NAUGHTY & NICE

by Elaine Hopper

(c) copyright Elaine Hopper, August 2001

cover art by Jenny Dixon

ISBN 1-58608-269-8

Gemstar Edition 1-58608-392-9

New Concepts Publishing

Lake Park, GA 31636

Other NCP books available by Elaine Hopper

Careless Whispers

Next to Forever

Tigers Play Too Rough

Chapter One

Wolfgang "Wolf" Linder grinned when his cousin's screen name popped up on his Buddy List. Logan Brandt was his favorite cousin, practically his brother. They'd grown up together, terrorized girls together, and even looked like each other. So much so that they'd been able to swap dates in college without the girls ever realizing it. It had been a favorite game until they became too mature to indulge in it anymore.

He really missed Logan since he’d come to Ft. Lauderdale, not that he minded living in paradise. Who could complain about white sandy beaches, sunshine, and balmy weather year round? Not to mention the endless supply of bikini clad women. It was a bachelor's dream.

Still, he talked to Logan almost daily on the Internet.

"Hey Cuz," he typed into his Instant Messenger. "What's the scoop with the ex-girlfriend. She still bugging you?" He had to chuckle even as he stood amazed. His cousin attracted women as easily as he breathed. Now one of his old girlfriends had tracked him down and seemed to want to rekindle some flames. Logan was playing with her but seemed to be tiring of the game.

"What's it to you? Can't you catch a girl in the land of plenty that you always want to know about my love life?"

"If I had a girl." He scowled at his cousin's acute perception. Logan had always been too smart for his own good, and too much of a smart ass. "Would I be wasting time with your sorry ass?"

"Don't take out your frustrations on me. Maybe you should change your name. What chick wants to go out with a Wolfgang? Or a Wolf?"

"You're not half German so you can't appreciate my fine upstanding name. What kind of name is Logan anyway? That's not a first name. That's a last name." They teased each other like this all the time. It didn't mean anything. They were just having a bit of fun. Obviously they both needed to get a life. Lately Wolf had started thinking about finding that one special woman and settling down. He couldn't take his computer to bed and it was mighty cold and lonely. He wouldn't mind having a couple of kids to terrorize either. But where was she hiding? He'd not found anyone that measured up yet. Not even anyone he'd want to have a one-night stand with lately. Wasn't Ft. Lauderdale supposed to be knee deep in women?

"Spill man. She dump your sorry ass? Serves you right." He knew that would get a rise out of his lady killer cousin. He leaned back in his swivel chair and rubbed the back of his neck. While he waited he multi-tasked, checking his music download. Two songs were still in the queue and one had another 20% to go. Another guy was downloading a song from him.

"I wish. She's bugging the daylights out of me. I think she wants me to go down to Ft. Lauderdale and sweep her off her feet, tell her I still love her and can't live without her. I've got to cut her off before she has us married." He said the "M" word. This must be serious.

Wolf jerked up in his chair. Ft. Lauderdale caught his eye. Curiosity welled up in him. "You didn't tell me your girlfriend was down here. Afraid I'd steal her from you?"

"What's to steal? She's not my girl anymore. Thinking... Thinking..."

Wolf could hear Logan's fingers tapping on his keyboard and see his eyes narrowing. He knew Logan better than he knew himself. This girl scared him and he was in running mode. But what if she was the one for his cousin? Obviously she liked him a lot since she had looked him up after all these years. Fifteen, wasn't it? He'd read some of her emails to his cousin and although she kept her tone light and friendly, the undercurrents about carried him away. She seemed bright, funny, and delightful. Just the sort of woman to keep his cousin in line. It was high time Logan settled down, too. His kids would need cousins after all.

His brain buzzed with ideas of his own. Perhaps he should check out his cousin's woman, and if she was as delightful in person as she was online, he might have to play matchmaker. That made him laugh outright. Him a matchmaker? He wasn't some dowdy old dowager with nothing better to do than meddle in other people's lives. Yet the idea appealed to him. It might be fun to play detective and check out this woman, do his favorite cousin a favor even if he didn't realize it yet.

Yet again, it worried him when his cousin thought too deeply. Wolf was the thinker in the family. Logan was the ladies man. When Logan started thinking, trouble always followed.

"What's cooking in that devious brain of yours? What kind of trouble you fixing to get me into?" He had a hunch they were thinking the same thing this time. At least partially. He was sure his thoughts skewed after the checking out part when it came to the fixing up and marriage part.

"Nothing as wild as we did in college. I don't expect you to date her or anything. You don't even have to tell her who you are. In fact, don't. Just check her out for me? See if she's still pretty or if she's become a dog? I don't want to see her again if she's gotten fat and ugly."

Typical Logan. He only looked on the surface of things and people. Wolf hesitated, unsure he should get in the middle of this even though he'd had similar thoughts. Logan was old enough to make his own trouble and extricate himself from his own messes at thirty-seven.

"Come on, man. I'm not asking you to marry the woman. Just take a look and tell me if she looks good or not." The question reached out of the screen, taunting him. Before he could type a reply, Logan continued. "You owe me one. We'll be even. She won't even know you're there. No harm."

Wolf sighed, hoping this was truly a simple request. What would it hurt just to take a look at the chick and report back? A couple of hours of his time? It wasn't as if his schedule was full. "I suppose. If I can find her. Ft. Lauderdale-Miami's a monster town. You got an address? An old pic of her so I know who I'm looking for?"

"I didn't ask her home address - she'd probably expect me to show up at her door and carry her away."

"How do you expect me to find her? What's her whole name?" Logan wasn't going to make this easy, was he? Did he ever? He must've gotten all the perverse genes in the family.

"Brooke Monica Masters. She runs some lingerie shop in Pompano. Maybe you can wait outside at quitting time and catch a glimpse. She'll never see you."

"And I should buy dirty lingerie there? I don’t even have a girl. Give me something better to work with." Wolf's head began to pound. Logan and his schemes were pulling him in just as they had all through high school and college. He thought he'd stopped following his older cousin's lead. Not that Logan was much older, just a few months. Still, Logan had always taken the lead, and Wolf had fallen in beside him.

"Well... She likes to work out at some gym after work most nights. It's called The Resort or something. You know it?"

Wolf's stomach clenched. He knew it all right. He belonged to it. At least to the Pompano location. "Yeah, I know it. There's several of them. D'ya know which one she goes to? Plantation? Boca? Pompano?" He could've seen the chick, could've worked out beside her every night for all he knew.

"She didn't say. Are there that many you can't check them out? Ask the front desk clerk or something?"

That might work. But something had to be wrong with the plan. It was Logan's plan after all, even if he'd echoed his thoughts. But he couldn't figure out what the problem could be, and it really wasn't that big a favor to ask. Not from a favorite cousin or a best friend. "Okay. I'll take a look if I can find her. You don't expect me to kill off any boyfriends or husbands, do you? I'm not going to get shot?"

"Stop being such a wuss. Look, don't touch. Don't even let her see you."

"Just send me the old pictures of her so I know who I'm looking for before I change my mind. Put them in email attachment. You can figure that out, can't you?"

"You'll have them by tomorrow. Thanks cuz. How soon do you think you can find her?"

"Don't know. I'll try by next week. You gonna die from curiosity until then? You like this girl better than you're letting on?" He had to put the screws to his cousin. He couldn't let such a ripe opportunity pass him by. He lived for this. And likewise, Logan lived to tease him. They couldn't be closer if they were brothers.

"I expect a full report from you by week's end. I'm gonna check my mail now. Later bro'."

When Wolf tried to say goodbye, a message flashed that Logan had signed off. He must be hiding. Of course he had to hide from his ton of girlfriends. He wondered why this particular one had his balls out of joint? Like he'd wondered before, maybe this one was extra special and his dear cousin didn't want to admit it?

He decided he had to see for himself. Damn the consequences.

***

Brooke Masters blinked, unable to believe her eyes. The swarthy man across the gymnasium lifting weights looked exactly like Logan Brandt. Well, what she imagined Logan would look like now, fifteen years since she’d last seen him.

Using her peripheral vision and veiling her glances, she scoped him out. He had the same thick luxurious mahogany hair, swarthy complexion, hawk nose, firm chin, chiseled lips - oh how she remembered those lips - and intense ebony eyes as she remembered. Too intense. One look her way and she’d be a goner - again. The man even had the same firm, hairy legs as Logan.

But it couldn’t be Logan. Logan was in Chicago. She was in Ft. Lauderdale. He wouldn’t come all the way down here just to use a gym. It was a nice state-of-the-art gym but surely Chicago had gyms.

Gnawing on her lower lip, she tasted blood. Her feet missed a beat on the treadmill, and she stumbled. The monitor blinked heart rate 160. Danger. No machine need tell her she was in danger. She knew trouble when it stared her in the face, and that man was major trouble, whoever he was.

She desperately wanted to know who he was. Could he be Logan? Impossible. Could someone else look exactly like Logan? Highly improbable. Was she delusional, dreaming, or blind? Bingo!

She wanted to see Logan again so badly she was conjuring up ghosts. That could be the only explanation. She wanted to see Logan, voila, her mind played tricks on her and plastered images of Logan’s face on other men.

She sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold and then exhaled slowly. Deep cleansing breaths were what she needed. A psychiatrist was what she needed! Whatever had possessed her to track Logan down after all these years and email him? Two months before she’d started missing him so badly she’d typed his name into an Internet search engine and found him. She’d been astounded at her luck while mortified by her gall when she’d actually sent him a message. When he’d answered her, she’d about passed out.

They’d emailed back and forth for a month - nothing exciting - no mention of love, hopes, dreams, desires, or even why they’d broken up, but she’d still dreamed. Then he’d just stopped answering. She’d been crushed although she’d not honestly expected anything else. But she’d hop… .

And now Logan, or his double, worked out across the room, and she was getting manic again. What if Logan had tracked her down? What if he was checking her out?

She scowled. He’d picked a fine time to watch her, when she was hot and sweaty and wearing dumpy gym gear. Fate hated her.

So how did she find out who the man really was? She couldn’t just go up to him and blurt out ‘Are you Logan Brandt?’ If he wasn’t Logan, it’d look like the oldest pickup line in history. If it was Logan, then why didn’t he just come up to her?

Because maybe he didn’t like what he saw. She wasn’t bad for thirty-four years old, but she sure wasn’t as nubile as she’d been at nineteen, either.

Who was she fooling? She didn’t have the nerve to ask. Uh uh. No way. Emailing him after all those years had been way out of character but nowhere near as brazen as a face to face confrontation.

Too soon her time was up on the machine. She had a perfect vantage point here to ogle the man, but others waited in line and would lynch her if she tried to sneak in a second session. Reluctantly, she relinquished her spot as she patted perspiration from her forehead, neck, and chest with her towel. Loathe to leave, she sought another machine with a view of the man. A balding middle-aged man reset the abdominal machine, and she made a beeline for it. Stomach crunches wouldn’t hurt her, and this piece of equipment didn’t tire her out as some of the others did.

Other than drinking her fill of the vision of this gorgeous man, she had no idea what she would gain. More heartache? A bellyache from too much exercise? Rapture?

She knew she was a fool, but she couldn’t help herself. She’d been struck by lightning, and she was a goner. Logan or not, she was highly attracted to him. It had been years since she’d seen such a gorgeous man, and she was starved -- not counting Mel Gibson or Patrick Swayze, but they were just screen images. This man was real, and he was making her blood sizzle.

When she’d counted to five hundred abdominal crunches, she admitted she’d gone overboard. It’d probably be a Pepto Bismol night - most assuredly if she continued.

That was it. She had to cool down and stop gushing so adolescently. She wasn’t eighteen anymore. A few laps in the pool should round out her workout and chill her out.

Squaring her shoulders, thrusting out her chest, lifting her chin, she strolled regally past the weight floor, past the man, to the stairs that led down to the locker rooms and pool.

Despite her resolve not to stare at the man, it was too tall an order. When her flickering glance caught sight of gleaming, straining muscles, her step faltered, and she did a double take.

His gaze clashed with hers and held. Her heart skipped several beats as her breath caught in her throat. Whoever this man was, he was too fine, too gorgeous for her piece of mind. No woman could be expected to keep her sanity around the likes of him. That meant she’d best keep a wide distance from him. In her present state of mind, she was vulnerable. Her brief reacquaintance of sorts with Logan lanced old wounds.

Inscrutable, the man’s regard unnerved her. Surely, she imagined any interest on his part. He wasn’t even smiling.

A weight clanked behind her breaking the spell enchanting her, shoving her into gear. Pool. Pool. Pool. She forced her thoughts off the man, away from the traitor Logan, and flung her towel over her shoulder.

One foot after another was all she had to manage. Don’t trip down the stairs, she told herself. He might be watching. She hoped he was watching so she sashayed her hips, unable to resist the purely feminine urge. Had she had such an urge since she last saw Logan? That man affected her like none other. Or should that be infected? She’d had the Logan virus. She’d almost died from it. She should be immune to it. Obviously, she wasn’t.

Well she’d better get a booster shot and get on with her life. She wasn’t one of those singles who used the health club as a dating service. Her life was complicated enough, and she was the cautious sort.

But her body refused to stop tingling, and she couldn’t get his image out of her mind. Those eyes haunted her. Those dark, intense, soul-probing eyes.

She escaped from the disturbing man, to the comfort of the pool. She was a water baby. If she could live in the water, she'd be in Heaven. One day she'd have her own pool in her backyard but until then, she spent as much time here as she could squeeze. Weekends and holidays usually found her on the Ft. Lauderdale or Miami beaches playing in the surf.

This second she was a tumbled up mess of jittery excitement. She wanted to

fly and she wanted to submerge her wayward feelings. Luckily she found a lap lane open and claimed it. Floating on her back, she opened her arms wide, closed her eyes and submerged her ears, delighting in the sound of lapping water and the pool's motor. Chlorine tickled her nose, and she inhaled deeply. It was her favorite perfume. She didn't care if everyone thought she was demented, but she loved it. That and the smell of the slowly burning coals and warmed redwood in the sauna. If she didn't have to work and she wouldn't shrivel up, she'd live in the pool. However, there was the little matter of eating and paying her rent. Pesky things but necessary nonetheless.

With her head underwater and her body relaxed, she let her anxiety drain. So

what if she'd not heard from Logan in a month? So what if that was Logan upstairs or just a look alike? Logan was obviously through with her so she was through with him. Men were dogs. Men lied. Wasn't Logan living proof of that? He'd lied to her years ago, seduced her, and then left. Why she'd bothered to find him, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe to find out what had truly happened to satisfy her curiosity or to ease her own guilt? Now she knew she had nothing to feel guilty over. She'd not broken up his relationship. He'd merely been playing with her.

She should be happy that he'd released her from the guilt she'd felt all these years when she'd imagined she'd hurt him in any way. He hadn't been hurt a bit. Only she was hurt. But she didn't need a man to be happy. She was free to do what she pleased, when she pleased, how she pleased, and she relished her freedom. She was older and wiser and Logan-free.

Then why had she almost had a heart-attack upstairs when she'd seen the Logan look alike? Why had she been unable to look away from him? And why had she fantasized about him?

Because she was an idiot, that's why! Plain and simple. Despite men's draw

backs, she missed being kissed and cuddled. She missed having a partner to talk to. She longed to feel all-consuming love that was better than anything else in the universe. And she'd come closest to that feeling when she'd been with Logan. Call her sentimental. Call her a fool. She'd not been able to erase his memory after all these years, after several other boyfriends and even an ex-husband. He's the only one that made her blood sizzle and who made her go starry-eyed. So sue her.

She knew better than to act on it ever again. His silence spoke volumes. Unless he wrote back and said he'd died, been incarcerated without Internet or telephone access, or in a coma, she was through with him. Of course, he'd discarded her years ago, and she'd been too dumb or too blind to accept the truth. She'd cherished dreams of a reunion all these years. What an utter fool she was.

Flipping over to her stomach, she struck out in the front crawl with all her strength, pushing herself to swim harder, faster until she was out of breath. Wet hair matted over her face but she didn't care. It was better than wearing a cap. Latex gave her the heebie jeebies. Standing, as the deep end wasn't that deep in this pool - only about five feet and she was 5'6" thus her face was above water - she leaned her head back to wash her hair out of her eyes. Then she continued her laps on her back in a leisurely manner, more to excise her tension than to exercise her muscles. Wishing the world would go away and leave her alone, she closed her eyes figuring she could at least leave the world for a tiny time. The water seemed to lift her up and she floated.

When she bumped into the wall, she opened her eyes to get her bearing. A man stood over her, shapely hairy legs, hands on hips, tall, lean, and swarthy. Intense eyes scrutinized her. There was no mistake that he gazed at her, but his expression was unfathomable so she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Oh no! It was him. The Logan look-alike. Or was it Logan? Why would someone who didn't know her stare at her so blatantly?

Shocked, mortified, she spluttered, spewing water like a dolphin, thoroughly embarrassing herself. How long their eyes stayed locked, she couldn't tell. A second? Or an eternity? It felt like forever.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't stay afloat, and she started to sink, breaking the bewitchment.

Without a word, the man turned and strolled to the locker room and disappeared.

Was he real? Or had she imagined him?

***

She patted herself dry as she sauntered to her locker. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she froze, almost falling on her face.

Mascara blackened her cheeks. It wasn’t merely gray or smudgy around her eyes but pitch black over her whole face.

Hysterical laughter bubbled from her lips. No no no no! He’d seen her like this. How could she have forgotten she wore regular mascara and not waterproof? She looked like a clown.

Tearing off a sheet of paper towel, she wet it and scrubbed her face raw. What must he think of her?

The moment she got home, she dropped her gym bag and grabbed her cellular phone. Seconds later her best friend and assistant manager Paula answered. Paula’s golden retriever, Bubbles, barked in the background.

"You will never believe what just happened." Holding the phone between her shoulder and ear, she padded out to the kitchen and poured a glass of cold apple juice.

"You wore your panties on your head and danced naked?" Paula was a real joker and prided herself at being outrageous.

Brooke snorted. "Not far from it." She pictured the vision the man must’ve seen and groaned. She held her aching head in her hands.

"Spill! I’m finally rubbing off on you?"

"I went to the gym and saw this guy who looks exactly like Logan… ."

"The Logan? Chicago Logan?" A long, low whistle whined over the line.

"Yep. It couldn’t be him, could it? He wouldn’t come all the way here from Chicago just to swim at my gym and then not speak to me. Would he?" Her brain cells were about fried trying to figure this one out, and she was still no closer to a definitive answer than two hours before.

"You know the guy. What d’you think?"

She turned the computer on and tapped her nails on the mouse pad impatiently. Her Internet server was slow to connect. Everybody and their mother must be online tonight. Finally she connected, and she opened her mail.

"Clueless! Either he came down here to check me out and decided he didn’t like what he saw. Or I’m delusional."

"You’re probably delusional"

"Thanks!" Not. "Even his legs are the same. And his eyes. He has the most intense eyes. They look straight through to your soul."

"I’m still trying to figure out the legs." Paula chuckled. "How can you recognize legs?"

"I have an old photo of him and his legs stand out. Those are the same legs."

"Then it must be him." Sarcasm dripped from her friend’s lips. "That clinches it. He passed the leg test!"

"But it can’t be him." She chewed her bottom lip as she scanned her mail for a message from Logan. Nothing! Damn!

"Here’s what you do." Paula’s voice held a smile and Brooke knew it meant trouble so she held her breath. "You buy a new swimming suit and you wear it there tomorrow night and say very loudly ‘my evil twin was here last night’. How about one of those really sexy ones from the shop?"

"Right." Any drier, and she’d turn to dust. "Maybe a better plan is for you to come with me and tell me when I have mascara all over my face."

"Give me a raise to buy the membership, boss."

She was about to give Paula a raise anyway. Why not bump it up another $40 to pay for the membership? The shop was doing very well. Sex toys and sexy lingerie were popular. The new advertising helped, too. "Done."

Awe laced her friend’s voice. "You must be desperate."

Paula deserved to be throttled sometimes and this was one of those times. "How about ‘thank you. You’re a princess.’"

"Thank you, goose."

Well, considering it was Paula, that was the best she could hope for.

"Seriously - what do I do?" God but she did sound desperate. No man was worth it.

"What do you do when you meet any other man?"

"The only other men I’ve met lately are the leeches who come into the shop to buy their wives and girlfriends crotchless panties and hit on me. Or the dirty old men who hang out at the gym." She’d waited on one such patron earlier that day. He’d bought a tiger stripe teddy with the breasts and crotch cut out plus a few accouterments then suggested she model it for him and give him a test drive. If she had a dollar for every jerk that came up with that unoriginal come on, she’d be richer than Bill Gates. It was enough to turn her off men. Of course it might have something to do with the wares she sold. Her clients assumed that since she sold naughty lingerie and kinky sex toys, that she was naughty, too. Too often she’d had to point out she wore no price tag, that she was priceless, and they weren’t worthy of her. Well, not exactly in those words.

Paula on the other hand had a magical teasing way with the customers. They adored her and often popped in just to swap jokes or get advice about their love lives. Usually she ended up selling them something to spice up their night. She also helped choose the more risqué items guaranteed to make Brooke blush. Paula was a find. Most importantly, she was the best friend Brooke had ever had. Unfortunately, she could also be a royal pain.

"What am I ever gonna do with you, girlfriend?" A long sigh shuddered over the line. Obviously Paula echoed her sentiments.

"Meet me at the shop. We’re going to find you the sexiest bathing suit that’s legal to wear in public, and if that guy’s not panting over you, his chromosomes are seriously mixed up. He won’t be able to help himself."

Excitement tingled through her. Even her toes curled. This was the stuff fantasies were made of. Then she had a daunting thought. "What if he doesn’t show up again?" She really wanted to see the man again even though it was crazy.

"Nix these negative thoughts. You’ll jinx yourself. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes." Paula hung up.

Before she could rationalize her way out of this scheme, she made her way downstairs to the shop. It sure saved time living overhead. Money, too, as she owned the building and didn’t have to pay rent. She’d inherited everything from her mother who’d been a brilliant, if unconventional, businesswoman. After almost six years without her mother, the ache still burned in her chest. She missed her mama something fierce. Why she thought of her now she had no clue. Memories were tricky. Anything could spark them off.

Paula arrived in eight minutes. She shook her reddish brown hair as she tsk-tsked. She was a big girl who cracked jokes about her weight a lot, but she was most the kind-hearted soul one could ever meet. She was also devilishly witty and possessed a high IQ. She was taking classes to be an attorney. Heaven help the opposition. Brooke let her study on duty when things were quiet.

"Let’s see what we got here." Paula flipped through the rack with an expert hand. "Size five?" Her critical gaze roamed over Brooke.

"Seven." She pulled out a promising looking shimmery bikini in a lovely shade of blue then tried to stuff it back when she saw the nipples were cut out. Heat consumed her. Never in a million years would she wear that. Paula must’ve ordered it.

Her friend was faster and snatched it away. She stretched the top and wiggled her finger through the hole. "This’ll make him drool."

"You said legal in public." She tilted her head at it. "That’s probably illegal in private, too." The idea of wearing that scandalous suit for the man made her wet between her legs and her nipples pucker. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone.

"Naaa. This is Ft. Lauderdale, honey. We have nude beaches down the road in Miami." A mischievous twinkle lit Paula’s amber eyes. "Or you can hop over to Nassau to the all nude resorts."

"It’s a family spa." She scowled at the suit. "You like it so much, you wear it."

"You’re the one on the man-hunt. Besides, my big boobs would rip these tiny things to shreds."

Brooke had to shake her head and grin. "Stop that." Paula had a bad habit of putting herself down.

"Do you want to wow him or not?" Paula thrust a buttercup yellow creation at her. It was a bunch of string and two tiny triangles not much larger than pasties.

"No way. I’m not as blessed as you, but I’m not that tiny, either." She thumbed through the rack and found a pretty crocheted creation that might work. It was egg shell in color and very delicate. The thighs were a little high cut for her liking, but it was lined and all the vital parts would be covered. "This one."

"Too tame." Paula pulled out a zebra striped G-string bikini. "This one. You have a cute derriere. Flaunt it."

"Not in this life." Not in any life. Not in public anyway. If she ever remarried, perhaps then. The next marriage would be better if she ever took another chance. For starters, she’d only marry a man she was crazy in love with - otherwise she’d rather be alone. Better that than be miserable and stuck. She’d have a lot more fun next time around, too. Fun and games were essential to keep the spark lit. Her gaze slid to the shimmery blue creation. Maybe she’d get that and put it in her trousseau just in case. Men loved that sort of thing. If it kept her husband happy… . But later. Not in front of her friend. She’d get teased till she died.

"I’ve made up my mind. This one." She took it to her register, logged the sale, and demagnetized it.

"See if I care that you remain an Old Maid." Paula held the tiger stripe teddy over her. Her eyebrows danced. "Think Oscar’ll like it?"

Brooke grinned. "I think he’ll have a stroke. All men lust after that one." It was their bestseller. She thought of it as the baby-maker. The men would get so hot, so wild, they’d forget to use birth control. She recommended it to couples trying to conceive. All others should steer clear.

Paula picked up a couple tubes of flavored gel - strawberry and pineapple - and put them on the checkout. "Ring me out. Oscar was revving his engine when I left. I’ve orders to hurry back." Oscar was Paula’s live-in fiancé. They’d been engaged three years and seemed to be in no hurry to make it official. Yet they adored each other.

"By all means, don’t let him run out of gas without you. You should’ve stayed there."

Paula eyed the demure, if beautiful, swim suit and sighed. "I might as well have as much as you took my advice." She bagged her purchases and sashayed to the door. "Don’t forget my raise. Or our date at the gym tomorrow night. Ta ta." She wiggled her fingers and was swallowed up by the night.

As soon as Paula’s old, dented white Dodge pulled out of the parking lot, Brooke locked up shop and grabbed an armful of the sexiest, most scandalous lingerie she could find in the shop to try on upstairs.

Chapter Two

Awe-struck didn’t begin to describe what Wolf felt. Logan had neglected to mention that his ex-girlfriend was a goddess, if a bit nutty.

Or was she still really Logan’s girl? His cousin kept contradicting himself. Probably because he’d not made up his mind.

Logan didn’t deserve her. He was just playing with her heart. The woman deserved better. Someone stable and solid - like him.

Wolf pounded his keyboard as he sent his cousin an email.

"Forget the girl. She has five sniveling brats and is as wide as a house. Her front tooth is missing and her bosom is flat. Believe me, cuz, you wouldn’t like her. She’s not your type. You owe me big time!"

That should scare Logan away. He’d never know what he was missing. He’d not missed the woman in fifteen years, he didn’t need her now.

But Wolf longed to see her again.

When Rudy called from the gym to report Brooke was in the pool, he rushed right over. Good thing he lived just down the street.

"Thanks! Good job." He slipped the kid at the gym’s reception desk a twenty- dollar bill. "She still in the pool?"

"In the Jacuzzi with a friend."

"A man?" His chest tightened. Logan wouldn’t have sneaked down here without telling him, would he?

"She brought a new member tonight. A big girl with reddish hair and freckles." Rudy handed his membership card back after he scanned it.

Relief oozed through him. He wanted a chance with her, not that he had a plan how to approach her. For once he wished he were his cousin, smooth with the ladies, a glib-tongued devil.

By the time he changed and sauntered into the pool area as cool and offhand as he could muster, Brooke was swimming laps again but this time it looked as if she were nude. His heart froze as his step faltered. Surely she wouldn’t be. Not here. His groin tightened unbearably, and he cursed his form fitting trunks. Cool flew out the window.

To hide his joy at seeing her and to get close, he dove into the water and claimed the lap lane next to her. The cool water helped relieve the heat flooding him.

He struck out with a clean, strong front crawl, as much to impress her as to burn his surge of adrenaline. After about ten laps, he stopped to breathe and to watch Brooke.

Resting his elbows on the pool lip, his legs floated, and he gave into his desire to watch the goddess. He could tell now that she wore a one-piece suit. It was a crocheted, lacy suit that hugged her curves. It was flesh toned which is what had fooled him initially. She was sleek and bronzed as if she spent a lot of time in the sun. There wasn’t an ounce of flab on her contrary to what he’d told Logan. She must spend a lot of time at the gym. She must be very athletic.

His blood sizzled.

She slowed and stopped when she reached his end, rubbed her brow, and swayed. All blood drained from her face as she clutched at the wall moaning.

Alarmed that she was fainting or having an attack of some kind, he closed the gap between them and caught her. "Whoa! You okay?" His voice came out husky in response to her soft scented body. She slumped against him, and he tightened his arms around her tiny waist.

"I’m dizzy. It came over me suddenly." She had the voice of an angel. How had his cousin let this one escape? "Can you help me out of the pool? I need to sit down."

He knew she meant help with walking, but he scooped her into his arms and held her against his chest. She fit into his arms perfectly, as if she were made for him.

Her incredible jade eyes widened, her lashes crescents against her delicately high cheekbones. A bloom crept into the apple of her cheeks. "I d-didn’t mean this."

He smiled down into her eyes, her tempting lips within kissing distance. If circumstances were different, he wouldn’t be able to resist tasting her. "I know, but I’m taking no chances. Don’t worry, I’m strong enough to carry you."

"I know." Her lips formed an "o". I mean, I’ve watched you working out." Her eyes widened further, and the blush spread to her neck and ears. "I mean I’ve seen your muscles." She groaned and bit her lips, averting her eyes.

He was enjoying this. So she’d been watching him, too? Interesting. Then, of course, he looked like Logan. He scowled. She might even wonder if he were his lousy cousin.

He’d never been jealous of Logan before, but this time he seethed. He’d almost felt guilty lying to Logan, but not now.

"Do you hurt anywhere? Should we call an ambulance?"

She shook her head, and then winced. "My head hurts a bit, but no, don’t call an ambulance. I’ll be fine if I can just sit out and get some juice."

"You diabetic?"

She smiled and stars lit her eyes. "No. At least I hope not."

"What’s wrong, honey?" A large, freckle-faced woman in her late twenties or early thirties bustled up to them with a towel, her features pinched. "Did you faint?"

"No… ."

"She was about to," he said simultaneously. "See if they’ll give you some juice and tell them I’ll pay for it on my way out." He deposited her in a white plastic chair that said Rehab and stood looking down at her.

Mistake. Her creamy cleavage beckoned him, and her ample breasts strained against her suit, her nipples puckering. He responded instantly. She stared at his face so maybe she didn’t notice.

Her brows drew together, and the bridge of her nose crinkled. "Thank you. I’ve never done that before." She smoothed her already slicked back hair with long delicate fingers. Diamond studs twinkled from tiny earlobes. Her nails were done in a French manicure, and she wore no ring. "I must’ve exerted myself too much."

Maybe she’d been showing off for him, too? He hid a smile.

Extending her hand, she said, "I’m Brooke Masters. That was my friend Paula Williams. You are?" She scrutinized him closely, looking him up and down.

"Wolf Linder." He took her hand in his marveling how small hers looked inside it, how right it felt. Electric current charged through it.

"Wolf? That’s different."

"It’s really Wolfgang. I’m named after my grandfather. I’m half German."

"I’ve never met a Wolfgang before." Her lips twitched. "Funny. You don’t look German. You look Greek. Or maybe Italian."

"My mother’s Italian. She’s from Chicago." Oops! He said too much. Logan was from Chicago, too.

"Do you have a brother?" Her words were measured, deceptively simple. "A twin perhaps?"

Uh, oh. What did he say now? He couldn’t tell her the truth or she’d never speak to him again. And he really wanted to know her better. Much better. Lowering himself to the pool deck, he crossed his legs Indian style and looked up at her. Another mistake. Long, shapely legs topped off by a silky expanse of thigh teased him. His glance fell on the juncture between her legs, and he couldn’t exhale. Perfect. This one was a temptress. What had his cousin gotten him into here?

"I have a younger sister. Her name’s Theresa, and she’s going to get married in about three weeks. She has blonde hair and blue eyes and looks German."

Paula scurried to them with a bottle of orange juice in one hand and a plastic cup full of ice in the other. "How’re you feeling, boss?" She poured the orange liquid and handed the glass to Brooke.

"Much better, thank you." She sipped the juice and some orangey pulp clung to her lips. Her tongue darted out to cleanse it off.

"Boss?" He looked from one woman to the other, his brow lifted.

Brooke darted warning glances at the other woman, frowning.

A wide grin lit up Paula’s face. "Brooke owns and operates ‘Naughty & Nice Lingerie’ on Federal Highway. I’m the assistant manager. We sell sensual lingerie, sex toys… ."

Brooke glowed crimson and tapped her friend in the shin with her toes. "Enough already. He doesn’t want to hear about work. I come here to escape from it."

Paula chuckled and winked at him. "She’s just embarrassed. If her mom hadn’t left her the shop you wouldn’t catch her dead in there. She gets mad at me whenever I start talking about our leather and sex toys… ."

"Your raise?" No words had ever sounded deadlier. A rattlesnake’s hiss couldn’t be more ominous.

Paula narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her very large breasts. "You’re no fun. Lucky you have me to sell your wares, or you’d go broke. We're having a sale on the really naughty lingerie. We just got in some tiger and zebra stripe crotchless... ."

"Paula!" Brooke stomped her bare foot. Her lips barely moved as if she were a ventriloquist. "I'm sure Mr. Linder doesn't want to know about our sale. We're here to relax, not talk business."

"But our business is relaxing." Paula held her stomach and laughed. "We're located in Pompano on Federal Highway. Remember we’re Naughty and Nice.

Come see us."

"Call me Wolf." He gazed into Brooke's enchanting eyes, bewitched. She was adorable flustered and flushed. He wondered how she survived in this business if it embarrassed her so.

"Wolf?" Paula did a double take. "That's a new one, and I thought I’d heard them all."

"That's his name. Wolfgang." Brooke rolled her eyes. "His father is German and his mother's Italian."

She'd been listening. Good.

"What a combination, but it works." Paula appraised him with a very appreciative gaze, and he felt the heat rise in his neck. He tried to squash his embarrassment. This woman was brazen. A thoughtful gleam pushed the lustful one from her eyes. She tapped her chin with her forefinger, her eyes narrowed. "You know he looks like that man in the picture, what's his name. Lo… ."

Brooke stomped her foot, hard. "Paula!" If that wasn't a guised shut up, nothing was.

Wolf did his best to keep his expression neutral. Any reaction would give him away. Brooke had already voiced her suspicion, and her radar was still up.

Paula's expression turned devilish. "You know he does. You told… ."

Brooke's eyes flashed fire. "One more word, and you're fired."

It was the redhead's turn to roll her eyes. She held up her hands in the stop position, palms flat out. "Okay. Okay. You don't have to hit me over the head with a brick house. Sheesh!" Pivoting on her heel, she tossed her head and stalked to the Jacuzzi.

Brooke finished her drink and stood. "I don't know that woman. I never saw her before in my life. Nor do I sell naughty lingerie." She sneaked a peek at him from beneath veiled lashes. "Do you believe me?"

"Does it matter to you if I do?" He fell into step beside her. The top of her head came to his nose, and he was pleased that she was the perfect height for him. He resisted the urge to strut. Logan would have. He'd seen him do it a million times. He could sympathize now. "If it bothers you to peddle sexy lingerie, why do you?"

"My mother left the shop to me. It was important to her. And it's a living." Her voice sounded ho hum and it wasn’t animated. Gray shadows haunted her eyes.

"What else would you do if you didn't have the shop? What's your dream career?" He stopped in front of her, forcing her to stand before him.

She was silent so long he didn't think she was going to answer him. That or she had never decided. Finally, she said on a long sigh, "I wanted to be a pediatrician. But then Dad died, and Mom needed help with her shop. I went back to school part time after I moved down here to work with her, but by then I was in my late twenties. It was too late to pursue medical school."

"Why?" He was an avid believer in following one's dreams. Obstacles only made for more of a challenge. It made the prize grander.

"Money for one. It cost the moon. But it's almost impossible to get accepted. I wouldn't have been a top pick, not at that age." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Besides, I had an obligation to Mom."

"So you're going to keep doing something that makes you miserable? Forever?"

She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it. Shrugging her shoulders, she tilted her head and smiled up at him sadly. "I don't know. I make a decent living. I have good hours. I own my building. I'm my own boss. I live in paradise. What's so bad about that?"

"Are you happy?" Something told him she couldn't honestly answer yes. That she longed for more. He wasn't sure she even knew what. Something intangible, perhaps? Like him?

"I hardly know you. Although I really appreciate your help, Sir Galahad, I don't think you know me enough to psychoanalyze me." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her breasts jiggled, mesmerizing him.

He tried to look away but not swift enough to prevent the knowing look in her eye. It wasn't an altogether pleased look.

"Looking good, Brooke." An old guy that was at least sixty smiled a lecherous smile and waved at Brooke when he passed them. When he winked, Wolf wanted to punch him. "How about dinner tonight?"

"Hi, Freddie. Can't tonight. I'm here with a friend." She waved back to the man and started to back away. The man gave him the once over and nodded.

Looking at Wolf again, she said, "I'll let you get back to your workout. See you around." Before he could come up with a suitable reason for her to stay with him, she'd rejoined her friend.

Chapter Three

"Did you hear that jerk just now? Do you believe these customers?" She stared after the man who'd just left the shop with two bagfuls of naughty lingerie, body gels, and various leather items. "Men! Ooh!"

"You said the magic word."

Brooke lifted her eyebrow at her friend and put her hands on her hips. Frustrated didn't begin to describe how she felt. She'd wanted to knock the jerk into next week. She was tired of all the sexual innuendoes, of being hit on by married and engaged men. The ones who assumed she was for sale as well as the lingerie infuriated her. "Men?"

"Customers. Paying customers. They pay our rent and daily bread." Paula tidied the shelves and racks that the man had messed up. "Perhaps you should think about selling the shop and going into some other business if this one bothers you so badly. Like that Wolf guy suggested."

Brooke paused, looking around the store. Her world did seem rather small and limited. Boring even, except for Paula. Without her, she wasn't sure the place would be bearable. But then, was any job fun and fulfilling all the time? And this was her mother's legacy. How could she give up a little piece of her mother? "I still feel Mom, here."

"You're mama will be with you wherever you go. She'd prefer you to be happy. This is just a hunk of rock and mortar, not a jail. Unless you make it so."

Brooke stared long and hard at her friend, pondering her words. "I'll have to pray about that. What else would I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. It's been so long since I thought about it. The only thing I ever really wanted to do was be a doctor. But then Dad got so ill that we had no money for school. Once he was gone, Mom put all her energy into building this store. She was just turning a nice profit when she was in that car wreck."

"Well? Why not go to medical school? What's stopping you? You're not tied down anymore. Sell the shop, and you're free." Paula stuck the last teddy back on the rack that she'd been holding and sauntered over to her. She leaned on the counter and rested her chin on her hand, staring at Brooke. "Tell me why you really contacted that guy you knew fifteen years ago? The one who looks like the dish that was flirting with you last night. Are you really still in love with him after all this time? Or are you just looking for something missing in your life?"

"I thought I was in love with him. But I'm not sure." She twiddled with her hair, wrapping it around her finger. "I've never gotten him out of my mind. I've measured every man against him. I'm always wondering what he's doing. If he's happy. If he ever thinks about me. If I did the right thing way back when."

"You've got it bad."

"I was afraid of that. But I'm not sure now. I'm all confused." She stared out the window, watching the traffic pass by. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze as the sun baked the parking lot. Heat waves shimmered up from the asphalt. "If I'm so in love with Logan, why am I so attracted to Wolf? Or am I truly attracted to him? Am I only transferring my feelings from Logan to Wolf because he looks like him?" Her heart couldn't answer her.

"I don't know, honey. Only you can answer that. But I'd be very careful about jumping into anything until you’re darned sure." Paula straightened and yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. "Are you sure he's not the ex-boyfriend?"

"He doesn't talk or act like Logan. It's not him." She doodled on her notepad with her pen. "I even asked him if he had a brother, thinking maybe he's related to Logan."

"And?" Paula walked to the window, her hands behind her back. She squinted at the sunshine.

"He said he only has an older sister who lives in Rochester. They say that everyone has a double. But... ." She chewed her bottom lip, troubled. "The timing is soooooooo strange, ya know? I've never seen this guy before, and believe me, I'd remember him, and then he shows up right after Logan stops emailing me. It's spooky. I never believed in coincidences."

"Coincidences can happen." But the tone of Paula's voice was disbelief. She turned and pinpointed Brooke with a thoughtful gaze. "This one has me stumped, too. It must just be an incredible coincidence. Maybe God is compensating you for losing the other guy. So now what are you going to do?"

"To do?" Brooke rang out her register, preparing to take the cash drawer to the back room to count today's earnings before Paula took over for the evening. They always started with a fresh drawer. "About what?"

"About Wolfgang." Paula laughed. "I never thought I'd meet a Wolfgang. Not in Florida, anyway. Maybe in Transylvania, and he'd have fangs and fur and red glowing eyes." Paula's imagination knew no bounds. She could go from the sublime to the ridiculous in a second.

"What about Wolf? Are you trying to warn me he could be a werewolf just because he has an old German name? He's named for his grandfather."

"My, my. You sure know a lot about the man for just meeting him. What's his EP?"

"His what?" Talk about Wolf was making her warm and tingly and setting off alarm bells in her head. Now that she knew he wasn't Logan, she'd decided to steer clear of him. She couldn't be sure if she was attracted to him for himself or merely because he reminded her of Logan. It would be disastrous if she married him only to discover she was just looking for a Logan substitute. She couldn't do that to him or to herself. Still,

the thought of him heated up her innermost private places. She'd have to do something about that.

"His earning potential. You know - how much money does he earn? What does he do for a living?"

She checked her memory. No. He hadn't mentioned his line of work. "I don't know. But it doesn't matter anyway. He's not Logan, so I'm not going to get involved." She carried the cash drawer to the back room and began counting money. It was difficult to focus as her mind was on Wolf. "Let me get over Logan, and then maybe I'll meet someone else."

The bell tinkled signaling they had another customer. Brooke didn't pay attention to it and counted her money, reconciling her shift's take. Paula would take care of the customer which was good as her nerves were shot. She couldn't take one more lascivious man drooling over her. If she'd wanted that, she'd have posed for Playboy.

"Brooke," Paula hissed in a stage whisper. "He’s here!"

"He who? Can he hold on a sec? I'll be there as soon as I finish what I'm doing." Paula knew she couldn't leave the cash unattended. She was always cautious.

"It’s the werewolf. Better come out before he starts howling." She peeked around the corner again, "I pointed him toward the sale."

"You didn't!" She rose from her chair so fast it crashed to the floor. Great. Was she doomed to do stupid things around this man? That was another reason to avoid him. But this time, he was on her turf. She wondered why? Had he come to buy something sexy for his girlfriend? She didn't think he was married as he didn't wear a wedding ring. However, maybe he was one of those men who didn't wear a ring or only wore one when it suited them.

Brooke locked up the cash and stuck the keys in her pocket, all the while her heart pounded a deafening rhythm. Had he come to see her?

When she sauntered into the showroom, he had an armful of sexy lingerie for him and her and was picking out some rather risqué toys.

Her heart slammed into her chest. He wasn’t free. He had a wife or girlfriend. Disappointment flooded her, and her shoulders sagged. The bounce fled from her step.

Then she reprimanded herself. She’d already decided to stay away from him. Whatever he did, whomever he was with didn’t matter a whit to her. He was practically a stranger - just another gym acquaintance and now, a customer.

A grin lit his face when his gaze settled on her. It was full of mischief. "You’ve quite a selection here." She waited for an off-color crack. When none came, she relaxed.

"We try to be a one-stop, all-you-need store. If we don’t have it, we’ll order it for you. If we please our shoppers, hopefully they’ll become loyal customers." She held out her arms. "Can I take those to the checkout for you?" She should be trying to sell him more goods, but it was hard enough to keep her composure under the circumstances.

He turned and favored her with a blatant stare. His gaze unnerved her, and she counseled herself not to fidget. "You’re about her size and coloring. Maybe you can give me an opinion?"

Oh no. Not him, too. Not again. Her spine stiffened.

He must’ve taken her silence for acquiescence. "Do you prefer the animal prints?" He held up a leopard spot, zebra stripe, and tiger stripe print in turn. "Or do you prefer leather or silk or lace?"

She swallowed the lump blocking her throat. His long fingers against the wisps of fabric looked so erotic she could barely breathe. They were sensual fingers, fingers that could caress, inflame, and stroke… .

"What do you prefer?"

She started, aware Paula hung around nonchalantly in the next aisle, probably listening to every word. "If it were me, I’d like whatever my man found sexy."

"Surely some things make you feel sexier than others?" His grin widened. He was enjoying making her squirm, but she wondered why since he obviously had someone already. "Which ones?"

To end this torture, she decided to answer him. Then perhaps she could rush him through check out and get him out of here so she could breathe again. "Definitely not leather or metallics." She pulled her lips back from her teeth. "Tacky."

He set those items aside, his attention rapt on her.

"Lacy is good. So is silk. Maybe an animal print." She said the last low, embarrassed that he was probing her sexual fantasies.

"With or without cutouts?"

The lump blocked her throat again, and she croaked, "Excuse me?"

He held up the baby maker and let it dangle from his finger.

Her mouth went dry as she stared at it. It was incredibly erotic, especially if it were to be worn for him. "Do you like it?" She reflected him.

He turned it around and stretched strategic places. "Wouldn’t any man?" His voice came out thicker. His eyes darkened.

She turned away. "You have your answer." Perspiration beaded her brow despite the chilly air conditioning. "Would you like to add it to your purchases?" Her lips felt frozen in place. The silk drawers burned her hands as she took them from him. She kept her eyes averted lest he see how his presence affected her. Now, more than ever, he couldn’t see how attracted she was to him now that she knew he wasn’t free.

Bells tinkled over the front door alerting her to another presence. When she glanced up, she saw two demurely dressed women.

One was in her late fifties or early sixties. She had stylish short and sassy dark hair, matching eyes, and a beauty mark on her upper lip.

Her companion was forty-something with straight almost waist-length light brown hair that resembled straw. She wore it pushed back off her face with a beaded headband. No make-up adorned her face, leaving her rather washed out.

Both women wore puritanical expressions and bypassed all the racks as they marched up to her. Storm clouds brewed in their eyes. They held their carriages with an indignant rigidity.

Uh, oh! They oozed trouble. She girded up her courage. Pasting a professional smile on her lips, she asked, "May I help you, ladies?"

The older woman bristled and narrowed her eyes. "I want to speak to the manager of this den of iniquity."

Standing tall, lifting her chin, her gaze met the woman’s evenly. "I’m the owner. Is there a problem?"

"Yes. We have a problem with this smut being peddled in our neighborhood. This is amoral, disgusting, and disintegrating the fabric of our society. We find it highly offensive." She picked up the baby maker that lay on top of the pile of Wolf’s purchases.

Her friend shuddered. "Horrid. Satan’s tool." She turned to Wolf and shook her finger at him. "You should be ashamed to buy such brazen, depraved items."

Paula zeroed in on them, stomping across the shop. "Please refrain from interfering with our business and accosting our customers. We’ll have to ask you to leave."

The older woman tossed her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I never! We’re here to ask you to leave. You’re a blight on our neighborhood, and you’re a bad influence on our children." She thrust a packet of papers under Brooke’s nose. Her hand shook. "Here’s a petition signed by all the local church congregations. A copy’s going to the city counsel. And we’re writing letters to the editors of all the local papers."

The long haired woman nodded. She looked at Brooke, Wolf, and then Paula in turn. "You’re immortal souls are in danger. Repent sinners! Close this shop. Send the devil packing. Save yourselves!"

Brooke sucked in a deep breath. More self-righteous zealots. They weren’t the first, and they probably wouldn’t be the last. She’d been through this before and knew the law was on her side. It wasn’t as if she sold videos or books or rented out women. She just sold lingerie and a few accessories for married people. She assumed they were all married. "We only sell to consenting adults. We have legal permits."

"If you don’t leave peacefully now, we’ll call the police." Paula glared at the intruders. "You’re trespassing."

The older woman smiled knowingly. "We answer to a higher authority. As should you."

She’d had enough. "How can you presume I don’t worship?"

"Obviously not. You and your shop are highly offensive. If you don’t close, we’ll be picketing you."

"I must insist you leave now." She picked up the phone to dial the Pompano Sheriff’s office.

"You’ll pay for your unrepetance. You’ll burn for your wicked ways." The women lifted their noses in the air and stalked off.

"Y’all don’t come back!" Paula’s chest rose and fell quickly. "Can you believe them?"

"You get that sort of thing often?" I guess you’re a prime target?" Wolf stared after the women.

Paula leaned her hip against the checkout display case. "We get all sorts, don’t we? I don’t know why they’re so upset with us. Pompano’s not exactly a family community, especially not here along Federal Highway. There are several strip joints and nudie bars down the road just a few blocks. There’s nude beaches in Miami. We’re just small fry with our nightwear."

"Maybe we should change our name and our image. After all naughty doesn’t have a good connotation."

"To night-gowns-r-us? Victorian lace? Flannel pajamas?"

Wolf cleared his throat. "You’re never going to please everyone. Besides, free publicity never hurts." He held out the leopard teddy. "Stock up on these things. You’re going to be famous."

"You mean infamous." Brooke finished ringing him up, tortured by images of some faceless woman wearing the lingerie for him. She did her best to remain professionally detached. "That’ll be $319.05. We take Visa and MasterCard."

He handed over a Visa platinum card that was approved, and she gave him his bag full of goodies. When their fingers touched, shock waves catapulted through her.

"Don’t worry about those women. See you around the gym." He winked and shot here a sexy smile that made her heart flip over in her chest.

"See you."

"Thank you. Come again." Paula held the door for him.

Chapter Four

"What do you mean you can’t come to Theresa’s wedding or Keith’s bachelor party?" Wolf raked his fingers through his hair and scowled at his computer screen. "You promised to be one of the best men. Theresa will be disappointed if you’re a no show." He swigged a gulp of cola from a can and opened an email while he awaited Logan’s reply.

"Can’t be helped. Big business deal. I’ll send the newlyweds an extra special gift. What’d you get them?"

"A honeymoon trip to a resort in Nassau. Keith told her he has reservations on some short Caribbean cruise. She’ll be surprised. I got Keith a bagful of sexy lingerie and toys for the honeymoon that I’ll give him at the bachelor party." He held the tiger print teddy up to the light and envisioned Brooke in it. His mouth went dry, and his groin hardened as he imagined her full, ripe breasts standing out exposed where the bra was cut out. He’d already had glimpses of her creamy breasts from her low cut swimsuits. He yearned to see more. Much, much more.

"Mom’s looking forward to the wedding. She and Aunt Laura are sharing a hotel then taking a cruise, too. How’s work? Open any new locations? Still teaching?"

"I’ve got to go in a few. I’m teaching a tiny tots class every Saturday morning. Those little guys are really where it’s at. If we can interest them now, they’re ours for life."

"I thought now that you’re the big corporate tycoon you’d give that up. Don’t you have enough instructors?"

Wolf owned a large chain of karate studios nationwide. He’d bought a chain out of Chicago with the money inherited from his Grandfather and used those profits to gobble up more chains. If he wanted, he could hand the operation over to a general manager and retire, but he enjoyed working with the kids, molding them into the best adults they could be. He also traveled around visiting his studios. Not only was it good PR, but he also kept his employees on their toes.

He had several studios in South Florida, and he liked the lifestyle, thus he spent a good deal of every year here. He also liked it because his mother and sister had settled here. If only he could persuade his favorite cousin to move down here, it’d be perfect. But Logan liked Chicago, and he was V.P. of a large company based there, so he wouldn’t budge. "I’m gonna have to kick your sorry ass if you let my sister down." They liked to tease each other this way.

"I hope you don’t talk to your students this way. Seriously, I can’t ditch this business trip. I’ll make it up to Theresa and Keith."

Wolf checked the time. "I gotta run. My beginners start telling potty jokes and coloring on the walls if I’m late."

"They have pretty, single mothers?"

Wolf shook his head. Logan was always on the prowl. He couldn’t help himself. He should’ve been the one named Wolf.

"Some. And some have big mean daddies that wouldn’t think twice about pounding your dogface flirted with their wives. You’re going to get yourself in a load of trouble one day. You’re just walking testosterone."

"You’re just jealous cause all the girls liked me best. Better get to your kids before they have a diaper fight. Catch you later." Logan’s screen name blinked off.

Wolf shut down his computer, donned his black robes and belt, and drove to the studio. He passed The Resort and wondered if Brooke were there.

***

Although Brooke had spent a full day at the beach body surfing and sunbathing, she decided to go to the gym for a bit. Her part time help managed the store, and she didn’t have a date, and it was depressing sitting home on a Saturday night with nothing to do. At least she could get a work out and not feel so guilty about the fast food she’d had for lunch.

She was a little crispy on her back, shoulders, and chest as her sun block must’ve washed away early in the day. She ached to move and rubbed aloe all over. By rights, she should stay home and nurse the sunburn, but it was too gorgeous a night to stay in. She’d go for a walk on the beach except they closed after dark by police order. There’d been a rash of incidents lately. She wasn’t the type to go to bars or lounges alone. She rarely went with a group. Paula had a big party with Oscar tonight, Brooke was on her own.

Armed with aloe vera gel, she took the long way to The Resort, driving down A1A so she could see the beach at night. It was just about her favorite view in the world - moonlight dappled sand and white-capped waves. Stars blanketed the southern sky and lights twinkled on the horizon. Some light shimmered through gently swaying palm trees. Salt water perfumed the night, and she inhaled deeply. She loved Ft. Lauderdale. There was no other place like it on earth.

Before she knew it, she was at The Resort. One good thing about coming on weekend nights was that she didn’t have to fight for machines or lap lanes in the pool. It was practically deserted. Everyone else must have a life. Or at least someone to stay home with to share pizza and a video. Maybe she’d rent some videos when she left here. Or maybe she’d get a cappuccino and check out the books at the Barnes & Nobles down the street.

As predicted, the upstairs was nearly empty. Only five out of twenty treadmills were taken and only two out of ten stationary bikes had riders. Most of the other machines had the same ratios.

She opened her current romance novel and stepped on a treadmill. Exercising and reading at the same time was pretty cool and a definite time saver. Soon she was engrossed in a western historical romance in which the heroine was the leader of a gang of all female bandits similar to Robin Hood’s men. It was good enough to be made into a movie, and it seemed her thirty minutes were up in no time.

A creature of habit, she checked the abs machine, but it was occupied as usual, she claimed a stationary bike. Turning off the TV screen so she could continue her story, she began pedaling. It wasn’t quite as fun as riding a real bicycle where the wind whipped her hair in her face, or where she could view the sights, but it was okay.

She glanced up from her book and saw Wolf lifting weights again and she froze. Only the pedals momentum moved her feet.

The man was too gorgeous for his own good. He had enough muscles for two men to be well built. She couldn’t help but watch him. He made it look so effortless to lift the heavy barbells. He must workout often, but why’d she only seen him the last two weeks? She came all the time. Surely she’d have noticed him before. Wouldn’t she?

Wolf turned his head, caught her steady gaze, and waved at her. A grin split his face.

Caught, she waved back wondering why he was here and not with the woman for which he’d bought all that sexy lingerie? She forced her attention back to her book.

She jumped when Wolf’s husky voice whispered in her ear and his warm breath tickled her neck. "Good book?" He plucked it from her hands and started reading aloud.

"Give that back!" Mortified, she dove for it. She’d been in the middle of a love scene. It didn’t help that he put inflections in his voice or that the man next to her moved to the furthest bike.

Wolf caught her when she would’ve fallen flat on her face. His hand was strong and firm about her waist, his arm secure. "This is how you spend Saturday nights?"

"You’re here, too. What’s the problem? Didn’t your friend like her lingerie?"

He laughed. "I’ve not given it to her yet."

She extricated herself from his arms and held her hand out, palm up, for her novel. "May I have my book?"

"I don’t know." His voice was devilish. Merriment danced in his eyes. "I’m enjoying it. I may want to borrow it."

"Wouldn’t you rather lift your weights than pick on me? Work on your biceps some more?"

"You were watching again?" He moved in on her, his lips kissing distance away.

"N-no. Not ogling if that’s what you mean. You just happened to be in my line of vision. I’d have to be blind to miss you showing off over there."

"How come I never see you lifting weights? It’d get rid of those flabby arms."

Extending her arms, she rolled them over. "I don’t have flabby arms!"

He pinched her upper underarm. "No muscle. You should be toning these more." His gaze dropped to her legs. "Your calves, too."

Indignant now, she glared at him, her fists firmly planted on her hips. "Did you interrupt me just to insult me?" She shooed him away. "Well your task is accomplished. You can leave now. I’d like to get back to my story."

"I dare you to lift weights." He didn’t budge, just stood there. "Bet you can’t."

The fighter in her erupted. "Betcha I can." She climbed down from the bike and faced off against him. "Let’s go."

He followed close behind her, and she wondered what she was getting herself into.

"Are you afraid to lift weights?" His voice rasped in her ear. His body heat seeped into her. Did he know what torture he inflicted on her? Probably.

"I'm not afraid. I just don't enjoy pumping iron. Besides, I'm crispy and sore tonight." Her sunburn stung more as the night progressed. The generous helping of aloe she'd smoothed over her burn must've evaporated.

"Crispy?" He peeked down the back her shirt and whistled. "I'd say you look like a lobster, but you're redder than that. How long have you lived in South Florida?"

Even though he'd seen her in her swimming suit, she tingled all over, embarrassed that he saw her bra straps. Half turning to look at him over her shoulder, she asked, "Why?"

"Don't you know you should use sun block when you go outside?"

Scowling, she pulled a face at him. "Of course, I know and I did apply sun block. A few times." She peeked down her own shirt at the angry red burn. Ouch! "Just obviously not enough."

"I can apply aloe if you like." His voice was downright husky this time and his meaning was clear. Just the thought of his strong callused hands on her bare flesh melted her insides and made her juices flow. Although his offer was extremely tempting, it was also extremely dangerous.

"I've already done that, too." She stepped forward hurriedly out of his range of seduction. She spied the barbells he usually lifted and pointed at them. "Should I try these?" Without waiting for his reply, she lay down on the bench and scooted underneath the long pole.

"Let me take some weight off."

"You think I'm a powder puff? That I can't handle 50 pounds?" She wasn't sure how well she could do it herself, but he'd goaded her. Fifty didn't sound like that much after all. Surely she could lift it once or twice to prove a point?

He just smiled down at her and quirked his lips. "Be my guest. I'll spot you."

She positioned her hands the way she'd seen him do, acutely aware of his gaze on her.

"No. Like this." He knelt by her side and repositioned her hands. "Now lift straight up. Use your shoulders and your chest."

The dead weight was heavier than she'd imagined, and her arms wobbled. "It's too heavy. I'm going to drop it." She hated to admit it, but she had no choice.

Wolf took the bar from her effortlessly and set it down gently. "Maybe we should try something a little easier first." He looked around and smiled. Wiggling his finger at her, he walked to a machine with pulleys on it. "This one won't fall on you and bash that pretty face if it's too heavy. Come here." He helped her into the machine, his fingers trailing fire wherever they touched. She couldn't think coherently when he was so near, when he kept bending to within kissing distance of her. This one was a tempter. She just wondered if he realized what he was doing to her and if so, if he was doing it on purpose?

After he'd put her through a grueling workout, she begged off. "Have mercy. You win. I'm ready for a swim and a long soak in the Jacuzzi."

"I'll join you." He put his hand in the small of her back when she stood and escorted her downstairs toward the locker rooms. "That Jacuzzi'll take some of the kinks out of my muscles, too."

"Splendid." Wonderful, just wonderful. Much more of Wolf tonight, and she'd either be a screaming maniac or pure putty. Neither option pleased her. Maybe she should find a new gym and avoid him. She was too attracted to him, and he wasn't free. She didn't play around with other women's men.

He was waiting for her in the pool when she came out of the locker room also having changed into her swimming suit. He had one lap lane and the other one was taken.

"Phooey!" She enjoyed swimming on her back, her ears underwater, and relaxing. But the elementary backstroke took up a lot of room, and she needed a lane to herself to do it. Plus, she really didn't like to share a lane. She hated to put other people out. So she ambled around to the other side of the pool and slid in. Grabbing two noodles, one neon orange and one lime green, she floated on her stomach and bicycled her legs.

"Get over here, Masters!" Wolf waved her over. "I'll share my lane with you."

"You'll soak me."

"You're already wet, anyway." His grin enticed her to splash him first.

Her hands itched to push water his way. "You'll drown me."

"I didn't let any weights fall on you, did I?" He crossed his heart, his finger parting his thick matt of dark hair on his chest, fascinating her. She wondered how it would feel against her bare chest. "Have a little faith in me."

"Give the guy a break." Fred called out from the Jacuzzi. She'd not even seen him sitting there. "If he tries anything, I'll save you."

"Yeah, give the guy a break." Wolf put his hands on his hips and grinned. He tilted his head at Fred. "A friend of yours?"

She glanced at the older man. He was pleasant, but his blood ran too hot, and he had ideas about her she didn't reciprocate. Besides, he had a wife and made no secret of the fact that he wanted a girlfriend, too. "Sort of. We chat sometimes."

Wolf lifted the rope for her to cross under. "You really did a number on yourself. My offer is still open to rub aloe all over you."

Her mouth dropped open. No doubt that was a come on.

Before she could close her lips, he swooped on her, capturing her lips under his. His lips were firm, yet soft, gentle, and demanding. His fingers laced themselves in the hair at the back of her neck, and his arm pulled her against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and his incredibly soft yet coarse hair tickled her cleavage. The bulge in his trunks grew tight and hard against her stomach, taking her breath away.

"What are you doing to me woman?" He pulled back fractionally, just enough so that he could speak against her lips. "I've wanted to do that since the moment I saw you."

"You did?" She dragged in a long, shuddering breath. Water lapped around her chest, and it was a wonder it didn't boil as hot as she was. Her eyes widened, and she gazed into his eyes, probing his soul. "I didn't think you noticed me."

"I noticed." He pressed his lips to hers in a lingering, soul-shattering kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. It swept the cavern of her mouth, enticing her tongue to mate with his, stealing all thought from her so that she was a giant mass of emotion.

When the gym door clanged, it snapped her out of her enchantment, and she pulled away. She licked her bruised, swollen lips, amazed how they throbbed for more of his kisses. Her nipples puckered against her suit, and she breathed heavily. She couldn't let this continue. He wasn't free.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?" His hand fell on her shoulder and she flinched.

The burn ached unbearably. She should get out and apply soothing gel. "I'm very, very attracted to you - obviously." A mirthless chuckle escaped her lips. "I have been since the first time I saw you lifting weights."

He turned her around to face him again. "Then what's the problem? I feel the same way about you." He tried to drag her against him again, but she resisted, keeping her distance.

She shook her head slowly. "You have a girlfriend. Or a wife."

When he looked at her with a blank stare, hope fluttered in her belly.

"I don't have a girlfriend or a wife. What gave you that idea?" His hands snuck around her waist again, and he dragged her inexorably toward him. "I'd like to have a girlfriend. And I'd like to get married and have kids someday. I'd like it if you were my girlfriend."

Her heart went wild in her chest. What was he doing to her? Could a thirty-four year old woman in nearly excellent condition have a heart attack from ecstasy? "You would?"

"Uh hmm. Now what gave you that crazy idea?" Bending his head, he nibbled her earlobe. His tongue flicked inside her ear, bathing it as his hands kneaded her waist.

She could barely think straight. "You bought all that naughty women's lingerie in my shop just a few days ago. I'm confused."

He lifted his head and roared with laughter. "I didn't mean to mislead you. Were you jealous?" He gazed into her face, his expression tender.

"Very. Needn't I be?" Boldened by his confession, she traced his lips with her fingertip. She loved his firm, sensual lips. She wanted to feel them all over her.

It was his turn to shake his head. "Not at all. I got those as gag gifts for my future brother-in-law to give to my sister on their honeymoon. Remember I told you she's getting married soon?"

Joy exploded through her. She stepped into his embrace and curled her arms around his neck. Her hand locked over the wrist of the other arm. "I hope your brother-in-law and your sister enjoy the lingerie - and toys - very much."

"I'm sure they will."

She nuzzled his neck with her lips, loving the taste of him. Chlorine, salt, and his own musky scent mixed together. What a heady combination. When he moaned into her ear, she pressed closer to him. Then she remembered she had a confession to make. Pulling back, she looked up at him. She hoped he understood. She hoped she could read her own feelings clearly and know her own heart. "I need to tell you something."

He stared at her for a few moments in silence. "What is it?"

"When I first saw you, I thought you might be someone else." She watched his expression closely but saw no change yet. "You look like one of my ex- boyfriends - one I liked very much. I thought you might be him." She held her breath, awaiting his response.

"I have that kind of face. Everyone thinks they've seen me before."

"Don't make fun about this. You really look just like him. What if I'm just transferring my feelings for him to you?" There! She'd spoken her mind. She was up front and honest just the way she demanded people were with her. "You don't hate me now, do you? I think it's you I'm attracted to, but I don't know for one hundred percent sure yet. But I had to let you know where I stand. I hate lying."

Emotions flickered across his eyes, but they fled so fast, she couldn't decipher them.

"Well then, perhaps you should get to know me better. Spend more time with me so you can decide how you feel."

"Is that fair to you?" She chewed her lower lip and scrunched her nose. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I don't like to play with people's feelings."

"You're not." He cupped her cheek with his hand. "You proved that just now by being honest with me and giving me a choice." His thumb stroked her jaw line, mesmerizing her. "I have a choice, too, and I choose to take my chances with you."

Wrapping her in his arms, he pulled her against his side. His leg lay over hers, and she snuggled against him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Pure bliss. She never wanted to leave his arms. Logan must've just been a preparation for her true love. He'd never made her feel like this. "This is Heaven."

He stroked her hair, and she felt more precious than she ever had, more loved. She didn't have to look in a mirror to know she was glowing with love for this man. He completed her. She'd finally found her mate. They would have a beautiful life together.

"I want to know more about you - like what you do for a living?"
"I own a chain of karate studios and I still teach the children’s class. I get them ready for tournaments."

"I want to see your next karate tournament." She wanted to be part of his life, to know everything about him, to meet his family. She barely knew anything yet except she loved him with an all consuming passion, an unquenchable thirst, a flame that would never dim or die.

"That won't be for a few weeks. But we have some practices. And you can come and watch my little guys. They're awe-some." Love and pride vibrated in his voice. Stars lit his eyes as she gazed up at him, her chin grazing his chest. "I like to get them just starting out, when they're four and five, and still excited about everything. When fire burns in their bellies, and I can really shape them into someone. You can do so much with little children, and it's incredible to see them grow."

"You should be a father. A kid would be lucky to have you as his or her dad." Her children, hopefully.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'd like to have a whole houseful."

"And they'll all be black belts before they're six." Visions of half a dozen little black belts in various sizes flickered across her mind. They were adorable with his dark, swarthy good looks, and intense ebony eyes. They'd go to the beach, and they'd build a pool if he didn't already have one. She could sell her shop... .

Sell her shop. She really did want to sell it. It had become an albatross. But what else did she really want to do? Would she be fulfilled staying home all day as housewife and mother? It was a very worthy endeavor. But she was used to working, to having a paycheck of her own and not having to rely on anyone else for money. Could she totally depend on someone else, no matter how much she loved him? She bit her lower lip. She wasn't sure. She'd have to ponder over it.

Why was she jumping so far ahead anyway? It's not as if he'd asked her to marry him. She presumed he would one day, but she didn't have a crystal ball and couldn't predict the future. But she had a good feeling about it, just not good enough to plan that far ahead.

Groggy, she wriggled against him, snuggling against him perfectly. They were a perfect fit. He was so warm, so strong, and so tender, she wanted to stay in his arms forever. Her eyelids grew heavy, and they sagged.

Wolf took her hands and pulled her toward the steps. "Come on. That burn’s pretty bad. I’ll rub more aloe on it at my place." He paused to gaze deeply into her eyes. "Okay?"

Was she dreaming? She knew what would happen if she went with him, and she wanted it. Nodding, she smiled shyly. "Okay."

His lips slashed across hers briefly. "I’ll meet you out front."

They left her car at The Resort and took his truck to his house.

When he cut off the engine, he turned to her, his arm sliding along the back of her seat. "Wait here a moment while I straighten up."

"I’m not worried." She started to get out of the car.

"No! Wait!"

"Are you hiding another woman in there?" She laughed lightly.

"Nothing like that. Promise." He winked as he closed the door. "I’ll be right back."

Drawing her brows together, she watched him jog to his front door and disappear inside. He had a beautiful Florida style home, probably built in the 1950s judging by the architecture. Like a number of homes down here, its Spanish influence was reflected by pink adobe with a terrazzo roof. Palm trees shaded large bay windows. Azalea bushes blossomed profusely, their lush pink blooms swaying in the evening breeze. Mini spotlights in red, green, and blue illuminated the front of the house. A handsome yacht anchored, bobbing on gently lapping waves on the canal behind the house.

All in all, it was a gorgeous house, not what she expected a bachelor to live in. He must be well off to afford such luxury. It put her tiny apartment above her shop to shame.

He returned shortly and led her inside. It was spotless so she wondered again why he’d made her wait outside. He must be as big a perfectionist as her father had been.

Everything was orderly. Rattan wicker furniture sat atop terrazzo flooring. Potted palms graced most corners. A huge entertainment shelf housed state-of-the-art electronics and a large collection of CDs and DVDs.

Framed certificates over a large trophy caught her eye, and she gravitated to them. "What’s this for?"

He followed closely behind her. "I teach karate. These are a few of my awards."

Impressive. "Is that your hobby or do karate instructors make that much money?" She whirled around with her hands out. "I mean, you have a lovely house. I didn’t think a karate instructor could afford something like this. I’m definitely in the wrong business."

"I own a large chain of karate studios. Kid Karate. Have you heard of us?"

Awe-struck, she nodded. "That’s a huge outfit." She glanced at his awards and trophies. Several cited recent dates. "You still teach? And compete?"

"Yeah. Owner’s prerogative. Children are the best. I like to get them young and shape them." His face glowed, and she was even more drawn to him than before. It was obvious that he adored kids. He’d make a great father. "Of course I don’t get much time anymore. But I teach a couple classes a week and run a few tournaments annually."

"I’ve never done karate. Dad didn’t think it was very lady like." She looked up at him. "Is it hard? Could someone my age learn?"

"Lots of girls sign up for our classes. Like anything it takes practice and determination to be good. But no, you’re not too old." He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her against him. His teeth nipped her ear making her shiver. "I could give you private lessons."

Ecstasy flooded her, and she bent her head to give him better access to her neck. She loved to be kissed and nuzzled there. It tore down her defenses every time, not that they’d been raised tonight. When his lips and tongue trailed liquid fire down her throat, she moaned.

Twisting in his arms, she threw her head back, begging for more. This was Heaven.

He flicked off the lights and moonlight bathed him. Passion darkened his eyes and his breathing became raspy. He stared into her eyes, hypnotizing her. They were such gorgeous, soulful eyes that she could lose herself in them forever. Not that that would be hard. He seemed like the perfect man. A man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. "Uhm. You taste wonderful." His lips covered hers, swallowing her reply, drinking deeply of her.

Large warm hands lifted her T-shirt. Deft fingers unhooked her bra, freeing her swollen aching breasts. When his hands encircled her rib cage and then cupped her mounds, she moaned into his mouth, pressing closer to him. But she burned to be closer.

When his thumbs rubbed her pebbled nipples, she was lost. Her knees gave out on her, and she held onto him tightly.

Lithely, he swung her into his arms and carried her to his bed where he laid down beside her reverently. "Sit up." His voice was hoarse with passion.

When she did what he bid, he lifted her shirt and bra over her head and flung them to the floor. "You’re beautiful." Leaning up on his elbow, he licked one nipple, then the other.

"Could you rub some aloe on me? I’m positively burning up." She’d never felt more seductive than she did right now. In fact, she felt primitive, unable to master her urges.

"I’ll get it. Don’t move."

When he returned, he wore a pair of the thongs he’d purchased at her store, setting new fires ablaze in her.

"Lay back." He squeezed a large globule of clear green gel into his hands and then smothered it over her shoulders and arms. His sensual touch inflamed her, and she arched against his palms when he rubbed it into her breasts.

She was hot, yet icy cold, everywhere the aloe touched. Her nipples hardened against his hands, and she moaned. "Uhm. This is delicious."

"Touch me, too." He stood on his knees beside her, the jungle print pouch enticing her.

Tentatively, she touched it, feeling his hardness. When he moaned, she felt bolder and slid her hand inside the pouch and took him in her hand. Throbbing, hot, and silky to her touch, his shaft was long, hard, and thick.

"Take it off." His voice was raspy as he moved inside her clenched fingers.

Shifting her weight, she sat up and slid the thong down his legs. She delighted in running her fingers through the coarse, thick hair on his thighs and calves.

Standing on the bed, he towered over her, providing her with a heart stopping view of his manhood.

Unable to resist, she pulled him back down to his knees and took him in her mouth, kissing and licking. Her fingertips teased his silky shaft, and he thrust deeply into her mouth.

His hands tangled in her hair, caressing her scalp.

Ecstasy lit his face as he moaned.

When she knew he could take no more, when her own needs screamed to be fulfilled, she joined him on her knees and pressed her lips to his in a knee-buckling kiss. Slick from the aloe, her breasts slid against his chest erotically as his shaft nestled between her legs driving her to the brink of insanity.

He drank deeply of her lips, his tongue stroking hers, his hands exploring every private inch of her, worshipping her.

She allowed her hands to roam and cupped his firm buttocks, trailing one nail down his spine.

Capturing her hand, he dragged it to his pulsing member and coaxed her fingers to encircle it. It was wet, slick and begging for release.

An answering need exploded in her belly, and she whispered against his lips, "Take off my panties."

Although her lips felt bereft when he released them, his fingers trailed liquid fire down her belly to her thighs. When his tongue flickered over her most intimate area, she flinched, shocked, and then relaxed as his tongue bathed her.

He laid her back on the bed and nestled between her legs. A long finger slid inside her, exploring her feminine core, releasing her juices.

A seething mass of emotions, all she could think of was Wolf and how he was pleasuring her, how she desired him more than any other man she’d ever met. She was his, heart and soul, and she could no more deny this than stop breathing. He was her soul mate, and she longed to be his in every way.

"Want me inside?"

She nodded and then realized he probably couldn’t see her gesture from his angle. "Desperately." Her fingers played in his thick, mussed hair.

When he lifted his face, his stubble scratched the tender flesh of her thighs, but it was an exquisite ache she longed to feel every day for the rest of her life.

In one fluid movement, he lay atop her. Thrusting inside deeply, he filled her completely. He crushed her breasts against him, and they danced in the ancient rhythm of love, their tongues and legs entangled, their hands boldly exploring, teasing, and caressing.

Her hips lifted to meet his, frantic now for the crescendo of release. She drank of his lips, dueled with his tongue, lost herself in the ecstasy of his magic.

Climax came together. Fire bursts rocked her foundation.

He came again and again, holding her tightly, moaning into her mouth.

Her nails raked his back, and her hips pressed against his in a greedy thirst to take all of his length inside her.

Finally she was replete. Splendor washed over her, and her hips relaxed. A long sigh shuddered through her, and she nipped teasingly at his nipples.

Leaning his forehead against hers, still inside her, he gazed into her eyes. "I love you. You’re everything I ever dreamed and more."

Joy leapt in her heart, and she favored him with her smile. "I love you. I never knew it could be so wonderful."

"Earth shattering." He grinned and devilment flickered across his eyes. "Why do you think your naughty lingerie sells so well?" He nipped her nipples, and she trembled. "Let’s try every piece in your store. Especially the tiger striped creation."

Exhausted, her eyes refused to stay open and she snuggled up against him.

***

He awoke before her and unwrapped her arms from around him. Seeing her naked in his bed, he wanted to take her again, but his stomach was growling. He'd skipped supper last night, intending to eat when he got home from the gym. Only he'd been hungry for something much different than food.

Pulling on a black robe, he padded barefoot to his kitchen downstairs and poached a couple of eggs and cut up a tray full of fruit. Whistling, he made some decaf coffee and tea, not sure what Brooke liked in the morning, and poured a glass of orange juice and carried it to her on a bed tray. He liked spoiling her. He wanted to spoil and coddle her forever. Last night had been so perfect, beyond even his wildest expectations. She was a fire in his blood now, and she owned him body and soul - if she wanted him.

He didn't have a doubt that she wanted him - last night had been proof. But would she still want him when she found out he was Logan's cousin or his part in Logan's schemes? She'd given him an opening to be upfront and honest with her and he'd blown it. He'd been afraid she wouldn't understand and refuse to talk to him ever again.

But how could she not find out? He couldn't hide his cousin forever. Logan was bound to show up at some family function or even on his doorstep without warning one of these days, and Brooke would find out.

But did she have to find out yet? Logan couldn't make Theresa's wedding, so that gave him time. Time to win her heart, body, and soul, time to make her fall so crazy in love with him she'd forgive him anything. He hoped. Any which way he looked at it, that was his only viable option.

"Wake up Sleeping Beauty. Breakfast is served." He set the tray down on his dresser and sat down next to her. When she stretched and opened one incredibly green eye at him, he nuzzled her neck. It was such a long, creamy neck, that he could get lost in it. Then one thing would lead to another, and he'd miss breakfast, too. He sat up before he couldn't resist her lures.

Struggling up on her elbows, she looked at him perplexed, her eyes wide. Then enlightenment dawned, and a slow seductive smile spread over her face. "I wanted to cook for you, but it smells scrumptious."

"You'll have plenty of chance to cook for me." His voice was thick and husky. Her breasts jiggled and grew taut under his rapt gaze. His loins burned, hardening despite his resolve.

"I will?" She leaned toward him, stopping just a fraction from his lips, her breasts a fraction from his chest. If he moved half an inch forward, they would graze his chest.

His hunger suddenly evaporated, and desire inflamed him. His robe bulged in a telltale sign. "Come here, temptress."

Closing the distance between them, she reached under his robe and found his swollen, impatient shaft, and wrapped her fingers around it. They were warm and intoxicating, shooting thrills through him. Her touch bewitched him, and he was under her spell.

His thirst wouldn't be quenched until he had her again. And maybe not even then. He would explode if he didn't take her soon.

"Love to." She tilted her head and gave him her lips.

His shaft pressed against her stomach, yearning to be sheathed inside her moistness. Lifting her around her waist, he brought her down on his shaft, sliding straight up inside. His legs wrapped around her, holding her close to him, and when she started sliding up and down, waves of pleasure shot through him.

Lifting his lips, he drank of hers, his tongue delving as far as it could reach inside her mouth. She tasted so sweet, she inflamed his blood. When he reached fever pitch, his seed exploded into her with a final, pulsing thrust.

She continued to squirm against him, sliding up and down, frenzied now, her head tossed back, her glorious hair billowing around her. Her breasts pushed out, the nipples budding tightly. He stayed with her through her wild ride, pushing as deeply into her as he could, massaging her buttocks and breasts in turn, taking her puckering nipples in his mouth, suckling them. Her movements brought him to the brink again, and they crescendoed together then fell to their sides still wrapped in each other's arms.

Sated, he was out of breath, but deliciously so. He wanted to roar his delight and shout to the world that Brooke Masters was his. Logan had better not try to reclaim her, or he'd have a hell of a fight on his hands. Brooke was his now. All his.

After a brief nap, they arose, showered, and ate poolside. It was a beautiful South Florida morning, and the breeze blowing off his pool cooled his heated flesh.

Brooke glowed, joy shining in her eyes. When the sunlight reflected off them, they were bright emerald. But when she gazed at him, they darkened to the shade of the palm fronds. He enjoyed watching her and could do so happily all day, but he had a date with his family. He'd take Brooke with him, but he couldn't be sure they wouldn't blurt out Logan's name or have a picture of Logan on their walls. Last night he'd run around the house like a crazy man hiding every picture of Logan he had out, and he'd had a few on his wall and one of the two of them with his first car, sitting on his night stand.

But he wanted to introduce Brooke to his family, he'd have to warn them of the deal and elicit their help until it was the right time to tell Brooke the truth.

The phone rang, and he picked up his cell phone.

"Hey, Cousin. How's life treating you?"

Logan. As Brooke was close to his right side, he shifted the phone to his left ear. "Okay. Hold on a sec." Standing, he covered the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand. "Business. I need to check some papers in my office. I'll be right back."

Brooke beamed up at him and stood, her curves glistening in the sunlight. "Hurry back." She dove into the water and swam underneath the length of the pool, coming up face first so that her hair was washed back from her face, her back arched.

"You there? Is this a bad time?"

Static tickled Wolf's ear. Long strides took him safely inside and out of Brooke's earshot. "Yeah. A real bad time. I'll call you back later."

"You're working on a Sunday morning?" There was a pregnant pause. "Or you have company?"

"Company. I gotta go. Email me." He put his thumb on the disconnect button preparing to hang up when Logan continued.

"Are you sure that girl's a dog? Are you sure you saw the right one?"

Turning, Wolf watched Brooke. She was performing water ballet in the pool. What couldn't the girl do? She was amazing. "I'm sure. I saw the right one." Why was his cousin questioning him again? Did he suspect foul play? "Stay away from her."

"I’m just curious why she’s not emailed me recently. She was a downright pest before. And now, nothing."

Wolf was glad to know that Brooke was no longer in contact with his cousin. "Didn’t you tell me that you stopped emailing that girl over a month ago? So what’s the problem? Isn’t that what you wanted?" He crossed his fingers.

"Chicks don’t dump me. I always end things."

Impatience crept into Wolf’s voice. "You dropped her first. Your record’s clean. No worries."

"It was almost too easy."

"You got what you wanted and now you don’t want what you got?" Wolf snickered. "Some things never change."

"Yeah, I guess I got what I wanted. It just seems weird." Logan didn’t sound convinced.

"You able to make it to Terri’s wedding after all?" He willed his cousin to say no. Then he could take Brooke with no worries.

"Told you. I can’t. I have to go to Seattle on business."

"Too bad." Wolf did his best to keep relief out of his voice. "I’ve not seen you in forever."

"Come up here. You’re your own boss. You can leave whenever you want."

"Yeah. Right. I probably work double the hours you do."

"Only by choice."

Brooke frowned his way and climbed out of the pool. She wrung her hair out and then ambled his way. "Gotta go. Later." He clicked off and met her at the door.

"Problems?" Concern flecked her eyes.

This was getting out of hand. He was lying right and left. "Yeah. I have to go into the office. I’ll drive you over to get your car."

"Okay." Her voice was subdued, and her frame stiffened.

He didn’t want her to think he was brushing her off so he kissed her lightly, savoring her lips. "Are you busy Wednesday night? Would you like to watch our practice? Then I’ll take you out for steak?" His hands crept around her waist. "Maybe some dancing?"

Her eyes lit up. "I’d love to."

Chapter Five

"I’ve never been in a karate studio before. I thought there’d be bleachers." She looked over the small room, empty at first glance except for a display case and some folding chairs facing an empty wooden floor. Closer examination brought to attention stacks of mats, one wall full of trophies and pictures above the mirror-lined walls. A computerized cash register sat atop the display case.

He grabbed an armful of mats and flung them on the floor. He spread them out.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you’re adorable in your little black suit?" She gazed upon a picture of Wolf with Chuck Norris. Beside it was a photograph of Wolf with Bruce Lee.

Wolf scowled. "Men aren’t adorable, and these are my robes."

"Okay, have it your way. You’re very handsome. Can you live with that?" Mirth laced her voice.

The kids started arriving with their parents. They were just little tykes but precious in their miniature karate outfits. The youngest could only be three years old tops.

One little blonde haired boy with big brown eyes lay down in front of his mother and put his feet in her lap.

Wolf shot over to them and bent over the boy who could be no more than five. Shaking his finger at the young man, he said in a voice she’d not heard before, "No, no, no. You’re a big man. You can take off your own shoes and socks. You got a mustache already."

Giggling, the boy pulled his feet down from his mother’s lap and sat up. Obediently, he pulled off his gym shoes and then his socks.

Wolf favored the child with a smile and ruffled his silky hair. "All right! That’s my tough guy."

Each student bowed low to Wolf in greeting when they entered the floor, and he bowed back, his palms flat together, fingers straight up.

The parents greeted each other, chattering.

"Who filled in their charts this week? Who gets stars to put on their uniforms?"

The children surrounded him, holding out white papers, hopeful gleams in their eyes.

"One at a time. Line up. We take turns here." Wolf smiled at her and winked.

Heat crept into her cheeks when everyone stared at her. She wanted to crawl under her chair.

He held out his hand to her. "I want to introduce Miss Brooke to you. She’s the pretty lady in the corner, and she’s my special lady friend."

The kids giggled and guffawed.

"Everyone say ‘hello, Miss Brooke’."

They all repeated dutifully, "Hello, Miss Brooke." Even the adults.

Silently she mouthed, "I’m going to get you."

He waved at her laughing. "Isn’t she pretty when she’s angry?"

He was incorrigible! Totally unrepentant! She’d not noticed that side of him before. She rolled her eyes and sighed. Men!

"Enough fun!" he bellowed. "Time to work if we want to do well in the tournament. We all want to win a big trophy, don’t we?"

The kids shook their heads and snapped to attention, some with their eyes straight forwards and their arms plastered to their sides. Others giggled and touched their neighbors.

Wolf strolled down the line and bent over so he was face to face with the most unruly child. "We don’t giggle in line. We keep our hands to ourselves." Straightening up, he held out his hand. "Give me your paper."

An attractive young woman with long braided mahogany hair tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear. "Lucky you. He’s great with kids. Don’t let him get away." She cast a wistful smile in Wolf’s direction. "He’s such a doll."

"Are my ears burning?" Wolf towered over them, his brows raised.

The young woman blushed bright red. Her eyes pleaded with Brooke not to tell Wolf what she’d said.

"Impressive, Sensei." She laughed lightly.

"We’ll wrap up in a bit. I’m starved." His words vibrated with a double entendre.

Thrills skipped through her. "Chop, chop," she murmured. The kids had kept him busy long after the lesson had finished. He’d been patient and loving with each and every one.

"There’s been a change of plans," he told her as he was locking up the studio a few minutes later. Her heart sank. Had he changed his mind about wanting to be with her? Did he have more urgent business? She watched him closely.

"There’s an informal pre-wedding dinner for everybody in the wedding party. If I skip out, my sister will never speak to me again."

"Oh. I understand." She kept her voice carefully neutral although she hurt inside.

He looked up as he jiggled his keys in the door. "I want you to come with me. Don’t worry - my mother won’t bite." He checked his watch. "It’s in Boca at Mom’s place so we need to hurry."

Excitement and nervousness warred inside her. Would Wolf’s family like her? Would she like them? She swallowed a gulp and accepted his extended hand. "Let’s go."

***

Wolf crossed his fingers that his family would like Brooke and not let slip about Logan. He’d told them what was at stake, and they’d advised him to come clean now. But they’d promised not to say anything and agreed that he should be the one to tell her the story.

But he wasn’t ready. He needed more time. He intended to thoroughly seduce Brooke, to make her fall head over heels in love with him. On the way to Boca, he’d bought red roses for her from a roadside vendor at a stoplight. He’d do some heavy romancing in the next couple of weeks.

"Do you think they’ll like me?" Brooke’s amazing emerald eyes were huge in her heart shaped face. Worry pooled in their depths.

Brushing his lips over hers, he muttered. "They’ll adore you. As I do."

"Don’t desert me."

Theresa opened the door. Joy radiated from her. "It’s about time you brought her to meet us. I was afraid you’d made her up."

He scowled at his irascible sibling. "I’m happy to see you, too." Not hung in the air.

Turning to Brooke, Theresa grabbed her hand and pulled her behind her. She chattered incessantly. "I’m Theresa, Wolf’s little sister. You’re even prettier than he told us. I hope you love kids. Wolf is nuts about them. He wants at least a dozen. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you off. Our mom’s right over there. She’s a twin, you know?" She put her hand over her mouth. "Oops. I wasn’t supposed to say that. Oh well. You’ll love Mom. She’s the greatest."

Brooke wondered why Theresa wasn’t supposed to tell her that her mother was a twin? Nothing was wrong with that. She just smiled as Theresa continued.

"Mom’s name is Laura but you can probably call her Mom." She pointed at a thirtyish man with white-blonde hair. "That’s Bob. Stay away from him. He’s into self-actualization and will talk a blue streak to get you to buy into his latest get rich quick scheme. He’s always broke. Don’t invest any money with him. Over there is my honey, Keith." Her blue eyes twinkled, and she blew a kiss to him. "We’re getting married in two weeks. Isn’t he dreamy? I’d have asked you to be a bridesmaid, but I didn’t know you in time, and it’s too late to order another dress and get it fitted. I have my photograph taken tomorrow in my wedding gown." She grabbed a carrot stick and munched it. "I’m dieting so I won’t be too big to fit in my gown on my wedding day. Wouldn’t that be the horror of horrors if I couldn’t squeeze into it for my own wedding?"

Brooke’s ears rang. Her head spun. Information overload was wearing her out.

A heavy arm looped over her shoulders. Warm breath tickled her ear. "I see you’re getting along famously with Terri. I imagine you’re best friends and know everything about everyone already."

Theresa pouted, her eyes blue ice chips. "He always teases me that I talk too much. I don’t talk too much, do I? I mean, I was just introducing you around and making you feel at home. I’ve been dying to meet you. Wolf’s told us so much about you. You’re all he talks a… ."

Wolf guided her away. "Later, Sis." He laughed and whispered conspiratorially in her ear. "She’ll keep going if you let her. I don’t know how Keith’s going to survive." He pulled her closer. "Will you be my date for the wedding?"

She’d been hoping he’d ask her. "I’d love to." Her arm crept around his waist, and she stood tippy toe to kiss him. "Are you the best man?"

"No. Keith’s brother Kenneth is best man. But I’m standing up with him, too. So are a couple of his other friends, Todd and David. David’s the real skinny tall guy and Todd’s the short fellow with the bushy mustache and glasses."

"Your sister seems to be very happy. They must be very much in love."

Wolf nodded. "They had a stormy relationship at first, and we thought they’d kill each other several times. Then one day they looked at each other and fell deeply, madly in love."

"How romantic." She made a mental note to have Theresa tell her the story of her love affair one day.

"I want you to meet Mom. She’s waiting."

Fear churned in her stomach. Her ex-mother-in-law hadn’t approved of anything she’d ever done. She’d never been good enough for her son. The woman had hated her shop, saying she was in league with the devil. Just the phrase mother-in-law made her shiver.

He must’ve read the fear in her eyes for he squeezed her shoulders and said, "She’s a sweetheart. You’ll love each other." Trying to suppress a grin unsuccessfully, he added, "Her fangs are only two inches long and razor sharp."

She had to laugh.

"That’s better. No one’s died of heart failure meeting Mom, yet."

Laura rose gracefully as Wolf and Brooke approached her. Dark complected like her son, she possessed an ageless beauty making it difficult to determine her age. She wore her hair short and coiffed, and she was more slender than Brooke. Holding out her arms, she enveloped Brooke in a motherly hug. "I’m so happy to finally meet you. Wolf’s been so happy since he met you. Come sit with me." She pecked her son on the cheek when he bent to hug her. "Leave her with me for awhile." A mischievous smile played on her lips. "I promise not to bite."

"You’d better not." Wolf’s lips slashed over Brooke’s in a brief but searing kiss. "Holler if you need me."

"She’ll be fine. Go calm down Keith. I’ve never seen such a nervous groom." She waved Wolf away. To Brooke, she said, "My future son-in-law has pre-wedding jitters. I can’t wait till they’re married."

"It’s a lot of work planning a wedding. I was almost too exhausted to enjoy the honeymoon." As soon as she realized what she’d said, she wished she could take it back.

Laura patted the top of her hand. "You’re divorced?"

"Yes." The word drew out on a long sigh, and she stared into space, seeing flashes of the past. "We were young and idealistic, and we grew up in different directions. One day I woke up next to a stranger." She left out the part about her troublemaking mother-in-law. If not for her, their marriage might have had a chance to work. Maybe she should’ve tried harder. But she couldn’t work up any large amount of regret. "So we went our separate ways."

"Do you have children? Wolf adores them. Someone had better make me a grandmother soon before I’m too old to enjoy them."

"No. I don’t have any kids." Shyly, she added, "But I’d like to. I hope I’m not too old. I’m thirty-four." Not that she’d obsessed over her ticking biological clock like some women, but she was aware of it. Some of her friends from high school had teenagers already. Most had at least one child.

"You’re still young. My mother was forty when she had us and forty-three when she had my brother. I was thirty-five when I had Theresa." Pride glowed in her eyes as she gazed upon her daughter. Looking back at Brooke, Laura asked, "What do you do for a living?"

"Wolf didn’t tell you?" She sucked in a deep breath. Oh no. Was he embarrassed by her shop? "I own a fine lingerie shop in Pompano. My mother left it to me."

"Which one dear? I’ve been in a few."

Déjà vu. Brooke’s heart stopped. Laura’s opinion of her would plummet now. She’d dreaded this moment. "Naughty and Nice." She froze, watching Laura, not daring to breathe.

But Laura smiled and clapped her hands. "That’s my favorite one. I wonder why I’ve never seen you in there?"

Relief left her weak but happy. "I have a manager and a couple of part-time girls to help me. But I’m there most days."

Brooke looked around at the crowd. "Wolf said this dinner was for the wedding party. This is a huge wedding party."

Laura laughed sweetly. "It started out that way, but most of the local family is here, too."

"I thought it was just you, Wolf, and Theresa here."

"Heavens no. Cousin Dante’s the one with the toupee over there. That’s his wife Lila in the Muumuu. She shows and breeds terriers. The dogs run her house. See the woman with the cane? That’s cousin Camille. She was in a car wreck two years ago. The tall muscular woman with the blonde hair is Helga. She’s my sister-in-law. Uncle Pasquale is the short gray-haired man making a pass at her. Helga can’t stand him. Or so she says. My sister Toni couldn’t make it tonight, but she’ll be here in a couple of days."

Theresa clapped her hands. "Dinner’s served in the dining room."

Wolf rejoined them. "Shall we, ladies?" He put his hand on the small of Brooke’s back. "You okay?" he whispered in her ear.

She nodded.

When they were seated, Caesar salads were served and wine was poured. She forked crisp lettuce into her mouth.

Wolf stood and held up his glass. "I’d like to make the first toast to my future brother-in-law."

Everybody stood and clinked glasses. Wine swirled.

"May she be your problem now and no longer mine." Wolf winked at his sister.

Everyone laughed except Theresa who stuck her tongue out at him. "I’ll get you back, don’t worry."

Uncle Pasquale lifted his glass high and turned to Helga. "To a most beautiful lady."

Helga looked down her broad flat nose with derision at the man and then held her glass higher than he could reach.

"To cousin Lo - Lo - Larry who can’t make the wedding because of a business trip. May he get caught by a beautiful woman and led down the aisle." Theresa turned redder than her wine.

Wolf choked, spluttering wine everywhere.

Dante’s forehead wrinkled and eyes narrowed. "Don’t you mean Lo… ."

Laura stumbled and landed on him, spilling wine down the front of his shirt. "Oh my! I’m so sorry. I’ll pay your cleaning bill." She picked up a linen napkin and dabbed at it. Her efforts only made the stain worse. "Please forgive me."

Dante’s fingers flexed as he opened his arms. "Cara mia, Laura. Why’d you pick tonight to suddenly get clumsy? Excusee." He marched away.

She hoped this didn’t bode poorly for the wedding.

Chapter Six

Finally, Theresa’s wedding day arrived. It had been pure bliss being with Wolf the past two weeks, and she’d come to love his family, too.

She’d been dieting to fit into a sexy black cocktail dress she had her heart set on wearing. Unfortunately, she’d had to buy a girdle so she could wear it. The stays bit into her ribs. Her stomach was scrunched in, and her chest was pushed up. But when she looked in the mirror, it was worth it.

Tiers of lace fell to her calves, billowing out from a figure hugging skirt. Long sleeves and a high neck would’ve made it demure if not for a diamond shaped cut out just above her breasts. Rhinestones studded black lace over the cut out. Black silk hose and zircon studded high heels almost completed the outfit.

Such an elegant dress required an elegant hairdo so she twisted her hair into a French knot. Diamond studs twinkled on her ears, and she smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

Wolf’s jaw dropped when she opened the door to him. His eyes darkened, and he held out a corsage. "And I thought perfection couldn’t be improved. I was mistaken."

She thrilled to his words, tingling all over. Eyeing him from head to toe, joy spread through her. "You’re not so bad yourself, Sir." What an understatement! Decked out in a tux, freshly shaven, with a new haircut, he stole her breath. "Pin the corsage on for me?" She held it back out to him and stepped closer.

Hesitating, he frowned. His fingers started to lift her neckline and then stopped.

"Don’t be shy. You’ve touched far more than my throat." Her voice had never been sultrier. She couldn’t help but act seductive around him. She licked her suddenly dry lips. "You’ve licked far more, too."

His Adam’s apple worked overtime, and he loosened his collar and stretched his neck. In a cracked voice, he said as he fumbled with her dress, "I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop touching you, and we don’t have time to consummate anything."

Closing her door behind her and grabbing his hand, she laughed. "Later. We have a date."

"Behave, witch, or I won’t be in any shape to drive. We might never show up for the wedding, and then Theresa’ll kill me."

She stopped dead and turned swiftly so that she was in his arms. Purring, she said against his lips as she curled her arms around his neck, "That definitely won’t do. I have plans for you."

His hands spanned her waist. "Plans? It sounds sinister."

She didn’t know how much more teasing she could dish out or take. "Positively wicked."

His groin hardened against her belly, and an answering need sprung to life in her. He was pure kerosene, and she shouldn’t play with such fire. Not until after the reception anyway. Laughing, she ducked his kiss and slid into his car. "Chop, chop, Sensei. We can’t be late."

He stumbled forward and scowled. Snapping his fingers, he grumbled. "Rats! Foiled again."

Excitement danced in the air at the Boca chapel. Hundreds of magnolias perfumed the air. White ribbons and bows graced the front doors, altar, and every pew. The sun shone fully on the rich, well-manicured church. Parking attendants stood at the head of the half-moon driveway. Bridesmaids and best men scurried to and fro.

Theresa’s maids glowed in shades of blue ranging from midnight blue to turquoise to sky blue. Each wore matching colored strappy sandals and flowers in sweptback hair.

Guests began to arrive, and the best men ushered them to their seats.

Wolf presented the crook of his arm to Brooke when the parking attendant whisked his car away. "May I escort you, Mademoiselle? My mother would like your company."

Looping her fingers around his arm, she smiled up at him. "I’d love to." The rest of the world disappeared as she could only see him.

Guests filed into the large church, and she busied herself watching them. At one point, she felt as if someone stared at her, but a perusal of the chapel proved fruitless. No gazes met hers. Wolf was preoccupied helping people to their seats.

She decided it would be prudent to visit the ladies room as the ceremony was likely to draw out, and she couldn’t avail herself in the middle of it.

Women filled the powder room, brushing their hair, applying lipstick, and chattering away. She chafed at the long wait, praying the wedding wouldn’t begin before her return.

Finally, it was her turn, and she sighed in relief, closing herself in the tiny cubicle. Her worries were over.

Or were they? The girdle wouldn’t unsnap at the legs as it was supposed to. Try as she might, it didn’t budge. She really couldn’t wait until after the ceremony. Her dress was all one piece as was her garment. Shaking her head, she hoped what she was about to do wouldn’t muss her painstakingly styled hair.

Unpinning her corsage, she balanced it on the toilet paper. Bending low, she grabbed the bottom of her dress and inched it over her head. Then she worked the girdle down.

Naked on top, she felt extremely vulnerable. Hopefully no one would peek in the stall but little girls were known to do that. Folding her arms over her breasts, she hurried.

When she was done, she snatched the girdle off the hook on the stall door and faced the plumbing. She did the same with the dress, hoping no one would think she was a man in drag because her feet were pointed in the wrong direction so long.

She groaned as she hurried back to the chapel. This meant she’d have to go through this routine every time she visited the ladies room tonight. That meant she couldn’t drink or eat all night. But what was a feast without good food and wine? Why had she not tested the dress or girdle before now?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid

She slid into her seat seconds before the wedding march began, breathless and holding her stomach. Two Laura’s blurred in her vision. One in her pew and one right behind her in the second pew. She was about to ask how when a hush fell over the church and the organist belted out the wedding march.

Bridesmaids glided down the aisle escorted by Keith’s best men. Wolf was second to Keith, and he escorted a pretty, perky blond with short curly hair.

Brooke tamped down her jealousy, knowing Wolf had no choice in the matter. But she longed to be the only woman on his arm - forever.

He caught her gaze, and his lips quirked at the corners. His soulful eyes were unfathomable.

Then Theresa entered the room on her Uncle Pasquale’s arm, glowing. Joy radiated from her, and all gazes riveted to her as the maids and ushers took their places at the altar.

Theresa floated down the aisle in a gorgeous gossamer creation with a long trail. Her blonde hair bounced around her shoulders in large, beautiful curls.

Keith didn’t breathe. He was petrified. Only his eyes moved, his gaze locked on his bride. He unfroze when Pasquale gave Theresa to him and then sat between Laura and Brooke.

When the minister began speaking, Brooke slipped into a trance. She envisioned herself and Wolf standing at the altar in place of Theresa and Keith. Her daydream was so vivid, she almost uttered ‘I do’ when it was Theresa’s turn to say the oath.

Finally, the preacher pronounced the couple man and wife, and they ran to their limousine amidst a shower of birdseed and rose petals.

Keith stuffed Theresa’s gown into the car and then slid in behind her, waving to the crowd, shielding his eyes from the birdseed. When the car pulled away, tin cans trailed behind it, rattling. A ‘Just Married’ sign sprawled across the back bumper.

Wolf spoke in Brooke’s ear as she tossed birdseed after them, startling her. "Do you like weddings?"

Twisting around, she beamed up at him. "I adore them."

"You’d be a gorgeous bride. Would you… ."

Her breath stuck in her chest, and her knees wobbled. Was he proposing? Under a rain of birdseed?

"Brooke!" Laura called, interrupting. "I want you to meet my twin sister, Antonia. I wanted to introduce you before, but you disappeared."

Antonia enveloped Brooke in a big hug. "I’m so happy to finally meet you. Call me Toni, dear. Everybody does."

Brooke blinked and hugged her back. "I forgot you had a twin." Turning an accusing glare on Wolf, Brooke smiled innocently.

Defensiveness flickered across his eyes but disappeared so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it. She wondered why? "I’m happy to meet you, too."

Wolf prodded them to the valet where he ordered his car brought around. "We need to hurry so we can be in the reception line."

"I need to talk to you privately as soon as we get there." Toni spoke lowly and urgently to Wolf, but Brooke caught the words plainly.

The valet cut off Wolf’s response. "We’ll meet you at the Marriott." Wolf guided the vehicle through the throng of people expertly.

"Why didn’t you tell me that your mother’s twin sister was identical?"

Wolf stared straight ahead at the road. "It must’ve slipped my mind. Guess it’s no big deal to us."

"They look exactly alike. They’re both stunning." Her eyes widened. "Don’t twins skip every other generation?"

"I don’t know about that, but if you’re asking if I’m predisposed to have twins, I suppose I am." He slid a heated glance her way. "Does that scare you?"

Twins? They’d be adorable, especially if they inherited Wolf’s soulful eyes, but two miniature Wolf’s would be big trouble.

"Should I be afraid?" She recalled his interrupted question. "Why?" She held her breath.

He pulled the car into a parking lot and cut the engine. Turning to her, he pulled a small blue velvet box from his jacket pocket.

Gazing deeply into her eyes, he asked, "Will you marry me? For better, for worse. For richer, or poorer. For twins, or triplets, or karate?" Slowly he opened the lid to reveal the most exquisite diamond ring she’d ever seen. Sunlight bounced off its many facets.

Her mouth went dry. "Triplets?"

Taking the ring out of the box, he poised it mid-air." Say ‘yes’, and you’ll make me the happiest man on Earth."

"Yes." Her hand trembled as he slid the gold band on. It fit. She was stuck on the same thought, however. "Triplets? Is that likely?"

Gathering her into his arms, he nibbled her lips. "I’m more predisposed than most. Twins are more probable. Am I scaring you away?"

His arms tightened, crushing her breasts to his chest. His tongue parted her lips, delving inside to mate with hers. It swept her teeth, and he drank deeply of her.

Leaning into the kiss, she responded wantonly. Incredulous, she couldn’t grasp that she was engaged to marry this wonderful man.

"Think they’ll miss us at the reception?" He bathed her ear with his tongue, making her shiver. Hot hands roamed her length, setting her aflame.

"I think they’d kill us. We’re holding up the reception line."

Wolf drew back, his thumb caressing her engagement finger. "We’ll sneak away early."

"Please." She checked the mirror and put on more lipstick. Checking Wolf, she noted she’d left a considerable amount of it on his collar. She’d have to redo her hair only she had no hairspray with her to help hold it in place.

When they arrived, they separated. He went to the reception line while she went through it and then to restyle her hair and fix her make-up.

The band was already in full swing, and people were dancing. Several gravitated around the bar and h’ordeuvres table. Still others chatted animatedly in small clusters.

Inside the ladies room, she went through her routine a second time, faster at stripping, careful of the corsage and yards of lace. The air conditioning chilled her exposed body, and she cursed her choice of dress. It was going to Good Will tomorrow. But then again, Wolf has asked her to marry him while she wore it so she’d keep it for its sentimental value. She’d burn the girdle though and made a pact to lose more weight so she wouldn’t need one ever again. Hopefully before her wedding.

Disgusted with her hair, she brushed it out and wrapped it into a loose twist at the base of her neck. It looked rather Hispanic with her dress. Heading for the reception line, she went in search of Wolf.

"Brooke!" Wolf called her from the opposite side of the ballroom. He waved her over.

Ecstatic to see him, she fought her way through the crowd. Her fiancé. She was still in awe, still giddy, and would probably float all night. Maybe for the rest of her life.

"Wolf!" She ran into his open arms and kissed him fully, reveling in the knowledge he was all hers, and she was his.

***

Wolf looked up when he heard Brooke call his name and started toward her voice. Then he stopped dead, his eyes wide, his heart pounding wildly.

Brooke was kissing him. But he was here without her.

Logan! The rat had showed up after all. Had he planned this? Did his cousin know about his treachery?

Did Brooke know that was Logan? Would she break her engagement promises so soon or so publicly? He didn’t think so. But if she’d discovered he’d lied?

What should he do now? Pound Logan to a pulp? Fight for his fiancée? Disown the both of them? Hide?

He decided to regroup. He needed space to think straight. He needed to get Logan alone and find out how much he and Brooke knew. Hanging out on the edge of the room, in the shadows, jealousy ripped him apart as he watched Logan slow dance, talk, laugh with, and kiss Brooke. Brooke didn’t look upset or angry.

Maybe he still had a chance to repair the damage. Or maybe she was thrilled to see his rotten cousin.

His mother passed close by. "Mom. Over here." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Laura peered into the corner where he stood behind a potted palm. "Wolf?" She strolled over to him. "Why are you hiding?"

"What’s Logan doing here, dancing with my fiancée?" He pointed at the other man with Brooke.

Laura paled. "Oh no. I thought that was you." Laura paused, light dawning in her eyes. "Your fiancée?" Elation colored her voice, but then she looked at the couple and drew her brows together. "She knows he’s your cousin? You told her finally?"

"No. I didn’t tell her yet, and I don’t know what she knows. I have to speak to Logan. Can you send him over and keep her occupied?"

"I don’t like this, Wolf. I never have. If you’d told her the truth… ."

"Scold me later. Help me now."

"I hope you’ve not blown it with Brooke. I like her very much." Laura chewed her lower lip, watching Brooke and Logan. "This isn’t good."

Wolf growled. "I know. Get him away from her before I rearrange his face." He tried to remember the creed, use common sense, not defense, but it was hard with his gut tied up into huge knots. With his training, he could take Logan with no trouble. But that wasn’t what he or his training was all about.

"I’m going. I’m going." Laura’s high heels clicked on the floor. "Keep your cool. No family feuds."

Wolf’s nostrils flared. His muscles corded. His abdomen tightened, and his chest expanded. He was in fighting mode and had to take several deep, cleansing breaths. Theresa would never forgive him if he wrecked her wedding reception with an all out brawl.

Laura spoke to Logan and pointed towards Wolf.

Wolf slunk further back into the shadows lest Brooke see him.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he struck out at a bold pace across the room, a cold expression on his face.

When Laura took Brooke’s arm and propelled her in the opposite direction, Wolf walked to the hall where the women couldn’t see them.

Logan followed. "Congratulations cousin. I hear you’re engaged to the dog."

Wolf’s heart dropped to his feet. "She told you? She knows?"

Logan faced off against him. "She thought I was you."

Wolf breathed a huge sigh of relief. He still had a chance to tell her the truth himself.

"What I want to know is, does she think you’re me?" Logan’s voice was deadly quiet. He yanked his bow tie off and stuffed it in his pants pocket. "Did you tell her you’re me? Or that you’re my cousin?"

"I didn’t pretend to be you." That much was true anyway. Averting his eyes, he added, "But I’ve not told her you’re my cousin. Or that I was checking her out for somebody else."

"Why’d you lie to me, cousin? And to her? I thought you believed in honesty above all else?" He tapped a cigarette out of its pack and stuck it between his lips. He took his time lighting it and then inhaling. He squinted at Wolf through the haze of smoke that separated them. "That’s my girl. You had no right to steal her."

"Your girl?" Wolf snorted. "You didn’t want her. You said she was a pest. You hoped she’d be a dog."

"But she isn’t, and you weren’t straight with me!" Logan took a few more puffs of his cigarette. "So when are you going to come clean with her?"

"Soon."

"Not good enough, Wolfgang. Give me a date, and it better be soon. And then I get a chance to see her to make sure it’s not me she still really wants."

"You blackmailing me?" They’d fought before, even over girls, but never quite like this. This woman might just be their undoing. Brooke meant everything to him.

"Call it what you like. I prefer to call it telling the truth and giving her a choice. Are you scared she’ll pick me over you?" His chest puffed out, and he strutted across the hall and back. "The girls always did like me better. Brooke tracked me down. It was me she had a thing for all these years." He tapped his ashes into an ashtray bolted to the wall.

"She obviously never knew you. You’re no good for her. Leave her the hell alone." Wolf’s teeth grated together. "I’ll tell her tomorrow."

"I’ll give you till next Saturday to tell her the truth. If you’ve not done it by then, I will. Not that you deserve that favor, but you are my favorite cousin, so I’m giving you this break." A hard glint lit his eyes. "But not one second past next Saturday." He stomped away.

"Stay away from her until then, or I’ll break your scrawny neck!" The way he was feeling, he just might make good the threat. Exhausted, he made his way back to his fiancée, seeking the words to tell her the truth without alienating her.

Chapter Seven

Wolf got a call at eight am the next morning from Reed Sherman, his senior vice president in charge of operations. "We got problems, boss. We need you at headquarters."

"What’s the problem?" He raked his fingers through his hair and drank his fill of Brooke sleeping beside him. The blankets were wrapped around her torso but left her breasts and legs bare, and her naked breasts were doing things to him that were excruciatingly painful. They rose and fell with her every deep sleep-filled breath. He looked forward to this excruciating pain every day for the rest of his life, and Logan had better not mess this up for him.

He heaved a deep sigh. He’d planned on telling Brooke this morning, but it would take more than a few minutes while he was running out the door to a business meeting in Chicago. It required finesse, groveling perhaps. Romance.

He’d have to tell her when he got back. At worst, he’d be gone a day or two and be back well before his Saturday deadline.

"Karate Kick is mounting a take-over. We’re trying to fend them off, but it doesn’t look good." Sherman’s voice shook. The man was in the habit of understating trouble so this must be deadly.

"Have a ticket waiting for me at the airport." Wolf jumped out of bed, grabbing for his briefs and slacks. He hopped on one leg as he pulled them on.

"Already done, boss. You’re on the nine-ten flight out of Ft. Lauderdale to O’Hare so you’d better hurry."

"Will do. Assemble all the directors and executives, and we’ll meet as soon as I arrive."

He didn’t want to leave Brooke. His body ached for her. The more he tasted of her, the more he craved her. Unable to resist, he leaned over and suckled her nipple.

"Uhm. That feels wonderful." Moaning in ecstasy, she rolled onto her back and curled her arm around his neck. Her fingers played in his hair.

"You taste delicious." He moved to the other breast, nibbling it. "Touch me." Dragging her hand to his penis, he wrapped her fingers around it.

She stroked him, driving him wild. Her fingers sent shivers coursing through him.

Pulling her deeply into his mouth, his tongue bathed her nipples. Cupping the triangle between her legs, he dipped a finger inside her moist warmth, delighted when she shuddered against him.

Her thumb massaged the tip of his shaft, lubricating the silky head with his juices.

On fire, he throbbed in her hand. Fever raged through him.

Releasing her nipple, he lay atop her, capturing her lips, stroking her tongue with his. Her breasts crushed beneath his chest, tickled him. His full erection nested between her legs, and he couldn’t wait a moment longer. Slipping inside, he filled her, sheathed by her moist heat. She was tight, and her muscles clenched and unclenched around him.

Adrenaline pulsated through him. "I love you," he murmured against her lips.

"I love you, too." Her words were garbled, raspy, but nonetheless wonderful. With a thrust of her hips, she took his full length, shuddering. Her fingernails raked his back. Her softness squeezed around him tightly, and she groaned.

His seed spewed forth deeply into her belly. The release seemed endless, lasting several moments as he clutched her to him.

Finally, he was spent, drained of energy, and he relaxed on top of her, trying to catch his breath. Reason replaced passion, and he recalled the mission thrust upon him. Tracing her heart-shaped jaw line with the pad of his thumb, he murmured, "That was Sherman on the phone. An emergency’s come up, and I’m needed in Chicago."

Alarm flickered across her passion darkened eyes. "When? What happened?"

Glancing at the bedside digital clock, he glowered at it. "My flight leaves in an hour. I have to hurry. He rolled off her and sat up.

"But why?" She propped herself up on her elbows. "What emergency?"

Heading for the shower, he spoke over his shoulder. "Our chief competitor’s mounting a take over. We need to counter attack."

"Why’d they wait till Sunday to tell you?" A frown marred her exquisite beauty as she rose shakily to her feet, splendid in her nudity. She stepped over her dress and girdle that he’d tossed on the floor in a fit of passion the evening before. Turning, she picked them up and folded them. "Do you mind if I borrow one of your T-shirts to wear home?"

"Check the middle drawers." He turned on the shower and let the water run warm. "They tried to call me yesterday, but I left my cell phone home so as not to disrupt the wedding." He stepped under the water, scrubbed himself quickly, and then washed his hair.

When he emerged, Brooke was fetching clad in his Miami Marlins T-shirt. Her lips were bruised and swollen, and her eyes glowed. He wished he could spend the day making love to her. His groin tightened again, and he cursed the lack of time.

She took clothing from his drawers and closet and packed them in his suitcase that he stored in his closet. "Here you are, Sir. You’re all packed and ready to go." She held the suitcase out to him.

At the front door, she stood on tiptoe, brushing her lips across his. "Good luck. Hurry back." Her sultry voice almost made him stay. Somehow his business paled in comparison to her charms. "I’ll be back before you know it. Start shopping for a wedding dress. Pick out some sexy lingerie from your shop." He’d tell her about Logan and his part in his cousin’s schemes when he returned. Something so touchy needed time and delicacy. "I’ll call you from Chicago."

Chapter Eight

The days dragged while Wolf was away. He had quite a fight on his hands, more than he’d bargained for.

"Stop moping around." Paula bustled about the shop, repricing sale items. "You have a wedding to plan. I have a bridle shower to throw." She held up a shimmery silver foil teddy. "I bet Wolf will love this one."

"We just got engaged. We’ve not even set a date."

"But he told you to find a wedding gown, right?" The red head’s eyes twinkled merrily. "Are you going to have a big ceremony?"

Brooke could count her remaining relatives on one hand. "That depends on how many people Wolf wants to invite."

"I get to be maid of honor and don’t you dare dress me in pink or frills. I want something slinky and sexy."

Brooke munched on her lunch - a banana. She’d redoubled her dieting efforts and her intake primarily consisted of bananas, tuna, and peas. She liked the peas cold and straight out of the can that grossed out Paula who couldn’t stand to watch her eat. A devilish grin split her face. "Okay. I have a can of peas you can have for lunch then." She reached under the counter as if to retrieve them.

Paula scowled. "Give them to me and die. I hate those little suckers. I’ll get me some of that Metabolite stuff. The radio says it works like magic."

"I’ll stick to my peas and tuna, thank you. Come to the gym with me tonight?"

"No can do. Oscar wants to see the new George Clooney movie and take me out to dinner." A crimson glow lit her cheeks. "And then he wants to take me." She extracted a red silk number with garters and black lined hose. "Think this’ll turn up the heat?"

Brooke eyed it critically. "If it doesn’t, I’ll give you a full refund."

"Sold. Ring me up." Paula dropped it on the counter. Resting her elbows on the glass case, she stared at Brooke. "Maybe you should hop up to Chicago to surprise your honey. I can handle things here."

Brooke froze, her mind calculating. She missed him like crazy. Then she shook her head. "He’s busy trying to save his business."

"He still has to eat and sleep. Show him some support. He’ll appreciate it. Men like to be coddled."

"I don’t even know where he’s staying…"

"Can you trust him? Are you afraid of what you’ll find?" Paula’s eyebrow quirked.

"Of course not! Wolf loves me. I have no doubts whatsoever. But I don’t know where to find him."

Paula shook her head. "So ask his mother. She’ll tell you." Picking up the phone, Paula thrust the receiver into her hands. "Call her now."

No one answered and then memory dawned. "She went on a cruise with her sister."

Paula sighed and grabbed the phone away from her. "So call his office. Give me a pen and paper." She snatched them from Brooke. After a few seconds she said, "This is Brooke Masters, Wolf Linder’s fiancée. I misplaced the address he gave me of where he’s staying in Chicago."

Brooke groaned and leaned against the wall, one foot behind her. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, Paula grinned. "I take Visa, MasterCard, and cash. Gold works, too." She jotted down Wolf’s address where he was staying in Chicago and thanked the person on the other end of the line profusely. "Voila! No more excuses." She thrust the address at Brooke. "Get your booty on the next plane to the Windy City and join your man."

Brooke saluted, chuckling and took the slip of paper. "Yes, boss." She traipsed to the computer in the office. "Let me go online and book my reservations."

Paula whistled tunelessly. "You take a size seven, right?"

"Right. Why?"

"Oh, never mind," Paula said in a singsong voice.

Brooke peered at the screen, hoping to find a direct flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Chicago. When she found them, they cost several hundred dollars more than if she flew out of Miami. "Shoot! Can you take me to the Miami Airport tomorrow?"

"Sure thing." Paula stuck her head into the office. "Don’t tell Wolf you’re coming. Surprise him. Surprises keep the spark in a relationship."

It sounded like good advice until the cab pulled up outside the elaborate townhouse where Wolf was staying.

She stared at the looming building, her mouth dry. What if Wolf was angry with her? What if he thought she didn’t trust him? Maybe she should turn around and go home.

"We’re here, lady. That’ll be $23.50." The cabby stuck out his hand, palm up. He had big jowls and bags under full hazel eyes. When she hesitated, he scowled. "I ain’t got all day. I have another call."

She dug in her purse and handed him a ten and a twenty-dollar bill. "Thanks." She climbed out of the taxi and bit her lip when the car’s tires squealed as it sped away, leaving her alone.

This street didn’t look all that much different than a street in Ft. Lauderdale, except they had oak and maple trees instead of palm trees. Both were concrete jungles. Both were filled with sounds of traffic and honking horns in the distance.

Screwing up her courage, she decided she was getting nowhere hanging out on the sidewalk. If it bothered Wolf that she surprised him, it was best to find out before she married him. Not that her arrival should bother him.

Knocking on the door, she stepped back and waited, her hands folded primly in front of her. A shadow crossed the window, and her nerves jumped when the door creaked open.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Sarcasm dripped from Wolf’s voice and derision filled his eyes. But was it Wolf? Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at the man towering over her. It couldn’t be. "Logan?"

"Ah. So he finally came clean and told you all about his deceit?"

Deceit? She gulped and her heart skipped a few beats. She stepped inside and Logan got her suitcase and deposited it in his foyer. She shook her head unable to speak, dying to know what Logan would say next.

"So you came to see me, the original cousin?"

Cousin? Ohmigod. Wolf’s mother was an identical twin. Their sons looked alike, too. That possibility had never occurred to her. Her knees buckled, and she sank to a recliner.

Logan raked his fingers through his hair, and he chuckled without humor. "To think my favorite cousin told me my girl had turned into a fat dog… ."

Fat dog? Her jaw dropped a notch. Wolf had called her that? Blood drained from her head, and she felt faint when another horrible thought blindsided her. "He knew I was your girlfriend? How?"

Logan faced her. "I thought he told you." Shrugging his shoulders, he smiled wryly. "Well, you know now. I asked him to check you out. He told me you were ugly and not to waste my time."

She held her head where it pounded ferociously. He was stalking me? He said those awful things about me?"

Logan nodded. "Apparently our dear Wolfgang lied to both of us. Unbelievable, I know, with all his talk of honesty to his students. Guess that’s just lip service."

Bile bubbled up in her throat. "I’m going to be sick." She held her stomach as she rocked back and forth, willing the nausea to go away. If only the unbearable pain from her shattered heart could mend so easily.

"I think we owe it to ourselves to see if you and I have any sparks left." He sauntered over to her, a gleam in his eye.

Revulsion flooded her. "Stay away from me." Jumping to her feet, her hand held out in the stop motion at him, she backed toward the front door. "And deliver a message to your lying, cheating cousin for me. The engagement’s off. I never want to see either of you again." Twisting off her engagement ring, she hurled it at him. When he ducked the flying missile, it clanged on the floor and rolled into obscurity. "Ooh!" She clenched her fists, stomped out, and slammed the door, gasping for breath.

The nerve of the both of them tricking her like this, playing her for a fool. She’d never been so insulted, never been so enraged.

To think she’d wasted so many years dreaming of Logan the jerk, and that she’d wasted so many kisses and so many new dreams on Wolf the creep… . She was going to be sick. Dry heaves wracked her frame as she made her way down the strange street, uncertain where it or her future led.

The thought replayed in her mind. Wolf had been stalking her. He’d set a trap for her that she’d sprung herself.

***

"She came here?" Wolf bellowed, whirling to face off against his cousin. "You told her I said she was a fat dog?" He groaned and threw his length onto the couch and propped his feet on its arm.

Logan drew a puff on his infernal cigarette and stared at Wolf through the haze. Gray ash hung on its tip. The white stick moved in rhythm as Logan spoke. "I thought you’d already told her. I thought she knew the truth and was here to see me. After all, she was my girl first."

Wolf turned his head to glare at his cousin. "You threw away your rights to her years ago. You didn’t want her. You probably forgot all about her."

"Look, man." Logan jumped to his feet, pacing. "She hunted me down. She wanted to see me and be with me, not some stinking substitute. I never told you to date her. I only asked you to check her out."

Wolf swiveled his feet to the floor and jumped up. "Yeah, well I liked what I saw, and I knew she deserved a whole lot better than your sorry ass." Trembling fingers raked through his hair. "I never pretended to be you. I got her fair and square."

"Like shit!" Logan laughed unkindly. "She thinks you were stalking her cuz. She never wants to see you again."

Logan’s words hit him hard in the gut. "Stalking?" How was he going to get out of this one? "Did she say where she’s staying?"

Logan took another long drag of his nicotine. "I don’t think she’ll stick around here. Remember? She never wants to see either of us again." He smashed his cigarette in the ceramic ashtray that sat atop a glass coffee table. A few embers glowed red for a moment before dying out. "If you’re so much in love with her, why don’t you go after her? Sweet-talk her? Sweep her off her feet?"

Wolf froze, staring at his cousin. He was finally making sense. Only he was stuck here until this nasty take over business was thwarted.

"Of course, she’ll probably accuse you of stalking her more." Sympathy dwelled in Logan’s eyes. "You’re dead in the water, pal. You should never have scammed us like this."

Wolf scowled, determination taking hold. "I’ve got to at least try. I’m not waiting around any fifteen years like you did either. Soon as I boot Karate Kick out of our lives, that girl won’t know what hit her."

A wry smile twisted the other man’s lips as he stretched to his full height. Clapping Wolf’s shoulder, he said, "Good luck, cuz. Maybe I should’ve gone after her fifteen years ago, but I didn’t. I can’t even say why. It’s your turn. Guess she wasn’t that important to me."

"She means everything to me." No one else had ever filled his heart with such joy or slammed his gut with such desire. Brooke was special.

"What’re you waiting for? Go get her." Logan lit another cigarette as it dangled from his lips. "I get to be the best man. After all, I introduced you."

Chapter Nine

Brooke wound up in Jamaica after realizing she couldn’t return to Florida straight away. Maybe she could get her head straight and her heart whole on Negril’s white sands. She’d not taken a vacation in years. She was overdue. Since the shop had coverage, this was her chance.

Raising her hand, she waved at a passing waiter. "Bring me a pina colada, please." She stretched out on a deck chair overlooking the Caribbean. Coconut trees heavy with fruit bordered the beach, swaying in the gentle breeze. The scene wasn’t all that different than her native Florida beaches, and yet it was a different world. Tranquillity reigned here, as well as charm and elegance. Back home, everyone was in a hurry. No one catered to her whims as they did here. Here, people smiled and flirted. Back home they were more likely to snarl or stick their nose in the air.

"Your drink, pretty lady." The lanky, tall Jamaican waiter with braids pulled back in a well-groomed ponytail held out a bamboo tray to her. A tiny white umbrella bobbed up and down in her drink.

Smiling, she tipped him generously, and then took a long sip of her drink. Heaven. She loved watching the sea gulls dip into the white-capped waves and swimmers play in the surf. The only thing she didn’t like was seeing the lovers kiss or walk by hand in hand. They reminded her of happier times with Wolf.

Oh well, she should be happy there was such a profusion of lovers, so her shop would thrive.

In fact…she should see about opening a shop here in Negril. With all these honeymoon couples and lovers, she’d be sure to be successful. Throwing herself into her work would be the perfect antidote to help her forget Wolf, too. She was sure Paula wouldn’t mind helping her set up a store here. Oscar might even double the trip as a honeymoon.

Honeymoon. The concept slammed into her, bringing tears to her eyes. She should be honeymooning in some romantic place like this with Wolf. And they would be if he weren’t such a jerk. How could he be in league with that rat Logan? How could he be a party to such a detestable scheme? To hunt her down like a rabbit? To insult her so horribly?

Suddenly her drink lost its flavor, and the combination of salt and hot sun churned her stomach. The ocean lost its lure, and she wanted to lie down in her cabana and take a nap. Then she wouldn’t have to think about Wolf. She wouldn’t have to ache inside for an hour or two. And maybe after several such hours, the ache would lessen. Eventually, she’d get over him. She’d survived losing Logan, hadn’t she? At the time she’d thought that was the worst possible pain she’d ever have to endure.

But that had been nothing like this. Logan had merely been a mild prelude to this. He’d only been practice for his cousin.

A mixture of silliness and morbidity strangled her, probably courtesy of the alcohol she’d been imbibing. The old Patty Duke theme song haunted her. Identical cousins la la la. She couldn’t recall all the words, but the tune played over and over in her mind until she wanted to scream. That was only television. Make believe. This was real life. Her set of nightmare cousins made that set of cousins look like Sandra Dee and Doris Day.

Burning sand clung to the soles of her feet, infiltrating her beach sandals. The sun beat on her skull, as if laughing at her for not wearing a hat. She’d have to purchase one after her nap. However, she was already obviously brain dead to have become involved with Logan and Wolf, so what was a little more sun on the brain? Maybe it’d fry her memory cells so she wouldn’t remember the traitor.

Fuming, she slammed her cottage door behind her, craving the cool darkness and her bed. She was about to fling herself on it, when she caught the scent of roses and then saw them sitting on her nightstand.

Petrifying, she eyed the flowers, knowing they were from Wolf. What she didn’t know, was how he’d found her. She’d only told Paula where she was staying in case of dire emergency. She’d threatened her manager with not only her job but also with her life if she told Wolf where she was hiding. Murder plots ran through her mind. Somehow, she’d get revenge on Paula. Not real murder, of course, but somehow, someway, she’d get payback.

Paula had to have squealed. There was no other way Wolf could have tracked her down so quickly. She made her way to the flowers and snatched the attached envelope. Slipping the off-white embossed card out of the envelope, she read, "I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I love you."

Snorting, she said, "Yeah, right. You really love me. Fat dog."

"I really love you." Wolf stepped out of the shadows, cool and lean in a white shirt and shorts. "With all my heart."

Startled, she jumped back, clutching her throat. "Wh-what are you doing here? Wh-why are you here?" Her eyes were so wide in her face, her cheeks ached. Her eye sockets started to dry out.

He took another step forward but didn’t try to touch her. His features lay in shadow in the dimly lit room so she couldn’t read his expression or fathom his intent. "I came to beg your forgiveness. To beg on bended knee if necessary." He took another step forward then bent on one knee, his head craned back so he could stare up at her.

"Stop that!" she hissed, mortified. "Get up."

"I never meant to hurt you. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, and all I ever wanted was to be with you."

"You told your cousin that I was a fat dog." She planted her fists on her hips and glared down at him. "Why did you lie to me? How can you tell those impressionable children to always tell the truth when you lied to me for months?"

"I told Logan that so he’d leave you alone. Whether or not you want me, Logan is not the man for you. He’s not worthy of you. He wouldn’t make you happy. He had his chance and let you go." He sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "I’m the man for you. I love you with all my heart, and I’d never do anything knowingly to hurt you. It’s tearing me up that I didn’t have the guts to tell you the truth sooner."

The pathos underlying his words touched her heart, yet she still harbored ugly suspicions. "Why didn’t you tell me the truth sooner? Were you planning to tell me the truth ever?"

He rose to his feet, towering over her. Pulling a lone rose from the bouquet, he held it out to her but didn’t relinquish it. Instead, he stroked the velvety petals along her cheek. "I didn’t tell you right away because I was afraid I’d scare you off. What woman wants to know that her old boyfriend is having her checked out? Or that her new boyfriend found her because he was doing the checking out?"

"I wouldn’t have liked it at all." She probably wouldn’t have looked at him ever again. She certainly wouldn’t have dated him.

"And I wanted to get to know you and to be with you very badly. I wanted to make you fall in love with me before I told you that Logan was my cousin and how I was involved in all this." He backed her against the bed so that her knees buckled, and she fell onto it. A half smile curved his lips. "I didn’t know that Logan would show up at the wedding after all and prevent me from telling you. I was going to tell you the morning after the wedding, and our engagement, but I got called away on that emergency."

She struggled to a more dignified sitting position and scooted away from him. Something didn’t make sense. "What do you mean Logan was at the wedding. I didn’t see him… ."

Wolf shook his head, his smile evaporating. "He changed places with me before I knew he was there. He danced with you. And kissed you… ."

She gasped, her hand flying over her mouth. "That was him?" She looked into the past, recalling her impressions. "I thought something was different about your kisses. I put it down to wedding nerves." She recalled something else that had bothered her. "I wondered how my lipstick had disappeared from your collar, and then an hour or so later, it was back. I thought I was imagining things."

"You were the victim of an infamous Logan prank. He used to steal my girlfriends all the time back in college."

She cast him a sly glance. "This isn’t just payback for all those times, is it? Am I just the prize to be awarded to the best kisser or something?" She prayed he’d answer no.

Grabbing her hand, he hauled her to her feet and into his arms. "I don’t play those silly games anymore. I never pretended to be Logan. Although I didn’t tell you that Logan was my cousin or that he’d asked me to look you over, I didn’t lie about who I was or what I wanted or how I felt." He stroked her hair, mesmerizing her. His lips descended slowly, hypnotizingly toward hers.

Trembling, she gazed into his amazing eyes. "You really, truly love me? You fell in love with me that fast?"

He nodded, his breath mingling with hers. "Truly, madly, deeply with every fiber of my being. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. You’re my soul mate. My lady. If you send me away, I’ll still always love you." He brushed her lips with his and then sucked her lower lip into his mouth and nibbled it. "Don’t send me away."

Giddiness washed over her. Wolf loved her. He truly loved her. "I, uh, threw my engagement ring at your cousin the other day. Do you think I can get it back?"

Whooping, he hugged her to him and whirled her around until she was dizzy. He swayed with her in his arms. "We can be married this week and honeymoon here. We’ll have a big ceremony on our first anniversary to compensate Mom." Setting her on her feet but keeping one arm around her waist to steady her, he pulled her ring out of his front shirt pocket. "Logan and I crawled on our hands and knees until we found this baby. It’s yours so promise me you’ll never take it off again."

She held out her trembling finger for him to slide the ring on. "I promise. I suppose Logan was just my warm up for you." She shivered when he put it back in its rightful place.

"I’m nothing like Logan, and I have no desire to be like him, although I love my cousin very much. Any resemblance is skin deep."

Pressing her lips to his, drinking in his warmth, she smiled. "Maybe he can be our best man."

Wolf threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"What’s so funny?" She eyed him accusingly. It wasn’t a normal reaction for a man to laugh when she kissed him.

"That’s what Logan said. That he should be our best man - because he introduced us." A thoughtful expression pooled in Wolf’s eyes. "I suppose he’s right. If not for him, we may not have met. And I wouldn’t be so deliriously happy."

"I suppose we owe him that much. But if he ever tries a switch on me again, I’ll have to kill him." It was her turn to laugh. "He only gets one freebie, and he’s already used it."

"I think he already knows that. But just in case, we’ll tell him together." Wolf kissed her, long and slow. Coming up for air, he said breathlessly, "We’ll tell him after the honeymoon. Let’s find a preacher."

"Now?" She did a double take. "This minute?" Her blood simmered.

"I want the world to know you’re mine." He nibbled her ear and whispered huskily, "I want there to be no doubt in your mind or your heart that you’re all mine - or that I’m all yours. And I want to get started on our twelve kids."

"Twelve?" She gulped, her stomach clenching. "How about six?"

"Ten?" He nuzzled her neck, crumbling her defenses. "Five boys and five girls. I can afford a large family."

"Eight?" She was losing this battle. At the mention of his finances, she pulled back and looked him in the eye. "What happened with your hostile take over? Did you win?"

He shook his head. "I left Sherman in charge. I had a much more important matter to take care of."

Shocked, dismayed, she stared at him. "Me? You left your business to come here?" Guilt washed over her.

Cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand, he caressed her lips with his thumb. "That’s my business. You’re my life. I can always start a new business if I have to. It might even be fun. No one can replace you."

All doubts dissipated. He truly loved her. Flinging her arms around his neck, she kissed him hungrily. Her weight threw him off balance, and he swayed. A moment later, they fell on the bed, bouncing, laughing. "I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I’d marry a Wolfgang."

A slow, sultry smile curved his lips. "I bet you never imagined you’d name your first son Wolfgang, either, but you will."

"We will." They’d do everything together from this day forward. As he liked to say, they were soul mates.

"We will," he repeated, and then drank deeply of her lips.

MATA HALI

Chapter One

"Time to open the crypt." Charmaine yawned wide as she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Bloodshot eyes crinkled at the corners as she joked with her friend and coworker. She released her brassy bottle blonde hair from its clip at the nape of her neck and finger combed its tresses so that it fell past her shoulders.

"If only we could escape forever." Breaking free from her blue-collar dungeon was a long held dream of Andi's. College robes and diplomas danced in her dreams sweeter than any sugar plum fairy. She allowed herself five whole seconds to fantasize then dragged herself back to the real world. Her home every night from midnight to sun up was a gothic underground of shadows and monolithic, ear splitting machinery where even the walls smelled of a weird mixture of grease and solder. She was beginning to feel like a vampire.

"Catch yourself an engineer and the world will be yours." Charmaine winked and sashayed her hips.

"Dream on." She smiled at her friend indulgently. "Having another Richard Gere fantasy? Some handsome rich guys will take us away from all this?" Ruefully, she waved her arm in a wide arc that encompassed their dingy gray cinder block coffin.

Sharp footsteps echoed down the hallway. She was mildly curious to whom they belonged. Her coworkers all wore gym shoes. Only management and the engineers wore hard soled shoes. One of them must've lost his way...or was exiled. They didn't venture underground willingly. Charmaine's focus riveted toward the sound. Her expression clouded, becoming guarded. Her frame stiffened.

Compelled to follow her friend's gaze, Andi pivoted on her heel. Her jaw fell open when she gazed upon the most handsome man she'd ever seen. Their gazes locked. His sizzled, sending electric current down her spine.

Tall and straight as an arrow, he had broad shoulders that tapered to lean hips. Unruly black-brown hair fell in a fringe over eyes the shade of semi-dark chocolate. Chiseled features looked as if they'd been etched in marble. But it was those eyes that captured her attention. Laughing eyes. Flirtatious eyes. They were framed with the longest, darkest, thickest eyelashes she'd ever seen on anyone. Unable to help herself, she gaped at the demigod in the white shirt and tie all the engineers wore.

He favored her with a smile that could melt hearts of any age, and her heart fluttered in her chest. How long they gazed at each other, she didn't know. Everything else faded into the background.

"Having a Richard Gere fantasy?" Charmaine used her own words against her, her left brow arched, her tones silky and mocking. Her lips quirked in a smile without a trace of warmth.

She jabbed Charmaine in the ribs with her elbow, a false smile plastered to her face. Between clenched teeth, she growled. "Stuff it."

Yanked rudely out of her trance, her gaze fell to the man's badge. So, his name was Brian Newman. She frowned when she deciphered the rest of the badge. Just her luck. He couldn't be a mere mortal - a technician or an assembler. He wore an engineer's badge. Worse, the badge proclaimed that the man had three patents with the company. She was surprised he wasn't walking on rose petals.

He passed them, and he looked just as scrumptious from the back as he did from the front. A tight, well honed posterior. Broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and sleek, long legs.

Charmaine leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "Cute butt." She grasped Andi's arm in her hands. When Charmaine’s long red fingernails dug into Andi's flesh, she flinched. "Watch out for that one. He's pure trouble."

Andi gave her friend a questioning look as she extricated her arm.

"Ladies man. He breaks hearts everywhere he goes." Charmaine sighed deeply. "Doesn't stop them from trying though."

There must be a story her friend wasn't telling, and this wasn't the place to ask. Not with so many listening ears.

Joey Taylor who stood right in front of them was one of the biggest gossips in the plant. He had dark hair and stood tall, lean and broad shouldered like Brian Newman, but that's where the resemblance ended. His hair was permed tightly and spilled over his collar. His leisure shirt was unbuttoned three buttons down to show off his thick matt of hair. When off duty, several gold chains adorned it. A diamond earring sparkled from his left earlobe. Twenty years ago, he'd been a disco king. He still fancied himself a ladies man, too. But he was a friendly guy, with a broad Brooklyn accent. He had a smile and a kind word for everyone. Still, no secret was safe with him. Joey loved to talk.

They neared the crunch of the security guard station where everyone waited impatiently to show their badges before they would be allowed to leave, anxious to get a peek at the sun and a whiff of fresh air.

"You'd rather dream of Robbie, the Sultan of Solder?" She inclined her head at the balding hippie a few people ahead of them in line. A straggly ponytail hung between meaty shoulder blades. He walked on tattered jeans. He turned and leered at them, showing yellowed teeth.

Andrea's lips pulled down in a grimace. "No thanks." She stared at the spot where Brian Newman had disappeared around a corner, hoping he'd come back, and she'd get another look at him.

"Let me dream. It's all I have." Charmaine made a mieux of her lips at Robbie. Rubber soles squished and squeaked on the linoleum as they inched forward.

A second set of sharp footsteps echoed down the hall, drawing near. Rush hour.

Three tall burly men, two sporting visitors badges and surly

expressions, joined Otis, the security guard. They conferred with him in a huddle.

"Not this again." Charmaine slumped and groaned.

"What?"

"They're searching everyone. They do this every now and then to keep us honest. Afraid we'll steal the plant."

"What gives?" Robbie craned his neck over the crowd. "I gotta drive my brother to work."

Lou stomped his foot. "My wife's waiting for me in the parking lot. Can you speed this up?" He looked ready to chew glass. There was a big gap between his front teeth and a large tattoo of a cobra poised to strike on his too-tanned upper arm.

Directly in front of Joey, Wendy tucked her bra strap under her shirt and fidgeted with the safety pin holding her top together. She readjusted her hair ornaments. She never wore just one at a time, but two. Didn’t she know how tacky it looked? Long hair was twisted back in a tortoise shell clip and she wore a headband as well.

"God," Andi lifted a silent prayer, "deliver me from this looney bin, and I'll do whatever you want." She hoped he was awake this obscenely early. If not, maybe he had voice mail.

What she honestly wouldn't give for a better life. She lived alone with her dog and hamster. All her money went to pay bills. She worked a dead-end boring job. What she wouldn't give for a little adventure, a little romance.

Finally, it was her turn to be put under the microscope. They took everyone in a private room. She was no exception.

The huge visitors closed the door behind her. When they turned toward her and she could get a better look, she saw that their name badges proclaimed them to be Frank Atwood and Dennis McGuire and Wesley Cleveland. Cleveland wore a company badge. It was white that meant he was in upper management. Atwood and McGuire wore visitor's badges.

Claustrophobia set in almost instantly. They were like giant oaks crowding the tiny space. They stepped closer, their eyes dark and foreboding.

"I'm Wesley Cleveland, head of plant security. Mr. Atwood and Mr. McGuire are with the Department of Defense. As you know we have several top security projects with them at the plant. They're here to investigate the recent barrage of thefts and sabotage."

Thefts? Sabotage? So the fire in the Birmingham division last week hadn't been an accident? Nor that tech injured on the job from the California line the week before? Nausea assaulted her stomach.

She scrutinized the three men closely. Even without his badge, she'd know Cleveland worked for the company. He wore the white dress shirt, tie, and twill slacks that seemed to be the management uniform. She placed him to be in his early fifties as he had a liberal amount of gray sprinkled throughout his cropped dark hair. He was a handsome man, with a long thin face and alert eyes which hid behind wire-framed glasses. He wore a

platinum Rolex on his right wrist and a gold wedding band on his left hand.

Atwood and McGuire both wore dark blue suits complete with jacket. They even wore the same black dress shoes that laced. Atwood had a long hawked nose and smallish dark eyes. McGuire had big ears that stood out from his head which his short military hair cut didn't hide.

Atwood spoke, startling her out of her reverie. "Please empty your pockets, Miss De George."

Air singed her lungs. They weren't planning a strip search were they? She'd take back every word about wanting a little adventure. Her boring life was perfect. Wonderful. Dutifully she placed the contents of her pockets on the table. Change from her nightly soda, a wadded up gum wrapper, and her keys.

McGuire opened the gum wrapper, held it up to the light and examined it.

She couldn't help herself. "Looking for secret code?" Saccharine dripped from her voice.

Dead pan, McGuire muttered, "Government secrets."

"Please cooperate, Miss DiGeorge." Cleveland watched her as closely as she'd examined him. His voice was quietly authoritative.

"Right." Whatever. If it made them happy to play cloak and dagger, so be it...as long as they finished with her and let her go. She couldn't stand this dive of a closet a moment longer. All cinder block walls, it reminded her of being trapped inside a chimney. Home and her nice soft bed beckoned. Jett needed his morning walk. The poor thing probably thought she'd abandoned him by now.

Eyeing the men, she asked, "You're not going to strip search me, are you? Don't you need a female officer here or something?"

"Do we need to strip search you? Atwood and McGuire didn't move one muscle save their eyes that seemed to speak to each other. Silence hung heavy in the air. They were so serious they frightened her.

"Do they, Miss DiGeorge?" Cleveland's eyes narrowed. Mild annoyance flickered across his eyes.

"No. No you don't." She sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I was just making a joke."

No one laughed. Eyes narrowed.

Bad, bad joke. She shouldn't give them any more ideas or

ammunition. She wasn't exactly in a power position.

"Let's stick to business. Please empty your purse." Cleveland inclined his head at the purse where it sat on the table.

"Don't you need a warrant?" This was getting very scary.

Accidentally on purpose, Atwood knocked her purse off the table, and it flipped upside down. "Oops." The man didn't sound at all sorry. Everything spilled out. Her wallet, make-up, checkbook, pens, a pink wrapped package that made her cheeks burn, and more loose change. But it was an alien sheath of papers that fell out that caught her attention. Where had they come from? Her forehead puckered and brows drew together. Indigestion rose in her chest.

"What's this?" Atwood opened the papers and his expression blackened. "Take a look." He thrust them at McGuire and Cleveland, who scowled.

"Looks like we found the package."

Goose bumps popped out on her arms. Her knees felt weak and

threatened to buckle. What was on those papers that drew this reaction? Somehow, she didn't think it was a love letter or even a bill.

"It's always the innocent looking ones." McGuire handed the papers over to Cleveland who shook his head and pursed his lips.

They were driving her nuts! She licked suddenly dry lips, her gaze glued to the paper trying to read through the back but it was thick, good quality grade paper. "Something wrong?"

Cleveland turned the papers so that she could see. Big, bold red letters jumped out at her, even five feet away.

"Omigod!" Her knees gave out, and she clutched the table lest she fall at their feet.

TOP SECRET.

Chapter Two

Come with us." Cleveland opened the door and held it, his

expression grim. McGuire and Atwood flanked either side of her, their faces inscrutable masks, their eyes dark, unfathomable.

Her eyes shifted right then left, hoping none of her coworkers saw her being escorted by these DOD agents and the head of security. Fear coiled in her stomach. How had Top Secret papers wound up in her purse? She'd never seen those before. She had no access to Top Secret materials. That meant someone had to have planted them on her. She shivered. She was so cold. So scared.

"Where are you taking me?"

Cleveland shut the door behind him before speaking. She was

beginning to wonder if anyone was going to answer. "To my office. Where we can speak."

They entered a lift that took them to the second floor. She was escorted to Cleveland’s corner office which boasted tinted windows for two of the walls. She had an excellent view of the grounds and parking lot. Directly in front of them was the main plant entrance where a beautiful stone fountain was surrounded by exotic plants. A perfectly manicured green lawn flowed from the plant to the parking area where a sea of cars had already been parked by the day shift crew. If she weren't shaking internally and scared to death, she'd enjoy this rare glimpse of the plant. Cleveland's office was furnished with a heavy oak desk and deep mauve armchairs enough for four guests. A comfortable off-white couch spanned the back of the room. Potted palm trees book-ended the couch. A large office, there was a long rectangular table to her right with ten chairs gathered around it. Diplomas, certificates, and pictures hung on the wall. She spotted one of Cleveland shaking the President's hand. Several others depicted Cleveland with his wife and two children, a teenage girl and a young boy.

"Have a seat." Cleveland motioned for them to sit in the arm chairs in front of his desk. Lowering himself to his chair on the far side of the desk, he leaned forward on his elbows and gazed at her for several long moments.

She did her best not to let him see her squirm in her chair, but she knew this didn't bode good for her. She'd never been in legal trouble any deeper than a speeding ticket, but a friend of her father had been convicted of a serious crime even though he'd been innocent. The man had spent seven long years in prison for a crime he didn't commit.

No, innocence didn't always prevail. Especially not when such damming evidence was found on the suspect! And if convicted, treason held a much heftier penalty than a seven year jail term.

"Where did you get those papers, Miss DiGeorge?" Cleveland steepled his hands together. His fingers moved in and out, belying his agitation.

She shook her head slowly. "I never saw them before. I don't know how they got there."

Cleveland looked at Atwood then McGuire, then back at her. "Do you honestly expect us to believe that? Tell us who you're working with."

"Don't I get an attorney? Shouldn't you read me my rights?" This was America. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"We're not talking petty theft or a misdemeanor, here." Cleveland's voice was strained as if he kept himself on a tight leash. "We're inside a government facility and this is martial law."

McGuire turned in his chair towards her. He crossed his left leg over his right revealing an expanse of black sock and half an inch of hairy calf. "Selling government secrets is treasonous. Do you realize the magnitude of the trouble you're in?"

"That's why I want an attorney." Her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles hurt. She pushed her cuticles back from her middle finger to keep from talking with her hands as she was apt to do when she was severely stressed. She was way past stressed.

Atwood shook his head. "This isn't a civil matter. You're dealing with the government. We don't play games."

"Tell us who gave you those papers and who you're selling them to, and we might cut you a deal." Cleveland was out of his seat, pacing the floor. He wound up towering over her, his eyes ice cold. She felt cold in his shadow, down deep into her bones. Cold and utterly alone.

She shrugged her shoulders. Despair wrapped its tentacles around her heart. All she could tell them was the truth, but they didn't believe her. "I don't know who planted those papers on me. I don't know why they were planted on me. I don't even know what they are."

"Come on. You can do better than that." Cleveland leaned over her, getting in her face. Light reflected off his glasses so that she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. But his mouth was drawn tight.

She sank as far into her chair as she could, until she hit the wooden frame. He inched closer, fanning her claustrophobia.

"The penalty for treason is life in prison." Atwood said this as if he were ordering a cup of coffee. As if it were an everyday occurrence. Maybe it was for him. It was something she’d never considered.

McGuire leaned closer. "Some traitors get the electric chair."

Death? She hadn't done anything wrong! This couldn't be real. She must be hallucinating. Her chest tightened. Pain radiated to her shoulders and down her arms. Her sight became blurry so that Cleveland's face swam in front of hers in a fog. Was she having a heart attack? At this point, it would be more merciful than anything this trio had planned for her. She

waited, but the searing pain didn't extend into her chest.

Her hands splayed before her. "But I honestly don't know." She hated the desperation she heard in her voice. "Why won't you believe me?"

"We caught you red handed!" Cleveland's voice rose. He practically bellowed, and his shout bounced off the walls. "There's no point in denying what we know."

Infuriated, completely frazzled, she jumped out of her chair. "I can't tell you what I don't know! I won't lie and incriminate myself."

"We're getting nowhere." Atwood rubbed the back of his neck. "She's not going to tell us anything. Lock her up, and maybe she'll change her mind."

"Maybe she doesn't know anything," McGuire said, staring at her. "It's possible someone planted those documents on her, you know. It wouldn't be the first time."

Atwood snarled at his partner. "What do you suggest we do? Let her go?"

Cleveland paced in front of them, one hand stuck deep in his pocket, the other mussing his hair. He stopped in front of her. "You work with us, help us to apprehend the spy or spies, and you're off the hook."

Flabbergasted, her mouth dropped open. Spy on the spies? International subterfuge? Her? She didn't even have clearance to go upstairs to the first floor without an escort.

"You don’t have a choice." McGuire hung on the arm of her chair. His eyes glowed.

"I don’t know how to spy. This is ludicrous."

"We’ll give you pointers," McGuire said.

Atwood rubbed his jaw with long tapered fingers. "I don’t know. I don’t think she has it in her. I say we book her and look for her accomplices ourselves."

Frustration welled up in her. Her hands clenched so that her nails dug into her palms. Her back ached. "I don’t have any accomplices! I’m not guilty."

Cleveland perched on his desk. His foot tapped the floor. "If you’re not guilty, you’ll work with us."

"Let’s see. I can do what you say and walk free? Or I could refuse and go to jail forever?" She flipped her hair off her cheeks, shooting her new bosses a glance full of loathing.

Atwood leaned closer, an enigmatic expression on his face.

"Or go to the electric chair." Her fingertips tap danced on the arm of her chair, and she sucked her teeth. "Gee. I really don’t know." She’d never realized she had such a penchant for sarcasm.

"So?" McGuire lifted a brow, staring at her closely.

She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. "When do I start?"

Cleveland hopped to the ground and rounded his desk. Opening a lower desk drawer, he pulled out a red folder. He spread it open on his desk and picked out a thick report. "This is a list of suspects with all the information we’ve gathered on them. You’ll find it very useful. I’ll make a copy for you." He nodded at McGuire who dutifully took the document and left the room.

The security director cleared his throat. "You heard about the fire last week?"

She nodded her head. "Someone from day shift forgot and left a soldering iron plugged in. Nothing serious. No one was hurt."

"That’s the cover story." Atwood crossed his leg and swung his levitated foot back and forth. "That fire was set. Classified schematics were lost."

"Before that a man was injured in the plant." Cleveland lowered his glasses on his nose and peered at her over the lenses.

"A safety violation?" She hoped that was all it was.

"It wasn’t an OSHA violation." Cleveland said.

"He was one of ours. He was attacked." Atwood grimaced. "He’ll be in the hospital for a good while."

Andi’s hand went to her throat, covering her jugular vein, and she gulped. "Serious injuries?"

"Serious enough." Cleveland averted his eyes from hers. What he left unsaid spoke volumes.

McGuire slipped into the room and handed the dossiers to Cleveland. He moved silently on the carpet.

Cleveland slid one of the sheaf of papers across the desk to her. "Read this, then we’ll go over it."

Her forehead puckered as she read. Robbie Ingalls, Lou Malone, Joey Taylor, Charmaine, a lot of people she didn’t know...and Brian Newman, the engineer who’d grabbed her attention. His name topped the list.

"Can I keep this?" She’d never remember all the names, much less all this. She scanned the material not at all pleased at the depth of personal information they’d collected. They must’ve been tapping phones. Bugging homes. They knew every move she made. Was nothing sacred?

"No. That’s classified." Atwood plucked the report from her hands.

"We’ll give you specific assignments. In addition, keep your eyes and ears open." Cleveland handed a new badge to her. "This will give you access to the upper floors. You’re being promoted to assistant floor manager so that you have a cover."

Dryly she said, "I don’t suppose I get a raise?" She desperately needed more money which they knew. It was documented in her dossier.

She’d had a belly full of this cloak and dagger. "Do I come here for assignments? She stared into Cleveland’s eyes, resigned to her fate. She’d dreamed of many things but never this. Suddenly adventure, intrigue, seemed very dangerous. She prayed she was up to the test.

"No. We’ll contact you when no one else is around." Cleveland rose and walked to his window, his hands clasped behind his back. He gazed out over the lawn. The outside seemed surreally serene considering what was happening inside.

She couldn’t resist. "I get any secret agent gadgets? Button cameras? Shoe phones?"

"We’ll see what we can do." Cleveland half turned and stared at her. He nodded at Atwood.

Atwood stood. "Your first assignment is to investigate Brian Newman. He’s our prime suspect." Atwood laughed without mirth. "He claims that his top secret design was stolen. He probably sold it. Still keep an eye on Robert Ingalls and Joseph Taylor. Commie subversives if I ever saw them."

They were in their own world for sure, she admitted. But un-American? "Robbie fought in Vietnam."

"Probably where he was recruited. Keep a close eye on him." McGuire rubbed his chin. "Never trust a man wearing a peace sign."

"Or with hair on his face," Atwood said.

Mentally, she rolled her eyes. "To whom do I report?" She felt as if she’d popped into a super hero comic. Yet, dread coiled in the pit of her stomach, its venom spreading throughout her.

"In extreme emergencies, call me on my secure line. It’s 555-6660. Make sure no one can hear you." Cleveland patted his pocket. "I keep in contact at all times. Otherwise, we’ll call you."

"Remember," Atwood said in a completely serious voice. "Tell no one lest you compromise national security."

"No one," McGuire said.

All eyes turned on her.

"No one," she promised, her heart plummeting. She squirmed under their intense gazes. She didn’t relish this sensation at all.

Chapter Three

A few days later, Andrea stood at the threshold of the throbbing ballroom that seethed with creatures of the night. She recognized few faces in the swarming crowd. Her coworkers never wore the tons of make-up. It’d look ghastly in the dungeon, probably green glow in the dark. But tonight, more than half of them grinned ear to ear, she felt sure, helped by a little southern persuasion so readily supplied by the company at the free bars lining the walls.

"Andi!" Charmaine bounced over to her, waving her arms. Her frosted hair was pulled up in an elegant chignon. When her friend reached her, Charmaine embraced her and kissed her cheek. Her warm breath smelled suspiciously like rum. Surely if Charmaine hid secrets, they’d come out in her inebriated state. Immediately Andi felt guilty for thinking her friend might hold secrets her superiors might be interested in.

"Sit at our table. We’ve been looking all over for you." Her voice sounded slightly slurred, her words rounded.

"I’d love to." She smiled at the woman. She let herself be led away by the hand.

Swirls of smoke drifted toward dim ceiling lights. Women hung on men’s suited arms. What a Lily Munster convention. Most of the women wore ankle length, clingy black evening dresses that revealed ample cleavage. A variation on this fashion was the mini-skirted, slinky black creations that the younger set wore. Those with twenty-inch waists and miles of legs to die for anyway.

Not that she could talk, she wore a basic black sheaf with silver glitter adorning the ballooning bosom. The gown looked a lot better on than she’d anticipated. She’d picked up burnished brass dangling heart earrings that swung seductively against her two-toned hair, white blonde on top, dark brown on her undercut layers, all the rage in Ft. Lauderdale this year. She’d left it loose for the occasion. The combination pleased her critical eye whenever she passed a reflective surface, and she felt moderately confident.

Charmaine clutched her arm, whether in friendship or to steady herself, Andi wasn’t sure. An indulgent smile played with the corners of her lips. "Wendy. Robbie."

She nodded, not wanting to yell over the piped in music that threatened to deafen her. Its insidious beat made her heart race backwards.

I’ve met Brian and Kerry, two of our engineers." Whispering in her ear conspiratorially, she said, "The royal pains in our rear. I’ll have your badge if you dare tell them I said so."

Everyone smiled and waved. Except for Brian who pushed back his chair and stood, looming over her. Bending over her hand, he turned it in his and kissed her palm. Shivers stole up her spine, and she stared up, way up, into whiskey warmed eyes, mesmerized. "Where’ve you been hiding this gorgeous lady?"

Charmaine shook her head, the expression in her eyes incredulous. "You’re always a charmer when you get a few rum and cokes into you." To Andi, she said in an aside, "Don’t be fooled by this one. This isn’t his normal self."

"Don’t listen to her." Brian did not relinquish her hand. His thumb rubbed the soft flesh of her inner wrist, putting her at risk of melting at his feet. She gazed at him, her lips slightly parted, her breathing uneven and raspy. She held a virgin soda in her other hand. As if she’d downed about ten slow gin fizzes, her insides bubbled warm and cozy. She hadn’t felt this way in...well, she couldn’t rightly remember ever feeling this way before. But she didn’t want it to stop. Surely, Charmaine held a personal grudge. Or maybe she just teased.

"Unhand my staff, Newman." When Charmaine moved closer as if to literally take his hands off her, Brian swung her around and deftly positioned her in the vacant chair on his far side, away from her boss. "You can’t pull rank tonight."

"Neither can you, sweetheart." He blew a kiss into the air and winked. He loosened his tie, tossed his jacket on the back of his chair, and folded himself beside her. His arm looped casually on the back of her chair. His white shirt stood out stark under the neon lights.

Charmaine smiled, as if in spite of herself.

"Can I get you another drink?" he asked Andi. Warm brown eyes twinkled into hers. Playful fingers caressed the bare skin under her heavy hair at the base of her neck making her shiver deliciously. "What are you having?"

Lifting her soda, she swirled it around. "I’m fine."

"Join me then while I get another one." Without waiting for her reply, he grasped her hand, helping her to her feet. His arm circled her waist, and he guided her through the crowd. His warmth intoxicated her, and she felt every bit as drunk as Charmaine sounded. He smelled so wonderful, all spicy and warm like a hot toddy or warm eggnog, she had an insane desire to nestle against him and taste his scent. He was making this spy business too easy. All she had to do was let him lead.

Yet it seemed so unreal. This couldn’t be happening, not to her. Gorgeous men didn’t pick her up. She pinched herself to see if she were dreaming, but her leg stung where she’d twisted her flesh between her long nails. This was real all right.

Things like this never happened to her. Ever. She’d given up her Cinderella dreams years ago when she’d had to drop out of college when her dad had died and left her a ton of medical bills to pay off. Then she almost laughed aloud at her fanciful musings. Things like what? All the man had done was kiss her hand and escorted her to the bar. Hardly stuff dreams were made of.

Get a grip! She practically had them married and honeymooning in some tropical paradise.

"How long have you been around the company? Why haven’t I noticed you? Where have you been hiding?" He gazed into her eyes as if she were the only woman in the universe, and she felt like Cinderella at the prince’s ball again. Light glistened on his black brown hair, and she longed to let her fingers romp through it.

AI started a couple months ago. I’m an electronic technician." Nothing glamorous or even very interesting. But it paid the bills. Barely. "DeVon chains us to our posts."

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline. "You’re a real looker. It’s a crime to call you such a masculine name."

She tilted her head to look up at him and judged him to be about a head taller than her. Not a mean feat when she was five foot seven, taller in her spiky heels. The curtain of her hair tickled her bare back when it shifted.

The corners of her mouth quirked in amusement. "It’s short for Andrea. Andrea Marie DiGeorge."

"Andrea’s so poetic. I like that much better." Her given name rolled off his lips as if it were ambrosia. With each word, each caress, he wrapped his charm around her as a spider spun its web. And she didn’t care if he never untangled her.

"Everyone calls me Andi. My dad’s Andrew."

He took his drink, tipped the bar tender impressively, and faced her. "Everyone but me, sweet Andrea." He looked up and his eyes narrowed. "It’s time to eat. Are you hungry?"

The way he said hungry almost made her faint. She shook her head, not trusting her voice. She was hungry all right, but not for physical sustenance. Not even for the lobster and shrimp flowing like milk and honey off the buffet tables. The company had gone all out to celebrate their success, but she hadn’t expected this bonus. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned they’d deliver the man of her dreams straight into her arms. Well, maybe in her very wildest dreams. But she’d never taken them seriously, knowing their wasn’t a chance they’d come true.

He watched her, awaiting her reply. Her mouth dry, her throat constricted, she murmured in a husky voice she’d had no idea she possessed, "Starving." Her eyes never wavered from his face. Then she couldn’t stop her tongue from licking her parched lips.

The corners of his eyes crinkled and an unnameable expression flitted across his eyes which darkened to milk chocolate consistency. "Let’s see what we can do to assuage your appetite." He clasped her hand and dragged her behind him. He walked pretty steady for a guy that reportedly had had too much to drink, maneuvering through the maze of tables with the ease of a racecar driver.

Back at the table, their plates loaded with seafood and prime rib, Charmaine nudged her and wiggled her finger for her to lean close. She complied, arching her brow in silent question. "What do you think you’re doing? That’s Mr. Heartbreak."

"Mr. Who?" She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. "And what am I doing?"

"You’re flirting to beat the band, honey. Only problem is you’re doing it with the pro. Joey’d be a safer bet if you want a fun date. He’s not an engineer."

She glanced over her shoulder to the devastatingly handsome man that chatted with a fellow engineer, their white pressed shirts and power ties dead give aways to their upper echelon status.

"I’m not flirting." She tried to rationalize the lie by telling herself she did it for her country. That Brian was flirting with her way more than she flirted with him. "We’re all having dinner, for heaven’s sake." She tsk tsked and shook her head. She wasn’t about to admit that her toes curled in her high heels or that she missed the warmth of his thigh against hers. "He’s flirting with me."

"If you’re not flirting, I’m not a woman." She harrumphed good-naturedly. "Just remember Monday, when we’re back in the real world, that I warned you. Watch your step and don’t do anything foolish."

A tremor of apprehension crawled down her spine, coiling in the pit of her stomach, but she chased it away. Everyone knew that techs and engineers came from different galaxies. Supervisors were the predators in their high tech jungle.

"Is she warning you about me again?" Brian asked, laughing. He pulled her back to his side, having finished his conversation. "She’s just jealous she doesn’t have her own engineer."

"Why? Are you my guy?" She couldn’t keep from asking then almost kicked herself in her derriere. The gold bangles on her wrist jangled a warning siren.

"That’s definitely a possibility." He whispered his husky words into her ear, his teeth nibbling her earlobe. His fingers trailed lightly up her bare arm to her shoulder. "You’re exquisite." He sniffed her, his lips bent to her shoulder. "Uhm. You smell wonderful."

The band that replaced the piped in music while they were at the buffet table, switched gears, hummed the first bars of one of her favorite slow tunes as if they were a street corner quartet. Clear, melodious tones glided over her soft and fragrant as melted chocolate. Up on the stage, they swayed slightly in their white suits, crooning into their microphones. The lead singer’s eyes squeezed shut, long fingers curled around the mike as they would embrace the love of his life, and he lived and breathed his music with pathos born of soul.

"Let’s dance." Brian pulled her to her feet, entangling his fingers through hers and led her onto the polished dance floor, slick enough to permit sliding and rapping. "Come here, Andrea."

Her name which had seemed ordinary only an hour before was transformed to the ethereal.

Without coyness, she let him fold her in his strong arms, her ear to his chest. His heartbeat strong, but erratic, set the pace for her own. His scent wrapped around her, tickling her nostrils, teasing her. Every nerve ending screamed for closer contact with this man.

She snuggled against him, fitting perfectly into his arms. He led her as if he’d been born on the dance floor, his movements fluid yet completely masculine. Did he have to be so perfect? A handsome engineer that danced like a dream, with eyes of milk chocolate and a voice of pure honey. She must’ve died and gone to heaven. She nestled closer and felt his hard ridge press into her belly.

Reeling from sensation, she backed off an inch, not sure how to handle this latest development. Everything moved too swiftly, as if on fast forward. Her lungs wouldn’t release the trapped the air inside, and her blood hammered through her veins.

Even her feet felt every bit aware of this man who pulled her back against his chest. Undiluted emotion threatened to drown her. Then she knew his lips were on her, for they trailed, hot but softly down her jaw bone until they captured her lips. As if he knew her lips intimately, he plundered them with kisses, his tongue delving inside her mouth to duel with her tongue. His hand found the small of her back and pressed her against him, while his other hand kneaded the nape of her neck.

Lost to the world, forgetting anyone else shared their universe, her hands crept around his neck. Her fingers finally getting their way, played in the soft hair grazing his crisp, white collar.

His lips worked magic on hers, making her totally aware of him, of herself, uncaring of the rest of the world.

When the music changed abruptly to a swing beat, he maneuvered her so expertly, she wondered if she’d dreamed the kiss. She expected him to separate from her to move awkwardly to the swift, bouncy rhythm.

But he didn’t. Graceful as a panther, he caught her hand and twirled her around in a smooth swing. Then he pulled her against his chest, her back to him, circled her waist with his arm and dipped and swirled divinely. When the music grew soul deep sensual, he ground his hips against hers in the dirtiest dancing she’d ever experienced, taking her breath away. If not for his arms and body supporting hers, she would have fallen. But he held her securely, leading her expertly.

He was so good it frightened her. But he also excited her and she wouldn’t move away voluntarily even if offered an engineer’s position to do so. If tonight never ended, she wouldn’t complain. She hoped someone would stop the clock so that midnight would never come.

But the clock ticked on, and by the time she realized one of her traitorous friends had spiked her soda, she was too tipsy to care. She didn’t even care if Cleveland or his goons were watching.

"Why is the room spinning?" she asked Brian. AI thought Camden paid a fortune to rent this place?"

"It’s not the room, sweetheart," he murmured against her ear, then nipped it, making her giggle. "It’s my heart. You’re doing crazy things to me, and I never want you to stop."

He swung her around in his arms. When her feet left the floor, her black skirts swirled, and she felt as if she were the star in some fifties musical. He spun her around so long, everything was a blur except for his solid chest beneath her hands. She laughed till she hurt.

When his momentum slowed, she collapsed against him. "Stop the world." She craned her neck to swing her heavy hair off her heated neck. "I want to get off."

"Stay for the ride. I’ll make it worth your while."

She slanted her eyes and cast him a flirty smile designed to lure him in. Bracelets jangled on her wrist when she traced his firm jaw line with her fore finger. He shivered beneath her ever so slightly, and she felt power beyond compare. She’d never felt this way with a man before, and it was too heady to control. She wanted more of this mind drugging, soul wrenching sweetness and suddenly knew what a queen bee must feel like to be so adored. Only she desired this one man, not hundreds. And she didn’t want him to be her slave but her conqueror.

She retained enough sense to stop her thoughts from slamming over the edge of deliriously silly. Tonight was the night for moonlight and roses. For slow dancing and long smoldering gazes. For long, hot kisses that would move south before the night’s demise.

Every inch of her tingled, and she moved closer to the man of her desire, tilting her lips and tiptoeing, arching her neck and pressing against his hard frame until her lips brushed his suggestively.

He met her lips with his, tasting her, nipping and teasing. But when she started to back away, he pulled her to him in a searing embrace, branding her his, whether he meant to or not. She melted into him, losing her single identity, forging a new one with him.

Faintly, she heard drunken cheers and laughter in the back ground, mingled with sighs from all the wanna be lovers, sighs duplicate to those she’d felt in her throat too many times to count.

But tonight was her night. Correction, their night. And it had just heated up a hundred degrees in two seconds.

He moaned into her mouth then freed his hands to roam her form. Whether to tease, to explore, or just by accident, the palms of his hands grazed the slopes of her breasts, then curved to her billowed hips, dragging her closer to the core of his heat.

Jungle drums beat fiercely in her chest, echoing through her veins, until she felt ready to explode. Some little voice told her she’d barely taken baby steps on the climb to love, but if this was only the beginning, the culmination must be too hot to handle.

Or did it ever have to end? Couldn’t the candle burn brighter and brighter, fueling itself like the sun that never burned out?

She hoped so. But she wouldn’t waste the night, worrying about the morning.

When all her breath had been used in her lungs, she dragged her lips from him, gulping in air greedily.

"I’m hot." He leaned his forehead against hers, his gaze probing. "Let’s check out the beach." A slow smile split his face, lighting it. Lacing his fingers through hers, he pulled her behind him.

Charmaine grabbed her arm and hissed, "Don’t go with him. You’re no match for him, Andi.

Puckering her brows, she frowned. "What do you have against him? Can you tell me?"

Her friend slid a secretive glance at Brian who stood impatiently on her far side. "He’s a jerk."

She opened her mouth to add more, but Brian interrupted. "Don’t sugar coat it, Charm," he drawled, pulling Andi to his side. "I’m the department’s designated asshole. All engineers are." He said the last with such boyish charm and a devilish gleam in his eyes that everyone laughed as if he’d told a big joke. Everyone but Charmaine.

"Just remember what I said." Brian escorted her to the ground floor, onto Ft. Lauderdale’s sandy white beaches. He stopped at the edge of the sand to pull off his shoes. Pink coral wrapped in seaweed littered the beach. A teensy shell glowed in the moonlight. "Give me your foot."

She stared at his head, level with her knee. His hair gleamed midnight blue under the blanket of stars. He looked up, the moon reflected in the depths of his irises. AI don’t bite." He smiled so broadly her heart flip flopped in her chest. "Unless you want me to."

She almost went into meltdown. "Is that an offer?" She hadn’t realized she’d said the words aloud until he stood in one fluid motion and swung her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

"It’s a bona fide promise." He strode off to a secluded alcove, hidden from even the tiptop floor of the convention center and surrounding hotels, and laid her in the wet sand.

"Brian?" she whispered, her heart in her throat.

He lowered himself on top of her, his body eclipsing the moon from her view. Before she could utter another word, he captured her lips under his, claiming them for his own.

Chapter Four

Lights flickered in Andi’s eyes, sparkly and fluorescent, like a neon nightmare. Pain hammered every centimeter of her head. She moaned and covered her eyes from the unmerciful glare with her arm. Merely closing her lids didn’t keep the light out.

It took several hellish hours or so it seemed, before the little elves drilling her head stopped torturing her.

When the bathroom door swung wide, bright shafts of light pierced her eyes again. She groaned. She realized the waterfall she thought rushed in her ears, really came from the shower.

Shower? Bathroom?

She had neither off her bedroom. They should be down the hall.

She must be having a nightmare. Good. Maybe the pain wasn’t real. An elephant wasn’t sitting on it.

Then a figure stepped into the light, and a scream rose in her throat, ready to curdle blood. With blinding bright light behind it, the face lay in shadow, the body a black silhouette. It loomed before her sore eyes.

Then the man, clad only in a white towel tucked about his waist, stepped further into her room, his features suddenly discernible.

Brian!

Memory rushed upon her like an avalanche, with a few crucial gaps, that suffused her cheeks with so much heat she surely thought the bed would ignite. Her body temperature had to be at least 108 degrees and climbing at the speed of light.

The last thing she remembered was dancing so dirty with the man before her, she’d never be able to face her co-workers again. And being plied with rum and cokes. And his searing kiss.

Her body tingled in very private places and she moaned inwardly. All evidence pointed towards the unthinkable.

Naked man.

Hotel room.

Hangover galore.

She rustled under the covers and felt silk against bare flesh. Her head protested the sudden movements, screaming at her to lay back down.

Naked woman.

It was only circumstantial but damning in its enormity.

"Did we?" She implored him with her eyes to lie to her, to tell her a fairy tale. Something like, they’d shared the room platonically because neither was fit to drive home. That they’d played cards all night. Or that he’d slept on the floor.

He plunged his fingers through wet hair and stared at her with the most wicked gleam in his eyes she’d ever seen. Then he answered by dropping a sensual kiss on her lips. His fingertips trailed over a pert nipple, albeit through the bedspread.

She gasped, pulling back.

Amusement flickered across his face and he chuckled huskily. "You weren’t scared of me last night. In fact, you were very hot, Sandy."

"Sandy?" Her voice shook with barely controlled rage. If he actually knew her, he’d be backing out of the room right about now, seeking cover. But obviously, he didn’t have a clue to her personality. Not even her name.

She bolted up in bed, clutching the bright covers around her.

He swayed back, his lips curving, "Mandy?" His towel slipped dangerously low on his hips, drawing her unwilling gaze like a magnet.

She scooted to the far side of the bed, the silk catching at her skin, incredible hurt, overwhelming embarrassment, flooding her.

"Not Mandy?" Confusion laced his voice, and he stood, meeting her glare across the king size bed. His gaze roamed over her cleavage appreciatively.

Victorian style, she hitched up the covers under her chin, berating herself for a fool.

"Keep guessing. Maybe you’ll get lucky in a million years." Bad word choice. She groaned inwardly and almost slumped but caught herself.

"Candy?"

"Ooh! Get out of here!" She grabbed an overstuffed pillow that still showed his head’s indentation, still carried his male scent, and threw it at his damning smirk with all her might.

Laughing outright, he fended off the impotent pillow which thudded to the carpeted floor at his feet. He grabbed his clothes off the floor, hopped into his twill slacks, not bothering to put his underwear on as he backed toward the door, still zipping his pants.

He looked too sexy for her own good, but she did her best to ignore what he was doing to her libido.

He tilted his head, and his forehead wrinkled as if he were in deep thought. "Brandy?"

Murder pounding through her veins, she grabbed another pillow and with deadly aim, she threw it at the door.

She was grabbing for the bedside lamp when he ducked into the hallway, closing the door, barely escaping.

She hung her head in her hands, heaving dry sobs. How could he humiliate her so? More importantly, how could she let him?

The door creaked open, and her head snapped up.

Brian stuck his head in, smiling mischievously, his perfect teeth sparkling. "Does this mean we’re not going out tonight?"

She grabbed the bedside lamp, held it over her head and aimed, feeling her features go so rigid, a high pitched tone would shatter them.

"Guess not. Randi?"

"Jerk! Imbecile!" She wound up and pitched the lamp, uncaring she’d have to pay for damages.

He slammed the door just as the lamp shattered against it. Shards of cheap ceramic clattered to the floor. The loud crash somehow soothed her nerves. But just a little. Very little.

*

He felt lucky to get out of the hotel room with his skin intact. That Sandy or Brandy, or whatever her name was, was one enraged female!

What an arm! The Marlins needed a good pitcher like her. Maybe he’d call and give them a good tip where to find her...except he was even less sure where to find her than he was of her name.

Her emerald cat’s eyes stayed with him. They glowed in the night, but it wasn’t a clear memory that told him that. He just knew.

As he strode down the deserted hotel hallway, he pulled his arm into a white starched sleeve, then the other, grinning from ear to ear.

It must’ve been a heck of a night. Too bad he didn’t remember specifics, even the woman’s name. He felt better than he had in a long time. He’d had a dry spell to rival the Cleveland Indians losing spell a few years back. Well, not quite that bad, but sometimes it felt that way.

Before he knew it, he whistled. The elevator bell rung, and a group of young girls bounced out of the small cagelike cell, giggling. Several pairs of eyes ogled his bared chest, and he made a macho show of tucking his shirt tails into his slacks for their benefit.

He enclosed himself in the silver box and let it transport him to ground level. Still, when he alighted, he felt as if he walked on air. He couldn’t stop whistling like a green kid who’d just spent his first night in a brothel.

Too bad he didn’t remember the babe’s name. He’d have to call her again when he needed a hot date. Or when his softball team needed a pitcher.

With a lilt in his step he hadn’t had since college, he strode to his silver Thunderbird gleaming under the early morning light. Palm fronds hung so low, they almost kissed the hood of his car. He turned and saluted the hotel room, approximating where her window would be and blew a kiss into the salty ocean breeze. "Adieu, sweet siren. Till we meet again."

He hopped in his car, revved the engine, and pulled a frown when he heard a spark plug misfire. Pushing the gear box into first, he spun away from the curb. Sand kicked out from the backs of his tires as he merged into the early Sunday morning beach cruisers.

Just wait till he traded war stories with Mike and the other engineers. He should’ve played it smart and not mentioned names, and he might have wangled his hot night into another day.

Oh well. Live and learn. He’d play it smarter the next time he met a hot woman. Ft. Lauderdale beaches were full of them. A young bachelor with a decent bank account couldn’t live in a better town.

Charmaine had been dead on! She should have listened, turned and run for her life the moment Brian the jerk started making his moves on her.

What an innocent she’d been. Heck, that was sugar coating things. She was a fool, pure and simple.

She grimaced. She wasn’t an innocent anymore. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

Brian had seen to that.

Even without Charmaine’s warnings, she should’ve known to be leery. Camden engineer romantic escapades were legendary. Or had that been what she’d longed for? Secretly hoped for?

Only she’d thought herself invincible. A regular modern day Cinderella who wouldn’t get burned by Prince Charming.

She walked her poor dog who’d not only missed his evening walk, but his early morning walk as well. Jett had practically knocked her down when she’d opened the door, his sandpapery tongue lathering her with doggie kisses.

Too late to go to church, not that she would have gone this morning anyway as she was sure the chapel would combust the moment she stepped over the threshold after such a sinful night, she let Jett lead her on an extended jaunt through the park across the street. Her hopes that fresh air, nature, and an eager canine pulling her arm from its socket would take her mind off the night before didn’t materialize.

Tortuous images teased her. Every man who had the bad grace to cross her path had Brian’s face superimposed on his, right down to the young teens on up to the grandpas. She had a bad case of Brianitis. She not only frowned at them, she glared. Most gave her a wide berth.

But it wouldn’t be fatal. Setting her lips into a determined line, she promised herself that. One of the elite engineers wouldn’t get the better of her. Especially not one that couldn’t even remember her name! What was so hard about remembering Andrea or Andi anyway? It wasn’t something exotic or foreign like Yikiko or Lailani.

Nothing! He was just being a jerk of the first magnitude.

After she dished up Jett’s food, she cradled her phone to her ear, and pulled her knees under her chin. The callused skin on her kneecaps bruised the soft flesh of her chin.

The phone rang umpteen times. Just as she was about to give up and hang up, Charmaine answered, "Hello."

"You were right about Richard Gere," she said without preamble. Her free hand twisted her hair around her finger. She stared at the azure South Florida sky that had the nerve to be so bright blue even when her world threatened to crash about her. Brian not remembering her name. A treason charge hanging over her head. Espionage. Intrigue. Lies.

"Andi?" Resignation tinged Charmaine’s tones. "You spent the night with him." It wasn’t a question. Censure dripped from her tones.

"Yes." Her voice was so low in her own ears she wasn’t sure her friend would hear her. "At least, I think so."

"You’re not sure?" Charmaine’s voice turned incredulous. "You don’t remember?"

"Not with this rum and coke buzz." Her hand cradled her still pounding head. "I need a lobotomy." She groaned. Everything tilted before her as she swayed. "Did you shake up the world?"

"I’m coming over. You’re not fit to be alone." The phone went dead before she could protest, not that she would have. Much as she adored Jett, she needed a listening ear that could actually commiserate with her pain. Still, when Jett snuggled against her, laying his big mastiff head in her lap, his eyes huge and sad, she rubbed the sensitive spots behind his ear in hypnotizing circles.

*

Squealing tires heralded Charmaine’s arrival. Jett’s ears perked up, his eyes narrowed, and Andi had to soothe his watchdog instincts before he decided Charmaine was doggie brunch.

"It’s okay, boy. She’s a friend." On a half sob and a hiccough combo, she rose to her feet and let Charmaine in.

"I shouldn’t have let you go with him. I should’ve chained you to the table." Charmaine folded Andi into her arms, stroking her hair in sisterly fashion.

"I’ve learned my lesson. You won’t have to do that again." She pressed two fingertips to her throbbing temple trying to find the off button to the headache that wouldn’t quit. She wondered if Bloody Marys really worked. She’d never had a hangover before to need one. That was academic anyway. She hadn’t a clue how to mix a Bloody Mary. Didn’t even know if she had the ingredients on hand.

"I hope so."

Andi broke away from her boss and crossed the room heading towards her kitchen. "It’s okay, boy." She petted Jett’s head to reassure him that Charmaine wasn’t a threat.

"Want a drink?" Andi opened the refrigerator to a whoosh of arctic air. "Milk, apple juice, or soda? Pick your poison." The thought of food or drink soured her stomach. But she was programmed to be polite.

"Thanks. If I want one, I’ll get my own." Charmaine commandeered her Scottish plaid love seat and kicked her feet onto the glass coffee table. The soles on the bottom of her gym shoes proclaimed they were Nikes. Their almost pristine whiteness clued her in they were brand new.

With arms crossed over her chest, she stared at Andi with a mixture of concern and anger. Her fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on her elbows. "Spill."

Heat flooded Andi’s cheeks. Fear wrapped its tentacles around her heart, choking her arteries. Nervous fingers picked at a small rip in the arm of her recliner. She pulled at tiny threads. "He can’t remember my name."

"Come again?" Charmaine bolted upright in her seat, leaning forward. Andi wondered if her ears wiggled under that thick mane of frosted hair.

"First he called me Sandy, then Mandy. Then Candy, Brandy, and Randy. Everything but my name." Tears welled in her eyes again, and she blinked them away furiously. A huge fist squeezed her heart unmercifully.

"That hemorrhoid!" Charmaine shook her head. Her features hardened. "I hope you let him have it."

"I threw a few things at him. Sorry I missed." Not that a pillow was much of a missile. Missile. Why had she had to think of that wretched word? The enormity of everything pressed in on her. Things she couldn’t dare confide in her friend, especially as she was spying on her, too.

"Me, too." She saw the calculator working in the other woman’s mind. "I take it you spent the night with him or you wouldn’t be so livid."

Andi averted her eyes, embarrassed. "I’m not sure. Probably."

Charmaine’s eyes widened incredulously. "Either you did or you didn’t. Which is it?"

"I don’t remember. I sort of…sort of blacked out. Someone must’ve spiked my soda." Misery laced her husky tones. She tried with all her might to remember the stolen hours, but she only came up with a blank.

"I wouldn’t put it past Brian. You can’t trust engineers. They think they’re gods." She snorted with the air of one who knew and had been burned.

"I honestly don’t remember anything between our walk on the beach and waking up in a hotel room." Jett meandered up to her, laying her head on Andi’s lap. She rubbed it, drawing comfort from the dog’s warmth and adoration.

"Whoa! You think you played tiddly winks in that bed? With a man that sexy?" Charmaine heaved a huge sigh and leaned back on the couch. Critical eyes examined Andi. "If you did, I’m even more worried about you than before."

"Not highly likely, is it?" Her head dropped into her hands, shaking. Her hair fell forward, brushing her knees. "I can’t believe I fell right into his arms. I don’t even know him." She lifted miserable eyes to her friend. "I’ve never done anything like that before."

"Brian’s a smooth talker, all right. And he laid the charm on thick. Don’t blame yourself too much, sweetie." She patted Andi’s hand. "You’re only human."

"I know better." She was intent on berating herself. Maybe it would bring her a measure of amnesty.

"You never had one of our engineers trying to knock your socks off before. These guys are lethal. You best take my advice in the future. Her expression changed. "You did use protection, didn’t you?"

The world stopped. So fast she fell flat on her face. "Protection?" How would she know? Last night was a black hole. "I could be pregnant?" Air stuck in her lungs, and she almost fainted.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but that’s what generally happens when his sperm makes a sneak attack on your eggs."

"God no!" She glanced at her flat stomach. Her hand meandered its way to her belly and spread over it. "It couldn’t be."

"You’d better invest in a good home pregnancy test and be deciding what you’ll do in the worst case scenario." She’d never seen Charmaine look so grim. Personal Armageddon loomed on the horizon. At least her father would never know her humiliation.

Denial proved her safest haven. "That’s a billion to one chance. At worst, we only had one night." The timing couldn’t be worse. She was being attacked on all fronts.

"It happens." Charmaine was nothing if not practical. Right now, Andi wanted a yes man. Someone to alleviate her fears, not blow them up.

"We’re jumping the gun." Agitated, filled with doubt, she jumped to her feet, pacing the floor with her hands linked behind her back. Jett followed her. "We’re worrying prematurely."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you’ll have to face him tomorrow." Charmaine’s voice trailed off in a death knell.

Andi’s head snapped up. Her voice came out in a squeak, at least an octave higher than normal. Her throat suddenly felt as if broken glass grated it. "I can’t face him tomorrow! I don’t want to see him ever again."

"You’re only alternative is to quit," Charmaine said too logically.

Chapter Five

The woman from the party had bothered him all week and that alone worried him. What was her name? Why was he worried about her? He was a love ‘em and leave ‘em sort of guy. Angry, thwarted women had never bothered him before. Why now?

He’d looked for her on the line, but they must’ve been hiding her. Or she’d changed shifts. Maybe she’d resigned.

He’d ask Personnel, only he couldn’t remember her name. But he couldn’t forget her face. Or her lips of honey. Or the way she’d curved against him, fitting so perfectly….

Thoughts of that night haunted him. He couldn’t get her off his mind.

Charmaine wouldn’t tell him a thing. Her old vendetta seemed to be alive and well. One bad love affair with an engineer, and she’d branded them all scum of the earth.

He sought her ought to see if the tenth time prospecting for information about the mystery lady would get information. He searched the plant high and low and was about to give up for the time being when he found her. Her back was turned toward him so he had the advantage. She didn’t know to run and hide. Gotcha!

Sneaking up on her, he grabbed her to prevent escape. She screeched, whirling in his arms as if Freddy Kruger had captured her.

"Hi, Charm," he whispered in her ear, a teasing note in his voice. "I’m still waiting for you to tell me what I want to know."

"I should’ve known it was you." By rights, he should melt under such a scathing stare. But he held fast. Did she practice to get such a haughty tone in her voice? Or was she a natural born witch? "Get your hands off me, Newman."

"Tell me what I want to know."

"I can file harassment charges if you don’t let go of me." She pried his hands off her, one finger at a time.

"You won’t." He hoped. She wasn’t as angry as she pretended. He bathed her with his most charming smile. "All I want to know is her name and where she is."

"Why? So you can seduce her again?" Ouch. Charmaine’s voice sliced through him. He tried not to wince.

"I’m concerned about her." All around them, machinery ground and whined. Unintelligible voices filled in the uneven gaps. He spoke the alien words so low, he wondered if she’d heard him. They’d almost stuck in his throat.

"Why? You want to do right by her?"

Stunned, he fell back a step, his hands falling limply to his sides. He stared open mouthed, then a laugh started deep in his belly, erupting from his throat. "This is the nineties. People don’t marry because they spent one night together."

"What if she’s pregnant?" The way Charmaine pronounced pregnant, it was a bullet straight to his heart.

He sobered instantly. At a loss for words, he stared at her, raking trembling fingers through his hair.

"What if she is? What will you do about it?" Charmaine stared him down, hands on her hips, her stance rigid and offensive. She’d scare off any quarterback in her black mood.

"Is she?" Their verbal ping pong match irritated him. Why couldn’t women talk logically? Bluntly? Like men? Why the runaround and what ifs? His logical engineer’s mind always went straight to the heart of the matter.

"Is it possible?" The question seared him, put him on red alert.

He thought back to that night, but so much of it remained a rum filled blur. Had he used protection? Or hadn’t he? He always made it a practice to be safe. But it worried him he couldn’t remember.

"I’ll take that as a yes." She punched him semi-hard on the shoulder. "I can’t believe you took advantage of that sweet, innocent girl. Can’t you leave your hands off my staff?" She turned to leave.

"Did she quit? Change shifts?" He threw the questions to her rigid back.

She stopped halfway down the corridor, half turning. Over her shoulder, she tossed at him, "She’s been out sick." Charmaine hurried on her way, disappearing around a corner, before he realized he still didn’t know the mystery woman’s name.

He punched the flat of his hand, angry with himself for such negligence and stupidity. He had to find her. Now more than ever. What ifs plagued him.

*

"It’s ‘bout time you got your booty back here, girlfriend," Wendy said in greeting. The buxom red head with more freckles than peaches and cream complexion, greeted her with a squeal and a bear hug that left Andi breathless.

The smell of factory grease and oil overwhelmed her. Darkened hallowed halls screamed Gotham City. Andi really hadn’t wanted to return to the radio assembly line, her computers and ohmmeters, but, she kept reminding herself, the pay was better than decent for someone without a college degree. And the plant wasn’t all that bad. She had good employers, friendly coworkers, and guaranteed income with pay increases at regular intervals.

So what if she wasn’t a brain surgeon? Not everybody could be a queen bee. The honeycomb couldn’t function without drones.

"We missed you," Pat, another tech chimed in, a shy smile playing around wide generous lips below a too thin nose. Long, stringy brown hair was tied back with a rubber band.

"I missed you, too." Surprise overcame her that she spoke the truth. She’d actually missed this place. At least her new friends.

"DeVon’s not thrilled that work’s piling up with you out a week," Wendy said, a warning note in her voice. DeVon reigned over the department. An engineer with an exulted degree from an Ivy League school, he treated the techs with condescension. Sometimes, she felt like she was enlisted in the military when he came around to inspect the troops. He still wore his hair as if he were in the Marine Corps, shaved short, springy on top.

A twinge of guilt skipped down her spine. She hadn’t been ill with the flu or pneumonia. Just ill at the thought of seeing Brian Newman. Of all the possibilities one thoughtless night could have created.

"Glad you found time to fit us into your busy schedule, Miss DiGeorge." Andrea spun around, her hand over her pounding heart. DeVon towered over her, scowling and forbidding. His white shirt, tie, and polyester slacks proclaimed he belonged to upper management. His hands delved deeply in his pockets, probably clenching and unclenching, eager to wring her neck. Reading between the lines, she heard, "How dare you mess up our productivity!"

"I’m glad to be back, DeVon." Wendy and the girls scattered, slinking back to their assigned posts. Over DeVon’s shoulder, she spied Wendy adjust her safety lenses before she took her soldering iron in hand and bent over her chips, diodes, and transformers. Her features scrunched as she studied a schematic laying open before her.

He bent at his waist till his face was within two inches of hers. In measured, tightly controlled tones, he said, "Get to work."

"Yes, DeVon." She rolled her eyes mentally, adding silently, "Yes, DeVon. No, DeVon. Anything you say, DeVon." The man was impossible. Thank heaven Charmaine usually intercepted him. Poor Charmaine.

Uhm. Where was her best buddy? She craned her neck, looking around the floor. What she saw froze her blood. Charmaine strode angrily towards their area, her arms gesticulating, her lips moving. Only Andi couldn’t catch the words over the drone of the factory machinery. Brian followed her. Pestered her no doubt, judging by Charmaine’s frowning face.

Too hurriedly, she put her safety goggles over her eyes, the elastic band snapping the back of her head and ears. Ouch! Wanting to be invisible, she bent over her computer, shrugging deeper into her blue anti-static smock. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Brian Newman B the enemy and her assignment.

DeVon caught Brian by the elbow, halting his forward motion, a smile replacing his frown. Of course. They were members of the same club. The upper echelon. They wore the same managerial uniform, except Brian’s tie was different. She was surprised their employer didn’t give them company issue ties, shoes and belts, although ties were available at the company store. Techs probably weren’t even allowed to buy those ties.

"You okay?" Wendy asked in a loud stage whisper, leaning toward her. "You look like a polar bear."

She drug her eyes away from tall, dark, and dangerous, leveling them on her co-worker. Scrunching her eyebrows together, she slid a questioning glance at her friend and asked, "What?" Her attention still focused on the conversing engineers.

"You’re deathly pale. Are you still ill?" Genuine concern lined Wendy’s face.

"Just saw a ghost," she muttered, not loud enough for Pat to hear over the din. Leaning over, she patted Wendy’s hand. "I’m fine." As can be under the circumstances, she added to herself.

"Richard Gere’s chatting up a storm with DeVon. Don’t you want to say hello?" Wendy spoke without malice, without knowledge that her words brought Andi’s heart to a screeching halt.

She couldn’t catch her breath for several seconds, her eyes so wide she thought her eye sockets would crack. "No," she finally managed.

"Like that?" Wendy commiserated, pity in her low voice. Expressive dark brown eyes mirrored her voice.

Andi couldn’t take having people feel sorry for her. And she didn’t want to be a laughing stock either. She should’ve known better than to indulge in a work romance. They never worked out.

Choked up, Andi just nodded her head, her eyes adoring Brian’s handsome features, her heart berating him for such callous behavior.

"Word to the wise," Wendy said, bobbing her head. Her pony tail bounced in the air. "Dating the engineers is like playing with fire. They use and abuse us. But they’ll never marry us."

"Why ever not?" Curiosity got the better of her. Wendy captured her full attention now. Andi half turned in her seat, her attention rapt.

Shadows flitted across Wendy’s eyes, mirroring pain and anguish. "Techs aren’t the marrying kind. We’re not marriage material. Not for the likes of them, anyway." Getting into her dissertation, she held up her hand, spreading her fingers wide. One by one, she ticked off her points, bending a finger forcefully.

"We don’t have rich daddies." One finger down.

"We don’t have good breeding. Refer to number one." She bared her teeth as if she were a show horse. Andi stifled a chuckle lest DeVon or Brian hear her. Two fingers went down.

"We don’t have college degrees. Refer to number one again." Three fingers down.

"We get down and dirty in our work. Those white shirts never get dirty. Dirt wouldn’t dare touch them." Four fingers down.

"Because engineers and techs travel in different strata spheres." The thumb crooked.

"This sounds like the stone ages!" Righteous indignation ripped through her. Since when were engineers blue bloods? "They worked for a living, too."

"Didn’t you know you enlisted in the military when you signed the dotted line?" Wendy said in a snide voice. "They’re the officers, we’re the enlisted. The two don’t mix."

"How archaic!" She couldn’t get over this. AI can’t believe this."

"You’d better. Or you’ll wind up with a broken heart." She spoke with an air of authority, then quickly turned back to her work.

Andi could take a hint. Somebody was coming.

"Welcome back, sweetie." Charmaine came up to her. "Feel better?" Was she really asking if nausea gripped her? If they needed to turn the floor into a maternity ward?

She unfolded herself from behind her post, stood, and hugged Charmaine with more fervor than necessary. She didn’t feel fine at all. "I’ll be okay," she said, lying. How was one expected to feel when their heart was ripped from their chest? When they found out they didn’t measure up to standards?

Her friend extricated herself from Andi’s embrace and stepped back, peering into her face, scrutinizing her. "Liar," she whispered.

A wavy smile hovered on Andi’s lips. Hot tears suddenly stung the backs of her eyes. "I’ll survive. Sounds like I’m not the first."

Both Charmaine and Wendy nodded their heads slightly in synchronization. She supposed she’d been initiated. If this is what it took to be a member of this club, she’d gladly decline the invitation. Unfortunately, it was way too late. She might as well display her membership card on her station.

A deep masculine voice behind her nearly sent her into the ceiling. "Girl talk? Or can I join?" Hot, minty breath fanned Andi’s neck. She whirled around, barely schooling her traitorous hands not to clutch her throat.

Oh God! Brian Newman. Here. Within touching distance. Taunting her.

Charmaine’s and Wendy’s eyes widened, Charmaine’s in annoyance, Wendy’s in wonder. Forming a cross with her arms, Charmaine held it towards the engineer. "Back to work. Hands off my friend."

A glittering smile spread over Brian's face. But he only pulled Andi close when he leaned close to Charmaine. "Protecting your flock from wolves?"

Andi couldn't have put it better. If only he wasn't squeezing the breath from her body, so she could speak.

"If need be."

Andi's gaze ping-ponged between her friend and the dashing young engineer. She wanted him to leave, was dying for him to leave, yet some perverse part of her wanted him to stay. She masked her expression and scolded herself for such wayward sensations.

Charmaine stood her ground, staring him down. It was obvious she'd had lots of practice. "Are you going to make me report you?"

Brian dimpled and tweaked her chin. "You wouldn't do that, darlin'."

Danger signals flashed in her eyes. Charmaine was on full red alert and at battle stations. Her lips firmed. "Try me." It was practically a snarl. Her lips curled back from her teeth.

He withdrew his arm from Andi's shoulders, letting his fingertips trip across the nape of her neck then linger. The glint in his eyes spoke of danger, seduction. Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and moist, launching shivers down her spine. "I'll be back."

More ominous words had never been spoken. He hauled himself to his full height and straightened his slacks. In the gothic dungeon, his shadow cascading over her meshed with several others.

What did she say to that? She didn't want him hanging around. But she didn't want to be rude. She finally settled for a cool nod of her head. Before she said something she'd regret, she busied herself with her work. The company liked good troopers. Unlike Brian, she wasn't an exulted engineer that could do as she pleased. She had a blue badge, not the coveted white one that opened the gates to Heaven. She had to work to get her paycheck.

Brian stared at her several disconcerting seconds before Charmaine ushered him out of their cell block. She watched his retreating back using her peripheral vision.

Chapter Six

To Andi's chagrin, Brian obviously took the hint for he didn't bother her for a couple of days. An agonizing, excruciating two days, fourteen hours and forty five minutes later, she still hadn't seen him. Just glimpses across crowded rooms, at the far end of the hallway. Not close enough to speak to him.

She supposed he'd forgotten about her or found more interesting quarry. But hard as she tried, she couldn't forget him.

But first things first. Hunger pangs gnawed at her belly, and she padded to the snack machines on first break. The Oreo cookies beckoned to her even though she knew an apple would be healthier for the baby. Settling, she fed the machine twice, taking both.

"Those will make you fat." The very masculine, very unexpected voice crawled up her skin. With her hand protecting her throat, she whirled around. Mistake. He stood so close, she turned right into his arms. When he laughed down at her, his lips hovered mere inches from hers, lips that were burned into her memory.

She jumped back, straight into a vending machine.

Relentless, he cornered her. His palm flattened against the glass. His body pressed so close, she couldn't feel it, but she couldn't see light between them either. If she dared breathe, which she didn't, her breasts would graze his chest. "You've been avoiding me." His voice hadn't been much huskier in the throws of passion. The man bated her and what's more,

he seemed to enjoy it!

She desperately needed to talk to him, to confide the secret that not only affected her but him. The condemning words stuck in her throat. Her gaze traveled around the stark white room with mustard and ketchup stains on white Formica counters, and she grimaced. The odor of nuked hotdogs-al fresca renewed her indigestion. The vending machine room wasn't her first choice for an intimate, life-altering discussion.

She groped for a reply, her blood pressure sky-rocketing. "I haven't needed a dance partner." She ducked under his arm, bee-lining for the door to her dungeon.

Mocking laughter followed her. "I'm an excellent partner -- at a lot of other things, too."

Didn't she know that? No way would she respond to that. Wishing she had a mote complete with fire-breathing dragon to keep him out of her castle.

When he tossed out a taunting, "Remember?" she almost fell flat on her face. She didn't breathe again until she was safely ensconced at her station behind her goggles.

When her pulse leveled off and her puzzled thoughts unjumbled, she chided herself for not being braver, for not flirting with him, for inviting him to meet her somewhere later in private. She was assigned to watch him, to get close to him, after all.

Picking up her soldering iron, she pressed the tip to a diode and solder. But her thoughts were steamier than the melting metal. What exactly should she say to him? Hi, there. Remember me? Candy, Mandy, Randi, Sandy, or Brandy? I’m your friendly neighborhood spy. I’m trying to prove you’re a traitor to your country.

That wasn't a pretty image. She shook her head to clear her mind, trying to focus on her boards so she wouldn't set her thumb on fire.

Then why did her knees knock, her eye tick, and butterflies loop-de-loop in her stomach? Why wouldn't her legs behave when she told them to stand, or her feet when she instructed them to walk? Why did she tremble all over?

She didn’t want to spy on anyone. Delving into the private affairs of her friends and coworkers was the last thing she wanted to do. Well, going to prison for the rest of her life or the electric chair was the last thing she wanted to do. But spying came in a close second.

A scant few days had passed before Atwood hailed her in a deserted hall one morning.

"Psst." Swiveling on the ball of her foot, she looked around, startled. At first she didn’t see anything, not even a shadow, and she thought she’d imagined the sound. Maybe it was her shoes squeaking that she’d heard.

Just as she’d convinced herself it was her imagination getting the better of her as she’d even dreamed about this cloak and dagger stuff in her sleep, a long shadow jumped out from a dark doorway and a hand grabbed her, hauling her into a deserted room filled with desks and shadows in varying shades of gray. A scream gurgled in her throat, and she opened her mouth to scream when another hand clamped over her mouth.

"It’s me. Atwood."

Visions of the thief and traitor capturing and silencing her as he had the poor unfortunate man in Broward General, flickered before her eyes. Before the import of the man’s words sunk into her brain, she struggled, her body writhing, her feet trying to stomp the black hard soled shoes she could barely ascertain in the dim light. Slowly, her brain began to function again, the fog of fear lifting.

"Atwood?" Her muffled voice came out from between the man’s fingers still smothering her mouth. Relief flooded her, and she slumped against him when her knees buckled.

"Anything to report yet?" He let her go, and her wrist tingled where his fingers had bit into her flesh.

Whirling around, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing hard. "No. It’s only been two days."

"We saw you with that engineer, Newman, at the party Saturday night. The one that has an ax to grind about his missing design. He claims someone stole the plans." The man’s eyes gleamed.

Heat suffused her cheeks. Just how much had they observed that night? Did they have the whole truth documented? On video?

"Did you get anything out of him?"

Mata Hari she wasn’t. The man had drugged her senses so that all she’d thought about was him and the mind-numbing, body tingling sensations he had on her. Subterfuge hadn’t crossed her mind. "No. He’s not much of a talker."

"It looked to me as if he was a mighty fine sweet talker." The man was no gentleman to remind her of that. The blush crept into the rest of her body. Her feet shifted.

"I think you need help." He took a cigarette out of his pocket which he placed between his lips. It dangled there while he touched his lighter to it, and the end glowed red. Puffing on it, he inhaled deeply. He stared at her through the haze of smoke which he exhaled.

"You have something in mind?" She moved a few steps back away from the smoke as well as from the man, uncertain which she detested more.

"Actually, yes." He took another drag of his cigarette and she tried not to gag on the smoke he blew her way. AI moved your car and disabled it."

Her mouth gaped open. "How am I supposed to get home? What does this have to do with getting information?"

He dropped his cigarette, and ground it beneath his foot. His arms crossed across his chest, and he regarded her with narrowed eyes. AI parked it next to Newman’s motorcycle. You’ll be out there trying to fix your dead car, and he’ll come to your rescue. He can’t resist a damsel in distress."

"You can’t be sure of that." She shook her head finding several loop holes to the plan. "What if he leaves earlier than me? Or much later and someone else helps me first?"

Atwood smiled knowingly. "We’ll make sure he leaves right after you. You make sure you ask him for help. I saw you in action the other night. I’m sure you can make it convincing."

Her lids closed, and she counted to ten. This was impossible. For heaven’s sake, the man couldn’t even remember her name! She never wanted to see the insufferable engineer again, never wanted to hear his name, yet, here she was, being forced to seduce him. Hysterical laughter bubbled to her lips, and she had a hard time squelching it.

Atwood regarded her as if she were crazy. "You okay?"

She laughed louder, tears tickling the backs of her eyes. "Sure. I’m fine. I’m great. You want me to seduce a man who can’t even remember my name, and if I fail, you’ll charge me with treason. I’m just wonderful!" With that, she left him in her wake, slamming the door behind her.

*

Brian rubbed the back of his aching neck with tired fingers. It had been a long, grueling day at the drawing board that had dragged on forever. It felt like eleven, not five. At least the sun was bright and welcoming, and the wind would revive him on the ride home. No plans tonight meant he was free to do anything, go anywhere. The beach beckoned to him. His step picked up as his foot hit the asphalt of the parking lot.

A sea of people poured around him, all with the same singular idea. Escape. No one wanted to stick around here a moment longer than necessary. Not that he blamed them. Not a bit. He just made sure he kept pace lest he was bowled over in the exodus.

He couldn’t believe his eyes when he drew near enough to his motorcycle to spot the vision of loveliness in front of a car with the hood raised, kicking her tire with no mercy. That tickled a smile from his tired lips.

Golden blonde hair swung freely about slim shoulders, the sunlight catching it, making it glisten. A plaid shirt was tucked into tight faded denims that accentuated a slender but curvaceous rear end. He’d never forget that behind. His hands remembered every inch of it well. It was the woman from the party, Charmaine’s friend. The one with the deadly aim. It looked as if her foot had as good of aim as her arm. He made a mental note to stay out of range of her feet when she was angry. And she looked downright savage at the moment.

"Kicking the poor car won’t get it to start," he drawled, leaning against his cycle, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He stayed well out of range of her gorgeous long legs. "Don’t you know you have to stroke a woman to get her to purr?"

"He doesn’t purr. He never has," she said, no trace of humor in her voice. The look she cast him was pure challenge.

"Cars are she’s. Stroke them right, and they’ll do anything you want."

"Not this one. And I have never, will never, stroke a woman to find out." She shook her head, her lips twisted grimly. "He always lets me down when I need him most."

"Ouch!" He flinched at her tone of voice as well as her words. Obviously, she nursed a few vendettas against men. She wouldn’t be an easy conquest. But then he brightened, he enjoyed a good challenge. And he already knew how much he enjoyed holding her...and kissing her. She might prove to be a worthy opponent in the war between men and women. He looked forward to the contest.

"How about you let me try stroking her? I have a way with the fairer sex." He drew himself up, towering over her, his shadow mingling with hers. He found himself wishing it was more than his shadow fusing with her. He could barely keep his mind on the engine when it wanted to be on the body.

"I just bet you do. Be my guest." She stepped aside and waved her arm motioning him to look at her engine. Her shirt stretched tautly across her chest, accentuating her sumptuous breasts. D cups no doubt. Maybe double Ds. Just his size. And those jeans were so tight they were practically spray painted on. Every movement she made showed every curve of her luscious legs, up to her thighs and beyond. He was getting hot, but it wasn’t from the South Florida sun beating down on the back of his neck.

He loosened his tie and stuck it in his pocket so it wouldn’t get caught in the engine then leaned under the propped up hood, checked the distributor cap, the starter, and the carburetor. All the belts looked intact. The battery had plenty of water. The fan was in good shape. He was at a loss. If he had his car instead of his cycle with him, he’d try jumping the battery.

"You got a rag or something I can wipe my hands on?" Grease and oil clung to his fingers and palms. He held them up and away from himself so he wouldn’t get it on his work clothes. Grease and white dress shirts didn’t mix.

"I might have something in the trunk." He watched as she sashayed those dynamite hips to the back of her car until they disappeared behind her trunk. He couldn’t stop the appreciative smile from curving his lips anymore than he could stop hurricane force winds from punishing the Florida coast.

She dangled a pair of silky black bikini panties on her index finger and his Adam’s Apple nearly dislodged in his throat. "Will this do? It’s all I have." She closed the trunk and glided to him holding out her intimate apparel. "It must’ve fallen out of my laundry basket."

He gulped. He hoped she couldn’t read the pure hunger in his eyes that boiled in his gut. "That’ll do," he muttered, averting his eyes from hers. She was holding her own pretty darn good in this battle between the sexes. In fact, he’d say she was winning this round hands down. She was sure different than she had been the other night at the dance. A lot more sure of herself. Deliberately seductive, if he didn’t miss his mark, not that he minded.

Swallowing hard, he took the proffered drawers, balled them up in his hands, and rubbed the greasy oil off as best he could. It wasn’t easy with her staring straight at him, a sultry gleam in her deep blue eyes. He nearly lost what little composure he’d managed to hang onto when his fingers came into contact with the soft cotton crotch.

"Well? Did your stroking work?" The devil woman wouldn’t let up on him. All he could think about was stroking her, not her vehicle, and he was ninety-nine percent sure she knew it.

"Nope. She’s dead. We’d better call a tow truck and have a real mechanic look at her." He wadded up the panties and stuck them in his pants pocket where they burned into his thigh.

She pouted prettily, her wide lips more alluring than any he’d ever seen. Sunlight glimmered on them, making them shine like a beacon, luring him. She put her hand on her shapely hip and bent her right knee. "I couldn’t get you to give me a lift, could I?"

It took all of two seconds to process her request, pro and con it, then jump on it. "Anything for a pretty lady. I couldn’t leave you stranded." He turned to his cycle. "You’ll have to hold on tight, though. It gets a little windy." He closed her hood with a bang and walked to his cycle, straddling his leg over the sun warmed seat, his mind on straddling something even hotter.

"I’ll make the sacrifice if you will." She didn’t wait for another invitation but skipped to him. Her hands held onto his shoulders for balance, burning through his shirt. When her breasts brushed against his back as she climbed on, his lungs constricted making it impossible to exhale. Every inch of his skin tingled, radiating from the points of contact. When she sidled against his back, molding herself to him, he nearly choked. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to control the bike with his libido pounding crazily and his breathing rasping out in short bursts.

"Is this tight enough?" Her breath tickled his ear when she spoke huskily into it. He could swear her lips brushed his ear lobe. Shudders coursed through him which she must have felt pressed up against him as she was.

"A little tighter." He helped her position her hands, letting his linger longer than necessary. If only he could ride off into the sunset with her and have her press into him all night. Excellent idea. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved." This time, her breath rasped against the nape of his neck. He nearly lost his balance.

Join me for dinner?" It’d be a lot more fun having her company than dining alone. And what a perfect night to woo a beautiful lady. Soft breezes, a full moon, low tide. "I know a wonderful place at Ft. Lauderdale Beach."

"Sounds dreamy." She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and squeezed him. Her thighs pressed forward, and he about lost it.

Either he left now or he wouldn’t be in any shape to drive. He’d have to have the bike towed, too. He squeezed the hand accelerator and revved the bike to life. It roared, bucking beneath him, raring to fly.

He gunned it, giving it its head. Wind whipped his face. What a fantastic feeling. One of the best in the world, even better with the woman pressed to his back holding him tightly.

The world faded into oblivion. He got onto the highway as soon as he could and opened up. It was just himself and the woman, the sun, the wind, and the cycle. He’d never felt so wonderful, so free.

The ride came to an end too soon. Before he knew it, he was pulling into the parking lot at Atlantic Beach. Palm trees swayed gently to and fro. Wet sand left starfish and sand crabs washed up on shore where the tide had receded. The scents of seafood boiling and buttery garlic bread mingled with the salty sea air. How he loved the ocean. He looked out over it, reveling in the wind caressing his face. There was only one thing, actually, one person, he’d rather have caressing him. And she was still holding onto him as if she’d never let go, which was just fine with him.

"How lovely." Her voice caressed his ear. Her lips moved against his back, through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Good as she felt against his back, he wanted to feel her in his arms, wanted to gaze upon those luscious lips, to taste them. He extricated himself from her arms just long enough to dismount the bike and lift her off. He missed her warmth.

She stared at him as if he’d told her to get lost. But he’d fix that soon enough.

"Uhm. I enjoyed that." He spanned her tiny waist with his hands. Feather light, he lifted her off his cycle with hardly any effort. When she arched her back and slid down his length, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

"Me, too. Immensely." She curled her arms around his neck, her lips poised mere inches from his, her breasts a hair’s breadth from touching his chest.

Every nerve ending screamed at him to lean forward, to haul her against him. To melt down to the sand, dragging her with him. His lips were drawn to hers, lowering inexorably, unable to resist the lure of her sweetness.

When she pulled back, laughing lightly, he was stunned.

"Tell me," she said, her voice smooth like pure honey. "Do you remember my name yet?"

So, she was into playing games? He knew a lot about her, like how she felt in his arms, how she smelled, how she tasted… He could give her an earful if he were in a talking mood, which he wasn’t. "It’s Andi. Andrea DiGeorge. The most beautiful name in the universe."

"Good answer." Her smile lit up like the stars in the sky. He’d pleased her. He liked pleasing her. And he’d like to send thrills through her.

She tilted her head, her lips angled towards his again. This time, she parted them slightly and stood on tiptoe so that she met his halfway. The instant he captured her lips, thrills shot through him. His tongue delved deeply into her mouth, dueling with hers. Magic enveloped him as surely as if she’d bewitched him. He wasn’t sure she hadn’t. He’d never felt this way before. He’d never wanted a woman so much it hurt.

He was hungry all right but not for seafood. He gathered her closer to his heart, his hands roaming her back, massaging her, his lips drinking deeply of her. If this kiss never stopped, it would be too soon.

Too soon, she pulled back, temptation in her eyes, the tip of her tongue tracing her lips, lips swollen from his kisses. He’d branded her and his chest swelled with pride and fierce possession. He wasn’t sure he liked this feeling but he couldn’t deny it.

"Do you think we could go to your place and order in?" She looked around her, then back at him, her eyes blazing into his.

His heart slammed against his chest. He didn’t know how much temptation he could take. How much bewitchment. Fiery dreams whetted his appetite for her. Be damned with the food. He didn’t care if he withered away as long as he drank of her ambrosia. Against her lips, he murmured, "What are we waiting for?"

Lilting laughter escaped those perfect lips, trickling down his spine. "No idea." She grabbed his hand and tugged.

He felt like a desperado. He couldn’t wait to get her home to his bed. He offered no resistance.

He stole one more kiss to last him until they reached his house. It was long, slow, and deep, the way he liked it. She gave as well as she took, giving of herself completely.

Even the wind whipping against him couldn’t cool his desire, his burning skin. He sizzled all over, particularly where she touched him. Those lips nuzzled his back, his neck, his ears. Her nose nudged the nape of his neck, parting his hair. "Woman, you’re driving me wild. If you don’t stop, I’ll wreck this bike." His voice came out guttural, almost a growl. Primitive desires flooded him. If she kept this up, they’d never make it home.

To that she just laughed seductively, rubbing her cheek against his back, pressing closer to him. "How much further?"

"Not far." Too far. Practically across the galaxy. He could barely string two coherent words together and congratulated himself for this enormous feat.

When they finally reached his drive, he shut down his bike faster than he ever had, nearly laying it down on the pavement. It was a toss up who grabbed who first, but they were practically tearing off each other’s clothes before they reached his front door. Hands, arms, and legs tangled frantically. His heart beat so loudly in his ears it sounded like a waterfall. His ribs were in danger of breaking.

"I don’t think I can make it to the bed." He was ready to explode. Especially when she ran a nail down his chest and hooked her finger in the top of his slacks.

"Who needs a bed?" She unbuckled his belt and rubbed against him.

He moaned against her mouth, his hands fumbling with her bra. She was spilling over the lacy cups, and he was of a mind just to push the scraps of material out of his way and forget the clasp when it finally unhooked, releasing her into his anxious hands. His lips followed of their own volition, sampling one rosy peak, then the other.

She finished unzipping his slacks and let them fall in a pool around his feet.

Pushed beyond his limits, he stripped her the rest of the way and laid her down beneath him. "You’re so beautiful." His voice broke with emotion.

"So are you." Her hands explored him, kneading his shoulders, his arms, and circled lower. Her teeth nipped him playfully, and he went out of his mind.

*

Andrea couldn’t believe she’d seduced the seducer. How she’d tempted him. How she’d deliberately led him to ecstasy. How she’d made him lose control and enjoyed every second of it. That wasn’t her. What had come over her?

He’d tempted her too, true, but not on purpose. At least, not in the beginning. Her mission had been to seduce him. How would he react if he knew? Not favorably, she suspected.

But he’d never know. She resisted the urge to cuddle against him and sleep. She had a mission, much as she hated it. How long he’d sleep, she didn’t know. It was now or never.

As gently as she could, she lifted his arm off her, slid out of bed, and donned one of his large t-shirts she found in his drawer. Quietly, looking over her shoulder frequently, she checked every drawer. When she’d finished in the bedroom, she moved to the next room. After every room, she peaked into the bedroom to ensure that he still slept. She couldn’t bare the thought of him catching her, of ruining this perfect night.

He’d been tender and loving, and oh so sexy. He knew exactly where and how to touch her. How she liked to be kissed. No one had ever kissed her like that. No one had ever held her so tenderly yet so possessively. She was getting lost in this man even if they’d had a rocky start, even if their relationship wasn’t based on solid truth. She suspected a heart of gold beat under that solid chest.

She was about to conclude that Brian had absolutely nothing to hide, no reason to sabotage the plant, when she found scribbled notes on his desk.

"Suspect Maxwell of stealing my design. Must get it back or pay back."

Pay back? She wondered who he wanted to pay back? Just Maxwell? Or the whole plant? The nation?

She hated herself for harboring these doubts. But they niggled at her mind. They scorched her heart. She couldn’t push them away.

Quickly, she ran back to Brian’s bedroom. She lifted off the t-shirt, folded it, and replaced it in his drawer. Then she crawled back into his bed and snuggled against his chest, listening to the strong, slow beat of his heart and breathing.

*

"How about you and I go out for drinks after work? Talk?" Joey leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands.

"I’m busy tonight."

"Tomorrow night, then. I know this nice little bar by the beach. Two for one drinks till seven." His eyes twinkled, but they never left her face. Fan lines crinkled out from his eyes. "By seven, we won’t care what they cost."

She started to say no when she remembered she was supposed to be investigating him. To do that, she needed to get to know him better. With a few drinks in him, he might tell her everything he knew, not that she honestly expected him to be the traitor. He was rough around the edges but a basically nice guy, probably not bright enough to be the thief. Whoever stole those plans had to get them past scads of high tech security. She didn’t think Joey had the know how. At least she could rule him out with a clear conscience.

"Right after work? You’ll drive? My car’s still in the shop." Whatever Atwood had done to it had been a doozey. His superiors were going to hear about this and get the bill to reimburse Brian.

Joey smiled, his too tanned face prematurely wrinkled. "We’ll grab some clams on the half shell. You like those don’t you?"

Those slimy things that spawned in horrid bacteria filled waters? She scrunched up her nose. "I’ll pass."

"You can have a sandwich or something. I’ll meet you at your bench at the end of work tomorrow." He stood and backed up, pointing at her, clicking his fingers. "Don’t forget."

"Don’t worry. I won’t." She waved, forgetting she held the soldering iron in that hand. A drop of solder flipped onto the table top, nearly missing her hand. She snatched it back out of danger. Solder could leave a nasty burn. She’d found out the hard way on more than one occasion when she’d first started working with it. By now, she should know better than to be so careless and jumpy.

"I know you’re excited and all but don’t hurt yourself." Joey winked and strolled to his bench on the California line, across the room.

Hours passed. Her mind kept wondering to the mystery. Who had real motive to sabotage the plant? To turn traitor?

Robbie who had a chip on his shoulder? But he’d risked his life to defend his country. Why would he sell it out now?

Joey, who was happy go lucky, and who’s largest problem was that he hated to take off all his jewelry so he wouldn’t get electrocuted in the course of work.

Charmaine who put down engineers but secretly hoped to catch herself one and live in luxury the rest of her life?

The mystery man, Maxwell? The one whom Brian seemed to think was out to get him? She had to find out more about this Maxwell. Somehow she had to steer the conversation that way tonight. It was much easier to suspect someone she didn’t know than one of her friends or coworkers.

When a pair of warm lips nuzzled her neck, she jumped, knocking the board she was working on off the table. It clattered, skipping across the concrete floor. The resistor she’d just started to solder on snapped and rolled under a large machine. She slid off her stool to pick it up.

Great.

"Ready for tonight?" Brian laughed lightly, encircling her waist with his hands, turning her back to him. "I’ve missed you all day."

She tried to look over his shoulder at her board, but he wouldn’t let her loose. He was holding her much too close inside the plant. "DeVon will have a fit if he sees us."

"DeVon who?" He nibbled her ear sending shudders through her. "Another boyfriend?"

"DeVon my boss. This would look wonderful on my next review. Not." Spanning her palms across his broad chest, she shoved him away, even though her body cried out she wanted to cuddle close and never let go.

Brian laughed. "It won’t be easy, but I’ll keep my hands off you...till five and not a second longer." Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his, teasingly light, seductive. To her chagrin, she leaned into his kiss until he broke it off.

She scorched him with an accusing glance. "You promised."

He held up his hands, palms flat out, fingers extended, and then turned them. "My hands did not touch you again." His lips quirked with mirth. "Besides, you kissed me back."

Engineer or no engineer, he was no gentleman pointing that out. She poked her index finger into his chest, hitting his tie off center. "Git! Before you get me fired." She barely staved off the bill collectors now with her paycheck. They’d foreclose on the family house for sure if she lost this job. The old headache started its familiar pounding behind her temples. Her fingertips pressed the pressure points then massaged.

Robbie sauntered over. "This guy bothering you?" The big man’s shadow eclipsed them ominously. Meaty fists rested on his hips. Dark eyes glowed menacingly.

"N-no." She tilted her head at Brian and frowned when he opened his mouth to talk. "He just gave me a message."

"I don’t think I like the look of his message." Robbie’s voice was pure guttural growl. "What you doing down here, tie?"

She gasped, stepping between the men. If that wasn’t an insult, she wasn’t a woman. Truer fighting words had never been spoken. "He’s fine, Robbie. Nothing’s wrong."

"I say something’s wrong!" He stomped forward. "I’m tired of these ties trying to take our women."

"I’m not your woman." It took all her effort, but she kept her voice steady. "This has nothing to do with you." She slid a glance at Brian who’s expression grew thunderous. It struck her she didn’t know how he’d react in a situation like this. Would he remain cool and level-headed? Or would he explode as Robbie was trying to goad him into doing? "He’s my-my friend."

"If he’s a friend, I’m the Crown Prince." Robbie’s massive chest puffed out. His lips snarled away from his teeth that ground together.

Brian stepped forward. Granite lips pursed tightly. His features had never looked more chiseled.

"Problems?" Joey’s friendly voice was manna to her nerves. His hand clapped onto Robbie’s shoulder. The Brooklynnite grinned at her and winked.

"Brian was just leaving, weren’t you Brian?" She practically purred, signaling him frantically with her eyes to back away and leave before a confrontation erupted.

"I’ll see you later." Brian lifted a hand in salute to Joey, and then paused, glaring at Robbie.

"You’d best stay away from our women." Robbie’s shoulders squared. He rose to his full height. Fists clenched and unclenched at his side.

"Come on, buddy. Buy you a drink after work?" Joey put his arm around Robbie’s shoulders, leading him away.

She mouthed thank you to Joey when he glanced over his shoulder and nodded his head.

When their footfalls faded, she breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had gotten into Robbie? He’d never showed any interest in her before, and she wasn’t sure he was interested in her now. His intense dislike of Brian seemed to be more of a territorial nature than a love triangle.

*

"You’d better put that lunatic on a leash." Brian raked long fingers through his hair, mussing it. "Someone should report him to plant security. I don’t want you going near him. I don’t trust him."

She rubbed behind his ear with her fingertips as soothingly as she knew how. It always worked with Jett when he was agitated. She’d heard it worked with men, too, although she’d never tried it before.

Brian’s muscles eased, and she knew she was hitting her mark. His hair was soft and silky, and she loved the feel of it. The temptation was too strong to resist. She rubbed her cheek against it then slid her hands around his neck, pressing against his back.

"What are you doing to me, woman?" Without warning, he grabbed her arms and yanked her around. Off balance, she tumbled into his lap, arms and legs helter skelter. Laughter bubbled past her lips, until she saw his eyes intensify, his lips lower.

"Just making you feel better. You’re much too tense. Too angry." She loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and slid a questing hand inside to feel his heart beat. He shivered ever so slightly. "Aren’t you off duty, mister?"

"Uhm." One arm snaked over her. His other arm clamped her from underneath. His knees lifted a notch, rolling her against his chest. "You’re succeeding."

"This is twice now you promised me dinner that we haven’t eaten."

"Blame it on your incredible beauty. Your tempting eyes." He nibbled at the corner of her lips, his breath fanning her face. If she moved her face a fraction of an inch, his lips would plunder hers. "Even a saint wouldn’t have a chance against you."

"You’re no saint." Nor did she wish him to be. She massaged his chest, loving his rapidly increasing heartbeat, knowing she was responsible.

"Never claimed to be."

Neither was she, it seemed. Unable to resist the temptation of him another second, she turned her face, brushing her lips against his. A flicker of surprise mingled with pure pleasure lit his eyes, quickly pushed out by passion.

Gathering her close, he invaded her mouth with his tongue, delving deeply, drinking languorously. Hungry fingers massaged her heated flesh, driving her to the brink of insanity. Torturously slow, they moved to the mound of her breasts. The edge of his fingers barely brushed the underneath lobes. He caught her moan in his throat, and she caught his.

Never had she moved so fast with a man. Never had she allowed herself to get so lost in him. And this man could very well be a national threat.

The thought doused a good measure of caution on her ardor. Pulling back, she laughed self-consciously, dragging air into her burning lungs. She bit her lower lip to keep from kissing him again.

He pulled back too, questions in his eyes, his thick brow raised. But he kept her trapped against his chest.

"I don’t know what’s coming over me." Lust. Desire for sure. But didn’t she want more? Need more? This burning in her bosom made her suspect she was falling head over heels in love with this handsome engineer. But would he allow himself to fall in love with a lowly tech?

"Cold feet?"

"Maybe." She slid off his lap and sprung to her feet, letting them sink into his plush carpet. Her toes curled into the luxurious fibers, a luxury they reveled in considering her carpet was threadbare and at least thirty years old. Even new, it had never been quality like this.

Nothing in her house had ever been this nice, this pretty. Decidedly masculine, in greens and browns, everything in the house bespoke polish and money. He had good taste and decorated sparsely but with quality items. She let her fingers trip over his pine dresser, putting a squiggle in the high polish. Not a nick or a scratch. Her dressers were full of gauges, even devoid of varnish in places. She liked to kid herself her furnishings had character. Right now she admitted they were Salvation Army rejects.

But it was hard to delude herself in the face of this luxury showcase. They were from completely different worlds. He didn’t have to worry about paying his mortgage and having his home pulled out from under him. He didn’t have to struggle every day of his life just to go home to more strife.

Unlike Cinderella, she didn’t have a fairy godmother waiting to tap her with a wand and transform her into a beautiful princess then whisk her into the arms of the prince at the grand ball. She didn’t even have a pumpkin.

Just a horrible mission hanging over her shoulder and an anvil of guilt weighing down her heart. What kind of person spied on their friends? Especially on the man they loved?

She’d admitted it! She loved him. How had it ever happened so fast?

And she was still no closer to getting information out of him than she’d been at the company party.

"Am I missing something here?" He hadn’t moved except to twist on the couch, watching her with narrowed eyes. "Did we just exchange universes, and I wound up with a different Andrea?"

"No." She shook her head. "We’re just moving at light speed. I-I got scared." She swept her hand in a wide arc, her gaze traveling the beautiful room. "You’ve never seen my house, have you?" When he started to nod, she stopped him. "Not the inside."

She sucked in a deep breath. "It’s shabby and thread bare. The hand me downs are hand me downs. It’s not fancy like this."

Brian stood, yanking his tie from around his neck, untucking his shirttails from his slacks. He came up behind her as if he were going to hold her but stopped short as if he thought better of it. "So? That doesn’t matter to me."

A bitter laugh rose from deep in her gut. Pivoting on her heel, she grabbed the tie he was about to discard. "Look at us. Really look at us."

"I’m looking." His appreciative gaze slid from her head to her toes, lingering first on her breasts, then on her hips. "What am I supposed to see?"

She shook his tie in his face. "This." Then she grabbed his sleeve. "And this." Her gaze traveled downward to his shoes. Those damned loud-as-bullet management shoes. "And those."

"They’re just clothes." He wadded up the tie and hurled it across the room, his muscles bunching in his upper arm, anger in his throw. "They mean nothing."

"Now look at me." She stood at parade rest before him, daring him to see what she was talking about. "What do you see?"

His hand cradled her cheek, and she steeled herself against his touch, closing her eyes. "An angel." His fingers trailed to the nape of her neck, lifting her hair, then let it sift through his widened fingers. "With the most glorious sun-kissed hair that’s softer than corn silk, brighter than the stars in the heaven."

He talked a good game, but he wasn’t really looking. "Look closer."

"What am I supposed to be seeing?" A hint of aggravation tinged his voice.

"This." She grabbed a handful of her faded, over-sized t-shirt with a ten-year-old picture of the Beach Boys barely visible through all the cracks in the silk screen. "This." She rubbed her hand down the thigh of her faded denims that were more white than blue. Finally, she lifted her foot and laid a finger on her tennis shoe. "And this."

"They’re just clothes, Andi. They’re not you." He shrugged out of his white dress shirt and let it fall at his feet, leaving his white undershirt on. "And these aren’t me."

"Aren’t they?" She snorted, her attitude well honed with years of hurt and longing behind it. "They’re symbols of our different worlds. You’d never dream of dressing this way for work. I’d be locked away in the county nut house if I tried to dress like you B not that I could ever afford to." She turned away from him, staring out the window at the moon. "Robbie’s right. I must be crazy to get anywhere near you. Only heartache can result."

"You’re so sure I can’t want you? That I don’t have the substance to see beyond superficial shells? That my life is so easy I have no problems?"

"What kind of problems could you have?" Her gaze traveled the room again.

He threw himself on his couch, propping his legs on his coffee table. He pushed his shoes off with his feet, letting them thud to the floor carelessly. "A ton of legal problems. The company thinks I stole secret documents and plans and sold them to the Iraquis. I’m under almost constant surveillance."

Unable to stop herself, she cast a furtive glance out the front bay window, hoping she wouldn’t catch Atwood or McGuire peeking at her through the veil of darkness. They wouldn’t have any qualms watching them. How could she have let herself forget? Suddenly self-conscious, she wrapped her arms tightly about her waist.

"Wouldn’t they pull your security clearance if they suspected you of that?" She took a chair opposite him, perching on the edge, curling her legs around to the side.

"It’s been downgraded pending further notice." He craned his neck back against the couch and gazed at the ceiling, staring vacantly. "Any day I could get the ax, literally. I don’t know why I haven’t yet. Maybe they’re watching me, hoping to dig up some dirt. Catch my accomplices." Any more sarcastic and honey would drip from his lips.

She about choked and started spluttering. He slid her a surreptitious glance. Did he suspect her of being their spy? Some Mata Hari she was turning out to be, getting cold feet, bringing everything to a screeching halt. She struggled to regain her composure, pulling in slow, steady breaths.

"How can they find something that’s not there?"

"Oh, there’s something there all right." Bitterness mutilated his normally confident tones. Shadows grayed his ordinarily healthy looking complexion.

She caught her breath, unable to breath, unable to take her eyes off him. "What could possibly be there?" Dread tangled with excitement. Was she about to be handed the answers to her questions so easily? So soon?

"I think I’m being framed, but I don’t know by whom." He let his feet drop to the floor, one at a time, and sat up, staring into her face. "Maxwell took credit for my last design. Stole my patent."

"So, this Maxwell’s the culprit?" Her hands refused to stay still in her lap. She pushed at her cuticles until they hurt.

"Could be. But it doesn’t make sense that he would want to work his way up in the company so badly, that he steals my patent, then sells it to the Middle East. That would be professional suicide."

"Someone sold it to Iraq?" Oh God. Her palms grew clammy. Her heart skipped several beats. "What was it? A secret weapon?"

"More or less."

"Well? More? Or less?" Downright fear wrapped its tentacles around her heart, constricting her chest.

"Guided long range missiles." He shook his head and slammed his fist on the table, making her jump backwards in fright. "How could we be so stupid? They go both ways."

"You mean," she paused to gulp in air, "they not only reach Iraq from here but here from Iraq."

His only answer was to purse those exquisite, tempting lips.

Chapter Seven

Brian left her at her door with a kiss. "Sure I can't stay?" His hands massaged her waste, his thumbs caressing her midriff.

God she was tempted. She could get used to being in his arms every night. All night.

She was about to tell him so when she spied Atwood peeking around the corner of her house. Against her will, sanity reasserted itself. "We, uh, need to take things a little slower."

Brian brushed her lips again, languorously, melting her resolve.

If not for Atwood, she'd drag Brian inside, lock the door, and not let him out.

"For the record, I disagree," he said against her lips, his thumb caressing her cheek. He stepped back, put his hands in his pocket, and started to whistle under his breath. "Tomorrow night?"

"I-I can't. I have an appointment." She averted her eyes pretending to look at the heat lightning jumping across the sky over towards the beach where Brian lived. She'd be spying on Joey. What a first class heel she was turning out to be. She didn't much like herself right now.

Atwood's hand reappeared around the corner. His index finger pointed at Brian, and then his hand made a waving motion away from the house.

Quickly, she brought her gaze back to the man in front of her lest he get suspicious and discover the agent. "Maybe the night after tomorrow."

"How about we go to the Ft. Lauderdale beach Saturday. You can swim, can't you?"

She nodded her head, watching out of the corner of her eye for Atwood to pull another stupid stunt. "I grew up in Florida, didn't I? Of course I can swim." She faked a huge yawn, patting her mouth with her hand. "I can barely keep my eyes open. I'd better get some sleep."

"Dream of me, fair lady."

"Dream of me, sweet prince."

"Sure I can't stay?" He stepped forward, his eyes twinkling, reflecting the moonlight.

Again, Atwood's hand appeared, pushing outward frantically. It looked like a mutated fish. If she let Brian stay, Atwood would probably spy on them and that idea didn't appeal to her at all. She wanted Brian to herself when she had him.

"Off with you." She laughed, shaking her head.

Brian renewed his whistling, sauntered to his bike, waved, and roared off. She watched red dust and pebbles spew out from behind his tires.

"Atwood! I know you're here. Are you crazy?" She marched to the side of the house and beat the bushes where she presumed he hid.

Large hands grabbed her, pulling her around the side of the house behind the bush she'd just whacked the hell out of. "You trying to blow our cover, coming out here? What if Newman saw us?"

She shook his hands off her. "And if he sees you peeking in the windows and around corners, he won't be suspicious? I've got it handled. You can go home or where spies go."

"What do you have to report? Find those stolen plans?"

"Nothing. He's a decent guy." She didn't want to mention her suspicions to him unless and until she had something more concrete.

"If Newman's clean as you say, why are you wasting time on him? Why not concentrate on the other suspects?"

She ticked off her other suspects. "I lunched with Charmaine today. All she thinks of are men and dieting." Big surprise. She could've told him that last week. "I'm going out for drinks with Joey Taylor tomorrow night."

"What about Robbie?"

She paused and picked a leaf off a bush and shredded it. "Something's eating at him. He tried to pick a fight with Brian today...over me. He's never been interested in me."

Atwood twisted his watchband on his arm. "Your next assignment is to find out what's bugging the commy beatnik."

"Don't you dare disable my car again. I still don't have it back. By the way, is the DOD going to pay for it?" She held out her hand, palm flat up.

"Submit a requisition."

"How long will that take?"

"A month. Maybe two." He spoke with the air of someone unconcerned with money. She, however, was very concerned. That was her month's mortgage payment. "That's unacceptable."

"That's Uncle Sam."

"Well, I have no intention of seducing Robbie." She crossed her arms over her chest. No way could she touch him or let him touch her. But even if he were a God, she had eyes for no one but Brian. She only wanted to feel his touch, his caresses, his kisses.

"You prefer the chair?"

She sucked in on her teeth, digging her nails into her palms to keep her anger in check. "Of course not. I'll find another way."

"I could clog your pipes. Then you can ask him to come over and repair them."

"Won't it look suspicious if everything I own suddenly starts falling apart?" She eyed her old house, thinking it was very believable. Maybe she could get a roof job and new flooring if she worked things right.

"Those macho men love to fix things."

"You think so?" She eyed him warily. Why hadn't she thought of this racket year ago? Because she was too honest, too moral to play those games. But if she could improve her house while serving her country, that was a win-win situation. If it worked out that way. "What if you destroy my plumbing, and Robbie knows nothing about fixing it?"

"Then use your charms on some other suspect like Joey Taylor."

"I think you mistake me for Mata Hari." Tongue in cheek, she added, "What's my code name?" All spies had code names. Or numbers.

Atwood cracked a smile, the first trace of mirth she'd detected in him. She'd begun to think he didn't have a sense of humor. "I'll call you Mata Hali."

"Mata Hali? That's the best you can do? Nothing more original?" She lowered her chin a notch and stared at him with her best are-you-for-real stare. She should've watched her mouth. Her tendency to get sarcastic didn't always work out to her benefit.

The bushes shook with a vengeance. Clutching her throat with her hand, she jumped back. A robber? A wild dog? An alligator? Her mind raced through a gillion possibilities.

Atwood drew a pistol from a hidden shoulder holster, cocked it, and pointed it at the intruder. It sounded like a bomb exploding.

The neighbor's cat, Frisky, crashed out of the bushes, chased by another large cat. She exhaled, her knees weak, glad it was no one or nothing more sinister.

Mere seconds later, Atwood's gun went off hitting the bushes a few inches to her right. Her heart stopped, and she froze, her eyes wide.

The cats shrieked, blazing across the street in a blur, dodging a white sedan barreling down her road.

"You almost killed me!" Some agent. Shoot first, ask questions later. "Please put that thing away."

"Sorry." He put the safety back on his gun and reholstered it. He extracted a cigarette and drew on it deeply. "It's getting late. Let me at those pipes."

She heaved a huge sigh, her nerves still skittish. When a car backfired a few streets over, she rushed inside her house to sanctuary, bolted her door, and leaned her back against it, breathing heavily.

"I was quite the ladies man back in Brooklyn. Jewelry Joey they called me. All the girls loved me. They couldn't keep their hands off me." He slurped a raw clam off a half shell making her wince then tossed the discard onto a large pile. "Wanna know why? Cause I treat them like ladies." He held his hand under her face, palm up. "I had them eating out of the palm of my hand."

She smiled dutifully, nodding, trying to keep her eyes open. The clams looked absolutely disgusting. She sipped her Evian water. "So, why'd you leave New York?" She swirled the water in her bottle, shaking her head when he offered her a swallow of his beer. It tasted bitter at the best of times, but she needed to keep a clear head and let him do the talking. She was jostled from the rear when a large party tried to squeeze between her chair and that of the man sitting behind her. Grimacing, she scooted closer to the table, her chair legs scraping the floor.

"It was getting too dangerous." He undid an extra two buttons and parted his striped shirt to show her his chest. It was matted with a thick luxurious fur except for a mangled scar near his heart. She bit back a gasp, her eyes wide.

"Wanna feel it?" Before she could reply or hide her hands, he captured her left hand and spread her palm over the injury.

"How'd that happen?" She almost choked on the words. That wasn't some minor injury. It must've nearly killed him. Her fingertips traced the puckered flesh around a smooth, hairless circle that was obviously a bullet hole. She'd never seen such an injury in the flesh before. Only on television, and they'd never looked like this.

"Someone tried to shoot me in the heart. Missed it by millimeters." He swilled his drink when she pulled her hand away. "Decided I'd better not push my luck. Soon as I got out of the hospital, I came down here, enrolled in technical school, and here I am."

"Why would someone want to shoot you?" Her brows drew together and her forehead puckered. She leaned on the table so she could catch his entire answer. The restaurant was getting noisy as more people crowded around them and the band struck up an old rock and roll ballad. The bass guitar pounded in her ears, the vibrations shaking the joint.

Joey's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Business deal gone bad. There's a lot of bad people out there, sweetheart. They're not all as sweet as you." He dragged her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips one at a time.

She shivered, and a blush traveled from her fingers through her arms up into her neck and cheeks. His lips felt as slimy as the raw oysters he'd been downing. She tried to pull back, but he held her firmly. "Why is it a beautiful woman like you isn't married? Don't guys in Florida have eyes?"

Her blush deepened, and she became flustered. "The right man just never came along." Until now. And he might be national enemy number one. Her timing sucked as usual.

Joey's smile twisted into a frown. "I don't feel so good." He clutched his stomach. "Must've been bad oysters." He slumped in his chair, his eyelids closing.

"Joey!" Jumping to her feet, she rounded the table at warp speed. "Ohmigod, Joey!" She tapped his cheeks with the backs of her hands. She wetted the napkin with her water and wiped his face.

He moaned, his head lolling on the back of the chair. His lips moved, but she couldn't catch any sound with all this noise around.

She leaned over, putting her ear to his mouth. "What's wrong Joey?"

"Get me home. I'm not feeling too well."

"Need help, Miss?" McGuire's voice startled her. She spun around and realized he'd been the man sitting behind them. So they were spying on her again?

Speaking through clenched teeth, she asked, "Can you help me get him to his car? I need to take him home." Her eyes bore holes through the agent. This was getting really annoying. Any moment Atwood would pop up out of nowhere. "Should I find someone else to help carry him?"

"No need. I can carry him." McGuire swung Joey over his shoulders. Several patrons of the restaurant turned around to stare.

"Too much to drink," she said, embarrassed. She knew she must be turning several shades of pink.

Joey mumbled. "Bad clams." He clutched his stomach and moaned loudly.

McGuire tucked Joey into the front seat of his car and strapped him in. "I'll follow you so I can put him in his bed."

She didn't argue. It didn't seem to do any good anyway. She slid into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition.

"Where do you live, Joey?"

No answer.

"Joey?" He was snoring, his head resting on his shoulder. Moonlight glinted off his tight curls and gold chains.

Great! She didn't know where he lived. She wasn't about to take him to her house, and she couldn't leave him alone, unconscious in his car. Stuck for answers, she beckoned McGuire back and explained the dilemma to him.

"Not a problem. Follow me. His address is in his dossier."

But of course. She should've thought of that. They probably knew what cereal he ate for breakfast, how he liked his eggs cooked, and who his favorite author was, too. So why didn't they know if he was trading government secrets? This international espionage boggled her mind. She didn't even like to play Stratego or Risk and here she was, being forced into being a Mata Hari. No, Mata Hali. Unbelievable.

McGuire led her to Joey's apartment, dug around in Joey's pants pocket for his keys, and let them in. He deposited the man in his bed, and she tucked him in, pulling his covers up around his neck.

Softly as she could, she closed his door.

"Let's search his place while he's out." McGuire didn't wait for her okay. He opened drawers, moving the contents around.

"He might wake up!" This didn't set right with her.

"He's out for the duration. He won't hear a thing. We'll never have a better opportunity." McGuire let out a long, low whistle. "Lookie here."

"What?" She ambled to McGuire's side afraid to look at what he'd found.

"Guns and ammo. Tons of it." Almost reverently, he pulled a rifle out of the drawer, peering down its site. "I wonder if this is registered." He waved the gun in the air. "Check those drawers over there."

All in all, they found over ten weapons, pistols and rifles mainly, all loaded. She was stunned. "Why would Joey want all these?"

"That's what we need to find out. Start looking through his papers. Read everything." It was getting late, and she was scared Joey would wake up and catch them. He might have another gun they hadn't found, then what? Hopefully, he was only a target shooter, but she doubted it. These looked like serious weapons.

"I don't like this, going through his personal things. Spying." She faced off against McGuire, her chin lifted in the air. "This isn't right."

"What's not right are criminals harboring illegal weapons and compromising national security."

"We don't know he's a criminal." Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? Basic rights? Privacy?

"Collectors don't keep these babies." McGuire straightened the drawer he was in, covering the gun back up. "Put everything back the way it was. Can't have him suspicious." He pulled a small silver button out of his pocket and attached it underneath a drawer. "We'll be listening."

Oh God! Were there bugs in her and Brian's houses, too? In their bedrooms? She ran out the door into the fresh night air, gulping in lung fulls, holding her stomach. What a nightmare. She was going to be ill.

Chapter Eight

Andi's satiny skin rubbing against him about drove him out of his mind with desire. The ethereal fragrance of hair muddled his thinking. But he fought to keep his wits about him. He needed to talk to her. Bedding her wouldn't solve his problem. What he needed now was someone he could trust as a sounding board.

She was alert and intelligent. Maybe her fresh perspective would find a way out of his problem which he hadn't considered.

"I need to tell you something." He hadn't meant for his tone to be so heavy, so serious. Any more serious, and he could deliver a eulogy.

Maybe he was...his. His fingertips trailed downed down the length of her arm, then back as he held her against him.

Twisting in his arms, she peered up at him. Troubled eyes were almost violet, wide and questioning. Her forehead puckered. That silky hair, white gold in the moonlight, brushed the back of his hand tickling him. He shivered.

She froze, not even breathing, waiting for his answer. Her complexion paled to a porcelain sheen, almost translucent. He was afraid to touch her lest she break.

"You're not dying, are you?" She regarded him with dismay, her lower lip trembling ever so slightly.

Shaking his head, he stared into her intense eyes. Unable to resist, he put his finger to that full, fascinating lip, lightly rubbing it.

"I'm in perfect health." Robust shape. Too robust in fact, for he had trouble keeping his thoughts on his problem at work and with the government, and off the exquisite creature cradled in his arms.

Her sigh was an audible whoosh, mingling with the waves crashing against the shore below. "Then we can weather anything else." Sliding up against him, torturing him to the brink of insanity, she covered his lips with her soft, teasing kiss. Her full lips trembling against his, her honeyed breath acting like a magic potion, did she know how tempting she was? How close he was to ripping off her clothes and pressing against her?

Joining with her?

He allowed his lips to cling to hers, to linger for a full moment.

Then with supreme will power, he pulled back, staring her straight in the face. He held her a good half a foot away lest he lose all coherent thought. His hands clamped around her arms, amazed they were so slender that his fingertips touched together. "I'm in a lot of trouble. I could go to jail for a long, long time."

"It has to be a mistake!" Her voice rang out loud and clear.

Beneath his hands her flesh goose pimpled. "You'd never do anything illegal."

"You hardly know me." Her response this time warmed his heart. His thumbs rubbed her arms just above her elbows where he held her. God but she was beautiful in all her moods: brimming over with desire, playful, fearful, angry, indignant as she was now.

"I know you well enough. You'd never hurt any one, never take a penny from anybody." Her unwavering gaze into his eyes was very flattering, very seductive.

He felt connected to this woman as he'd never felt connected to anyone before. Not only on a physical, sensual level but on every level.

Never in his wildest fantasies had he imagined finding a love so strong, so deep, that she would gaze at him with such love and adoration. Warmth spread through him, reaching those parts that had been ice cold since he'd been accused of sabotaging his project, his plant, and betraying his country. But, he reminded himself, once she knew the depth of the charges against him, would she still feel the same?

Scared down to his toes to find out her reaction to his news, he considered pulling back, making up some lie to tell her to cover his words spoken in haste. But they were getting in too deep. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't tell her everything and let her decide if she could live with it. With him.

"What are you accused of? Who's accusing you?" She snuggled against him, getting comfortable with kitten grace. Her head fit into the crook of his shoulder, yet he knew she listened intently.

He dragged in a lungful of air and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "My design specs were stolen on a Top Secret project. The government thinks I sold them to the Iraquis."

A sharp gasp escaped her. She jerked back. "Someone's framing you. We've got to find them." She tilted her head and put her finger to her lips. Her features scrunched in total concentration.

He knew in that moment he loved her irrevocably. To have someone trust him so implicitly, to stand behind him no matter what was every man’s dream. He wanted this woman in his life forever. He needed her as he'd never needed anyone else.

She was his soul mate.

"My guess is Kerry Matthews. He's always trying to one-up me, jealous of my successes. And he lives well beyond his means."

"Who's he?" She flipped her hair behind her shoulders and slipped her small, delicate hand in his.

"Another engineer on my team. My nemesis. You know the type: never satisfied, always complaining about something." He had no trouble picturing Matthews selling out his country, working hand in hand with those Middle East maniacs. Matthews was only out for number one, to hell with everyone around him.

She nodded. "We've got to expose him and prove your innocence."

Sliding her feet to the floor, she stood. Her hand turned in his, squeezing, tugging. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" He stood reluctantly, eyeing her curiously.

When she rolled her shoulders back and firm breasts jutted forward, his groin tightened unbearably. Primed, moonlight silhouetted her curves. Her eyes darkened intensely.

"To find evidence. Get your badge."

He put the brakes on, standing fast. His head spun crazily. "Whoa. Just where are we going?"

"To the plant. We've got to check around his desk, look for clues."

"You don't think he'd leave them there, even if he still has them? Security's crawling all over the place. They've checked every inch of our area. Probably the whole building."

That made her pause. She scowled. "It must be at his house. How do we get inside without him knowing?"

"You mean break and enter?" He didn't like the sound of that one bit. Yet, he'd been thinking along similar lines. Desperation called for desperate measures.

"Yeah. But he's likely to be there this time of night." She tapped her chin with her finger. "We've got to get him out of the house."

Strolling to the edge of his porch, she gazed at the ocean as if it would provide inspiration. Moonbeams glittered on her hair, trickling down her bronzed flesh. She glowed. What a goddess and made just for him. She couldn't be more perfect if she'd been made to his specifications.

"I could lure him out while you go inside."

Alarm sirens blared in his head. Fiercely protective instincts boiled in his gut. No way was he letting her get near that creep. He wouldn't take any chances with her. "Just how would you lure him out? Then you'd be alone with him." His shoulders squared, punctuating the no way his body screamed.

"If you go anywhere near this case, near Matthews, you'll be implicated. You shouldn't be near me period." But he was damned if he'd let her go now. He needed her more than air. Than his blood. He grabbed her close to him, enfolding her in his arms. "I can't let you do that."

Putting a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up so he could gaze into those amazing, tempting eyes. Their expression was unfathomable. They bewitched him. "I love you for wanting to."

Her breath caught and her irises darkened to the hue of the ocean depths. "Do you just love me for that? Not for anything else?"

"I love you." He emphasized each word, his heaviest emphasis on you. "You're my soul mate. The only woman in the universe for me, now and forever."

He expected her to be happy, probably ecstatic. But her expression became guarded. He read happiness in her eyes but mingled with something that disturbed him, something he couldn't name. She was holding something back. Probably fear to commit herself to a man who could be sentenced and hanged as a traitor. That was more than enough to make anyone hesitant. Now more than ever he had to clear his name so he would be free to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

Still, he would burst if he didn't hear from her how she felt about him. "Do you love me, bewitching Andrea?"

"You think I'm bewitching?" A smile played about her lips, making them all the more alluring. All the more kissable. They mesmerized him, drawing his head closer to hers. He had to savor those lips before he'd explode with wanting.

"Uhm," he murmured against her lips. He nibbled her lower lip, pulling it into his mouth. His hands wouldn't restrain themselves a moment longer. They roamed her length, gravitating toward her lush breasts that strained against him begging for release and his caresses. Breathing hard, he pulled away fractionally, not daring to look at those luscious breasts again. "What spell have you cast over me, witch? Did Magalie or Marie from work give you one of those Haitian love potients? You drive me insane."

"No spells. No magic. No potients." She pressed closer to him, and he nearly lost all control. "Just me."

Unable to stand the waiting, he growled. "Do you love me?"

She gazed deeply into his eyes and offered him a shy smile. Love burned brightly, stealing his breath. She didn't need to utter the words as they'd just be icing, but when she announced, "I love you," he leapt for joy.

"Enough to marry me? If I'm cleared?"

"When you're cleared. And not a moment longer."

"Yes!" Picking her up, he swung her around in his arms. Her legs pinwheeled out, her silky hair fluttered in the sea breeze. Her laughter tinkled, washing over him. How long he spun around with her in his arms, he wasn't sure. He was dizzy with love.

Much as he longed to drag her back to his beckoning bed, to get a jump on the marriage ceremony, he had to keep his date with destiny first.

He refused to put his ring on her finger until he could promise her a bright future, safe from the threats now hanging over him.

Putting her on her feet, he captured her small hand in his and dragged her to his bedside.

She turned into his arms, coiling her arms around his neck.

"Much as I want you here and now, Darlin', I have to get to work."

Her brow rose. "Work? It's almost midnight."

"That's the best time to work undercover." He deposited a swift kiss on her heavenly lips. "Can you disguise your voice?"

"Who do you want me to be?" He detected a trace of mirth in those dulcet tones.

"Mata Hari?"

She sucked her teeth, an alien mannerism to her, and he wondered what he'd said? He was only joking. Well, half joking. "Can you pretend you're the switchboard operator and tell Matthews there's an emergency at the plant, and he has to report right away?"

She held the bridge of her nose with her fingers and stuck her chin high in the air. In a very nasal voice, with clipped tones, she said, "This is Mary Jane on the switchboard. Mr. Molina needs you to report to your division right away." She sounded so good it was scary.

"That'll work." He glanced at his bedside phone and thought better of using it. "But not here in case my phones are tapped or he has Caller ID." He dipped his head to taste her sweetness. "There's a pay phone at the all-night convenient store down the road from where he lives. We'll use that."

"Then what will we do?"

"You’ll go home to your bed, safe and sound. I will check out Matthew's house."

"You'll need a look out. I can sit outside and warn you if he comes back."

He thought about that, but the idea of her getting caught in any crossfire, implicated in any espionage, stole his breath. It was already too much that he needed her voice to lure Matthew away from his house. At least that was relatively safe and anonymous.

"I won't stick around long enough to get caught." He held up his hand in the scout salute. "Promise."

"If you get yourself killed, I'll never speak to you again." Her lips curved in a half pout.

"I won't. Let's go." Before I lose my nerve. He dragged her behind him, determination quickening his step.

*

Oh God!

Andi alternated between being ecstatic and scared to death.

Brian loved her. He wanted to marry her.

She loved him and wanted to marry him. It should be simple. Perfect.

It was far from perfect. She’d lied to him. She’d doubted him, even if only a little, and she’d spied on him.

Oh, she must be a wonderful actress, she’d fooled him so well. She should win a grammy. And right next to that on her mantel, she’d erect her award for being the worst human being on Earth.

Brian gave her a hug and quick kiss before she faced her challenge. "Go get ‘im, tiger."

She felt more inclined to cackle like a hyena or run like a gazelle, so nervous. What if she messed up? What if she made the man suspicious? He could lie in wait for Brian and in the shadows of night, finish the job he’d started.

"Let’s prove me innocent so we can get on with the wedding." His voice, his eyes encouraged her.

Wedding. Her insides grew unbearably hot. She yearned to marry him so badly she could taste it. She could do this if she kept her sites on the final prizes. Acquittal for both of them. Martial bliss. Family.

She changed this silently to bolster her flailing courage.

He dialed the number, covered the receiver with his hand, and listened. Before she was ready, he thrust it into her hands, mouthing, "Do it." He gave her the thumbs up sign and kept eye contact with her.

"May I speak to Kerry Matthews?"

"Matthews here," a sleep fogged masculine voice said. It wasn’t exactly cheery. "This had better be a damned good reason for calling, waking me up at midnight."

"This is Mary Jane from Radar Technologies. Mr. Molina needs you to come in right away. The IDS is failing." She became acutely aware of background noise and winced, hoping the man didn’t realize it was misplaced. Cars racing by. Car doors slamming. A bell jingled every time the store’s door jarred. People talking. Crickets chirping loudly. Outside sounds that didn’t sound like the inside of a factory.

"He wants me to come in now?" A string of muffled expletives burned her ear. Nice guy.

"Yes, Sir. How soon can you make it in?"

"Twenty - thirty minutes."

"I’ll tell Mr. Molina . Thank you, sir." She hung up and turned to Brian. "Please don’t make me do that again."

Brian glanced at his watch. "I’d better go so I don’t miss my chance." He pulled her to him and folded her into his embrace. Warm, hard lips descended on hers. His kiss was deep and possessive.

When he pulled away, she felt cold. And very, very afraid.

*

Sleep came fitfully. She tossed and turned. Brian didn’t call for what seemed like forever. When the phone finally rang, she lunged for it, cradling it in her hands after she picked it up.

"Brian? Are you all right?"

"Yeah." But he sounded more than a little frustrated. "Just shaky. He almost caught me. Guess I’m not cut out to be a 007."

Sheets tangled around her legs, and she kicked them off as she struggled to sit up. The neon light on her digital clock flashed 2:30 am, annoying her. Her moving around awoke Jett, who opened one eye, bicycled a paw in the air over his large head and turned away from the light. His heavy body jostled the bed.

"Did you find anything?" Oxygen accumulated in her lungs until she was about to burst. His answer seemed to take forever coming.

"Nada. Zippo." His sigh expressed both their feelings. "I need to hold you. I'm coming over."

"Hurry." She felt so cold without Brian’s arms around her. She wrapped hers around herself, but it wasn't the same. Snuggling under her covers didn't lift the chill that settled in her bones either. The only remedy for her was to snuggle against Brian's warmth and stay there forever...if he let her once he discovered her role in this sordid mess.

*

The next day, Andi chafed before Cleveland in his office.

"What's this Atwood tells me? You're engaged to Newman? You going to hold the nuptials in your jail cell?" Cleveland peered over his glasses, down his long nose at her. Atwood and McGuire sneered and flanked her as if they were scared she'd run. And do what?

"Maybe they've been in on this together from the beginning," McGuire said, his tone supercilious. Short stubby fingers rubbed the length of his jaw as his eyes roamed her length. "He steals the plans, and she smuggles them out of the building."

"He thought we'd never suspect a lowly technician of getting her pretty little hands on Top Secret plans. That we'd never give her credit for having the brains." Cleveland shook his head. Light reflected off his lenses.

The security chief's better-than-thou remarks rankled. He assumed she had a low or non-existent IQ because she wasn't a college grad. It wasn't her fault her father died before she could finish her degree and left her with a mess of bills that had forced her to go to work in the dungeon until she could complete evening college. "I didn't meet him until after I was framed and you recruited me."

"So you say, Mata Hali." The sneer in Atwood's voice set her teeth on edge.

"Mata Hali?" Cleveland sat in his chair and shuffled through papers. "Who's that?"

"Agent Atwood gave me a code name." If her voice was any drier, she'd die of dehydration.

Cleveland motioned for them to take seats, his expression drawn, irritated. "You've been on this case three weeks and reported nothing of value." Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest, his white shirt creasing at his elbows. The cuffs were unbuttoned and rolled back two or three turns exposing extremely hairy arms. "Did you warn your boyfriend that we're onto him? Help him hide the evidence?"

"I haven't found any evidence. Not on anyone." Not even Matthews. She wrung her hands together in her lap. "Brian Newman's not guilty, Sir. I don't think the others on your list are either. There must be another spy."

"Or maybe you're not worthy of the name Mata Hali." Atwood snorted. "Some spy."

She turned to him, her eyes narrowed. "I never said I was a spy. You didn't give me a choice." She wished she could tell them where to shove their job and march out of here. But she wasn't an employee, she was a slave, pure and simple, worse than being Coolie labor downstairs in the dungeon. "You're welcome to have my job back anytime."

"Do that, I'll have you charged with sabotage and treason,"

Cleveland said, his voice devoid of emotion. "You'll be so old when you get out you won't be able to get out of bed by yourself. If you ever get out." He slammed the stack of papers he had down on his desk. They flew helter-skelter, a few landing on the floor at her feet.

Bending at the waist, she leaned over and scooped them up. Top Secret was stamped in big, bold red letters on the top of several sheets. She'd barely had time to catch the words "Ediston Project" when Cleveland snatched them from her fingers. He'd certainly rounded the table fast for such a large man. As if he were on fire.

"You don't have clearance to look at those." Turning them away from her and the agents, he slid them inside a manilla folder and closed it. His fingers clamped over the edges to ensure no more papers would fly away. When he reached his side of the desk, he opened his bottom drawer and slid the file inside.

Something didn't feel right. Her gaze followed his every movement. His eyes shifted back and forth behind those thick lenses. His fingers shook when they touched hers for that brief instant when he'd grabbed them away from her.

She swore she smelled sickly sweet fear.

The cogs in her mind grated. What did he have to fear from her? About anything? Was his job on the line if she didn't find his spy?

But that would be ludicrous. If he were so worried, why didn't he have professional detectives on the case?

McGuire coughed and cleared his throat, reminding her that Cleveland had a duo of agents. For all the good they seemed to be doing.

Why would head of security want her on the case? Surely as a security professional with such a low opinion of the unwashed, uneducated such as herself, he wouldn't rely on her to get him out of a bind? To save baseball, apple pie, and the American Dream? He wouldn't trust her to save the world or his beloved children.

So why did he want her here? How did she really fit into his plans?

She had a sneaking suspicion that if she found that puzzle piece she'd have the key to this whole mess.

"Your next assignment," Cleveland said, leaning forward on his desk, his hands folded together. "Is to meet with the Iraqui representative."

She gasped, unable to believe her ears. Surely he didn't expect her to be the point man? To get in the cross fire more than he'd already put her? But she couldn't see his eyes at the angle his head faced. The overhead light created a glare that bounced off them.

"You'll pretend you're his contact…"

"Won't he be expecting a man?" Her mind worked furiously, clutching at anything to get her out of this. "I don't look like Brian Newman."

"You're a little shorter," McGuire said, his tone completely serious. "Blonder."

Atwood sent him a look that showed what an idiot he thought his partner was.

"As Newman's fiancé, you'll tell him that you're meeting with him in his place. That the heat's too hot on Newman to pass the plans. That he's being watched...you aren't."

Adrenaline erupted through her, and she vaulted to her feet, her fists clenching and unclenching at her side. Fire burned in her belly. "You said yourself you have no proof Brian Newman's the spy. What good will this do?"

"When Newman sees you with his contact, it'll smoke him out. He'll intervene, and then we'll nab him."

God! "I'm going to be sick." Bile churned in her stomach, bubbling into her throat. She clutched her belly and sank into her chair as her knees refused to hold her upright. "He won't go after anyone, you know. Don't you?"

"No, we don't know anything of the sort." Cleveland sounded supremely sure of himself. And happy. Almost giddy.

"He's not guilty." Didn't they listen? Didn't they have eyes to see? "Atwood helped me search his apartment. We didn't find anything. We even left bugs."

"You could've told him about everything, given him ample time to clean the place out." This was from McGuire.

Atwood nodded. "Maybe you pocketed the evidence behind my back. I didn't search you."

She felt like hanging her head in her hands. "This is hopeless. You don't believe me."

"Do you think we should believe the word of a traitor?" Cleveland's tones were sugar coated, his tongue twisted. Probably forked.

"I'm not a traitor. Stop calling me that. And I won't meet with any Iraqui or mad man or spy of the hour." Standing, she marched to the door. "I refuse to spy for you. I won’t spy on Brian another second!"

Cleveland waved papers in the air. "Remember these? Quit on us, and you'll never see freedom or your precious Brian again."

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "What are those?"

"The evidence we found in your purse. We might not have any hard evidence on Newman, but we have you dead to rights."

She squeezed her eyes tightly, trying to hold back the hot tears that pushed against her eyelids. Why me? What had she done to deserve this? Nothing, absolutely nothing.

"Who do I meet and when?" Her voice had never sounded so resigned to anything in her life.

Cleveland produced a picture of a swarthy man in flowing white robes. He wore a bushy black mustache. "Intelligence tells us this is our man. His name is Ahmed Fouad Mahmoud. His group is trying to take over the Middle Eastern region."

"A very obscure but very dangerous splinter faction." McGuire nodded.

"If they succeed in getting the rest of the technology for the long range missile tracking, we can kiss the good old US of A goodbye."

She gulped. It seemed she was stuck in the middle of this, like it or not. She hated it.

*

Her stomach in knots, she retraced her steps, facing Cleveland as if she faced a firing squad. "When and where will this rendezvous take place?"

"At the company picnic and carnival this weekend. You are planning to go, aren't you?" His glasses slid to the end of his nose when he looked down on her. It would serve him right if they fell off and broke. She was tired of the way he looked down his nose at her.

"I'm planning to go with Brian Newman." Suddenly their fun-filled weekend loomed bleak, dangerous. "Let me get this straight." The acid in her stomach churned. "When he ditches me to make this rendezvous - which he won't because he's innocent - I'm supposed to make the rendezvous first so you can catch Brian - which you won't because he won't be there - with this Mohammed creep?"

"Mahmoud." McGuire pronounced the syllables succinctly. "Ahmed Faoud Mahmoud." What was he? A diction instructor or a federal agent?

"If Newman doesn't show up, it's because you've warned him," Atwood said from behind her. "I wouldn't warn him if I were you." Cleveland stood, hitching the waistband of his slacks up and adjusting his white shirt so that the line of buttons was in a straight line with his zipper and belt buckle. It was a leftover habit from his military days. "Atwood will give the fake papers to you at the picnic with the exact rendezvous location then."

"Won't this be dangerous? How do I protect myself?" Not only herself, but Brian and everyone at that picnic would be in danger. "Children will be there with their families." Distressed, her voice broke.

"Then you'll be doubly sure you stick to the plan and ensure it goes down smooth." Cleveland picked up the picture of his family and gazed at it.

"Remember. You're doing this to save all the children of the world." McGuire continued, "Even if you don't do this to save your neck."

The fate of the world, the children, rested on her shoulders? Why? How did they choose her? Something didn't feel right, but she couldn't place it. Shouldn't a real, highly trained agent have this job?

*

By the time the company picnic started, Andi was a jumble of nerves. She jumped at every little sound. She checked every shadow for a body. She couldn't seem to stop kissing Brian, to get her fill of him, for she suspected this rendezvous would be the death of their relationship.

The beautiful engagement ring they'd bought in an exclusive jewelry store on Los Olas Boulevard twinkled at her mockingly. It was heavy on her finger reminding her of its presence. It should provoke a wonderful, heady feeling. Instead, she felt like the betrayer Cleveland and the agents kept accusing her of being. Not a traitor to her country but to her heart, to the man she loved.

Brian came out of the shower, wet and glistening, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and the ends of his hair. Wet, it gleamed almost blue black. Bare, his marvelous chest rippled with finely honed muscles. It was bronzed from their time lounging on the beach by his apartment. He looked absolutely splendid. More gorgeous than any man had a right to be. Richard Gere didn't hold a candle to her fiancé.

"Let's skip the party." Brian sidled up to her back, nuzzling her neck with warm lips. Tingles skipped down her spine, and she shivered. "I want you all to myself." He turned her slowly into his arms, pulling her against his heavenly chest.

Joy danced through her. Didn't this prove Brian innocent? It did to her. Not one doubt survived within her.

Mind numbing fear ran down the joy, slicing through her. They had to go to this party lest Cleveland tossed her into jail, lest the fate of the children really did rest in her hands.

"You don’t want to miss the carnival." She slipped away from him with a light laugh that cost her dearly. Every cell screamed at her to move back into the circle of his arms, to touch and be touched. For without his touch, they starved a slow excruciating death.

But if she listened to them, followed her heart, they’d never make it to the picnic...or to the rendezvous. And they’d be doomed.

"What could possibly be more exciting at that picnic than you and me naked that bed worshipping one another?" Provocative fingers lifted her heavy hair off her neck. She gasped when he licked her sensitive flesh there, slow and sensual.

Her brain threatened to go into melt down. Her body promised mutiny. "Caribbean dancing. Steel drum bands?" She couldn’t muster one iota of conviction, not when his hand curved around her rib cage, up and under her breast to cup it. Her traitorous nipples perked right up, straining to be freed into his palm.

"We’ll dance right here...naked." Those lips blazed fire across her shoulders, where the only barrier was the thin spaghetti strap to her tank top.

"They’ll have exotic food."

"All I want to taste is you." His hand kneaded her throbbing breast. Tantalizing fingers rubbed her nipple between them, gentle but urgent.

Desire flooded her. She was drowning fast. Surrender was eminent.

"Charmaine, Wendy, and Joey will be waiting for us." A moan escaped her lips when his tongue delved inside her ear lathering it. His teeth nipped her ear lobe playfully. The irrefutable evidence of his desire rubbed against her sensually, in the most ancient of rhythms.

His spell was almost complete. He must be part warlock. She was almost lost. It was now or she’d never escape, never be free to spend eternity in his arms making love. Besides, she didn’t relish having an audience, and she suspected Atwood of lurking in the bushes, watching them.

With supreme will, she yanked away from him and felt her heavy mane sift through his fingers. "We have the rest of our lives to make love." She pivoted to face him and fluttered her fingers before his face. Morning sunlight gleamed off her fabulous diamond engagement ring.

"These company things are bor-ing."

She quirked her brow remembering the last one in vivid detail. "Even the last party?" She cast him a sugarcoated smile and fluttered her lashes.

"Stop tempting me woman if you don’t want to end up in my bed all day." His eyes were passionately intense, and she thrilled to his obvious desire for her. How she wanted him, too. Needed him. All day would never be enough.

"We’d better go if we don’t want to park two miles away in alligator country." She picked out a Polo shirt and matching Docker pants and tossed them at him. They hit him square in the chest, making him take half a step backwards.

"I’m losing my sex appeal." He shook his head, running his fingers through still damp hair.

"You’re not losing anything." Tonight, lover. I’ll be all yours." She hoped and prayed with all her heart...if everything worked out according to her plans.

Chapter Nine

"Come on, cowboy. Get your pants on."

Brian scowled. "You’re no fun."

She certainly wouldn’t be any fun in a jail cell. "You thought so last night." She sent him a flirtatious smile.

Peeking at the window about gave her a heart attack. Her gaze honed in on the sound. At first, it was hard to see anything except early morning glare. Then she saw the source of the noise and froze, horrified.

A finger tapped on the glass. A long tapered finger that belonged to a hand with a wrist sporting a platinum Rolex. Another hand joined it. As she watched, sickly fascinated, the fingers of the second hand choked the life out of the hand with the Rolex.

"What is it, honey? You’re ghostly white." Brian started to turn towards the window. "Someone on the porch?"

"Just a bird. Nothing to worry about." A big, ugly vulture. Her tones were too patient, too soothing, as if she spoke to a small child. But he didn’t turn around, and she almost sank to the floor with relief.

She couldn’t keep staring at that hand going into a conniption fit, lest Brian realize she lied and caught Atwood. Then he’d catch her out in lies. She watched, mortified, from the corner of her eye.

A different tact was called for if she was going to pry Brian out of his bedroom and get his mind off its favorite track. AI can’t wait to show off my ring or my fiancé." She practically crooned the words as she tucked her arm through his and led him to his motorcycle.

He helped her on then straddled the black seat. They strapped on their helmets, and then he coaxed the bike to life.

Holding him tightly, she leaned her cheek against his back, taking comfort in his strong, solid heartbeat. Surely he’d understand her role in this mess? In time, he’d forgive her. After all, she didn’t have a choice.

*

Throngs of people pushed them along the bike path toward the picnic area. Some wore bathing suits. She spied a few in sun dresses. A few wore slacks. The majority wore shorts and tank tops, like Andi.

Although it was mid-November, the sun kissed her bare shoulders, warming them. Gentle breezes washed over them and made palm trees sway. The soft, arrhythmic beat of steel drum bands and bird song welcomed them to the festivities.

When they drew close enough to see the activity, a kaleidoscope of dancers in Caribbean dress swayed to the hypnotic strains of calypso music. Long, plumed feathers framed heavily made-up faces. Conch shell necklaces adorned long, graceful throats. Most of the dancers wore nose studs. Long, loopy earrings dangled from their lobes. Their feet were bare and supple.

Stilt walkers, Moko Jumbies she’d read about in last Sunday’s Sun-Sentinel local section, joined in with their own jerky dances. The stilts, striped in bright colors, were at least ten to fifteen feet high. The men wore long full pants and brightly colored satin jackets and elaborate admiral’s hats while the women wore long skirts, just as colorful. Spectators offered them cash, extending it high above their heads in an effort to reach the Moko’s hands.

People enjoyed all manners of exotic island foods including but not limited to fried plantains, beef kabobs, jerked chicken, Carib beer, and planter’s punch.

Reggae replaced the steel drum band music, and people danced as they walked, twirling and strutting. Even Brian had a lilt to his step as he sipped on planter’s punch he’d grabbed from a stand as they’d strolled deeper into the carnival. She didn’t feel so guilty anymore cajoling him to come with her.

Further down the field, a jamboree worthy of being a state fair was set up. Most of the children congregated around game booths, bounce houses, and a sky-high slide. Their carefree laughter tinkled on her ears and tugged at her heart. To be so happy, so giddy again would be wonderful.

What a non-stop procession of stimuli that kept her nerve-endings jumping. This carnival was worthy of any in Trinidad. What a bizarre and irresistible array of people, costumes, and music. A real feast to her eyes. If only she didn’t dread the upcoming rendezvous, she’d be free to enjoy herself.

"I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show." Charmaine slurred her words, and then tipped a bottle of Carib beer to her lips. Winking broadly at Brian, she flipped her frosted hair over her shoulder revealing a dainty rose tattoo that undulated when she lifted her arm. "If I had a fiancé like that, I might not have."

Brian whispered in her ear, "See? No one would’ve blamed us. Can we leave now?" How she wished! His warm breath tickled where it blew on her ear and arched neck. A much deeper shudder curled its way down her torso, spreading lower into her limbs, settling into her womanly core.

Joey came up behind Charmaine with another set of Carib beers. He replaced the almost empty one from her hand with a sparkling, sweating one. "Here you go, doll. They really know how to throw a party." He tossed the empty bottle into a nearby steel can and clinked his bottle to Charmaine’s.

Andi was almost blinded by Joey’s array of gold chains. Like Brian, Joey wore shorts, showing muscular, extremely hairy legs. "I never miss a carnival." She showed her full set of teeth.

She kept an eye out for Atwood and McGuire, wondering if they’d be disguised, and if so, how she would recognize them. It would be easy to get lost in this crowd, to make an exchange right in front of people and no one ever notice or remember.

Still, she was so nervous she couldn’t eat a nibble. When Brian offered her a bite of his jerk chicken, she shook her head. When Joey offered to get a bottle of the golden brew for her, she declined. Beer and espionage didn’t mix.

"Charmaine wants me to win her a monster sized teddy bear. You game to try your luck, college boy?"

"I think I can toss a few balls to win the little lady a prize." The men dragged the women to the nearest softball toss, flexing their muscles, trying to one-up the other. They fell all over themselves showing off, and Andi had to bite back her laughter.

Charmaine rolled her eyes behind Joey’s back and giggled.

Andi enjoyed watching Brian wind up and throw the ball. The total concentration on his face was endearing. On his third try, he hit his target. His war-whoop rang out loud, making her jump back.

"What prize do you want for the pretty little lady, Sir?" A carny smiled at Andi with a flirtatious twinkle in his eye.

"You choose." Brian smiled at her, sending her stomach into a spin. No man had a right to have such a deep, sensual voice that licked her insides the way his did. That kept her constantly off-balance.

Putting her index finger to her lips, she refused to look at her fiancé for he blinded her to everything else, and she studied the zoo of stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling, clinging to the walls. Finally, she spied a pink camel trying to hide in the back. It reminded her of the camel her father had given her as a little girl, the one that still lay on her bed tattered, well worn and well loved. "That one, please."

Brian nodded and watched with pride in his eyes when she hugged it as if she were a little child again.

"Move over and let the champion in here." Joey winked at Charmaine who blushed furiously, "You’ll get your teddy bear or my name isn’t Joey Vincent Taylor." But his muscles were loose and his aim unsteady from all the beer he’d imbibed. Finally, he inhaled deeply, stared at the target long and hard, and wound his arm up slowly. This time, he hit the target. "Smokin’!"

Charmaine jumped up and down, clapping. When Joey turned to toss her a cocky smile, she curled her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips.

When Joey backed away, his eyes were dazed, and a smile played around his lips.

"Where’s my kiss?" Brian turned her to him, lowering his lips to hers. She complied gladly, closing her eyes, blocking out everyone and everything from her conscience except Brian.

But when she opened them, she spied Atwood beckoning to her. He wore a Hawaiian colored print shirt with khaki shorts and brown sandals. Blindingly bright and tacky as he was, he blended right into the myriad of people milling about.

He inclined his head toward a grove of trees by the lake. Several couples dotted the lake shore. Toddlers threw bread crumbs to eager ducks that quacked and flapped their wings. One particularly precocious little girl laughed in glee and jumped up and down.

Fear bursting inside her, she shook her head. Not already! They’d barely arrived. She’d just begun having fun, so much so she’d almost forgotten about her vile assignment.

Until Brian waved his hand in front of her face in slow motion, she didn’t realize she was staring at the DOD agent. "Andi? Everything all right?" Concern laced his voice.

It took a few moments for her to react so absorbed was she in her thoughts.

When he turned and looked into the crowd as if trying to follow her gaze, she awoke from her stupor. Her heart jack hammered against her ribs, and she sucked in her breath. But his gaze didn’t focus on any one individual. To her intense relief, Atwood had melted into the crowd of merry makers.

She grabbed Brian’s arm to get his attention. "I’ll be fine." She hoped he didn’t hear the treacherous catch in her voice. "Just a little dizzy. Maybe it’s the heat."

"Aren’t you feeling well?" He pulled her close and put his lips to her forehead, so soft, so loving, she almost burst into tears. "You’re ice cold."

Ice flowed through her veins all right, and she wondered if she’d ever be warm again. Chills made her shiver. She had been summoned to the lake, and her feet wanted to run in the opposite direction. "Maybe I should sit down." She caught site of Atwood at the lakeshore, staring at her. Turning back to Brian, she gazed up into his face. "Can you get me a drink and bring it to the lake?" Cogs spun in her mind. She needed a reason to keep him away longer than it would take to fetch a cola. The food lines were a jumble of people. The beef kabob line seemed to be the longest. "I’ve not had a bite to eat all day. Maybe I need something in my stomach. Would you mind getting me a beef kabob, too?"

Joey clapped Brian on the shoulder. "We’ll take care of our ladies. Come on, pal."

Charmaine put her arm around Andi’s waist. Her eyes spoke volumes. "I’ll stay with her. You two run along."

No! She needed to be totally alone. Charmaine tagging along wouldn’t do at all. This was too dangerous. Frantic, her mind raced for logical reasons to send Charmaine away.

Brian left her with a light, tantalizing kiss on her lips.

Joey gave Charmaine a much more demonstrative kiss, bending her backward till her hair grazed the grass. "Take care of her. We’ll meet you in a jiffy."

"Hurry back." Conviction didn’t ring clear in her friend’s voice. As soon as the men were out of earshot, Charmaine turned to her. Holding her arms, she stood at arm’s length. "Are you pregnant?"

For the second time in fifteen minutes, Andi’s jaw about dropped to the ground. "No-o-o-o. I don’t think so." She faked a reassuring smile. "You’d be the first person I’d tell if I were."

"Maybe you are, and you just don’t know it." Charmaine’s gaze settled on Andi’s flat belly. "Been ill in the morning?"

Andi shook her head. "I’ve been fine. Great!" Then she glanced at Atwood who grimaced, pointed to his watch, then pointed to the deserted grove, and she made a liar of herself. She felt suddenly very ill.

She had to get rid of her friend. But she was drawing a blank.

Surely there must be some reason to send Charmaine off that would be believable. Scanning the crowd for inspiration, she spied Robbie and Wendy bearing down on them. Robbie wore a faded forest green t-shirt with a huge peace sign. Bowed, pasty white legs stuck out of tattered blue jean cut offs. His hair was loose, hanging around his shoulders, almost as long as her own hair. His scowl looked anything but peaceful.

Wendy smiled and waved, a huge smile lighting her moon shaped face. Her hair, newly permed, was tightly curled. Still, a big bow and her normal hair band adorned it.

She didn’t have time to make small talk with them right now. That was it! "Robbie and Wendy are at three o’clock. Can you ward them off for me? Robbie can’t stand Brian. He’ll go ballistic if he sees my ring."

Charmaine glanced over her shoulder, her smile fading. She gave Andi a small shove. "Go! I’ll run interference."

"I owe you." She gave her friend a quick hug, then waved to Wendy and started toward her destiny. Robbie’s frown deepened.

"Big time."

She wound through the crowd, deliberately losing herself in case Robbie or Wendy tried to follow her. She wanted to get this rendezvous over. Then maybe Cleveland would leave her alone. When Brian didn’t show up, they’d see he was innocent.

She’d brought a small draw string bag that she hoped would be large enough to hide the false documents but not so large as to hinder her at the carnival. It bounced against her thigh as she quickened her pace.

Eyeing the forest, she wondered if Ahmed Faoud Mahmoud would be in there. She felt as if she were being drawn into the Bermuda Triangle. Imminent danger lurked ahead, yet she couldn’t do a thing to avoid it.

When she was almost to the edge of the grove, she glanced around nervously, praying Brian hadn’t returned yet, that no one who knew her would see her enter the woods. Adversely, she wanted everyone to see her so that she wouldn’t just disappear without a trace if something went wrong. She wasn’t made out to be a spy. She was about to have a stroke.

Pausing at the edge, she folded her hands and lifted a quick prayer for deliverance.

When a hand grabbed her and dragged her into the woods, she shrieked. Another hand covered her mouth, covering her nose also so that she could barely breathe. Pure fear kicked in and she bucked, struggling against her captor.

She heard a string of cursing, and then, "It’s me. Atwood."

It took a few seconds for the man’s words to sink in, to make sense. She stilled, waiting for him to release her. Calypso music drifted around her but sounded very distant and ominous. Closer, she heard the rustling of small animals in the bushes. Birds chirped overhead. Waves lapped the shore.

"Are you trying to blow our cover yelling like that?" His hands loosed, and she broke away, whirling on him, facing off against him.

Strands of hair clung to her wet face, and she pushed them off her cheeks. "I couldn’t breathe! How dare you scare me to death!"

"Lower your voice." The agent’s eyes darted back and forth, and then he extracted a white, legal sized envelope from his deep khaki shorts pocket. He held it out to her. "Hide this in your purse. Mahmoud will meet you by the Caribbean dancers."

"How will I recognize him?" Something puzzled her. If they wanted to catch Brian or whoever the real traitor was, how was this going to accomplish their mission? "If I give these papers to this Mahmoud character, how will that help you catch Brian Newman in the act?"

"Catch me doing what, sweetheart?" Brian’s voice was hard, almost mocking. It wasn’t at all the voice of her kind, loving fiancé. It was a complete stranger’s voice.

Her heart plummeted to her feet. All air was knocked from her lungs as if a bomb exploded. She whirled on the ball of her foot, her hand clutching her throat, her fingers fluttering.

Brian’s expression was unfathomable, his pupils dilated. Shadows cast by the giant Evergreens blocking most of the sunlight didn’t help her to see him well.

She poised to flee into Brian’s arms, beg his forgiveness, and get as far away from Atwood, who was scaring her, as fast as she could. Before she could make good her escape, Atwood yanked her back against him, one arm holding her around her waist, the other holding his pistol against the small of her back. The metal barrel was cold and bit hard into her flesh. She estimated it was at the level of her liver, maybe her stomach.

"Release her." Brian’s voice was practically a snarl. His muscles tensed. His shadow loomed over them.

Atwood shook his head, his breath hot and sickening on her bare shoulders. "You don’t want this traitor. Mata Hali was turning state’s evidence against you to cut a deal for her own freedom."

"Mata Hali? What evidence?" Brian’s voice was very quiet, very lethal. He stepped forward ominously.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not one step closer, or I’ll shoot." Atwood cocked his gun. The sound reverberated in her ears almost as loudly as if he’d fired the weapon.

Brian froze, his foot midair. But he leaned his weight backward and retraced his step. "What do you want?"

"I want you to confess to selling out your country. To give yourself up."

Atwood’s fingers bit into her, and she was physically ill. Bile rose in her throat. Her heart was about to shatter. Brian looked at her as if she were a serial killer. She couldn’t stand it. "He’s lying. He forced me to work for him…"

"So it’s true." Disgust rang loud and clear in Brian’s voice. His eyes flickered behind her, regarding her captor warily. Then his gaze shifted back to her, accusation blazing in them. "You’ve been spying on me. Framing me." He laughed bitterly. "And I believed you hook, line, and sinker."

"I’ve not framed you. I told them you’re not guilty."

"She’s here, setting you up, isn’t she?" Atwood sounded too sure of himself. "Are you going to believe a traitor? A spy? I caught her getting ready to pass more secret documents to an Iraqui operative." God, but he sounded smug, slick.

Brian’s eyes narrowed. His lips pursed.

"If you don’t believe me, check her purse. She’s carrying Top Secret documents. She came in here to rendezvous with her contact. I followed her in and intercepted."

Atwood ripped her purse from her shoulder, breaking the strap, and tossed it to Brian who caught it one-handed.

She gasped, shocked. "You’re lying. You told me I had to meet you here."

Brian extracted the envelope from her purse, tore into it, and read it. His expression grew thunderous as he read.

"Why would I give you Top Secret plans to give to the enemy?" He waved the gun in the air at Brian, next to her face. It looked like a monster at such close range.

"Why would you?" Finally, too late, the puzzle pieces clicked. "You’re the traitor! You had this all planned. I’d pass the documents for you, and you’d frame me and Brian, and you’d walk away free and clear. A hero." How stupid could she have been? Why hadn’t she gone to the DOD or the FBI to check out his story? Why had she let him bully her? Mislead her?

What an idiot she’d been!

Without warning, she was knocked to the ground, the wind ripped from her body. Gunfire exploded next to her ear. Angry male voices shouted. Her ribs were definitely bruised, maybe broken from the force of the bodies rolling on top of her.

Joey’s and Brian’s voices rang in her ears, but she couldn’t make out their words as the explosion echoed in her head. Is this what it felt like to have a piano dropped on top of one? Or an anvil? Or an entire building?

Soon as the weight was lifted from her, she rolled away from the melee of fists and legs flying, her chest protesting the abuse. It was difficult to focus through the fog in front of her eyes, but it finally dissipated.

The pistol lay on the ground a couple of inches from Atwood’s outstretched fingers. He groped for the weapon, grunting.

"Get the gun, Andi!" Joey kicked it to her. It spun around, and she froze, afraid it would fire again. She watched it with dreaded fascination. "Hold it on him."

She scooped it up, almost dropping the demonic piece. She’d never held a weapon before, much less a firearm. Would it go off in her hands without warning? Explode in her face? Would she shoot the wrong man?

She prayed for help.

Joey pinned the man to the ground, and Brian took the gun from her hand. "I’ll take over. Go get help."

She laid her hand on his shoulder, and he flinched. His reaction to her touch made her heartsick. "Brian. I love you."

He slid a glance full of skepticism and loathing at her. "Save it. I’ve had enough of your lies."

"But I’m not lying," she muttered under her breath as she ran to get help.

Chapter Ten

Andi sat primly in the Miami FBI office, one leg crossed over the other, her hands folded demurely in her lap. For once, she wore a business suit in a dark navy blue, a banker’s suit. Her hair was twisted into a French knot. High heels dangled off her hosiery covered feet.

She was being grilled by FBI and DOD agents in a small windowless, colorless room. Cleveland and McGuire were in the group interrogating her. The head of plant security wore an enigmatic expression. McGuire looked grim at the far end of the table.

"Let’s go over this again, Miss DiGeorge. Tell us from the beginning how you came to have possession of these Top Secret documents." A high ranking government agent that had been introduced to her as Thomas Cullen, leaned on the table toward her, his eyes not unkind. His face was pudgy, his chin dimpled. Large ears stood out too far from his head. She judged him to be in his mid forties, just a few years younger than her father would be had he lived.

She cleared her throat. She pushed her cuticles back from her nails. Underneath the table, she crossed and uncrossed her ankles. The heels felt alien on her feet, the hosiery confining and itchy. "Agent Atwood told me that the papers were falsified documents being used to set up the real traitor and enemy operative." She dragged a big gulp of air into her starved lungs. "He threatened that if I didn’t cooperate with him, Agent McGuire, and Chief of Security, Wesley Cleveland, I’d be charged as a traitor."

"And why would he charge you as a traitor?" Cullen’s tones were very patient, even fatherly. "Did he say?"

She heaved a deep sigh. Pain pounded at her temples. Her entire head throbbed. "Because a search at the plant revealed that I was carrying Top Secret plans." She leveled her most honest, trustworthy gaze at the man leading the questioning. AI didn’t put them there, I swear. I don’t know how they got in my purse. Maybe someone was setting me up or sneaking them out without telling me."

"And you didn’t notice these papers in your purse?"

"I carry lots of bills and envelopes in my purse. It was tucked in with the rest of them. I never dreamed somebody put something in there." Hot tears burned the backs of her eyes.

"Didn’t you find it odd that Agent Atwood wanted you to do his investigating even though you’re not a trained agent?"

She gulped. Her toes spread and pressed against the heel of her other foot. "Not at first. I was too scared. He said I was turning state’s evidence in exchange for my freedom. That I was saving my country from invasion."

"And later?"

Everyone watched her closely, and she fidgeted in her chair. The alien suit constricted her. Her neck felt naked where she was used to her hair being.

"I was confused. I didn’t trust him, but I didn’t know who to confide in. Where to go. He watched my every move." Slow heat crept up her cheeks. She suspected he’d watched her and Brian, listened to all their conversations, their words of love. "I-I was scared of him."

"Atwood is definitely a double agent. We’ve been watching him for awhile." Cullen ran a hand over his balding head. "Unfortunately, he’s not working alone."

When her glance strayed to McGuire, Cullen jumped to the man’s defense. "McGuire’s assignment was to keep an eye on Atwood. He’s one of the good guys."

McGuire shot her a quick, small smile from the far end of the rectangular table.

Her mind worked feverishly. If not McGuire, if not Brian, if not Matthews or Robbie or Charmaine, then who?

The vision of other Top Secret documents she’d scooped off the floor taunted her. With clarity, she could see Cleveland snatch the papers from her and lock them away in his desk drawer. He obviously hadn’t wanted her to see them.

She checked him out with her peripheral vision. He looked too comfortable, too smug for her liking. She bet the chief of plant security was the other traitor. It made perfect sense that he and Atwood were in this together, setting her up, trying to implicate Brian as well. They hadn’t cared that innocent people were hurt, only that they shifted the blame from themselves. They’d planted those documents on her. They’d manipulated her like a puppet with no more concern for her well being than if she were made of wood.

But she had no solid proof, and she wouldn’t destroy a man’s life without it. Without it, she couldn’t point an accusing finger. She needed evidence, and she knew just where to start looking. In that drawer.

After a few moments more, Cullen pushed his chair back and stood. "You’re free to go, Miss DiGeorge. If you think of anything else, anything at all that you’ve not told us, I want you to call anytime day or night."

She nodded, hoping she didn’t look guilty. Or too anxious. Adrenaline pumped through her, pushing her to snoop around Cleveland’s office. She had to do it for her country. And to exonerate herself to Brian. Maybe if she caught the other traitor, he’d forgive her. He’d want her back.

With a sad smile, she took Cullen’s outstretched hand and shook it. "I will. Thank you." It took some concentration walking gracefully on these sticks. How could anyone get used to them? How could they wear them all day without getting Charlie horses or breaking their necks?

*

The day had dragged forever. Brian refused to talk to her. Charmaine hovered around her like a mother hen. Even Joey had stopped to check on her.

Five o’clock found her hiding in the women’s restroom when the rest of her shift left for the day. For once, she didn’t want to burst through the doors into the sunlight. She wanted to stay in the plant, do some snooping.

She’d deliberately dressed in black that day enduring teasing remarks about being late for Halloween. She wanted to blend in with the plant, not be as detectable to the security cameras lining the hallways. With those in mind, she put on a dark brown wig with short-cropped hair and a pair of glasses. Not the best disguise in the world but not the worst. At least her two-toned hair wouldn’t give her away dead to rights. The glasses might mask her bright blue eyes and blur the lines of her face.

Waiting until past seven when she felt sure everyone from day shift would have left, even those working overtime, she left her hide away. She did her to best to walk casually as if she had nothing to hide. When she passed people in the hallway, she smiled and nodded her head. She suppressed the fireflies buzzing around in her belly as best she could, admonishing them for not listening to her to leave her alone.

When she reached Cleveland’s office, she peered down both sides of the hall, holding her breath. Most offices were left open for the cleaning crew, but being Chief of Security, she wasn’t sure what she’d find here. His door was closed.

She didn’t see a light underneath the door so she assumed it was deserted. But she knocked anyway. It wouldn’t do at all to enter an office uninvited only to find someone inside. How would she explain her presence? Would she even be given a chance to try? Or would he carry a twin of Atwood’s gun?

That thought sent shivers cascading through her.

Turning the knob revealed it wasn’t locked. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her, slumping against it. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her knees turned to jelly. But her fingers itched to get to that file drawer and touch those Top Secret files again, files she banked on to prove her theory that Cleveland was the other mole.

Once she caught her breath, she crossed the room and knelt by the bottom desk drawer where she’d seen Cleveland put the Top Secret files. Nervous, all her hopes riding on these files exonerating her and making the world safe again, she rubbed her hands and blew on them for good luck as she’d seen in many old detective movies. It wasn’t that she seriously believed that would help open the drawer, but it helped calm her nerves.

Acid burned her throat. Her hands shook. Her shoulders were so tight she had to roll them to get the kinks out. Stretching her fingers, she limbered them up. Then she tugged on the drawer.

It didn’t budge. Great! It was locked.

There must be a key. He wouldn’t keep it somewhere else in his desk though, would he? Was it worth a try to look? Or should she just try to pick the lock with her pocketknife?

She reasoned a security professional didn’t leave keys around to Top Secret filing cabinets for thieves like her to confiscate. Thus, she jiggled the file in the drawer, her concentration fully on her task. The sharp edge went in out, up and down as she jimmied the lock. She felt it budging and pushed harder until she felt the tell tale click.

Forgetting the need to keep quiet, she almost jumped and shouted for joy when the door slid open. There were at least one hundred files in the drawer. She needed the Ediston Files. She flipped through quickly to the "E" section.

"Voila!" She slid the file out and opened it, reading, her eyes growing wide. "Pay dirt." Cleveland wasn’t supposed to have these. They burned her hands just touching them. She had to get them to the proper authorities in time to divert disaster.

She closed the drawer but couldn’t get it to relock without a key. She’d probably broken the lock anyway. By the time Cleveland noticed someone had been in his drawer, she’d be in Tom Cullen’s office with the evidence. Cleveland might be taken into custody before he had a chance to discover she’d jimmied his drawer open.

A shadow fell across her, and she froze, still on her haunches. She knew what she’d see if she looked up. Cleveland was looking down on her, probably pointing a gun. For a woman who’d never been around a real gun before, she was making up for her naiveté quickly. Two guns pointed at her in less than one week. Was there an award for that type of thing? If there was, she didn’t want it.

Ohmigod, how did she get out of this one?

"I’ll take those." Cleveland’s voice made her jump. It was filled with menace.

She didn’t have a choice but to look up at the security chief. Sure enough, moonlight glinted off a gun barrel pointed at her. Fury distorted his normally smooth features.

She wasn’t a complete fool. She held out the folders to him.

He took them and put them under his arm. AI knew you’d pay me a visit, and you didn’t disappoint me." He clucked his tongue and waved the gun at her, motioning her to stand and walk to the middle of the room. "You’re so predictable. What made you think you could outsmart a professional thief?"

"So you admit it?" She walked carefully so as not to spook him. She bade her time, watching for any way to distract him, to escape. "Do you also admit you’re a traitor?"

"Maybe I’m a hero. Did you ever think about that?" He laughed without mirth. "The US only thinks it’s God. That it has eminent domain."

"You’re a US citizen. Have you no loyalty?"

"My mother’s family is from Iraq." His lips curved in a sneer.

"How’d you get security clearance to work here, then?"

"There are ways. I know people." He put the gun in his jacket pocket. His hand didn’t come out. "Just because you don’t see the gun doesn’t mean it’s not pointed at your heart. Let’s go." His jacket jerked as he waved the gun inside his pocket.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere darker. Noisier."

She didn’t have to ask why. She could guess. No one would hear the gun shot in a noisier place. She tried to stall. AI told people I was coming here. If I don’t return in fifteen minutes, they’ll send the police."

He laughed loud and heartily. "You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t tell anyone that you were breaking and entering into my office. If you told Cullen, he’d be here instead of you."

Now she wished she had told Cullen and taken her chances that he’d believe her story. "What makes you so sure?" She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly, glaring at him.

"I know the criminal mind."

"Intimately, I’m sure." Any drier and sand would be in her mouth.

"Go. Don’t even think about signaling anyone or the security cameras. You’ll be dead before you can finish your sentence."

"Let me guess, you’re not the warm and fuzzy type?" He didn’t respond, and she answered herself. "I didn’t think so." No, he was the psychotic type. A real Stephen King role model.

"If anything happens to me, they’ll suspect you first. I wasn’t lying about telling people I was coming here." She added the piece de resistance...she hoped. "You could leave the country now and disappear. No one would ever find you."

"Move." A growl erupted from the depths of his bowels. His jacket jerked in the direction of the hallway.

"You’ll be sorry." But she forced one foot in front of the other and preceded him into the hallway. Their footsteps rang loud on the linoleum. If she said much else, he might just shoot her here. As long as she was alive, there was hope. She might lose him in the factory. They might pass someone in the hall. If he thought she’d stay quiet and lose her last chance to escape his maniacal clutches, he really was crazy.

"Take the elevator to the ISD section."

The floor that housed the heavy machinery. It was deafening in there. And very dark like a haunted house. It reminded her of the scene in The Terminator where the heroine stood and fought the monstrous cyborg.

This might be her final stand, too. Cleveland might think the darkness was his ally, but it might be her’s instead. Dressed in black, she’d blend into the shadows.

"What are the Iraqui’s giving you to sell out your country? Treasure? Power?" She couldn’t think of a thing to entice her to do something so dastardly. The second floor was deserted. All the managers and their clerical support staff had left at five. The cleaning staff would have finished an hour or more ago. Lights glowed dimly. The emergency power indicator flashed red high on the wall. Pictures of product adorned otherwise white walls. Banners of congratulations to the different teams that had excelled, interspersed the pictures.

Too soon, they reached the factory doorway. She peered into the darkness, her stomach a jumble of knots and horseflies. Chip shooters, Universals, MVTs (multi-vision technology), labelers, scanners, FIFOs (First In First Out - what everyone called it), SMTs (service mount technology), that normally tapped steadily in a bing, bing, bang rhythm were eerily quiet. The conveyors that normally ran non-stop during day shift slept for the night. It was like being in a graveyard at midnight.

The monolithic machinery stood sentinel over the factory, daring them to enter. Shadows loomed, intertwining. She paused on the threshold, her back ramrod straight, her chin held high. She refused to let her tormentor see just how scared she was. His type thrived on fear.

The jacket covered revolver bit into her back, pushing her. "Get in there. Walk until I tell you to stop."

"I don’t suppose this is a surprise party?" She took measured steps, her foot falls squished on the floor. His clanged ominously. Her eyes darted back and forth, seeking an escape route. No clear route jumped out at her. No Calvary. She was on her own, and time was running out. She had to make a move before they stopped, before she lost any element of surprise, he just shot her as she walked. She held no romantic notions that he wouldn’t shoot her in the back. He had no scruples.

She neared two large machines, ducked between them, and somersaulted.

Cleveland swore loudly fractions of a second before his weapon discharged. The bullet ricocheted a few times, and she rolled under a piece of equipment and covered her head with her arms.

"You won’t get away. I’ll find you. When I do, time’s up." The man’s footsteps rang closer, and she held her breath unless he heard her breathing. She turned her head and could see his shoes. They were moving toward her, as if in slow motion. Frantically, she looked around for a weapon, anything to use in self-defense or at least slow him down. She saw nothing.

In a moment of inspiration, she took off her tennis shoe and threw it across the room as hard as she could, hoping it would make a commotion. She lucked out.

Cleveland’s foot hovered mid air. She watched him pivot on his slick soul and change direction.

That was her cue. She crawled on her belly to the next machine, making her way to the exit. If she could just escape the factory, she had a fighting chance of escape. She could lock herself in an office, call security and the FBI, and await help. If she passed a fire alarm, she’d pull it and summon as many firefighters and policeman as Ft. Lauderdale could muster. She knew a fire at Radar Technologies commanded attention. It was not only vital to the national security B it was a huge tax payer and employer.

"That was clever, Miss DiGeorge. But not clever enough." Too soon Cleveland marched to the exit, carrying her shoe. "Trying to distract me while you walk out the door. Tsk. Tsk. Must I remind you that you’re playing in the big leagues?"

She froze. He blocked the exit. Would he wait for her to come to him? Or would he hunt her down? He could wait all night, until someone came along, and she’d call for help. She seriously doubted he’d do that, though.

Seconds passed, ticking by excruciatingly slow. Or was it eons? It was long enough for her muscles to cramp and her back to ache.

"You’re not getting out of here, and you’re not spilling your guts." The heels of his feet lifted off the ground. The patent leather of his shoes crinkled where his foot melted into his ankle. She spied a touch more leg.

Ohmigod. Help! He was crouching down. He was going to peer under the machinery. A thin beam from a flashlight illuminated the shadows. It grew closer and closer. Her heart beat faster and faster, a primitive rhythm.

"Come out, Andrea. Hiding is futile. You’re only prolonging the inevitable." His syrupy sweet voice made her cringe.

When the flashlight beam swept in an arc less than two feet from her, she inched back. Think! There had to be something she could use as a weapon. Everything couldn’t be bolted to the floor or locked away. She still had one gym shoe left, but she doubted it would even stun him, much less give her time to escape. Still, the distraction had worked once, it might work again. She crouched on her haunches and threw the remaining shoe across the room as hard as she could, putting all her fear, all her frustration behind it.

Cleveland whirled away from her. His back looked sinister, his head held high. Then to her horror, he wheeled back, honing in on her. "That trick only works once. You’ve just given your position away."

Jumping to her feet, she sprinted for the exit. Then she saw it. A sweet, sweet fire extinguisher and alarm.

He followed the direction of her gaze, frowned. He lifted his arm and fired. Light exploded from his revolver. Gunpowder tinged her nose. She waited for the inevitable pain, for the heavy burst to knock her to the ground.

But it never came. Instead, wind roared by her face. Before he could squeeze off another bullet, she leapt into the air, diving for the fire alarm.

He clicked the gun again, but there was no answering explosion. A string of the angriest, vilest words she’d ever heard spewed from his mouth.

She pulled the fire alarm and cast her pursuer a contemptuous grin when bells and whirling lights blasted in her eardrums, making them expand and contract. Water sprinklers drenched them, spraying in her face, shooting in her nose. She choked, spluttering.

His fingers grasped at her legs, clawing at her. The water made her more slippery but not slick enough. His fingers felt rackety, like an alligator’s claws, and she shivered uncontrollably.

With a scream, she kicked at him in a frenzy, but he held tight, pulling her down. Hand over hand, he crawled up her legs until he straddled her backside. Her slight weight was no match for his bulk.

He pinned her easily, choking the air from her body. Her veins were ready to implode he was so heavy on top of her.

She struggled with all her might...until she felt the cold hard steel of the gun barrel pressed to her temple. "Say your prayers. Make it fast."

"If I were you, I’d say your own prayers."

She gasped, hope bursting through her. Brian was here. She didn’t know how or why. She just thanked God that he’d brought her white knight charging in.

Cleveland’s body grew rigid on top of her. The gun pressed further against her temple. "I’ll shoot her. I don’t make idle threats."

"He’s going to shoot me anyway." She twisted, straining her neck so that she could see Brian, but Cleveland shoved her head to the floor.

Pain flared through her as if a nova exploded in her head. Her sight grew bleary, her breathing more labored if that was possible, and she tasted salty blood in her mouth where her teeth had bit through her lip. Nausea churned deep in her belly. Coherent thought was a struggle.

"Let her go." Brian’s voice was pure growl.

"Do I look stupid to you?" Cleveland chuckled without humor. He shifted his weight, and it felt like her ribs cracked one by one. Oh God.

"Security will be here with the cops any moment. Do you think they’ll let you out of here with her?"

"They’ll meet my demands unless they want your girlfriend to become a pin cushion."

"They’ll have swat teams all over the place, waiting to pick you off. Your only chance is to go now, before they get here." He paused, and then said with emphasis, "Any minute."

Cleveland wound his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, pushing off the cap hiding her bright hair. He yanked her to her feet roughly, pushing her in front of him, using her body to shield his.

She finally had a good view of Brian. Brian whose face was pale and drawn, whose eyes glowed intently black, whose body bristled. He held a gun on Cleveland, his arm extended, the weapon an extension of his hand...and pointed at her head. Or at Cleveland’s head. There was no way he could safely fire and not chance hitting her. The snake Cleveland had to know that.

"Let Andi come to me, and I’ll let you go." Brian’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. His cheeks looked gaunt. "You know I speak the truth, man. You won’t have a chance once the cops get here. You’ll be a dead man."

"Who are they going to believe? The head of security? Or a pair of suspected traitors?" The fingers twisted in her hair, tugging at her scalp.

Napalm consumed her head. She sucked in her breath. Cleveland had a point. Would they never get a break? Were they eternally damned?

"I’ll take my chances." Brian lifted his gun a notch and cocked it. "I’m willing to risk my life for her. Are you?"

Cleveland thrust her at Brian. "She ain’t worth it." He bolted, his bulk cramming through the door. His footsteps fading down the hall.

Brian held the gun on Cleveland until he disappeared around the corner. He put the safety on his gun and slid it in his pocket. He drew out his cell phone and punched in three numbers. After waiting several seconds with the phone to his ear, he spoke into it. "Brian Newman, Engineer in charge of the California Division here. No fire, but there’s an armed man heading down the south hallway out of the factory. It’s Chief of Security, Cleveland. He’s armed and extremely dangerous. You’d better call for backup, call a Code Red."

Before Brian could punch the off button on his phone, the overhead speakers boomed out. "Code red. Armed intruder in the building. Plant going into lock down." The alert was repeated several times.

Then he twisted her in his arms, ever so gently, and gazed at her tenderly. She must have looked like a drowned rabbit, drenched from the fire sprinklers that still sprayed them. It rained in her face when she gazed up at him. "Are you okay?"

Tears finally consumed her. Happy tears. "How’d you know to come?"

"I’d searched just about everywhere else for you. I’d about gone out of my mind when I couldn’t find you." He cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs caressing her jaw line. "Then I found some notes jotted down on your night stand."

"That I suspected Cleveland of being the other traitor?"

"Those are the ones. I think I broke the sound barrier trying to get here. I’m surprised the entire police force of Ft. Lauderdale didn’t follow me here." A smile tinged his voice.

She turned her face in his hands and rubbed her cheek against his warm palm. "Why would you search for me? You wouldn’t even talk to me all week."

"I had some heavy duty soul searching to do. I realized I’d do the same thing if put in your position. Then I decided that I didn’t want to live without you, no matter what." He pulled her closer and dropped feather light kisses on her forehead. "When I suspected what you were up to, I about had a stroke. Then when I found you at that monster’s mercy, I knew I’d die if anything happened to you. Life wouldn’t be worth living."

His heartbeat pounded strongly against her ear. His breathing sounded rugged. His hands felt heavenly. She didn’t want to live without this man, either. How close they’d come to losing each other scared her.

"We’d better move to a safer area." Brian nudged her along the corridor that was turning into a river, in the opposite direction from which Cleveland had fled. Water rushed past them. Rain poured from the ceiling.

It wasn’t hard to complete his sentence. In case Cleveland decided to return. She slipped her hand into his larger, warmer one and followed close behind him.

He took her to the nearest security checkpoint where Otis was working.

The large mulatto man eyed him curiously. "Are you and the lady okay?"

She eyed Brian who was thoroughly soaked yet glorious. His shirt clung to his muscular chest and shoulders, stretching across him like a second skin. His hair gleamed blue black.

"Just shaken." He finger combed his hair off his forehead where water dripped into his eyes and down his cheeks. "Did they apprehend Cleveland, yet?"

"Yessir. And the FBI wants to speak to you. They’re waiting at Checkpoint Beta. Do you know how to get there?" He pointed down the hall. "You go down here and take the second left and follow it all the way to the end of the hall and take the last right. You can’t miss it."

Brian clapped the man on his shoulder. "Thanks." To her, he whispered, his hot breath tantalizing, "Let’s get this over with. You owe me a hot night of love making."

Her insides almost went into melt down. His touch sent her soaring into the stratosphere. She couldn’t wait to meet with the FBI, even if meant facing that reptile Cleveland. Even if they’d have some questioning to endure. "Can’t we talk to the FBI tomorrow?" She gazed deeply into his eyes, taking pleasure in the way his eyes darkened when his gaze slid over her, lingering on her breasts accentuated by her wet shirt.

He stopped in the middle of the hall and pulled her to him, her chest straining against his. His hand brushed the underside of her breast, and she quivered. His lips lowered to hers, taking them gently, thoroughly. Magic pervaded the night. The water sang a sweet, lilting melody in her ears.

Finally, he pulled away, regret in his eyes. "We’d better get this over with. They can lock up Cleveland, close the case on this, and we can get married." He twisted the ring around her finger. The one she’d not taken off except during working hours for safety reasons.

"It takes time to get a blood test."

"I was thinking we’d pick up Charmaine and Joey and fly out to Vegas this weekend. If you want a large wedding, we can do it in a month."

A Christmas wedding? That’d be lovely, yet she didn’t want to share their special day with another holiday. "It’d be better on our first anniversary."

Cullen rounded the hall, flanked by a bevy of black suited young men with military haircuts whom she presumed to be federal agents. "Let’s get this show on the road. We need your statements." A smile lit his eyes. "I imagine you two would like nothing better than to get home and take a warm shower."

Uhm. That sounded delicious. Her gaze met Brian’s whose expression mirrored her own. "Will it take long?"

"I’ll make sure it doesn’t." He followed Brian and Andi to the room where Cleveland and the DOD agents had first questioned Andi, where Cleveland waited, restrained.

"You’ve come full circle. Are you glad to have this mess come to an end?"

She slid a glance to her fiancé. If not for this mess, they might never have found each other. She would’ve been too shy, too leery to get to know him, to look beyond his reputation with the ladies. "Believe it or not, I’m glad this happened."

He tilted his head and quirked the right side of his lips. "Don’t tell me you’re the cloak and dagger type." A falsified moan escaped his lips.

"Don’t worry. I don’t plan to run off and join the FBI. I’ve had enough action and adventure to last two lifetimes." She laughed, carefree. "The only place I want to run off to is Vegas, with you. Are you sure we can’t go tonight?"

"We’ll call in sick tomorrow."

"You can’t run off to Vegas." Cullen towered over them where they sat in their chairs, fists clamped on his sides.

She lifted questioning eyes. Her heart skipped several beats. Beside her, Brian tensed. "Are we still under suspicion after all? Are you charging us with something?"

Cullen paused, his expression granite, unreadable, making her sweat out his answer. All eyes were on him. No one dared to breathe. Then he smiled easing the tension. "You’re not being charged. But you can’t go till I kiss the bride." He turned to Brian. "Do you mind?"

She nodded to her fiancé. After all, who was she to question real federal agents?

Her fiancé half scowled, a possessive glint lighting his eyes. His thumb and forefinger poised in mid air, about an inch apart. "Just a tiny one."

Brian released her hand, and she stood. Cullen pressed a hard but quick kiss to her lips. Behind her, Brian bristled.

"You’re one lucky man. Treat her well."

"I will. Forever."

"And I will him." She felt as if they’d just recited their vows. She couldn’t be more serious if she were. This man was made especially for her. Her heart belonged to only him. Now and forever.

The End