had never been so flustered in all her life. She felt this deal sinking fast and was dumbfounded that its success fell on the hands of this man and his signature. What do you mean over dinner? I need this signed now, this morning. I will be spending this whole day researching captains and do not have time for this. I see no reason why we should not settle this here and now. I have stated my position on this and do not see any reason to repeat myself. Now, if you will please sign on the dotted line, I can go about filling the position of captain!"

Jake could not help but notice how beautiful she was when she was mad. Her chest heaved with indignation and her cheeks reddened. At this moment, he knew he had to act to make her his. "Ms. Smith, I have stated my position as well. I have a prior engagement I must attend to. I will send a car around for you at 8:00 p.m. sharp. Where shall it collect you from? Will it be your office or home?"

"Mr. Logan, I must protest, I see no reason for this!"

"Ahh, Ms. Smith, if you think about it, you have every reason to see this through. You have a proposal you need me to sign and I need you to ensure me the position of captain. Now, once again, your home or your office?"

With as much indignation as she could muster, she arose to her full height and looked him square in the eyes. "I must first remind you, sir, that it is my family's name on this company heading, and at the end of the day I get what I want. I will hear your qualifications, Mr. Logan, and that will then be the end of it, but I will be driving myself. I need no man to collect me. I will expect to hear from you by 4:00 p.m. as to the location of this meeting. Good day, sir." And with that, she walked out the door.

Jake smiled as he enjoyed every second of watching her walk away.

"What was that about?" Landon inquired. "I thought you were just going to run it by her and if she said no then that was the end of the deal?"

"Landon, I have a new plan, and with this one, the stakes have never been higher."

***

Lucy sat at her desk the rest of the morning, researching captains and making calls. One disturbing coincidence after another kept popping up. Either Mr. Logan had contacted every person before her, or he really was not only a shipping captain, but the most qualified and respected one she could find. Every person she spoke with had given her the name Jake Logan when inquiring as to who was best suited for the job. Lucy had now spent the better half of the afternoon researching Mr. Logan and his qualifications and she had to admit she was rather surprised at her findings. She had her report on her desk, and she was going to go over it with a fine-tooth comb.

By 6:00, Lucy was thoroughly exhausted. She could find no flaws in Jake's professional resume at all. His education was top of the line, his credentials all up to date. His record of being on time was superb and he had zero losses in his years of being a captain. All in all, Lucy had to admit his resume was better than any she had researched yet. Shoot!

She had so looked forward to telling him no when confronting him with his lack of experience, but in the end, he was exactly what she had been looking for in this endeavor. Well, it still would not hurt to make him squirm a little before she accepted his terms.

He would get to see this through as captain, she thought, as she headed out the door with the address in hand that her secretary had laid on her desk earlier. But it was not going to be served up on a silver platter.

***

Jake was standing over the stove, adding the finishing touches to dinner. The delectable Lucy Smith had no idea she had been in the presence of a gourmet cook today. Cooking was a second passion and one he enjoyed immensely, although he did not get the chance to do so very often anymore; between being out to sea and then being alone when home. He relished the chance to show his prowess in the kitchen; even Gordon Ramsey himself would have no complaints. Yep, when it came to this night's meal, he had to admit he had outdone himself, but he had his whole future at stake. For he was bound and determined to win not only the position as captain of this barge; but also as the man who won the heart of the beautiful Ms. Smith.

He started out with a slow-cooked Chicken Cacciatore served with a spinach salad with cranberry raisins, sprinkled with blue cheese crumbles and served with blue cheese dressing. And on the side, Zinfandel wine followed by a homemade key lime cheesecake.

Jake, old man, you have outdone yourself.

If this did not impress Ms. Smith, he hoped to god that his charms and dimples did.

***

Lucy pulled into the address provided, totally confused. Jake had said he would be taking her to dinner; yet this was obviously a house, his house as the name on the mailbox stated. This was not what she had hoped for. Lucy had been looking forward to a quick getaway in a public place where Mr. Logan would not dare make a scene.

Lucy prided herself in thinking quick and changing plans at the last moment, so as she reached up to ring the doorbell, she decided to re-access the situation from inside and see what the evening would bring her.

She was not expecting the electric jolt her body felt when Jake opened the door; she had thought he looked good in a suit and tie, but that was nothing compared to this Jake, with a five o'clock shadow, tight jeans and a flannel shirt. She was afraid to speak for fear her voice would give away her thoughts, Yep, Lucy was afraid that her voice would be as shaky and muddled as her body and mind were at that moment.

Jake was speechless. Lucy was the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. She had obviously changed clothes, but with only a light brushing of make-up and her jeans and a sweater that hugged her in all the right places, she was beautiful, and he could not stop staring at her. While Jake had a smooth line ready for this moment, the effect of seeing her stand in his doorway with the sun gently setting behind her left him speechless; which had never until this moment happened; he always had word ready with a smooth delivery. Right now he couldn't remember his own middle name.

They stood and stared at each other for a few moments, neither speaking until Lucy had cleared her head enough to think. "I thought we were going out to eat?" she stated a little put out.

"Change of plans," Jake stated as he moved out of the door frame and invited her in. "I rarely get the chance to cook, so I thought I would give my culinary skills a whirl, seeing as they were starting to get a little rusty, I hope you don't mind." Jake poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her. "Cooking has always been a passion of mine, one which I have limited time to pursue. I think you will be quite surprised and delighted tonight, Ms. Smith."

Lucy took a moment to collect herself, trying not to show surprise at this awareness of him. Lucy had a plan and she was going to stick to it. Stay calm, cool, collected and in charge. Never let him get the upper hand in the conversation, guide it in the direction she wanted it to go, and then leave. Assert her authority in the process and make him realize she held all the cards, well, except for the small detail of needing his signature to finish this proposal.

"Well, Mr. Logan, I am quite surprised," Lucy stated as she took a sip of wine. She used this moment to decide where to take this conversation next. "Would you please share your experience and credentials in the shipping industry with me?"

"We do not have to proceed with such haste, now do we? Come, sit down and I shall answer all your questions over dinner."

As Lucy entered the dining area, she was taken aback at the grand display before her. From the looks of it, she expected a maid and chef to come out of the kitchen any moment. The table was aligned with a beautiful lace cloth, with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers as the centerpiece. Not so high that one could not see the person across from them, but just enough to draw attention to the table. Candles sat at both ends lit the table and the overhead lighting was set to dim.

Trying not to show the surprise and approval on her face, she took a seat at the head of the table. Jake served them both and refilled their wine glasses. She would have to be careful, wine made her tipsy a little quickly and muddled her thoughts. She couldn't help but remember a few of her days in college she would like to forget, thanks to a bottle or two. Oh, the crazy things youth will make you do. And she was already feeling the first glass.

"Mr. Logan, how is it that you came to know my father?" Lucy asked. She had always been a little curious of this since learning of his ascent into the family business.

"Well, Ms. Smith, I was young, twenty-one in fact, and had dropped out of college," he said, his voice like silk, vibrating off every nerve ending in her body. Lucy was sure she felt him speak more than she heard him. "I was on the dock one day and sat speaking to a man who reminded me of my father. He listened to me and my dreams, asked questions and was genuinely interested in my answers. After about two hours of bantering back and forth, I excused myself, told him I was running short on time and had to finish looking for a job. That is when he introduced himself. 'Jake, young man, my name is Charles Smith, you are standing on my dock and this is my shipping line,' he stated as he pointed toward the fleet of ships. 'I see a lot in you that reminds me of myself, and I would like to extend to you an offer of employment. How about it, son, a chance at a well-paying job while you see the world? If you like it, I will even pay your way through college so you can work your way up. You see this large ship here? This is the third largest cargo ship in the world. How would you like to be at the helm one day?' I, of course accepted your father's offer and never looked back. I felt at home on the decks of a Smith ship, and I have thanked god every day for your father. He was like a second father to me. You can rest assured that I will never do anything that would have shaken the faith your father had in me."

Lucy listened intently, as Jake refilled her glass twice. "Well, I must say that sounds exactly like my father; he never doubted his own instincts and never second guessed his decisions. And yes, he was a wonderful, warm man, I miss him terribly. You say he paid for your education to further yourself in this business? Please, fill me in on your qualifications."

"Well," Jake began as he filled their glasses yet again. "I am a graduate, with honors I may add, of the West Coast Maritime College; I am skilled in all areas, not just marine transportation, but also in facilities technology, mechanical engineering, as well as global studies and international business."

Lucy knew all this, of course, but hearing it come from him, seeing the pride on his face, hearing the sense of accomplishment that came through when he spoke of his degrees made it all seem new, like she was just finding all this out for the first time. Lucy tried to remember her game plan.

"Mr. Logan, why do you want to captain this particular run? What is so important that you feel the need to be the one in control?"

Jake thought for a moment, there was so many reasons, he was trying to narrow it down to the few most important. "Ms. Smith, not only am I the most qualified captain in the fleet, but as you know I have a monetary and personal investment in this. If all goes well with this proposal and we do indeed win the contract for this shipment, I am well aware that this moves Smith Shipping to the second largest in the industry, a position that I am sure your father would be very proud of, especially since it his daughter who took the company there. I, for one, made a promise to your father that I plan to keep. Trust me, there is no other person on this earth that could come as close as you in wanting to preserve the integrity of the name Smith as I do."

Lucy sat staring at him for a moment, letting all he said sink in. She knew he was right, of course. And she was trying to remember what her plan was as far as a quick exit. She did not know if it was his presence or the wine, but all she could think of was how his kiss would taste. Jake could not help but notice how beautiful Lucy truly was. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, her eyes glazed. He could not help but wish it was his kiss that brought this out in her. All he could think of was taking her face in his hand, tilting it up and feeling his tongue slide past her lips. Would she melt into him? Would she let him caress her lips with his and ravish her till neither could breathe? To end up entwined in each other, not knowing where one began and one ended. He was afraid to stand, for if he did, she would most certainly be able to see the effect she had on him; it was most evident, and he did all he could to tame it.

"Fine, Mr. Logan," Lucy said, snapping him out of his daydream. "You shall have your wish and be at the command of this shipment. I will expect you in my office on Monday to sign the shipping agreement and lay out your course for transport so I may also add this to the proposal. As for the proposal, I would like to take it with me, signed of course. Let me retrieve it from my car and I will be on my way."

Jake came around to her side of the table as she arose. When she did, the full extent of the wine hit her hard and she stumbled slightly and to her horror landed squarely against Jake's chest and he caught her. As she looked up into his eyes to thank him, she saw it, the raw passion, every thought on his face and determination in his eyes.

She had no desire to stop him.

Jake had noticed her getting tipsy by the second glass, and she had drunk five. She arose too quickly, only to stumble as he reached her and she fell right into his arms. Jake knew he should be a gentleman and let her go, but she felt so right in his arms. He knew this woman was meant to be his wife and right now his thoughts were anything but gentlemanly, but it was wrong to take advantage of the situation, especially when she had been drinking.

It was at that moment he noticed she had not pulled away; in fact she was looking at him with as much passion as he felt. Chivalry be damned. He reached down and gently touched his lips to hers, parting her lips with his tongue and feeling her velvet heat intertwined with the taste of wine. He was lost, there was no going back, and he did not want to. He let his hand slide up her back to envelope her and hold her to him. She sank into him and parted her lips, and her tongue met his for a dance he could never have imagined.

Lucy could not stop him if she wanted to. The feel of his lips, the taste of him as he claimed her mouth as his own, was sending heat to parts of her body she didn't even know she had. She felt herself move against him, felt the tightness in his chest and was lost. All she could think of was how he would feel against her bare skin, and she was determined to find out. Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the passion of a woman lost, she was thirsty and she was drinking from his soul.

Jake started kissing her jaw while moving down to her throat, and she let out a moan that only stoked the embers more, urging him on till they both found release. He knew at that moment she consumed him completely, and he needed her. He raised his head and saw that same fire in her eyes; he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Jake led her to the couch and gently kissed her, then hesitated, giving her a brief window to escape if she wanted, yet she did not.

Lucy reached out to him and put her hand under his shirt, feeling the quiver of his muscles as she gently caressed his abs. She knew she should stop, but her body was speaking now and it was crying out for a sweet release that only this man could give her. Lucy grew bold; she unbuckled his belt as he gently laid her on the couch. Never had she felt so free. Lucy moved down and gently ran her tongue over a nipple and heard the sharp intake of breath.

Jake moaned as he removed her shirt, feeling like he was going to explode any second, but knew he could not, because he wanted to make sure she knew she was his and no other man would ever do for her. Jake moved down and ravished one breast as his hands gently massaged her hips. Lucy started moaning and writhing beneath him as he claimed her soul as his; she did not know how or when, but Jake had managed to remove every bit of clothing she had on.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And she would be his. Jake was going to claim her heart, body, and soul. He reached down and gently kissed her again then moved down and kissed her very core.

Lucy bucked against him at the feel of his lips against her heat. She had died and been brought back to life all at once, at this second she was reborn. She screamed his name as he sent her over the edge of bliss, yet she knew the best was yet to come as he gently kissed his way back up.

She could feel the throbbing of him against her leg as he moved up to claim her. He kissed her as if this was his last time and entered her in one swift move. Lucy cried out at the joy she felt at this moment and wrapped her legs around him to allow better access, she wanted all of him, and she was going to give back all she had.

Jake cried out when he entered her. This was where he belonged, her heat, the feel of her writhing beneath him, her breath hot on his neck was everything he dreamed it would be and more. He caressed her breast as he moved inside her, claiming her from the inside out. He ran his tongue across her lips as she cried out his name again. He felt her tighten around him as she reached the peak of bliss. As she arched into him, he looked into her eyes and was lost. Together they reached for the stars, and both touched them.

One tear slipped from her eye as she fell from the heavens. Lucy had never known such bliss could even exist.

Jake lay next to her and enveloped her in his arms. He had never felt such passion, such longing; he knew he would never have enough of this woman. She was the epitome of everything he wanted in a woman and more. He realized that this was most definitely a case of love at first sight. And if the look in her eyes spoke her feelings, he was sure it was for her too.

***

Lucy awoke as the sun was breaking through the day. It took her a moment to realize where she was. The full horror of what she had done the night before was replaying in her mind. As she berated herself for being in the wrong, her body spoke otherwise. While her mind was horrified, her body ached in places it never had and was asking for more.

All she knew was that she needed to escape. As she dressed, she heard the shower running. Now was her chance. With shoes in hand and hair askew, she bolted for the door and the safety of her own home; wondering how she was going to be able to look Jake in the eyes again and ensure that this never happened again.

***

Jake got dressed and prepared to meet the day. He had it all planned out. First, he would start by taking the delectable Lucy out for breakfast, then do some sight-seeing, cook her a wonderful dinner again and cap it off by ravishing her over and over by the fireplace.

He was taken aback when he came out of the bathroom and found her gone. No note, no nothing, just gone, only the scent of her lingered. That and the ache in his groin were the only evidence she had been there. He reached across his desk to call her and left a message as he was sent to voicemail.

Well, it appears we have a runner. He chuckled. What Lucy did not realize was that he could run much further and faster. Come hell or high water, she would be his.

***

On Monday, Jake Logan strolled into the outer office of Smith Shipping and introduced himself to the receptionist with the proposal signed and at hand. In Lucy's haste to exit his presence, she had forgotten the proposal.

Lucy opened the door to her office to usher him in, ready to deal with the business at hand and escort Jake out of her office and out of her life once and for all. "Mr. Logan, please have a seat."

Jake gave a low chuckle and there it was again, that slow burn that started low in her stomach and spread like a wildfire. She forced herself to remain calm and collected. "Ms. Smith it appears you forgot something at my house in your haste to run away."

"I did not run away, Mr. Logan, I just did not see the point in staying any longer."

Jake chuckled. "Had you not run, Ms. Smith, I would have spent the day showing you many reasons as to why you should have stayed."

At this, Lucy blushed. "I must apologize. My actions from the other night were due to partaking of too much wine. I should have mentioned it sooner, but it seems as I have a two-glass limit. I can assure you that this will never happen again and hope we can both forget that night."

Jake snorted in indignation. "Forget? I do not think that either you nor I could ever forget what happened. Not only am I not going to forget that delectable event, we are going to have many more for years to come. You see, Lucy, I plan on marrying you."

Lucy was thoroughly taken aback. "Marry me? You do not even know me, Mr. Logan!"

"Jake, my name is Jake, and I think we can do away with the niceties, don't you?"

"Mr. Logan, I do not see any reason to do away with the "niceties" and I assure you we will not be getting married, not now, not ever. Let me make myself clear. I have no plans of ever seeing you again after this deal is over. We have managed to not cross paths in the past and I see no reason we can't continue to do so in the future. I trust you have signed the proposal and inserted your shipping plans, and I have taken the task of having your captain's contract drawn up. You may take it with you and go over it with Mr. Hall. But I need it back in my office by Wednesday at noon."

Jake chuckled at this. "You are absolutely gorgeous when you are angry, and I cannot wait to see you in this state as you lay across my bed."

Lucy wanted to throw her pen at him and tear up the contract, but she had the company to think of.

"Now," Jake went on, "as for the captain's contract, I trust you. After all, I have seen the deal you drew up with the proposal and know you are fair and forth coming, so I will sign it now. As for the shipping plan, I trust we will get this deal. I will be leaving on Thursday evening for Hong Kong. I anticipate our win on this bid and I have prepared a crew and the ship for leave. It is up to you to bring home this deal, but you are a very capable woman and I trust you to do just that."

With that, Jake signed the contract, took out the proposal and walked over to Lucy to put it in her hand personally. "Oh, and one more thing, Lucy."

"What!" snapped Lucy, as she stood toe to toe with him, trying not to notice how good he smelled.

"This," said Jake, as he bent down and kissed her deeply on the lips. As he pulled away, he gave a knowing grin.

"What was that for?"

"Proof!" said Jake.

"Proof of what?"

"That one day you will come around and agree to be my wife. You see, Lucy, not only did you not pull away from me, I felt you tremble at my kiss." And with that, he walked out the door, closing it just before the pen Lucy was holding hit the door.

As much as she hated to admit it; Jake Logan was right, not only in his business plan but also in her reaction to his touch.

Lucy sent the proposal to her client on Tuesday. She spent the next two days dodging Jake in his determination to see her before he left. It was a battle of the wills, and she felt as she was winning.

So what was this coldness she felt as the watched the ship pull out of port on Thursday? She felt a loss, as if she was suddenly alone; and it bothered her.

***

Lucy hung up the phone with Hong Kong. She was being summoned to a meeting with the client as to which company would end with a signed proposal. She was going head-to-head with the largest shipping line in the world. Everything she had worked for hung on this contract and she was bound to see it through, even if it meant sitting in a boardroom with the gorgeous Mr. Logan.

They did not just want to speak to her, but with Jake as well. And she would have to do it if they expected to bring this deal home. She had her secretary send notice of the plans to Jake.

Lucy made plans to leave the next day and went home to pack and retrieve her passport. She had a fitful night of dreams about a gorgeous man who claimed she was going to be his wife.

As she boarded the plane to Hong Kong, she could not help but wonder what it was she would be flying into. The deal of the century for her company? Or straight into the arms of the man she was trying desperately to forget?

***

Ten days after pulling out of port, Jake got a message from the home office. It appeared that they were in a dead tie with another shipping company. The client wanted to meet with the owners of each company in person. So he would be sitting in the same boardroom as his beautiful soon-to-be wife, going head-to-head to close this deal and seal the fate for Smith Shipping and, God willing, give him time to woo and win the woman of his dreams against the exotic backdrop of beautiful Hong Kong.

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

Storm - Volume 2

Promise - Volume 3

Smith Dynasty (Trilogy Bundle)

***

Forests Dark and Deep

***

Synopsis

Abandoned by her parents at a nunnery by the side of an ancient forest, Riona has always known that she was different. Despite her innate passion and her natural curiosity, she is resigned to spending her life as a pious sister of the order until a pack of werewolves arrive to show her just how special she really is.

Rordan is the wolf king of the Dunclough pack, and for his beloved people, he will cross any line and break any law. He was ready for anything, but when his chosen prey turns out to be a beautiful, curvy woman with a fiery spirit and a wild streak, he finds that his plans need to change.

Riona must learn about her sacred heritage while learning about the ways of the werewolves and the heart of the man who abducted her.

***

"Riona, Riona come away from there. It's late, my dear."

Riona didn't have to turn around to know that Abbess Beni was watching her from the doorway of the apothecary's chamber, her wrinkled face lined with concern.

"Just another moment," Riona said absently, adding another few sprigs of verbena to the mortar. "I'm almost done."

"You are always almost done," the abbess said sternly. "You are misusing your place as the infirmary's assistant to remain up well past the time when novices are meant to be in bed."

Riona straightened and reluctantly pulled away from the workbench. The stiffness in her back and the guttering candle at her side told her how long she had been hunched over her herbs.

"I'm not going to be a novice much longer," she protested half-heartedly.

"No, tomorrow you will be a sister of the order, but I seem to remember something about the sisters needing to obey me as well, don't you?"

The abbess smiled tolerantly and she held her candle close so that Riona could put away the tiny pouches of medicinal herbs, each cloth packet getting folded carefully and replaced in its slot on the shelf above.

"Everything changes tomorrow," Riona found herself saying softly. "I won't be a novice anymore."

"You will be a fine sister," the abbess said firmly. "You have the patience and the gentleness of spirit to enrich the world and to do honor to the old gods."

There must have been a trace of rebellion on Riona's face, because the abbess sighed heavily.

"Go to bed, dear," the abbess said, lighting her a fresh candle. "Tomorrow is a new beginning for you, and your path will be clear."

***

With her short stature and sturdy build, Riona was of a different folk than most of the other women who came to the nunnery at the edge of the Dunclough forest. Where most of her fellow novices were tall, fair, and slender as birch trees, she never grew taller after her thirteenth year, though her breasts had ripened and rounded to an almost embarrassingly voluptuous shape. Her hips were as round as pumpkins, and the flesh of her thighs and her belly was soft, though hours of toil in the nunnery's herb gardens had left solid muscle underneath. Abbess Beni had called her "Little Moon" when she first came to the nunnery as a tiny girl, on account of her round face and large pale eyes, and Sister Vicene, who headed the scriptorium, had declared that she must be of wild blood, from the people who lived under no law but their own in the dark forests.

"Blood will tell," Sister Vicene had sniffed. "She'll run wild one day, and so much for the teachings of the old gods."

Riona had never run wild, not really, but she had satisfied her anger at the scriptorium sister with frogs in her porridge and snakes in the woman's bed. She loved the nunnery, every stone and timber, and she hated the idea of a crabbed old lady telling her that she didn't belong.

However, in the privacy of her own novice's cell, she did wonder if there was some kind of truth in Sister Vicene's words.

She pulled off the white cloth veil, allowing her long, curly brown hair to shake down her back, and her novice's robes followed a moment after. She made a face at the white sleeping chemise folded on the bed; it was too tight, and it had always bound at her breasts and her hips. On nights when she knew that the sister in charge of the novices had already passed, she did without. It gave her a subtle thrill to be entirely bare, and on impulse, she flung open the narrow window's shutter.

It was a cold night just a bare few months before the winter solstice, and the frigid wind rushed into her room as if it was looking for her. Riona took a deep breath of the fresh air and leaned against the window sill. Her window was too high and too narrow for anyone to see in, but from her vantage point, she could see to the forest and the misty mountains beyond. Sister Vicene's words drifted back to her, and not for the first time, she wondered if there really was some truth to them.

Sometimes, she thought that the stone walls of the nunnery hemmed her in, closing around her until she thought she might choke. On those days, she had to beg to be allowed to go out collecting herbs at the edges of the forest. The infirmary sisters had always insisted that she take another girl with her, and fuming, she had had to drag another nervous novice to the trees. They never wanted to stay out as long as she did, and they always cast nervous looks at the dark shadows.

Riona had never understood that. To her, the forest was a place of secrets, a place of wilderness and peace. As a child, she had always wondered what it might be like to step underneath those ancient trees, to follow the brooks and see where they led. Now that she was twenty and on the verge of becoming one of the sisters of the order, she knew she should put such troublesome thoughts behind her, but if she looked, she knew they would be there.

From her window, she could see the tops of the trees swaying in the wind, and from some distant peak or glen she heard the solitary howl of a wolf. She wondered if it was a true wolf, or if it could be one of the shapeshifters who lived in the forest and walked sometimes as wolves and sometimes as men. They were an ancient people who had never given themselves over to the command of the king, lawless and fierce, and they hunted the forest as if it belonged only to them.

Riona had heard stories all her life about the wolf tribes, and she knew that they were to be feared as both bandits and warriors. Still, a part of her thrilled at that long howl. The sisters and other novices were terrified when the wolves howled, and even Abbess Beni considered it frightening.

Riona had a different idea. It's a loving call. He's calling his family to let them know that he is safe.

As if in response to her thought, a second wolf joined the first, its tone higher and clearer. A third and then a fourth added their voices to the night, and soon there was a chorus of howls, echoing hollowly in the crisp cold air.

Riona realized that the wolves might be quite close, and for a mad moment, she wondered whether they would respond if she howled back. She could feel it in the back of her throat, the urge to rip free with a joyful shout that said here I am, look at me!

Instead, she took one last gulp of the cold air and closed the window behind her. In the darkness of her cell, she could no longer hear the wolves. She sighed deeply, tears threatening at the back of her throat, so frustrated because she did not know where the strange stirrings inside her came from.

Resolutely, she put on the nightgown that was inches too tight, and she lay down on her narrow bed. Tomorrow, she would take her vows in front of the entire nunnery and under the eyes of the old god, and her life would be promised. It was a good life. She knew that it was a better life than an orphan with no memory of parents or home could expect, and it would not be without joy. She knew this.

Riona fell into a restless sleep, her dreams full of the joyful howls of the wolves.

***

From the high bluff, Rordan could look down and see the nunnery. It was a place of men, with four high stone walls, and inside it was a treasure more precious than the king's crown. It took every bit of restraint he could muster not to call his friends together and to attack. He had not won the place of wolf king by being too hasty, however, and so he waited. Time enough to come in at noon, when the women were gathered. He could afford to wait a little longer, but it was hard.

"You look impatient," Ferric said, teasing.

Rordan bared his teeth at his friend in irritation. "She needs to be the one," he said, pacing along the ridge. "We have searched for too long. She must be the one."

"And if she's not?" Ferric's voice was light, but there was a challenge to it.

Rordan turned to face him fully. "Then we will keep looking," he snapped, taking a step closer. Rordan was the larger man by far, and Ferric held up his hands, laughing softly.

"Then we will keep looking," Ferric agreed easily. "We never thought you would do anything else. If we did, we would not have made you king, would we?"

Rordan snorted, turning his attention back to the nunnery. "I seem to remember I made myself king," he retorted, "or were you and Angus and Siobhan all helping me when I defeated Berach?"

"Still, you would not have stayed king if the whole tribe had not howled for you, and we did. Long and loudly till the hills went deaf with it."

"You're too poetic by half," Rordan grumbled. "Why don't you try your wiles on Siobhan? See how far you get with her."

Ferric's grin widened, and he tilted his head speculatively. "You think I would have a chance?"

Rordan rolled his eyes. No matter how many years he was king, he would never rule longer than he had known Ferric. "Yes, go and find out."

Ferric stepped back into the darkness, returning to the small, smokeless fire they had built, and Rordan kept one ear tuned to the soft conversations of his friends. He couldn't make out the words, but he could hear Ferric's light cheerful voice, then Siobhan's wary greeting. Ferric spoke, Siobhan responded, and when Ferric spoke again, Siobhan growled, and the sound of a meaty smack echoed through the trees.

They could have been youths again, coming to their first leggy growth and prowling Dunclough like they owned it. Rordan smiled to think of a time when his only care had been getting the most silver fish out of the stream or running down the largest boar they could. They were always together, and though adult responsibilities had pulled them away from it, tonight it felt like old times.

Rordan turned his eyes back to the nunnery, willing the sun to rise. "It has to be you," he whispered. "It must be."

***

Riona was up before dawn for morning prayers, and since it was the day she was meant to take vows, she was relieved of her normal duties. Instead, she was taken to the baths, where Sister Laurin and Sister Michel stripped her to the skin and plunged her into a basin of frigidly cold water. She came up sputtering and with her teeth chattering, but they only laughed and dunked her again.

"It's good for the soul," Sister Laurin laughed, pulling Riona's dark hair back from her eyes.

"And for the body!" agreed Sister Michel, dumping another bucket of cold water over her back. "You want all of this lovely pale skin to stay soft, don't you?"

"You're both awful, that's freezing!" Riona shouted, but there was no real cruelty to them. She had known both of them since she was toddling, and to them, there was no greater joy than seeing her take her proper place.

"Such a big girl you are," Sister Michel remarked, rubbing a cloth over Riona's belly. "My mother's people were big too, and strong as oxen, you know."

Riona snatched the cloth from her. "You tell me that near every time you see me," she said good-naturedly. "And if I'm so big, then surely I can be trusted to clean myself?"

The laughing sisters drew back, letting Riona settle down into the cold water to clean herself from head to foot. After the initial shock, the cold was bracing, and she scrubbed until every inch of her was tingling. Then there was the pumice stone to remove all of the hard skin from her heels, and a soft sea sponge to clean her body.

After the cold came the hot bath, and she relaxed into the steaming water, immersed to her chin. Behind her, Sister Michel started to comb out her dark wet hair with clever fingers, and to her side, Sister Laurin got to work clipping her fingernails short.

"You're going to look lovely today," Sister Laurin said, and Sister Michel nodded enthusiastically.

Riona smiled at them, but she remained silent. She could see how much they loved the world of the nunnery, and in truth, she loved it too. Or at least, she loved it when it didn't feel like it was pressing in around her. The walls of the nunnery were thick and strong to protect them from the evils of the world, but sometimes, she couldn't help but think that they were meant to keep her from exploring as well.

The sisters rinsed her one last time in warm water and left her to dry herself, and as she did so, she tried to put away her thoughts of something more.

Try as she might, however, the thoughts preyed on her mind, hounding her as she went to break ceremonial bread with the abbess, to the book of holy names to read from the passage associated with her birth year, and to the sacred well to draw water.

By noon, when she was ready to say her vows, she was ravenous and frazzled. She smiled when the sisters and the other novices gathered in the main hall, and she listened as Abbess Beni spoke about her service in the infirmary and her skills as an herbalist, but a part of her mind chattered at her, telling her to leave before she swore her life away.

"And now, dear, kneel before the alter and say your vows." The abbess's face was full love as she gestured to the padded cushion before the alter.

Stuffing her doubts back down her throat one more time, Riona took a deep breath and stepped forward.

For a moment, she thought that thunder had boomed out of clear sky, and that the old gods had recognized her lack of faith. She spun around, and through the crowd of shouting sisters and novices, there strode four people who looked like the gods of the wood made flesh.

Three men and one woman, dressed all in furs, paced quickly through the crowd, scattering them like starlings, making straight for the alter where she and Abbess Beni stood.

Bandits, she thought with fury, and she grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a carved wooden staff that one of the nearby sisters had dropped in her panic. She stalked toward the invaders, heedless of the danger, but then she realized that the tallest bandit was coming to meet her.

With a startled shriek, she swung the staff hard at him, making him take a surprised step back.

"Come on, bastard," she snarled angrily. "Do you think we won't fight?"

Behind the bandit's shoulder, his companions shoved the sisters away, brandishing steel swords but not swinging them. It seemed like a mercy, but in her momentary distraction, she had allowed him to take the advantage

His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist with such punishing force that she dropped the staff, crying out. Riona dug her heels in, but a single tug sent her stumbling toward him.

He's too strong, too strong by far, she thought desperately, and then from the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of green.

Abbess Beni, for all of her frailness, bore down on them like a storm. "How dare you!" she cried, swinging wildly at the bandit with a lead candelabra from the alter. "This is a place of peace!"

The bandit who held her swore, trying to jerk Riona away. He swatted at the old woman, and his large hand caught her on the shoulder. It did not seem like a heavy blow, but it sent her spinning to the ground, and to Riona's horror, she landed on the steps leading up to the alter with a bone-jarring thud.

"No!" Riona cried, struggling to get to the abbess. The fallen woman looked small, like a bird fallen out of the air, and Riona's brain refused to put the still form on the stairs with the woman who ruled the nunnery.

She struggled against her captor's hold, startling him enough that he almost let her go, and when he caught her up again, she kicked and flailed, landing at least one hefty blow across his stomach and making him gasp.

"Let me go, oh please let me go," she cried, eyes on the abbess.

"Enough of this." The woman bandit scowled and reached for her. Before Riona could decide what to do, the woman's hands came up around her throat.

She's looking for my arteries, Riona thought frantically, but blackness was already beginning to overwhelm her vision. She felt herself start to fall, but before she could, there was nothing.

***

When Riona awoke, she was aware of her throbbing head, a certain tenderness around her throat, and arguing voices.

"It could have gone better, I suppose."

"Better? You choked her!"

"I put her to sleep. We weren't going to make her come quietly otherwise."

"I still think we could have done it more subtly."

"You always think everything can be handled at night, Angus."

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it?"

Riona calmed her thudding heart, lying as still as she could. There was only a little light cast from the fire, but in it, she could see the glint of a sheathed sword not far from where she lay. If she could roll over and reach for it...

"Shut your noise," said a new voice. "She's awake."

Surprise gone, she lunged for the sword only to find herself clasped in arms that felt as strong as iron bands. She screamed angrily, only to be set back firmly on the ground in a sitting position. The strength of the man must have been immense, for he pushed her back as if she were a tiny child.

"That's enough of that," he said, moving the sword away and coming to sit across from her. "We mean you no harm."

"I don't believe that," Riona spat, drawing back to glare at her captors mistrustfully.

The man who sat close, the one who had kept her from the sword, was the same one who had taken her from the nunnery in the first place. Even sitting he was a big man, tall and broad, with black hair that hung down to his shoulders. In the flickering light of the fire, she could see that his face was proud, as if cut from rock, and his eyes were the vivid amber of struck sparks. There was a strange beauty to him that felt alien to her. She didn't understand it, but even under her rage, she felt a sense of recognition, something that pulled her to this man. In fury, she stomped on it hard.

"We have been looking for you for some time," he said carefully. "We are not your enemies."

"Prove it!" she snapped. "Take me home, and then never let me see you again."

"We can't," interjected one of the men by the fire. He was more slender than the man who sat across from her, blond with a carefully tended jawline beard. "We need you, you see."

"Need me?" She glared, uncertain as to what kind of bandits she had fallen in with.

"That's enough," their leader snapped. "Soon enough for her to know what we need."

"I think I want to know right now," she retorted. "Whatever you need, it was important enough to storm a defenseless nunnery and to strike down a frail old woman."

Riona's breath caught in her throat as the memories of Abbess Beni flooded her mind again, of the old woman rushing toward the bandit, brandishing a candelabra in defense of her home and those she protected.

To his credit, the bandit leader looked slightly abashed even as he shook his head. "It was not my intent to harm her, but to win you, I am afraid I would have done much worse."

"Is that meant to flatter me?" Riona spat. "Am I meant to be honored that you came into a sacred place and wreaked havoc there?"

"Not honored, but perhaps forgiving with time." He shrugged.

"That's fantastic, Rordan," called the pale man. "That will make her do what you want."

Despite her dire predicament, his light tone made Riona's mouth quirk in a smile.

Rordan scowled. "I had hoped to begin better."

"Then you might not have started with a kidnapping," she said succinctly.

Close to the fire, the other bandits began to snicker. Her captors were very strange.

"Was there another way to make you come?" he asked, and in that bare moment, it was like something had opened between them. She looked him in the eye, and for a dizzying few seconds, it was like she knew him, and that he knew her. It was a strange moment, and almost absently, she felt something click into place, something that she had been missing her entire life.

She meant to answer him sharply, but what came out instead was soft and honest. "I don't know," she admitted. "It would have depended on what you said."

Rordan sighed, looking at the ground. "I would have asked you to come away to a people who have need of you, both your skills and your blood, the people you have always belonged with."

For some reason, her thoughts veered toward the night before, when she had heard the wolves howl, and wondered at the meaning of their cries.

"You're werewolves," she said softly, and now that she looked, she could see it in the yellow and green of their eyes, the grace of their limbs and the way they occasionally tilted their heads to listen to the forest.

Rordan nodded, a little reluctantly, but when she sought his gaze, he held it.

"We are people," he said, his voice rough and deep. "Our tribe is among the oldest in the world and... and we have need of you."

"You don't even know my name," she said, mystified.

He grinned, wide and full of teeth. "I do," he answered, "or at least I think I do. It must be Rioghan, or Rionach, something like that, yes?"

She blinked. "Yes," she said uneasily. "Riona, actually, but how did you know?"

His laugh was sharp. "Your parents kept to some customs, at least. Your name means queen in the old tongue, Riona, and it's something you carry in your name and your blood."

"You knew my parents?"

"Knew of those like them, anyway." Rordan hesitated. "You're of the wild folk, my lady, and you were meant to walk the wild ways alongside my tribe."

She shook her head as if trying to clear it. "No..." she said softly, and when he started to argue, she cut him off with an angry glare. "No! I will not be led by this so-called story of yours, or by what you say is in my blood. I am myself, and you cannot take that away from me."

Rordan's eyes sparked with temper, and he leaned in closer. "I'm not trying to take anything from you, I'm trying to give you what has been yours all along!"

"At the expense of felling a harmless old woman, yes, I was there!"

Something furiously angry flashed across his face, and Riona didn't know what would have happened if the slender pale man hadn't sauntered up to them.

"Much as I love seeing you dig your own grave, Rordan, I have to step and grant guest right to our poor hostage. She looks famished, and maybe if we give you both some food, you'll be less inclined to snipe at each other."

The two men seemed locked in a furious battle of wills for a moment, but at last Rordan gave an abrupt nod.

"I'm Ferric," the blond man continued, turning to her. "That quiet lad over there is Angus, and it was Siobhan who sent you off to sleep while we effected our daring escape from your old women and little girls."

"Sorry about that," Siobhan called, sounding at least a little abashed.

"Anyway, we have food, nothing fancy, but there's bread and meat, and if your head is a little less sore, perhaps you'd share it with us."

She realized that she was in fact hungry, and after a mutinous glare at Rordan, she came closer to the fire. There was something deeply familiar to her about sitting at their fire and sharing their food, and before too long, she found herself being lulled by their talk and their easy friendship. Ferric had a jibe for every occasion, though the sharp-tongued Siobhan gave as good as she got. Angus watched the interplay between his two friends avidly, but Rordan sat slightly apart, eating his own food with grim determination.

"The hour grows late, and we should be abed," Rordan said. "We need to return as men and not wolves, and that means sleeping nights."

There was a chorus of good-natured groans, and Ferric tossed Riona a blanket. "Best make the most of it," he advised. "You're with us for the time being."

She meant to stay up and wait for a chance to slip away, but the events of her day caught up with her, and underneath the warm wool blanket, she drifted off to a fitful sleep as the wolves decided who would stand first watch.

***

Riona woke with a start, unsure how much time had passed or even where she was at first. She looked up past the tree branches to see a night sky crazed with stars, and the events of the day rushed into her, as she shot up with a start.

The fire was banked, but sitting close by was Siobhan, one booted foot propped up on her knee, and one hand flipping a dagger smoothly up in the air.

"I need to relieve myself," Riona said softly, and Siobhan nodded.

When Riona made to walk past, the wolf stood and followed her a ways into the forest.

"You can't think I'd let you out of my sight," she said at Riona's aggrieved look.

"I rather hoped you would," Riona admitted. "Look, you can't think it's right that I'm being held here, can you?"

Siobhan shook her head. "No, I don't, but I do a lot of wrong things because the alternatives are worse."

Riona started to ask what she meant, but the other woman shook her head tightly. With a disappointed shrug, Riona relieved herself behind a bush, but when she returned, Siobhan was staring into the darkness. Even as a human, she gave the impression that her ears were pricked and that her hackles were rising.

"Go back to camp," she snapped at Riona, and before Riona could respond, Siobhan sprinted off into the darkness, moving fast and silently as a shadow.

Riona stared after her for a moment, and then immediately started moving away. She knew which way Siobhan had gone, and she knew which way camp was, and if she only avoided both of them, she might find her way back to the nunnery.

It should have frightened her, being out in the wilds, but instead there was something comforting about it. She pushed away the thought that there was something to what Rordan said, about her blood, and she pushed the strange feelings he had stirred in her away even harder. Still, as she made her way with increasing confidence through the forest, she could still feel his amber eyes on her, looking right into her and waking something she couldn't name.

She walked long enough that even her strong legs were tired, and when she almost stumbled into a stream, she finally needed to rest. Riona had no idea how long she had walked, but the sky looked no lighter. She leaned close to the water to scoop a handful to her mouth, and then she remembered that all of the rivers and streams flowed to the sea, to the west. If she walked upstream, she would be heading east, which would take her to the settled lands where the nunnery was.

Following the stream in the dark was easier said than done, and she found herself heaving herself over fallen trees and slowed to a snail's pace by the bank, which occasionally ended abruptly.

She was just navigating her way around a large spur of dead tangled trees when the ground suddenly crumbled underneath her. With a violent curse that she should not have known, she slid on her rear down the bank.

She stopped her descent by digging her nails frantically into the dirt, but anger at her predicament gave way to fear when she realized how close she was to the water and how steep the bank was. Riona tried to think of a prayer, but all that came to mind were curse words that would have made the sisters drop their jaws in dismay.

Carefully, she shifted her weight so that she was a little closer to one of the tree roots that protruded from the bank. It didn't come out of the bank when she yanked on it tentatively, and she saw that she could move from it to the sturdy limb directly above.

Holding her breath and steadying herself by bracing her feet against the embankment, she grasped the thick root in both hands and started to move. She was just beginning to think it was going to work when the root shifted, and then gave way entirely, sending her plummeting toward the water.

The stream had turned to a river, and the cold of it shocked her body like lightening. She flailed, taking in large gulps that panicked her even further, and to her panic, she could feel herself spin away from the shore.

I'm going to die here, she thought with alarming calm, and then there was an almighty splash next to her and arms as strong as steel wrapped around her. She could hear an already-familiar deep voice bellowing at her, but she was too panicked to understand. Frantic, she pushed against him before she could stop herself, but he was as solid as a brick, and in a handful of moments, her rescuer dragged her to the bank, where they could climb up easily. He threw her upon the ground as if she weighed nothing, and slumped down next to her.

She lay on the sand, coughing up river water by what felt like the bucketful and crying from fear. Now she could see that it was Rordan who was so close to her, rubbing her back to sooth her. His hands were warm, bringing life back to her, and soon she could talk.

"You saved my life," she finally managed to say through chattering teeth. "I could have killed us both in the water."

"You don't listen very well," he said, and even after the water, she could hear a thread of humor in his voice. "Did you not understand what I meant, Riona? I would do terrible things to keep you safe, I would suffer terrible things to bring you home."

The word home stuck in her mind, and while there were pictures of the nunnery there, there were other images as well, of campfires, of the mead halls that Ferric and Siobhan had told her about, and bonfires that sent sparks high into the air.

"Come on, we need to get warm and dry." With no more warning than that, he swept her up in his arms, making her squeak in surprise, pausing only to retrieve the heavy cloak and sword that he had dropped by the bank.

"No, I'm too heavy," she argued automatically.

Rordan snorted. "It's nothing. It was worse when you were clawing at me in the river."

When he set her down under the shelter of a niche formed by two leaning slabs of stone, he tore down several pine boughs, stacking them in a frame and then laying more over them. Under the shelter of the stone, it was a serviceable if bristly bed, and he went to start the fire.

"Where are the others?" she found herself asking.

"Leading away hunters while I went after you," he said wryly. "They'll take them on a beautiful chase before meeting us again."

She watched as he coaxed the fire from small flames to a warming blaze, and almost dreamily, she let her eyes drift over the lines of his body, from the width of his shoulders to the handsome narrowness of his hips. He was dressed like his friends, in boots and furs, and the sword that lay close to hand told her what kind of man he was.

Still, she could not stop looking, and when she tried to distract herself, she could only focus on how cold she was, and how heavy her drenched gown was.

Rordan looked up when she rose, doubtless wondering if she was making another escape attempt, but his jaw dropped open when he saw that she was squirming out of her clothing. Beneath her gown was a thin white chemise that fell halfway down her thighs, and she knew how the fabric clung to her generous curves.

"I'll dry and warm faster this way," she said, her teeth chattering.

He gestured her closer to the fire.

Her back was cold, but her front warmed nicely, and she shot him a look. "Take them off," she said, pointing at his clothes. "You'll freeze inside those furs."

He bared his teeth at her playfully, suddenly more wolf-like than he had been before. "What a thing to say," he said teasingly. "You'd think it was the proper thing, a maiden telling a man to strip."

"It is the proper thing," she said primly. "Only silly people worry about propriety when they've just been dunked into frigid water."

"I defer to your good sense then," he said, and he stood to unbuckle his belt.

She knew that he wore furs, and underneath them a plain white shirt of linen. Instead of stopping at the furs and boots, however, he pulled the linen shirt over his head, standing in front of her bare as the day he was whelped.

Riona's mouth opened slightly, but she couldn't muster up a girlish yelp or a prudish tut of disapproval. She thought she should, but it all fell out of her mind when she saw the sharp jut of Rordan's hip, the lean length of his thigh, and his cock, dark and heavy against his flesh, more than a little hard.

"If this is a game, you're losing," he said, and she thought she could hear a strain in his voice that hadn't been there before.

"No game," she said, after swallowing twice. "Just..." Her words trailed off as her eyes roamed his body up and down, and when she focused on his eyes, she could see that he was doing the same. He took in every curve of her, the hang of her belly and weight of her thighs, and he licked his lips with wolfish appetite.

"Do you know what you are doing, innocent little lady?" he asked, his voice hushed. "Do you know what it does to a man when you look at him so?"

Her gaze landed straight on his cock again, which was harder now.

He made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. "Say I can come close," he said from across the fire. "Tell me to come to you."

There was no other choice in her mind. There couldn't be, when she was confronted with his masculinity and his body so beautiful and so close, not when he asked her with that pleading tone in his voice. If there was a thought in her mind that he would have disobeyed her, she would have pushed him away, but now there was no other answer she could make.

"Yes," Riona said, her voice full of longing, and he leaped the fire to land at her side.

She started to speak again, but his mouth was on hers. He was gentle at first, his mouth moving slowly and delicately over hers, but when she pressed her body to his, his tongue pressed firmly between her lips. In surprise, she parted them, and the way his tongue slid into her mouth awoke a deep thrum in her belly, making her whimper and press even closer to him.

"Tell me when I must stop," he said, breaking their kiss. He took her face between his two large hands, making her look at him. She could see the fire reflected in his eyes. "You must tell me if you would stop..."

She only nodded. She couldn't imagine wanting this to stop, ever, not with the pleasure that just his mouth brought her, and now she knew that she needed more. He smiled and pressed her back into the pine bed. Some of the branches pricked her soft skin, but she cared less about it than she did about the way that he stretched out by her side.

Reverently, he slid her shift up over her head and threw it aside before tucking his face into the crook of her neck. She squirmed when he lapped her there, but the trembling sensations that radiated from his mouth made her gasp out loud.

"Beautiful woman," he crooned. "I'll be so easy with you, so good to you..."

His mouth, surely the warmest thing she had ever had on her skin, made her whimper, and she pressed even closer to him. She could feel the hardness of his cock against her soft flesh, and though she knew that she should have been shocked, even frightened, she only wanted more.

Her hands ran up the corded muscles of his back, touching him with increasing boldness, and when one hand dipped down to squeeze his hard thigh, he laughed a little.

"Wanting little lass, aren't you?" Rordan muttered. "Lovely, too..."

He reached a hand down and ran it over the curve of her belly, and she shivered at how gentle he could be.

"You're beautiful, so beautiful," he sighed, and he brought his mouth down to nuzzle her breast before taking a dark, thrusting nipple in his mouth. It shocked her that he would do such a thing, but she was taken by a wave of hot pleasure. He pulled at her sensitive flesh gently, and then, when she wondered if she could take any more, he put his teeth to the sensitive nubbin of flesh and nipped down with the gentlest of bites.

Her gasp turned into a groan, and she pushed against him even harder.

"More of that," she whimpered. "I want more of that."

By the light of the fire, she could see his eyes light up hot and fierce, and she felt a deep tremor run through his body.

"Like coals to the fire," he said, and that was all the warning she got before he was pressed on top of her, pushing her body into the rustling pine boughs. For a moment she was afraid, but then she felt his mouth on her neck again. There was the brief comfort of his lips, and then more bites, gentle at first, and then harder, and with each one, she thrashed underneath him. Every bit of pleasure made her want more of him, and soon she couldn't stop herself from spreading her legs to bring him even closer. The length of his hard body between her sensitive thighs felt so right, but when he pressed the length of his cock against her furrow, she knew she wanted more.

For the moment, however, he seemed content to bite her, light nibbles and bites with just enough sharpness to make her gasp. He slowly worked his way from her neck down to her shoulders, and then to the lush curve of her breasts, where he paused to suck on first one and then the other nipple, bringing them to aching hardness.

Riona found her hands in his hair, and she couldn't stop herself from yanking hard. "Are you trying to drive me insane?" she moaned.

He laughed, the sound of it echoing through her body. "It crossed my mind," he admitted, and then his clever mouth was pressed against the sensitive ticklish skin of her belly, licking a wet path down below.

Riona's breath hissed between her teeth as he spread her soft thighs wide and ran a wide wet tongue along her slit. He was slow at first, taking long, dedicated laps that that made her tremble, but in the space of a few moments, he sped up, making her dig her heels into the boughs beneath and push up against him. His hands were like iron on her hips, holding her still, and it was more pleasure than she thought she could take.

Her cries were echoing against the stones, and she could feel white-hot sparks of pleasure shoot down her spine and her legs. She could never have imagined the sensation, and it filled her up. Just as it was reaching a crescendo, Rordan pulled away.

"Damn you!" she yelped, startled, but he pressed her back down, rising over her body.

"You feel so good," he murmured, laying wet kisses across her breasts and her neck. "You feel so, so good..."

Taking his cock in his hand, he swept it up and down her slit, and she clutched his shoulders hard, shivering.

"Please," she whimpered. Even though she knew that she ought to be frightened, there was no fear in her at all, and she spread her legs wider for him.

"I can't wait," Rordan admitted, and he started to press his cock into her.

There was a moment of pain, there and gone between heartbeats, and then he was seated inside her, touching her more intimately than anyone ever had. Rordan's hand brushed against her chin, caressing her reverently.

"Look at me," he whispered, and when she did, the connection between them shook her to the core. Then he began to move, long slow strokes that rocked him deep inside her and made her clench hard around him.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she couldn't stop herself. She latched her teeth in his neck and nipped him hard.

It was like a switch had been thrown, and with a deep groan, Rordan's movements grew faster and even more powerful. He was pushing her hard into the pine boughs, and she didn't care. All she could do was wrap her strong legs around his waist to drag him closer, her body winding tighter and tighter.

She thought she would burst or faint, but she did neither. Instead, she shook and shook, wanting more but barely understanding what was happening to her.

"Let go, sweetheart," Rordan murmured. "Let go, and let me keep you safe."

That was what she had needed because her body tightened and then it was like everything inside her was lit on fire. Pleasure coursed through every part of her, making her arch her body into a bow. Her ragged scream echoed through the trees, and Rordan responded by pushing into her one last time, shaking with his own release.

They lay still, letting the tremors of their pleasure fade. Gently, Rordan drew out of her. Instead of moving away as she expected, he rolled them to their sides and gathered her against him. He reached over her for his dry cloak and pulled it over both of them.

"Sleep," he said firmly.

Completely exhausted, she did as he commanded.

***

Riona awoke to the startling realization that she was cuddled up next to a very large, very warm person. Startled, she moved away, rolling over the edge of the pine bough pile that she was sleeping on, and stared at the long and naked length of werewolf beside her.

In the dawn light she could see the dark circles under his eyes, and the slow even rise of his chest. It occurred to her that he was exhausted, and as if in confirmation, he grunted in his sleep, rolling over and pulling the cloak more firmly around his body.

Riona glanced around and picked up her clothes, still a little damp, but no worse for the wear after her adventure in the river. He stayed still and, dressed and shod, she backed away from their campsite. Her body was a little sore, but the pleasure that he had given her was like the ghost of flames on her skin, warming her and making her crave more. Firmly, she shook them off, and when she came to the edge of the clearing, she knew she could walk free.

She glanced back at him, where he slept as sound as a wolf cub curled up in the pine boughs. A part of her wavered, but a greater part of her was confused, both over her intense reactions to this bandit and the sense of rightness that threatened to overwhelm her.

Riona shook her head hard and started her trek to the river. By the light of the dawn, she could easily avoid the ledges that had been so treacherous the night before. On a sudden impulse, she took her shoes in hand and hiked up her skirt, wading into the shallows. She knew that walking in the river would throw off hounds, so why not wolves?

She walked fast, leaving the river sometime later. The sun was fully risen, and her belly rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten for quite some time. Still she kept walking, moving against the river's flow as the sun climbed higher. She kept her mind steadfastly on the path ahead of her and did her best not to think about the man she had left sleeping so trustfully.

It was close to midday when she found the bush of withered blueberries, somehow left untouched by birds and beasts. She fell on them with a glad cry, their sweetness easing some of the hunger cramps in her belly.

She was just finishing off the last bite when she heard the howl, and when she stood up to run, she could already see that she was too late. Wolves circled her, their heads lowered and their teeth bared, and Riona felt a chill up her spine.

"You cannot hold me," she said as defiantly as she could. "You cannot make me your prisoner."

There was not even a branch for her to use to defend herself, but she squared herself up, ready to fight, as the biggest wolf, ruddy brown and bigger than a mastiff, stalked up to her. Despite her resolve, a part of her trembled at his approach, remembering what had passed between them.

She started to say his name, and then she realized that the eyes that glared from the wolf's face were not amber. Instead, they were a livid, maddened green, and she knew to the bottom of her soul that this was not Rordan.

She faced the wolf with nothing in her hands, and as it stalked closer, she thought of the man she had left sleeping.

Oh, Rordan, I'm sorry...

Do you like this book? Be sure to check other books in this series

The Black Wolf and the Red - Volume 2

The Truth of Blood - Volume 3

Following the Wolf (Trilogy Bundle)

