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Hearts Afire: February

Jolie Cain and Rhiannon Leith

(c) 2009

ISBN 978-1-59578-512-1

Hearts Afire: February

Jolie Cain and Rhiannon Leith

Published 2009

ISBN 978-1-59578-512-1

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509

Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2009, Jolie Cain and Rhiannon

Leith. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books http://LSbooks.com

Email:

raven@LSbooks.com

Editor

Terri Schaefer

Cover Artist

April Martinez

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

The Jealousy Plot

Jolie Cain

Chapter One

The weather was beautiful, with the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, a perfect backdrop for the annual Fireman’s Picnic and Silent Auction fundraiser for the Juvenile

Burn Center. Practically the whole population of Oceanside, Mississippi, was at the downtown park to show their appreciation for their local firefighters and support a very worthy cause. It was also an opportunity to ogle the hot-looking firefighters, who always turned out en masse. Callie Ladner sat on an old ratty blanket, her legs stretched out indolently before her, and chewed appreciatively on a piece of fried chicken. Her eyes tracked Trey Williamson as he played quarterback in a game of tag football with some of his fellow firefighters. His blond hair was matted with sweat from exertion and his damp t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest. Loose sweatpants rode low on his slim hips.

Damn, he looked good enough to eat. Callie licked her lips.

“Girl, you’ve got it bad.” Callie’s best friend Marianne reached over and snagged her own chicken leg. Callie’s eyes darted over to meet Marianne’s, and she flushed guiltily.

Then she shrugged. She had no secrets from her friend. Marianne had known for years how crazy Callie was over Trey. She also knew that Trey had never thought of Callie as anything other than his sweet little next-door neighbor.

Unconsciously, her fingers played with the antique locket around her neck. It had been a gift from Trey on her twenty-seventh birthday two months earlier, and she had been hopeful at the time it signified a change in their relationship. After all, he’d never given her jewelry before. Usually it was something practical … like a first aid kit or a fire extinguisher. So she had thought maybe, just maybe … but nothing had changed.

“Come on, girl. Snap out of it. You need to either shit or get off the pot, as my granddaddy used to say.” Marianne emphasized her statement with a pointed finger jabbing in the direction of the necklace that now dangled between Callie’s breasts.

“Humph!” Callie covered the locket with her hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Marianne’s eyes rolled and she snorted. “Tell that to someone who hasn’t listened to you go on and on and on about Mr. Wonderful over there.” She cocked her head toward where Trey stood guzzling a bottle of water. Together the two watched as Tracy

Cumbest, Trey’s current girlfriend, crossed over and handed him a towel. He dropped a kiss on her lips before he began wiping off.

“Ugh! Trey and Tracy. Could that be any cuter?” Marianne joked, and Callie knew her friend was trying to make her feel better as they watched the affectionate exchange.

Callie sighed and turned away as Trey drew Tracy closer for a deep kiss. How many more times would she have to watch this same scene acted out in front of her before she finally got the message, she wondered. Probably a million, she thought ruefully, trying not to give in to the depression she always felt whenever Trey was with another girl. She couldn’t stop the tears from brimming in her eyes, but she was determined they would not

fall over.

“Dammit, Callie. Would you stop that! He’s not worth it.” Marianne’s angry tone brought her eyes around.

She shrugged at her friend’s words. “Well, what do you suggest I do? It’s not exactly as if I have any control over my feelings, Mar. I’ve tried to get over him. Really I have. I

just can’t do it.”

What she had admitted to her friend was nothing less than the truth. When she had finally realized Trey was not interested in her and probably never would be, she’d started dating other guys. She had even seriously dated one for a while, Charles McGill. He had taken her virginity in a short and extremely forgettable tussle in the back seat of his ancient Ford Taurus. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out he wasn’t ever going to help her forget about Trey. She had finally abandoned what had become, to her, a useless pursuit. She loved one man, and he would never see her as anything but a good friend.

“Well, then, you need to do something so he’ll wake up and take notice. You have to make him see you as a woman, not a little girl or a pal he can hang out with when he has nothing better to do.”

Callie snorted. “Ya think? That has occurred to me before, Marianne. But how? I’ve tried and tried to get him to see me … the me I am now … instead of that kid with the skinned knees and ponytails, but no matter what I do, it doesn’t help.” She gestured down her body. “And look at me. Why on earth would he ever pick me when he can have the

Tracys of the world?”

“You look fine.” Callie opened her mouth but Marianne threw her hand up. “Stop.

Because if you say one word to me about how plain or boring or fat you are, I am going to scream. For the last time, you are not fat. You’re…” she strained for a word.

“Voluptuous. That’s it. Like those stars in the fifties—Marilyn Monroe and Rita

Hayworth. Just because you’re not some stick walking around on legs doesn’t make you fat. So you’ve got boobs and hips. That’s not a bad thing, hon.”

Callie laughed in disbelief. Marianne rolled her eyes. “Look, trust me on this. Men don’t mind a woman with a little meat on her bones. They like it when a woman looks like a woman instead of a toothpick. Trey simply can’t get past the fact you’re no longer the little girl who used to follow him around all the time.”

Callie didn’t believe her, but she quit arguing. It was a waste of time. There was no winning with Marianne when she was on a roll. The two girls sat there in silence for a few moments, before Marianne’s face got that look on it that always scared Callie. You never knew what plan she might be hatching behind those green eyes. What plot might be brewing beneath that short cap of brown hair? “It’s obvious. Damn, why didn’t we think of this before? He sees you as a kid. You have to make him see you differently—through another man’s eyes. You need to make him jealous!”

Callie laughed so hard that Mr. Hardiman, seated on the blanket next to them, turned to stare. When she could speak again, she sputtered out, “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

He’s seen me with other guys before, Mar. He hasn’t been jealous yet. Face it, I’m not the kind of girl guys like Trey go for.”

Marianne started surveying the surrounding area, focusing on all the unattached males. “You’ve just got to find the right guy to make it work. After all, he’s not going to feel threatened by some wimp, which…” she slanted her eyes across to Callie, “is the kind of guy you usually date. And don’t even try to deny it. You and I both know it’s the

truth.” She began ticking them off on her fingers. “Charlie McGill. Ugh! Rob

Carmichael. Double ugh! Henry Hester.” She rolled her eyes. “Enough said.”

Callie shrugged. Marianne was right. The guys she dated, when she did date, were ones she considered nice and safe, but were absolutely nothing to write home about. But then, that’s the kind of guy she attracted. “What do you mean threatened? Why should he feel threatened when he doesn’t feel anything for me?”

Still concentrating on her scouting expedition, Marianne didn’t even look at Callie.

“You know good and well he feels something for you. I’ve seen you two together. He might not know it, but he does feel protective toward you, girl. Always checking to make sure your car is okay and that your smoke detectors are working. And didn’t he come over last weekend to check when you thought you had a gas leak in your kitchen?”

“Well … yeah. But so what? He   a firefighter, after all.

is

And he considers me a good friend. That’s what friends do. They look out for each other. That doesn’t mean anything.” But Callie couldn’t keep the hopeful note out of her voice. He did go out of his way to make sure she was doing all right, now that her mother had passed away and she was alone. Her parents had divorced when she was young, and her father had remarried and moved away, so she was pretty much on her own.

When Trey’s own parents had decided to retire to Florida, Callie had been thrilled that he had bought the house from them. They were still next-door neighbors. And he did drop by a lot… Then she shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t be jealous … maybe worried that the guy might hurt me or something.”

“You never know. What could it hurt to try it out? You could pick some guy and, you know, kinda play up to him. Just to see.”

“I don’t know, Mar. To start with, I don’t think I could ‘play up’ to a guy. I wouldn’t know where to start. And besides, that seems kind of cruel to whoever I picked, to use them like that.”

“Not if you picked the right guy. He’s gotta be hot! And a little bit dangerous.

Somebody Trey knows you wouldn’t really be serious about but who would give you a really hot fling. And, of course, you’d have to let him know up front what’s going on.

Someone who would agree to help you out.” She sat up straight, her eyes focusing on something in the distance. “And I think I know who to ask. Hell, yeah. Why didn’t I think of him before? He’s perfect!”

“What? Who?” Callie’s eyes followed the direction of Marianne’s gaze, and she froze in horror. Walking across the park towards the picnic area was a very familiar figure. Ben Riley, Marianne’s older brother, and a Lieutenant/EMT on the Oceanside Fire

Department. If there was anyone on this planet she didn’t want to “play up to,” it would have to be Ben.

The town bad boy, Ben had been several grades ahead of them in school. But even though he was several years older than Marianne and Callie, she could easily recall the tales of his antics. And this was the guy Marianne wanted her to “play up to.” Hah! No way would she ever even think about using Ben to make Trey jealous.

He had always scared her a little bit, too, even back when he was in college and she in high school. She’d go over to visit Marianne on the weekends, and he would be there, working on his car or talking on the phone to some female or other he was interested in.

Whenever he’d looked at her with those chocolate brown eyes of his, she’d felt like he knew things about her no one else did. Like he could somehow see into her most private

thoughts and fantasies. He would smile and his eyes would travel over her body in a way that made her squirm, remembering all those crazy tales she had heard, the things he had done. And he had this wildly curling brown hair that always looked to Callie as if he’d rolled out of some woman’s bed. No, it was not going to happen. He made her feel strange and wanton and out of control. She knew better than to try to play any kind of game with a man like Ben.

*

Ben tugged his “Firefighters like it hot and dirty” t-shirt over his head. Damn, he was getting too old to play football with a bunch of twenty-somethings. He ran a careless hand through his unruly curls and had grabbed a beer from the cooler when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see his best friend, Ross Hawkins, strolling his way.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Ross called out, and Ben grinned.

“Can you believe the other guys on my shift talked me into playing a game? Hell, they almost killed me. I’m not as young as I once was, buddy.”

Ross laughed. “None of us are, man. Hey, why don’t you come on over and eat with us? Nina made her famous potato salad. And we’ve got plenty of po-boys left.”

“Sounds good, but I was gonna eat with the guys.”

“At least come and say hello. Nina will kill me if I don’t bring you over.” He looked a bit sheepish. “The truth is, she sent me over to get you as soon as she spotted you. You see … she … ah … she has this friend she wants you to meet.”

Ben started shaking his head. “You’re shitting me, right? You know how much I hate it when she does this, Ross. I told you the last time not to let her do it again. Man, I am so outta here.” He turned to walk off, but his friend stopped him.

“No. Hell, man. You’ve gotta stay. I’ll be in the doghouse for sure if I let you get away before she at least gets a chance to introduce you. I mean, what can it hurt? And

Shelley is really beautiful.”

“Ross, you know the kind of women I like. Hot and wild. I don’t think anyone your wife wants to fix me up with will fit that category.” Ben looked over to where Nina stood talking to a young blonde woman.

Ross grinned. “I know that. And you know that. But Nina doesn’t know that. She thinks its time you found a good woman to tame your wild and wicked ways. She said you’ve been playing fast and loose with all the hearts around here, and now you need to start getting serious about someone.”

Ben groaned. He loved Ross’s wife Nina like a sister, but good Lord almighty, she drove him crazy. “Like she tamed you

, you mean?”

Ross laughed. “Exactly. And now that I’ve settled down into a boringly contented married man, she thinks its time you did the same. Besides, being married is great, buddy.”

“But how’s married sex?”

Ross shook his head. “I don’t think I should discuss my sex life with you, much as I

love you, man. But let me say that I’ve got no complaints.”

Reluctantly, Ben decided to give in and followed Ross across the crowded park to where his wife sat at a picnic table with a pretty, petite blonde who looked like she was about twenty. He nailed Ross with a look that spoke volumes, but allowed Nina to gush over him and give him a hug, and then introduce him to her friend. Deciding to at least get a good meal out of it, he sat down and dug in to the food spread out on the table,

slapping together a ham and cheese po-boy. Idly, he took a bite and chewed, letting the women’s chatter wash over him as his gaze traveled across the park. Suddenly, his eyes were captured by a bright, blue-eyed stare.

He grinned when he recognized Callie Ladner and gave her a quick wink. She blushed and turned back to speak furiously to his sister, Marianne. Even though Callie and Marianne had been best friends for years, Callie had always looked at him like he was the devil incarnate whenever she came over to their house to visit. Probably because of that time she’d walked in on him and one of his girlfriends fucking in his parent’s pool house. He’d come home from college for spring break and brought his current love interest with him. He’d had Becky bent over and handcuffed with a blindfold on. His hands had been tangled in her hair, pulling hard, and she’d been screeching like a damn banshee. As soon as he’d started coming he’d looked up and seen Callie, frozen, standing in the doorway and getting an eyeful. When she realized he’d seen her, she’d quickly vanished. Ever since, whenever saw him she made an excuse to leave. For some reason, that made him want to fluster her even more, and he couldn’t resist teasing her, enjoying the way her face would redden and her eyes would widen whenever he spoke to her.

For a moment he contemplated what she would look like with those eyes gazing up at him, her hands bound behind her back as she sucked his cock. How those heavy tits of hers would feel in his hands. Shit, where the hell had that thought come from? Marianne would skin him alive if he ever made a play for her friend. But he couldn’t help but wondering if cute little Callie was as hot as he thought she probably was underneath all that wholesome sweetness.

Hell, even if Marianne weren’t an issue, Callie would probably run kicking and screaming in the opposite direction if he ever made a serious move on her. Kinda like she was trying to do right now, he thought, as he watched Marianne pull her to her feet and head in his direction.

*

“No, Marianne. Let me go.” Her face turned hot as she saw people watching her struggle against Marianne’s tugging. Finally, she gave up. When her friend got an idea in her head, it was almost impossible to get it out. And now she had this crazy plan to make

Trey jealous by using, of all people on God’s green earth, her sex maniac of a brother.

As they got closer to Ben and his friends, Ben stood up. He smiled at Marianne.

“Hello, there, Sis.”

Marianne released her grip on Callie’s arm and reached up to hug Ben. “Hiya, handsome. Eww … you’re all sweaty. Oh, well, I love you anyway.” She hugged him again, and he grinned down at her, and she nodded her head in Callie’s direction. “Callie saw you and wanted to come over and say hi.”

They all turned to look at Callie as she stood rubbing her arm where Marianne had been yanking on it. Her head jerked up, and her jaw dropped. Ben smiled, obviously trying not to laugh at the blatant lie his sister had told. “Well, hi yourself, Callie.” He stepped around Marianne to drop a brief kiss at the corner of Callie’s mouth.

She jerked back and looked up at him in startled dismay. Marianne jabbed her in the ribs, and she finally mumbled, “Um, hi.”

He gestured to his friends. “I think you know Ross and Nina Hawkins. And this is their friend … ah…” He looked toward Ross who supplied, “Shelley Broadus.” Shelley stood and strolled over to link her arm through Ben’s, who stared down at her with what

Callie thought was a look of surprise.

Callie mumbled her ‘hello’s,’ and stood uncomfortably as Marianne chatted with

Ben and his friends. Finally Marianne turned to her brother, “Ben, can we talk to you for a few minutes?”

Callie saw the curiosity in his eyes as he nodded agreement. “Sure, sweetheart.

Excuse me, guys?”

Callie fell in behind, feet dragging, as Ben and Marianne walked a short distance away. What could she do to stop the train wreck that was about to happen? Nervously her fingers played with her necklace, sliding the locket back and forth, back and forth on the chain. Surely, surely Marianne was not about to do what Callie feared she was. Why, in the name of all that was holy, could Marianne possibly think he would be willing to go along with such a stupid and humiliating plan? How could she stop her?

Could she stop her? Obviously not, because Marianne had already launched into her plot.

As Marianne talked, Ben kept darting curious glances at Callie, and Callie wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground. She could feel her face turning redder and redder with embarrassment. Finally, Marianne shut up, and Callie could take it no longer.

She forced a laugh. “Ben, please ignore everything you heard. I know what you must be thinking, but Marianne has lost her mind. It’s sad, but true, I’m afraid. I didn’t want to say anything before, but she’s needs to see a psychiatrist—desperately. I was going to talk to your parents about it…”

He laughed, his teeth flashing white against his tanned face, drawing Callie’s attention to the dimple that creased his chin, and turned back to Marianne. “Just so I’m clear here about this, Sis. You want me to pretend to be all hot and heavy for Callie in hopes of making Trey see her as a woman and not a little girl?”

Marianne nodded firmly. “That’s right.”

Callie’s cheeks burned hotter—little girl? Omigod, had he really said little girl—and she stared at the ground. Jesus, how humiliating.

“And you think this will make him ask her out?” Callie could hear the amusement in his voice and prayed the earth would open up and swallow her on the spot.

“Of course it will. My plans never fail. And you owe me. You know you do, Benjy.”

Thank God there was no way he would agree to this crazy idea, thought Callie. She wished he’d hurry up and say no so she and Marianne could get the hell out of there and put this utterly mortifying episode behind them.

He looked over at Callie and stood there, staring at her without saying anything.

Then he turned back to listen as Marianne spoke again, his finger tapping against his bottom lip. His full and sexy bottom lip, Callie couldn’t help but noticing. Her eyes widened as the thought crossed her mind, and she flushed even redder, licking her lips that had suddenly become dry. Then he reached down and tugged the hem of his shirt up to wipe across his sweaty face. Callie’s eyes were drawn like a magnet to his rock-hard abs. She shivered at the thought of touching that hot, sweaty skin. She looked up. He was watching her closely, and her eyes widened when she realized she’d been caught staring.

He grinned, a wicked little grin she knew probably meant all kinds of trouble. A grin that made her stomach flip over and her mouth go even drier.

“First of all, don’t call me, Benjy, Squirt.” He reached over to yank on Marianne’s hair. “You’re only a girl, you know. I’m older, bigger, and stronger.”

“Ha, I noticed you didn’t say smarter, bro.”

He laughed and turned to Callie, his eyes narrowing as they ran up and down her body, traveling from the top of her head all the way down to her scuffed tennis shoes, lingering a bit too long on her breasts and the apex of her thighs. Callie squirmed beneath his scrutiny. And then, unbelievably, amazingly, he said, “And second… Sure, I’d be glad to do anything I can to help Callie out.

Anything at all. After all, she’s practically one of the family.” He winked at Callie, and she gaped in return.

Marianne squealed with pleasure and jumped up to hug him. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Ben. I knew I could count on you. You’re the best!”

He laughed as he accepted her exuberant thanks. Then he looked over at Callie as if expecting her to thank him, too.

She shook her head in stunned disbelief. Had he said…oh, Lord, Lord, Lord. What had Marianne done? What had her friend gotten her into now?

She sputtered, “But… but… but…”

“Oh, no need to thank me, Callie. Really. I’m glad to help you out with your little problem.”

Callie stood there with her mouth open. She knew she must look like an idiot, but she couldn’t seem to string together a coherent sentence that would get her out of this mess.

“In fact, there’s no time like the present, don’t you think?”

“Huh?” Callie tried to speak. “But, I…”

“Absolutely,” Marianne cut Callie off, nodding her agreement. Ben reached out and, before Callie knew what was happening, he’d pulled her away from Marianne and over to a stand of nearby trees. It didn’t completely screen them from everyone, but it did offer a small measure of privacy. When he stopped, Callie snapped out of her stunned paralysis.

She tried to break free of his grip, but his hold was firm and strong.

“Look, Ben…” she started to protest. But before she could complete the sentence, he tugged her against him, wrapping his arms around her waist. At the feel of his firmly muscled body, Callie froze.

“Relax, sweetheart. This won’t hurt a bit. I promise.” He grinned down at her.

She could see Marianne out of the corner of her eye as she observed them with a pleased expression on her face, and Callie wanted to scream at her. But she didn’t. She turned up her eyes and watched as Ben’s face came closer and closer to hers. Her hands clutched at his arms, and she gasped when his palm dropped lower to press over her buttocks, molding her hips against his.

“Ben!”

His head lowered, and he nuzzled against her neck. “Umm, you smell good, darlin’.

Really good. Like flowers.” She shivered at the teasing sincerity in his tone.

He dropped some hot little kisses across her cheek. Startled, she pushed harder against his shoulders, but he tightened his grip. “Shh, Trey’s watching. You don’t want to make him suspicious, do you?” She froze. Then he covered her lips with a soft pressure that surprised Callie with its gentleness. Still, she kept her lips firmly closed, not trusting his intent. But Ben was apparently undeterred. His lips played with hers, pressing and lifting, stroking slowly. He used his teeth to tug gently on her bottom lip, and she began to relax slightly into his embrace. When she had lowered her guard, he bit down sharply on her tender flesh, and she gasped at the momentary sting. Taking advantage of parted mouth, his tongue pushed past the barrier of her teeth and into the warm depths.

He explored her mouth with an expertise Callie had never experienced before. She leaned into him, responding blindly to the slow glide of his tongue across hers, the minty taste of his mouthwash, the spicy scent of his aftershave. His hands slid up over her back, pushing beneath the cotton t-shirt to caress with knowing fingers the sensitive skin he found there. When he finally moved back, Callie could only stare at him in bemusement, her breathing a bit unsteady and her thoughts a happily muddled.

“There, he got an eyeful of that liplock, and he doesn’t look too happy about it.”

Ben’s words recalled Callie back to the present, reminding her of the reason behind the kiss. Ben himself seemed unaffected. Turning her head away from him to hide her confusion, she glanced over in the direction he was indicating saw that Trey did indeed look a bit pissed off as he stared at them.

When she turned back, she saw Ben’s eyes were focused on her, and they held a knowing gleam. She had a sinking feeling that he knew how lost she had been in that kiss. Knew that making Trey jealous had been the last thing on her mind. She swallowed around the ball of tension that seemed to have lodged itself in her throat licking her lips nervously, and his eyes focused on the movement. Was he going to kiss her again? She had to stop this. Or heaven only knew what she’d end up doing, here in public in front of

God and everybody. “Ben, I know you probably don’t really want to get involved in this convoluted scheme of Marianne’s. It’s okay. Honestly. It was a bad idea to begin with.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s a great idea.” He reached for her hand and began leading her back toward where Marianne stood talking to his friends, linking their fingers together as if they really were a couple. “Nothing like the old-fashioned, green-eyed monster to catch a guy’s attention. We males are simple creatures. We always want what someone else has.” She started to protest again, but he distracted her with his next statement. “We really need to go over some details, don’t you think? Get our plan all straight? Decide exactly how this is gonna work? I mean, we want this to be believable, right?” He stopped and looked down at her as if waiting for her agreement.

Marianne walked up to join them. “Right about what?” she queried. “By the way, great show you two put on. I think the fish took the bait.” She nodded toward where Trey stood, still watching them. Tracy looked disgruntled and kept tugging on his arm.

“I was telling Callie that we really need to talk about exactly how we’re going to go about making Trey jealous. That kiss was a good start, but it’s not enough. I think we need to have a planning session. Don’t you, Sis?”

Marianne shook her head. “Absolutely. You two need some privacy to figure out what you’re going to do. Why don’t you take off and talk things over. Fine tune my brilliant idea?”

Callie shook her head, stunned at how fast this was escalating out of her control.

“I’m not sure…” She looked back towards Trey and saw that he and Tracy were talking heatedly to one another. Trey shrugged his shoulders and glanced over again toward where Callie and Ben stood. What were they talking about? Was it about her? Was Trey jealous? Could this crazy plan actually work?

*

“That’s a great idea,” Ben agreed and yanked Callie against him. Snugging his arm around her waist, he easily stilled her protesting struggle. “Let’s go say goodbye to my friends, and we’ll go somewhere we can be alone, sweetheart.” He grinned down at her, and his smile promised all sorts of wicked pleasures.

“But don’t you need to stay for the auction?” Callie protested.

“Nah. I worked with setup this morning, so I can leave any time.”

Before she could summon any other objections or ask any more questions, she found herself listening to Ben as he told his friends goodbye. She avoided the puzzled looks they cast her way, smiling weakly instead. She could tell they were confused as to why

Ben was leaving so suddenly. And the lethal darts that were shooting from Shelley’s eyes didn’t help any. Most of them had probably witnessed that kiss and were wondering how long this had been going on. Did they think she was some cheap floozie Ben was banging? Or worse, wondering what on earth a hot, sexy guy like Ben could possibly see in someone plain and dull like her?

Her self-pitying thoughts were interrupted as she was ensconced on the back of his motorcycle, a helmet thrust onto her head and fastened snugly beneath her chin, and Ben was cranking the bike. They started off with a jerk, and she grabbed his waist, plastering herself up against him as he picked up speed. The last thing she saw when they passed the park was Trey’s jaw dropping as they whizzed away.

Chapter Two

Ben grinned as he revved the engine and felt Callie’s clasp tighten around his waist.

He enjoyed the feel of her soft breasts as they pressed against him through the thin t-shirt he wore. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d gone along with this wild scheme of

Marianne’s—and there was no doubt it was Marianne’s plan—except his sister was hard to turn down. She’d talked him into doing many things that he’d rather not have. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he had learned over the years that resistance was futile. She’d beg, and plead, and threaten, and pout until it drove him crazy. He’d reached a point where it was best to go with the flow, regardless of how insane it sounded. And that girl could come up with some crazy shit. This little plot was relatively mild compared to some of the stunts she’d talked him into. Funny how most people found him somewhat intimidating, but his baby sister had no trouble wrapping him around her little finger.

Also, he had to admit that the utter consternation on Callie’s face as Marianne had outlined her little plot had provoked the devil in him. As her eyes had grown wider and wider, his desire to go along with the plan had grown stronger and stronger. So here he was.

And, truthfully, there were worse places he could be than cruising around on his bike with a cute little bundle of womanly softness cuddled up against his back. He recalled how she had looked after he had kissed her. She had a cute little dusting of freckles across her nose he thought was adorable. Her face, always scrubbed free of makeup, had been flushed a charming shade, and her mouth was red and slightly swollen from his kiss.

Wisps of hair had escaped her ponytail and gave her a sweet, disheveled look that was almost irresistible. Too bad she was hands off. Yes, really too bad.

In a few minutes they were pulling into the driveway of her quaint little house, complete with a white picket fence. As Ben’s eyes observed the neat flowerbeds and yellow siding, Callie hopped quickly off the bike. She yanked the helmet from her head, holding it out to him. He automatically accepted it and then took off his own, draping both from the handlebars.

“Look, Ben. I really appreciate your being willing to do this, but…”

He cut her off, glancing around at the nearby homes, seeing a curtain twitching in the window of the house across the street. “Why don’t we do this inside, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip and agreed. “All right. Maybe that would be best. I really don’t want to give the neighbors a show. Come on in.”

Following closely behind her, he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting down and admiring the unconsciously sensual sway of her full hips in the faded blue jeans she wore.

Nice view

, he thought.

Damn nice.

Callie climbed the steps and unlocked the doors, glancing back over her shoulder with an uncertain little smile on her face as she saw him still standing by his bike. He immediately rushed to follow her. Once they were inside, she gestured him through a set of double doors and into a cozy living room. He sat down on the flowery sofa, and she hovered nearby.

“So, ah, I wanted to thank you for agreeing to go along with Marianne’s harebrained

scheme, but it’s really not necessary. I told her not to ask you, but you know how she is…”

“Do you think I could have something to drink, darlin’? I’m a mite parched.” His question stopped her rambling. For a moment she looked nonplussed, and he almost grinned. Then her innate good manners took over.

“Of course, I’m sorry. Would you like some iced tea?”

“Ah … you wouldn’t have any beer, would you, sweetheart?”

She shook her head, and he smiled. “Iced tea would be fine, then.”

After she turned and went into the kitchen, he could hear her muttering to herself as she bustled around getting his drink ready, and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

Damn, if she wasn’t the most precious little thing. Soon she was back with a couple of tall glasses. She handed him one and then sat across from him in a pretty little rocking chair, pushing herself back and forth with the toe of one shoe.

He leaned back and took a long drink from his glass and watched as Callie nervously took a drink from her own glass before she set it down on a nearby table. She cleared her throat and began talking again. “Now, like I said…”

Ben smiled and continued drinking his tea as she listed all the reasons why this was a bad idea and thanking him for being willing but she didn’t want to waste his time. When she finally stuttered to a halt, he just looked at her until she shifted on the chair. “What are you so afraid of?” He really wanted to know why she had always acted so uneasy around him. Was she scared of him? Did she think he was going to attack her because of what she had seen all those years ago? Or was there something else?

She laughed, a tight little sound, and stood up. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not afraid.” She paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. “This is a stupid idea.

Really, really stupid. And Marianne had no right to drag you into such a personal matter…”

He stood and walked toward her. She backed up until she bumped into the wall. Ben didn’t stop until he was less than a foot from her. “I think you’re lying. I think you’re afraid. Of me. And I don’t know why. I’ve never done anything to make you scared.” He studied her closely, noting the rapidly beating pulse in her neck and her quickened breathing. “Have I, Callie? Have I ever done anything to make you afraid of me?” Her fingers came up to clasp around the oval shape on the necklace she wore, and he was afraid she might break the chain because she gripped it so tightly. “Maybe that time you saw me with…”

She stopped him. “I’m not afraid of you. That’s ridiculous. This situation is making me uncomfortable. That’s all.” She gave a jittery little laugh, but it lost effectiveness when she bit her lip and looked uncertain. He found himself leaning in, her sweet scent mixed with a flowery cologne he found very enticing and absolutely irresistible. “Prove it,” he leaned down to whisper into her ear, and he felt a shiver run through her. He couldn’t believe he was pressing her like this. What the hell was he doing? This was

Callie. Marianne’s friend. He was going to have to remember that. But damned if she wasn’t making it difficult.

“W-what?” Her soft question uttered through those sweetly parted lips almost did him in. So he did what any red-blooded male would do. He stepped closer. So close that when she took a deep breath her breasts brushed against his chest, and he felt her hard nipples jabbing into him.

“Prove that you’re not afraid of me. Let’s do this.” His hand reached out to smooth back a lock of her hair. He really should stop but… “Let’s play this little game of making

Trey jealous. Let’s show him you’re grown up now. A sexy, attractive woman with the same needs and wants of any woman. A need to be held, and kissed.” His hand reached out to stroke down one soft cheek. “To be touched and loved. To surrender to passion…”

He leaned in closer, his eyes focusing on her lips, which were now slightly parted and damp. Her breathing quickened, and he moved even closer. Her lips were a whisper away.

Suddenly, she seemed to realize what was happening, and she darted under his arm and moved several feet across the room. He let her go without a struggle, knowing he should leave her alone.

Putting even more distance between them, she clasped her arms around her waist.

“Why? Why would you want to do this?”

He decided to be honest with her—at least to a certain point. “I’m not sure, Callie.

Partly because I could tell you didn’t want me to.” She sputtered, and he laughed. “And partly because Marianne’s right… I do owe her. And now that I’ve agreed, I intend to follow it through. It’ll be a hoot.”

“A hoot? This isn’t a game, you know. This is very serious to me. I’m in love with

Trey.”

He grinned. “I understand that, darlin’. But if you want to win him, you’re going to have to prove something to him. And to yourself maybe?” He pressed her. “Trey doesn’t want you because he sees you as a little girl. At least, that’s the theory, right? But I think it’s more than him still thinking you as the girl he grew up with. I think he can sense you have never really experienced a woman’s passion.”

Her chin rose, even though her face was a fiery red, and he admired her grit. “What makes you think I’ve never experienced passion? I’m twenty-seven years old. I’m not a child.” She glared furiously at him. “Or a virgin.” She looked down her nose at him as if that settled the matter.

Lord, but she was adorable. How the hell was he going to keep his hand off this little sexy spitfire? He could barely control his smile. “Darlin’, it’s obvious you have no idea what true passion is—or what you really need in a man. It’s in your eyes. The way you carry yourself. You send off signals even a dead man could read.”

She looked uncertain for a moment, only a moment, and then she looked pissed off.

“So, what do you suggest?” Her tone turned sneering. “Are you going to teach me what passion is? Show me what I really need? I guess once I’ve been with the great Ben Riley

I’ll suddenly be a real woman?”

He made no attempt to hide his grin this time. “Exactly.”

She gasped.

He couldn’t hold back his laughter. “I’m kidding, darlin’. Good grief, do you really see me as that conceited?” He shook his head. “I do think Marianne might be onto something, though. If he sees us together enough, he might realize you’re all grown up now. And that’s what you want, right?”

“I don’t know… I mean…”

“And maybe after a few real kisses, you won’t have quite such a look of innocence in those big blue eyes.”

“Kisses? But…”

He sighed, exasperated. “Yes, kisses. He’s going to have to see something. Don’t you think? If all he ever sees us doing is talking, what good will that do?”

“But it seems disloyal to Trey…”

“Disloyal?” Disbelief shaded his tone. “Honey, where the hell do you think Trey is right now? Wondering about you and me? Pining over what we might be doing? Or maybe off somewhere fucking Tracy?”

She gasped at his blunt language, but then frowned as if thinking about what he had said. He urged her some more, sensing victory. “Come on, what can it hurt? If it doesn’t work, what will you have lost?”

Ben wasn’t quite sure why he was trying so hard to convince her to go along with

Marianne’s plan. He should tell her, “Fine, see ya around,” and get the hell out of there.

But the longer he was with her, the more determined he was to go along with this plot.

After all, she wanted Trey, and he would help her get him. Wouldn’t he?

*

Callie couldn’t believe that she was actually considering Ben’s offer. Maybe what he said was true. Maybe the reason Trey didn’t treat her like a woman was because she was so inexperienced. She studied Ben. If Ben could sense her inexperience, could Trey? Was

Ben the answer? Would a few kisses with Ben remove the air of innocence she wore? She had always thought Ben was very attractive but had felt like that attraction was a betrayal of her feelings for Trey. He made her feel things, uncomfortable things. And a minute ago, when his body pressed against her, his breath shivering across her skin, it had been all she could do not to reach out and pull his mouth to hers. To grind her hips against his until he took her right there against the wall. Why would she feel these things for him when she was in love with someone else? It was all too confusing. And embarrassing.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ben’s voice interrupted her thinking. “Why don’t we play it by ear? We’ll see what happens.” He let his voice trail away, and Callie studied his face carefully. What should she do?

What should she do

?

She thought hard about the plan. Could she do this? Would she? Not in a million years. No way. She took a deep breath and let it out, ready to tell him to get the hell out.

That there was no way she was going to go along with this scheme. She couldn’t believe it when she heard the words that came out of her mouth. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

Ben grinned. “Good girl.” He sat back down on the sofa and stretched his long legs out before him, casually crossing them at the ankles. Callie’s eyes couldn’t resist an appreciative glance as she noticed how firmly the jeans molded to his thighs. She blushed when his eyes caught hers, and she knew he could read what she was thinking. But instead of making any insinuating remarks or jumping on her, he said, “All right now.

Let’s talk about this plan.”

She sat again in the chair opposite him, nervously perching on the edge. “What do you think we should do?”

“Well, when do you think you’ll see Trey again?”

She shrugged. “He should be home in a little while.”

“He lives here?” Callie heard the surprise in his voice and she chuckled.

“No, of course not. He lives next door.”

“Ahh,” Ben nodded. “That’s perfect.”

She looked at him quizzically. “Perfect?”

“Sure. I’ll hang out until he comes home. There’s no way he can miss my bike

parked out front. He’ll realize right away that something’s up. If he didn’t already figure it out from earlier.”

“Hang out?” Callie wasn’t sure she liked that idea.

“Yeah. You have cable, don’t you?”

“Well, yes.”

“Good. That’s settled. Hey, where’s the remote for the TV? I’d kinda like to catch the ball game.”

Around five o’clock, Callie heard Trey’s car pull into his driveway. Ben must have heard it too because he turned to look out the window.

“Looks like loverboy’s home.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’ve got an idea.”

He stood up and tugged her to her feet, dragging her down the short hallway to the backdoor.

“Wait, what are you doing? I don’t even have on my shoes.” She’d kicked them off to tuck her legs beneath her as they’d watched the game.

“Believe me, baby, you’re not gonna need any shoes.” Whisking her out the door and out onto the back patio, he peeked into Trey’s backyard. “Yeah, this ought to be perfect.

He can see your patio from his back window. Let’s give him a few minutes. I’ll bet he makes a beeline for his kitchen. He should have a great view.”

“View of what?” Callie was puzzled, glancing around. What were they doing?

“Ah, yeah. There he is in the window.” Before Callie could turn to see what Ben was talking about, he had drawn her against him and covered her mouth with his.

Hot. That’s all Callie could think. She was so hot. As his mouth moved expertly over hers, she responded helplessly. Parting her lips to the demanding probe of his tongue, she twined her tongue with his. Sparks seemed to sizzle along her skin everywhere he touched. His hands, at first simply holding her shoulders, smoothed over and down her back, molding her soft form against his hardness. His erect cock nudged against her belly, and she moaned. Oh, God. Her arms came up seemingly of their own accord to wrap around his head and hold him to her. From a distance she could hear little whimpers, and at first she didn’t realize they were coming from her.

*

So, he hadn’t been mistaken before about that earlier kiss. Sweet, sweet Callie was delicious. Her stifled moan spurred him on, and he completely forgot about plans, and jealousy, and his sister, and the possibility they might have an audience. He maneuvered her until her back came up against the screen door. Bending his knees slightly, he fit his hardness into the notch of her thighs, and she parted her legs to get him even closer. He leaned into her, dragging his cock against her pussy.

His hand came up, pushing beneath the hem of her shirt until he cupped her breast in his hand. He began kneading the soft flesh and pinching her tightly furled nipple until she arched against his knee, rubbing herself against him in short little strokes. His breathing sped up and he broke free of the kiss. He pulled her bra down and sucked the nipple into his mouth, drawing on it with hard tugging pulls. Her breathy moans egged him on and on until he couldn’t stand it.

All he could think about now was getting his cock into that damp heat she was pushing into him. His fingers moved to the snap of her jeans, and he had the zipper pulled down and his hand was probing into the moist folds of her pussy when he heard a harsh, “Excuse me” from behind him. He lifted his head and watched as Callie’s eyes fluttered

open and then widened in shock, and he knew his own probably wore a similar dazed expression. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times but nothing came out. He tugged her shirt down, then whispered in her ear, “Just let me handle this, sweetheart.”

She nodded, and then he turned to face the man who stood watching them with a belligerent expression on his face.

“Trey, how’s it going, man? The picnic over?”

Trey ignored Ben’s question and tried to peer around him to see Callie. Her fingers were boring into his waist, and he could feel her face plastered against his back as she tried to regain some composure. He continued to thwart Trey’s attempts to get a better look at her. “Is there something we can do for you, Trey? We’re kind of in the middle of something here.” Ben grinned, shot Trey a knowing look, and winked. Trey glared at him.

“Yeah, I can see how … busy … you are.” Trey bit out the words. “I need to talk to

Callie for a minute. Do you mind?”

Ben shrugged and was about to tell Trey to go to hell, when Callie stepped around him and asked, “What is it Trey? Is something wrong?”

Trey stepped forward and took her hand. Ben had to restrain himself from stepping between them again and was a bit surprised at his own thoughts. Apparently, now that he’d gotten a taste of Callie he was feeling somewhat territorial. And that wouldn’t do.

He never got serious about women. So he stepped back and leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

He studied the interplay between Callie and Trey as he talked to her about some bullshit leaky gas line he had apparently checked on for her a few days before. As Ben watched them, he realized that things didn’t add up. Callie talked to Trey affectionately, true, but more like a brother than a lover. There was no sizzle between them. No sexual tension. Hell, the only tension on this porch right now was between himself and Callie.

Wasn’t she supposed to be in love with Trey? That’s what Marianne had said. Now he wasn’t so sure. Would she have responded to him as she had if she were truly in love with another man?

He focused in again on the conversation between the two as Trey asked, “So …

what’s he doing here?”

Callie looked back over her shoulder at Ben. Ben was curious as to how she was going to reply. Would she blow Trey off, or would she tell Ben to take a hike? “Oh, ah …

Ben and I have a … ah—a date. We’re going to fix some spaghetti and watch some television.” Ben watched as Callie’s fingers once again began toying with her necklace, rubbing it between her fingers, a habit he was beginning to recognize revealed how nervous and uncertain she was feeling. Ben could hear the discomfort in Callie’s tone and wanted nothing more than to smack Trey. Why didn’t the guy leave them the fuck alone?

Couldn’t he see that Callie was embarrassed at what he had interrupted? What a moron!

“Since when did you two start dating?” Trey’s tone was suspicious.

That was enough. What did he think, that he owned Callie? Just because the girl had worshipped him for-fucking-ever? Ben was beginning to think Trey Williamson didn’t deserve sweet little Callie Ladner. He straightened up and stepped forward to wrap his arm around her and pull her gently back against him. “I really don’t see how that is any of your business, Williamson. Now, if you will excuse us, we need to get back to what we were doing before we were interrupted.” He tugged Callie with him towards the door,

and she followed him without protest.

“Callie?” Trey’s questioning voice followed them.

Ben saw her glance back and wave with her free hand. “I’ll talk to you later, Trey.”

Then they were inside the house and Ben firmly closed the door, effectively shutting out

Trey Williamson.

Chapter Three

Monday morning was a busy one for Callie. A new shipment of books had arrived at the library where she worked in the young adult lit section, and she spent several hours processing them so they could be shelved. She had arranged to meet Marianne for lunch at their favorite café, and when she walked in, Marianne was already sitting at a table waiting for her.

“Well? How did things go after you guys left the picnic Saturday? Trey almost had a stroke when you rode off with Ben.” She laughed. “It was funny to see him standing there, staring after you, with Tracy tugging on his arm. You would have loved it.”

Marianne rambled for a few more minutes before finally allowing Callie to get a word in.

“I can’t believe you, Marianne.” Callie shook her head. “You never listen to me at all. I told you it was a bad idea. But did that matter? Nooo. You barged full steam ahead and ignored me completely.”

Marianne’s excited expression fell. “Oh, gee, Callie. I didn’t think you would mind.

It was such a great plan. Are you really mad?”

Callie rolled her eyes in exacerbation at Marianne’s apologetic expression. “No, not mad. I wish you would listen to me instead of steamrolling over whatever objections I

might make.”

“But … I was only trying to help. You know that, right?”

Callie smiled. “Of course, I know it. That’s the only reason I’m not screaming at you at the top of my lungs.”

Marianne grinned back. “Whew, you had me worried for a second. So … what did you and Ben decide? Are you going to use him to make Trey jealous or not?”

She hesitated a moment before she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna do it.”

Marianne squealed. “Yessss. That’s great. I think it’s really going to make Trey see the light about you, darlin’.”

Callie shrugged, still not certain if this plan was a good idea or not.

“So what did you and Ben come up with to get Trey’s attention? Maybe he could find you two in bed together? Or he could see Ben with your underwear hanging out of his pocket. Or maybe you could rush over to his house, partially dressed, and ask to borrow a condom…”

Callie held up her hand to stop her. “Whoa! Ben and I talked about some ideas last night. Nothing too extreme.” She gave a hard glare to Marianne who snorted but said nothing. “We’re going to make a point of going out Friday night to Troy’s Bar. A lot of the firefighters go there to play pool, and Trey always goes the day after his shift works.

It’s lucky Trey and Ben work the same shift, so we don’t have to worry about scheduling or anything. They’re working today and then not again until Thursday. After that, we’ll play it by ear. You know, go out to eat, catch a movie…that kind of thing … whenever we find out Trey’s plans.”

Marianne pouted at having her outrageous plans nipped in the bud. “Nothing until

Friday. That’s no good. You’ve got to strike while the iron is hot, babe. Hey, how about this? Call the fire station and ask for Ben. You two can make sweet talk while Trey listens. That ought to stir the pot a bit.”

Callie frowned. “I don’t know. I mean, what if Ben doesn’t play along?”

“No worries. I’ll give him a call right now and tell him what’s up.”

Marianne pulled out her cell and began dialing the fire station number. While Callie sat waiting for her to finish the call, she couldn’t keep her thoughts from turning to

Saturday night. After they had gotten rid of Trey, she and Ben had fixed a huge pot of spaghetti with Ben’s special “meat sauce” that he said he’d learned from some of the guys he worked with at the fire station. She’d been surprised at his ease in the kitchen until he’d explained how he’d often had kitchen duty at the station and how the guys all took their turn. As they’d worked together to prepare the meal, they had discussed their plans for the next week or so and what they needed to do to get Trey’s attention. To her surprise, Ben was really sweet about the whole thing, and Callie had finally relaxed. The hot, teasing stud who had so flustered her earlier was nowhere in sight. She had actually enjoyed the easy conversation they had shared.

Once supper was finished, Ben had pitched in and helped clean the table and wash up. He’d even swept the floor. After that he had suggested that he stay a while, since that was the story she had told Trey. They didn’t want him getting suspicious if Ben left too soon. So they had found an old movie on television neither of them had seen in a while and had spent a comfortable couple of hours watching it.

When Ben finally got up to leave, she had actually been sorry to walk him out. On her porch, he had gazed down into her eyes. His own eyes had flickered towards the house next door, and she had read in them his intention to kiss her even before his head had begun lowering. She leaned in slightly to accept his kiss, telling herself it was because Trey might be watching.

The touch of his lips had been a delicate exploration that time, and Callie had found it as irresistibly sweet as his earlier kiss had been scorchingly hot. And when he had lifted his lips from hers and said goodnight, she had been tempted, oh so tempted, to invite him back inside. To take his hand and lead him up the staircase and into her bedroom. To let him strip her clothes from her body as she returned the favor. To urge him to press her down into the mattress with the feel of his hard body above hers. To…

“There. That’s done,” Marianne announced with a pleased expression, and Callie started with surprise. She could feel the guilty expression on her face at the turn her thoughts had taken. Good lord. If Marianne even suspected for one moment that Callie’s thoughts towards her brother were other than sisterly … egads, who knew what might happen?

“You know, I still can’t believe Ben agreed to go along with this,” Callie voiced the thought she hadn’t been able to push out of her mind.

Marianne grinned. “Ve haf vays…” she laughed and winked.

“No, seriously, Marianne. I’d feel really guilty if he felt uncomfortable with this. I

mean … I know he’s probably busy what with work and dating and stuff.” Callie hoped it didn’t sound like she was trying to find out if Ben was seeing anyone. And she wasn’t.

Not really. Well, maybe sort of…

Marianne shrugged. “No worries. He only works every third day, anyway. And as for dates … well, last I knew he was seeing that new red-headed waitress at

Stefano

’s. You know, the one with the legs all the way up to her ass.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I

think she was some kinda sex machine, from the few things he’s let slip, but he also told me she was getting a little too clingy. He’s probably glad to have the excuse to take a

break for a bit.”

Callie told herself she was not jealous, but she had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Ben in the arms of some red-headed sex goddess.

The rest of the meal was uneventful, and Callie tried to banish any thoughts of Ben to the farthest corners of her mind. Her hand reached to hold the necklace that rested against her heart. Trey’s necklace. The beautiful locket that had to mean something special. It just had to mean that subconsciously at least he was starting to view her differently. Yes, Trey was the man she loved, the man she wanted, the man she had longed for all of these years. And she wasn’t going to let some unwanted and unneeded lustful thoughts of Ben distract her from her goal. No. She wasn’t. Uh uh. No way.

* * * *

Later that afternoon, Ben himself was in an extremely bad mood. He hadn’t been sleeping well, and it was starting to show. It seemed like everything he tried to do went wrong. He cussed as the screwdriver sliced through the skin on his left hand. “Goddamn sonofabitch!” He lifted his hand to lick at the torn skin and the small runnel of blood that trickled down his wrist.

“You okay, Lieutenant?” asked Ricky, one of the newly hired firefighters, a concerned look on his youthful face.

“Yeah, fine. Fucking marvelous.”

Rick’s face flushed. “Are you sure?”

From the other side of the rescue truck came a muffled laugh. “Don’t worry about him, probie. You’ll get used to that mouth of his after you’ve been working here awhile.

And a little damn cut ain’t gonna put him down for long. Ain’t that right, Lieutenant?”

Ben shook his head and headed back into the station house, leaving the two firefighters to finish checking out the vehicle. After washing off the wound and applying a band-aid, he reached into the refrigerator for a cold drink. He twisted off the top and took a long swallow. Damn! Today had been a pisser from the moment his alarm clock had woken him out of a restless sleep at six o’clock that morning. They’d run calls all day long, mostly bullshit calls … burning without a permit, someone smelling smoke in their house that turned out to be nothing, a cat in a fucking tree. And then the problem with the siren on Rescue 33, which they’d been working on for the past hour.

And on top of that, the little sexy chit-chat he’d had with Callie earlier had reminded him of a dream he’d had of her the night before. Even now the thought of it had his cock stirring behind the zippered jumpsuit he wore to work on the vehicles. Dammit. He would not get anything accomplished today until he got his fucking libido under control.

Resigning himself to taking matters into his own hand, so to speak, he grabbed a clean uniform and headed for the shower.

Luckily the officers had a private shower, so he locked the door and quickly stripped down and stepped into the shower stall. After he’d soaped up a washcloth and given himself a cursory scrubbing, he let his thoughts drift to the dream he’d had. He could still picture it all so vividly. Wrapping his hand around his swollen hardness, he began to stroke up and down, and he allowed his mind to recall each delicious detail.

They were on his Harley, cruising through the countryside. Callie’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist … at first. But as the trip continued, her hands began their own journey. Slowly they moved upwards, across his chest. Then back down across

his belly to where his t-shirt tucked into his blue jeans. She tugged gently at the cotton fabric until it pulled from his pants, and her fingers slipped beneath to play with light strokes across his abdomen. His own hand reached up and covered hers, slowly directing it lower, past his belt to press over the hard cock that bulged against his tight jeans.

She snuggled closer, her fingers pressing and stroking against his erection, the tight points of her nipples piercing through his thin t-shirt. Then she worked the belt loose and unzipped his jeans. As her hand burrowed into the opening to take his hard cock in a firm grip, he almost lost control of the bike. Gazing around, he finally spotted an overgrown dirt trail and took them down it. When he was well away from the main road, he stopped.

She hopped off and stood before him, a wicked grin on her full lips and a knowing look in her pretty blue eyes. Slowly raising her skirt up, she revealed her neatly trimmed pussy. Her hand reached down to caress herself, stroking and parting the damp pussy lips. One finger circled around her swollen clit, and he could see the wetness of her arousal trickle down her thigh. When she took that cum-dampened finger to her lips and licked it off, he hadn’t been able to take any more of her teasing.

He swung his leg over the bike and stood up, striding towards her. Roughly, he jerked her into his arms and his mouth covered hers, tasting her arousal. His tongue stabbed into the moist interior of hers, and her tongue came forward to eagerly tangle with his. They engaged in a brief duel for dominance, before she gave up and succumbed to his masterful demand.

Pulling back from the kiss, he abruptly swung her around and pressed her forward until she was bent over his bike, her hands braced against the seat. He flipped up her skirt until the full curves of her ass were revealed to him. Rubbing his large hands over them in a gentle caress, he relished the silky smoothness of her skin before pulling back and slapping each cheek with a stinging blow.

She cried out in surprise, but then wriggled her hips with pleasure, and he grinned.

For a moment he admired the beautifully erotic picture before him, and then he slid his foot between hers to widen her stance and released his swollen cock. Between her parted legs he could see her pussy dripping with her desire, and he couldn’t resist bending town for a taste. He stroked his tongue upward across her pussy, and he heard her groan with pleasure. He tasted her again, his hands parting her labia so he could explore every crevice. He stiffened his tongue and pressed it against her opening, fucking her with his mouth.

Her moans were louder now as she pushed back against him, and he stood. With one firm thrust, he pushed into her. She moaned again at his forceful entry. Grasping her hips in his hands, he began fucking her with long, slow strokes. Despite her begging and pleading, he kept his pace unhurried. God, she felt good. Her pussy was so tight he didn’t know how long he could keep from coming. His thrusts quickened. She rammed herself back against him as he began to stroke into her harder and harder. One hand reached around to find the hardened bud of her clit, and he rubbed it in time with his thrusts. She was moaning and crying for release. He pounded her over and over. At last he felt the spasms in her pussy signaling her climax. Pulling out, he gave himself a few finishing strokes with his hand, and he came in hot jets that splattered over the rounded curves of her ass.

As his seed spurted onto the wall of the shower stall, he barely held back a shout of satisfaction. After he’d finished and cleaned up, he leaned his head against the tile and let

the water wash over him. Good God. If fantasies of Callie were this damn good, what would actual sex be like with her? To take his time and really explore every inch of her luscious body? Would she be as open and responsive as she was in his dreams? And would he ever get the chance to find out? He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop himself from trying. Marianne or not.

A loud tone alert suddenly pierced his thoughts. Another call. He quickly exited the shower and dressed. When he left the bathroom, the men were already loading the truck.

He jumped into his turnout gear and climbed into his seat, his mind already focusing on the job at hand. His worries about Callie would have to wait.

* * * *

Bright and early the next morning, Ben was pounding on Callie’s door. When he got no response, he knocked again. At last the door was torn open. A bleary-eyed Callie stood there, hair standing on end and blinking at him sleepily. She wore a cropped t-shirt over striped drawstring pants. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” she grumbled.

Restraining the grin that wanted to burst out on his face, he said, “Morning, sleeping beauty. Did you have a good night?” She rubbed at her eyes and blinked them a couple more times as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He thought how delectable she looked, all rumpled and straight from her bed. He’d like nothing more than to take her back to it.

Ignoring the barely intelligible grumble that emerged from her mouth, he stepped forward. Still half asleep, she backed up to allow him inside and watched trancelike as he stood in the miniscule entry hall.

“Let’s go to the kitchen, sweetheart?” He prodded when she continued to stare at him in distracted silence, waving a pastry bag in front of her face. “I just got off work and was hungry. I brought breakfast.”

“Huh? Oh,” she seemed to come out of her trance as the smell of fresh-baked

Danishes filled the air. “Okay.”

He followed her down the short hallway. He walked over and set the bag on the counter and began opening cabinet doors searching for plates.

“Not a morning person, huh?”

Finally appearing to wake up, Callie spoke. “What … oh … no. Not really. I’ll … er

… I guess I’ll get us drinks?”

“That would be great, sweetheart.” The next cabinet he opened held the plates so he pulled two out and then began searching for silverware. Finding it on his first try, he lifted out two forks and set them on top of the plates.

“Ah … okay. What would you like?” She watched him as he efficiently plundered her kitchen.

Grinning, he was reminded of their conversation about the iced tea from Saturday.

Hoping to put her at ease, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “Well, what do you have?” He smiled. “Not beer, I know. And I really don’t like iced tea with my breakfast, please.” He winked, and she laughed.

“I’m not sure. Let me check.” She crossed to the refrigerator and bent down to begin rummaging through the contents. His glance slid appreciatively over the rounded contours of her buttocks that the position revealed. He grinned at the thought of what she would do if she knew the direction his thoughts were leading him.

She stood back up. Meeting his eyes, she confessed. “There’s not much. You can have orange juice or milk. Or water. I’m afraid I don’t have any coffee or anything like that.”

“Orange juice is fine, thanks.” She nodded and began pouring the orange juice while he carried the plates and the pastry bag to the door. She looked at him quizzically.

“The other night I saw the table and chairs on your back porch. I thought we could eat outside. That way loverboy next door can see you have company this morning. He should be home soon. I left the station a little before he did.”

She nodded, frowning slightly, and followed him out. After depositing the food and drinks on the table, they both pulled out the deck chairs and sat.

Ben took a sip of the juice and set it down. Then he slid his chair around until it was right beside Callie’s and began taking the Danishes from the bag and putting them on the plates. She slanted a glance at him from beneath her eyelashes and scooted as far away from him as she could get. Which wasn’t very far. At first she didn’t say anything about his move. He watched her and could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Finally, she spoke. “If you get any closer, you’re going to be on the other side.”

He grinned. “Well, if Trey looks out, we need to look smitten.”

She snorted. At least, he thought it was a snort. “Smitten?”

He laughed and stretched his arm behind her, pulling her against him. “Well, I didn’t think you’d like it if I said horny.”

She blushed, but didn’t stop the grin that tilted her lips upward in a cute little curve.

Wriggling, she tried to ease his grasp, but he wouldn’t let her. After a few seconds, she gave up. “So what are you doing here so early?”

He took a bite of his Danish and shrugged. “Like I said, I was hungry. We got off duty this morning, and I figured this way, we could kill two birds with one stone. You know, give Trey another chance to see us together.”

She nodded at his explanation.

“Besides, I had to see you after that little conversation we had yesterday.”

Her eyes widened and she looked away. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You sure do give great phone, baby.”

He wouldn’t have believed she could turn any redder, but she did. And what he said was nothing but the truth. He wouldn’t have labeled her voice as sexy before, but after talking to her on the phone, he’d decided it was one of the most erotic things he’d ever heard.

“Can we talk about something else, please?” Her eyes begged, so he relented.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me about your job.” She nibbled on the Danish before placing it back on her plate.

“My job?”

“Yes, being a firefighter must be a very satisfying profession.”

He took another bite of Danish and washed it down with a gulp of juice. “Well, yeah, it is, actually.”

“Okay, so tell me about it. What made you want to become a firefighter?”

He shrugged and proceeded to tell her about the summer his grandmother’s house had caught on fire, and how fascinated he had been by the firefighters who had shown up to fight the blaze.

*

Callie sat back and let Ben’s voice roll over her, soaking up his enthusiasm for his work, which became more and more apparent as he continued to talk. Most of what he said she did not understand at all, but she liked hearing his voice.

Stopping in mid-sentence, he looked up at her with an expression of chagrin on his face. “I know I have to be boring you. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I was enjoying it,” she told him, honestly.

He leaned down. “Well, don’t look now, but I believe we have a captive audience.”

Her eyes grew wide, and she bit her lip. “Trey’s watching?”

He nodded. “From his kitchen window. So, I’m going to kiss you, okay, sweetheart?”

“Isn’t it kind of early for that kind of thing?” she blurted.

He laughed in genuine amusement. “After that little heated phone conversation he overheard between us yesterday afternoon, I think he would think it was a little weird if he didn’t see a least a little spit swapping going on over here.”

She blushed again at that reminder. The phone call had gotten a little out of hand. It had been so much easier to be sexy on the phone than it was in person. And he’d egged her and egged her on until… His mouth covered hers, and she froze like a startled bird.

Taking his time, he reached up to cup the nape of her neck gently. His lips brushed against hers in feathery touches. “You’re so sweet. Open your mouth for me, baby.”

After a moment, she did, and he pushed his tongue slowly inside, rasping along the edge of her teeth before moving deeper to plunder sweeter territory. Pressing in and withdrawing, he kept her on edge until her own lips fastened around his tongue as it was sliding from her mouth, suckling on it to keep in where it was. He couldn’t contain a small chuckle at the aggressive move from his reserved Callie. Rewarding her for her boldness, he pushed inside more firmly, the kiss turning into a heated exchange of sliding, melting passion.

“Callie?” Trey’s voice broke through the sensual haze. Callie jerked back and looked over to where Trey stood on his back deck. He smiled, a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry to interrupt, but don’t you have to be at work in thirty minutes? It’s already eight o’clock.”

“Oh, no.” Callie stood up. “Shit.” She looked down at Ben. “I’ve got to go get dressed.”

He smiled at her fluster. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll clean this mess up. Go on.”

“Thanks, Trey.” She called with a wave as she zipped inside.

“Yeah, thanks a lot Trey,” Ben muttered under his breath as Trey gave him a glare and turned to go back inside his own house. Ben shrugged. Trey was definitely showing signs of jealousy. The only problem was, Ben was beginning to want Callie for himself.

Now wasn’t that a helluva note?

* * * *

The rest of the week passed very slowly for Callie, but finally it was time for her

“date” with Ben. She was torn between excitement and worry about the coming night.

Would Trey even notice her there with Ben? And Ben? How was she going to handle this unwanted attraction she felt for him? Maybe she should cancel? But no, that would be dumb. She had agreed to this plan and she was going to follow through. No, she wasn’t going to let her crazy-assed libido ruin this chance. It was … stupid. After all, it was all

an act for Ben. So she would ignore these weird things she was feeling and concentrate on her goal. Her fingers rose to brush over the locket to remind herself it was Trey she really wanted.

The doorbell startled her from her thoughts, and she paused a minute in front of the mirror to check her appearance before opening the door. Ben stepped in, and then stood there, gazing down at her with an odd expression on his face for so long she thought something was wrong. Wasn’t she dressed appropriately for shooting pool? Surely she looked all right. Marianne had come over after work to help her plan her night, and she had put together the outfit she had on now. The low-riding jeans and the tight red shirt made Callie feel incredibly self-conscious, but her friend had assured her it looked great.

And Marianne had helped her with her makeup and hair, too. By the time she had finished, Callie had felt … if not gorgeous at least … well, sort of attractive. But now, with the way Ben was looking at her… Damn, had she been wrong? Did she look a complete mess? Totally ridiculous? Maybe she should go back upstairs and scrub off the makeup. Put on some jeans that weren’t quite so tight. Yeah, and a blouse that fit a little looser and didn’t show so much cleavage. Just when she was about to turn around and go back upstairs, he whistled. “Wow, you look terrific, honey.”

She bit her lip. “Thanks. But you don’t have to pretend. I know what I look like.”

He frowned. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m not pretending.”

She shrugged. “I know I’m not the type of girl you’re used to being with. I’m plain.

And I’m fat…”

“Whoa!” He interrupted her. “Plain? Fat? Are you kidding me?” He looked around and spotted the mirror. Drawing her over in front of it, he turned her shoulders so she faced it. “Look at yourself, darlin’. You have beautiful hair, so straight and silky, and it’s such a beautiful brown color. Like melted chocolate. I never knew it was so long. Hell, it almost reaches your ass.” He stroked his hand down it. Then he picked up a lock and rubbed it between two fingers. “Makes a man wonder what it would look like spread out on his bed.” He touched a gentle hand against her cheek. “Blue eyes that have a sexy look of innocence in them. And a curvy little body that puts all kinds of naughty thoughts into a man’s head.” He rested his hand on her shoulders and leaned down, whispering in her ear, “You look good enough to eat. Literally.” She met his eyes in the mirror, but she remained unconvinced.

She shook her head in denial. “Men don’t find me attractive. Don’t you think I know that? They never notice me.”

He turned her around to face him and gazed down into her eyes, a serious look on his face. “A lot of men like women who are obvious in their appeal. Lots of makeup, tight dresses, you know the kind I mean. And I’m as guilty as the next guy. But there is also something to be said about the kind of beauty that doesn’t scream for attention. The kind that whispers, instead.” He laughed gently. “Now you … you’re not obvious with it. But it’s there. For the man who’s willing to look closely enough. Believe me, sweetheart, it’s there.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek, and she turned her face into his hand. For a moment they stared into each other’s eyes, not saying anything. Then he seemed to come back to himself. He stepped back. “But tonight, baby, well, it’s doing a bit of screaming.”

He smiled. Then he stood up. “Well, enough of that. Grab a jacket and your purse, and let’s go. Time’s a-wasting.”

*

Minutes later they climbed into his truck and headed out. Ben pondered the conversation he’d had with Callie. She really had some self-esteem issues, but he hadn’t been lying to her. He found her incredibly sexy. Thinking back, he realized he always had. She had always been so shy and unassuming, he had kept his distance And now here they were, going to go shoot some pool and dangle their new hot and heavy ‘relationship’

in front of that asshole Trey, who, Ben was beginning to think, did not deserve Callie at all. Really, how could he live next door to her and not notice what a sexy and hot little number she was? Oh, well, his loss.

And Callie, couldn’t she see that she was too fucking good for him? Maybe he owed it to her to help her see the truth. That she could do a helluva lot better than Trey

Williamson. Yeah. He would simply show her she didn’t need anyone like Trey—that she could have anyone she wanted. Even someone like Ben. She just didn’t have enough confidence in herself. In her own desirability. Well, Ben was more than ready to show her how desirable she actually was. And really, it was for her own good.

Chapter Four

Troy’s Bar wasn’t really crowded yet. Most of the people there were couples drinking and snacking on hot wings, the only food you could get at Troy’s, while they waited for the advertised “live entertainment” to begin their first set. Troy’s really catered to the public servants in town, so there were always a few policemen and fire fighters sitting around. The pool-playing crowd probably wouldn’t start arriving until nine or so.

That’s when the place would really start hopping. Ben snagged a table for himself and

Callie near the minute dance floor. When the waitress approached, he turned to her.

“What’ll you have, sweetheart?”

She shrugged. “I’m not really hungry. Maybe a soda?”

Ben frowned, but placed the order, getting himself some of the wings along with a cold beer. After the waitress left he leaned toward her, “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? They have great wings here.”

Again she declined. “I had something before I left the house, thanks.”

“What?” he challenged, sensing a lie—or at least, a half-truth.

She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, but finally admitted. “If you must know, I

had a green salad and some crackers.”

Ben studied her face. She was obviously self-conscious about her curvy figure and had decided to diet it off. He’d have to see what he could do about that … but later. He didn’t want to get into a squabble right now, so he let it slide.

“Well, at least tell me you’re going to have more than soda to drink? How about a beer?”

She made a face. “I hate beer.”

Laughing, he said, “Okay, no beer. But something with a little kick to it, okay?”

When she shrugged, he took that as an acceptance. The waitress arrived with their drink order, and he smiled up at her engagingly, “Darlin’, would you mind takin’ that soda back and adding a splash of rum to it? The lady seems to have changed her mind.”

“Oh, no, that’s all right, miss, I’ll…” Callie stuttered.

“Sure, sugar, I’ll be right back.” The waitress leaned down to give Ben a clear view of her endowments, completely ignoring Callie.

When he turned back around, he could see the pissed-off expression on her face.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing. Nothing you’d understand, anyway.”

The waitress returned with the drink, and Ben saw Callie take a large sip. Grinning to himself, he figured she’d need it to help her get through what was sure to be an incredibly difficult night. As Ben ate the food he’d ordered, he observed her as she watched the rest of the patrons eating and flirting with one another. She clutched the necklace in her fingers and drew the locket back and forth in a distracted motion. He wished he could find a way to make her a little more comfortable.

Ben finally finished eating and called the waitress over to remove his empty plate.

“Those are some hot-assed wings, sweetheart. I definitely am going to need another beer.” He looked at Callie’s glass. “Bring another rum and cola, too.” Following another little flirtatious exchange with their waitress, he turned his attention to the three-man

band that had begun tuning up in the corner. After the waitress delivered their order, they sat there for a while, sipping their drinks and not saying anything. Finally Ben turned to

Callie. “Well?”

“He’s not here.” She turned to meet his gaze.

“Nope. Not yet. But it’s still early. Give it some time.”

“But it’s almost nine. He should be here by now.”

“Relax, dollface. Come on. Let’s get a table and shoot some pool.”

“Pool?” The flabbergasted tone of her voice almost made him laugh.

“Yes, pool. You know, green table, long sticks, cute round balls. That is why we’re here, right?”

“No, we’re here to make Trey jealous.”

He sighed and stood up. “Right. But since he’s not here yet, we might as well at least act like we’re enjoying ourselves. You never know when he’s going to walk in. You don’t want him to see us just sitting at this table like a couple of knots on a log, do you?”

She allowed him to pull her to her feet and drag her to the back of the room, where he quickly snagged a table and a couple of cue sticks.

“Now, baby, I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“Teach me?” she questioned, staring warily at the cue stick he held out to her.

“Yeah, teach you. It’ll be fun. Come on. At least give it a shot.”

Delicately she reached out and grasped the stick, and he almost laughed again at the sight of her round eyes as they traveled back and forth from the cue stick to the pool table. He moved to rack the balls up, and then pulled her to the end of the table.

He positioned her, reaching around to help her hold the stick properly. Man, did she smell good. He moved in closer, snugging his crotch against her rounded ass, enjoying the feel of those plump mounds.

“What are you doing?” she hissed at him from over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing into little daggers. He was sure she could feel the bulge of his erection as it prodded her sweet little rear.

He smiled. “What? I’m only trying to show you the proper technique.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, but she turned back around. Then she wiggled her ass, just a bit. He cursed and tightened his grip on the cue as he felt his erection grow harder.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Now, you aim at that white ball there.” He almost stood up and backed off, but he realized that it was exactly what the little darling was aiming for.

So instead, he snuggled in closer.

Bending down, he whispered into her ear. “That’s right. Try to hit that ball right in the center.” He slid the cue stick back and forth slowly, once, twice, his hands covering hers. “Ready, okay, now. Take a breath. Hold it.” Then he shoved the cue forward, and it hit the ball dead center. The other balls scattered across the table and one, a solid yellow, dropped into one of the pockets. He slowly stood up, releasing the cue stick and pulling her with him. He held her against his body for several seconds and actually had to force himself to release her. But if he didn’t put some distance between them soon, he was definitely going to embarrass them both by throwing her sweet little tush onto the pool table and screwing her brains out, audience or not. Stepping back he reached for the beer he’d rested on a nearby shelf and took a long swallow, finishing it off. He took a minute to indicate to the waitress hovering nearby he wanted another round.

When he felt like he wouldn’t sound like a total moron, he said, “Good job, baby.

Now, you try to hit the other solid color balls, and I’ll play the stripes.”

“Are we gonna bet? I think everyone who plays pool makes a bet, don’t they?” her wide blue eyes met his.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, now, I don’t want to take your money, Callie. Maybe we should play a game or two first before we begin any wagering.”

“I’d like to bet. Just for fun, you know? Maybe … oh, a quarter or something.”

He laughed. “All right, honey.” He dug in his pocket and laid a quarter on the table.

She opened her purse and found one, too.

“You ready?”

She nodded and asked, “Does it matter which one I start with?”

He barked out a laugh. “No, sweet thing. It doesn’t matter. But save the black one for last.” Secretly he smirked to himself. The poor thing actually thought she had a chance of getting some more balls in. After all, this was her first…

Slam. The cue ball hit the orange five that sat near a corner pocket, and it fell in with a soft whoosh. “Wow, that was a lucky shot, babe.” He shook his head in amazement.

She just smiled.

Another thump, another ball in the hole. His eyes rose to see the smirk on her face as she reached for a small blue chalk cube and chalked up the tip of her cue stick. Chalked it up rather efficiently for a novice. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. As he watched, she ran the table. Ball after ball after ball, she didn’t hesitate and didn’t miss a single shot. A

small crowd began gathering around them, and he had to listen to some good-natured joking as they saw her sink the final one—the eight ball.

She turned to him with a grin of triumph on her face. He stared at her, his face expressionless. As he saw her grin beginning to fade into uncertainty, he walked toward her, scooping up the two quarters as he passed the table where they had set them. When he stood directly before her, he didn’t speak. She shifted nervously from one foot to the other and bit her lip. Suddenly he let out a hoot of laughter. “Dammit girl, you hustled me. You little witch, you.” Lifting her off her feet, he smiled up at her reddening face.

“Put me down, Ben. I’m too heavy,” she hissed at him.

“Not hardly, darlin’.” Then he spun her around, and she squealed laughingly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Everyone smiled, sharing in her exuberant enjoyment.

After he set her down on the floor, he watched as she accepted the congratulations from the other patrons. Her face was flushed a becoming pink, and her eyes glittered with excitement and pleasure. She was hugged and patted on the back for a good five or ten minutes. Finally everyone cleared out, and he turned her to face him. Picking up her hand, he place the two quarters in it and then wrapped her fingers tightly closed. Then he held out her drink. “Okay, darlin’. You won that fair and square. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed being taken for twenty-five cents as much as I did tonight. Here’s to you.” He toasted her and grinned as she smiled and turned up her drink.

“So where did you learn to shoot pool like that?”

She giggled, a refreshingly sweet sound in the bar. “My Dad loved pool. We had a pool table in our family room, and I’ve been playing since I was little. I know I should have said something, but when you were so cocky about teaching me, I couldn’t help myself.”

He nodded. “Damn right. I deserved it. I was talking like an arrogant SOB, and I

needed to be brought down a peg or two. Good for you.”

She smiled even bigger. “Wow, I can’t believe you’re being such a good sport about it. The time I beat Trey like that, he got so pissed off…”

Ben felt the smile on his face become strained at the mention of her neighbor. “Yeah, well, Williamson and I aren’t much alike.”

Uncomfortable, she looked away and gasped. He turned to follow her gaze. Trey

Williamson had walked in the door and was headed right in their direction, a determined look on his face.

“Well, well,” he drawled, “speak of the devil.”

*

Callie was feeling no pain. When they had gotten up to shoot pool, she’d already had two drinks, and, since she wasn’t really used to drinking alcohol, they had given her a pretty good buzz. Not enough to make it obvious she was drunk, but enough to make her a bit cocky when Ben had started on his little “I’ll teach you” speech. Enough to make her forget about “the plan” and just relax and have a good time.

And with the third drink she’d finished, she was well on her way to being very

“happy.” When she saw Trey, she had just enough liquor in her to help her get into her

“role.” Her hand reached up for her necklace, rubbing it as if it were some sort of magic talisman.

As Trey approached, Ben reached out and put his arm around her waist, jerking her into his side. “Williamson. You do turn up everywhere, don’t you? Kinda like a bad penny.”

Trey’s mouth tightened at the insult, but he ignored Ben and focused on Callie.

“Hey, Callie. I’m surprised to see you here.”

Before she could answer, Ben said, “I don’t know why you’re so surprised. Callie’s a great little pool player. She beat the crap out of me, didn’t you sweetheart? And I’m really looking forward to settling up our little private ‘wager’ later on tonight.” He bent to nuzzle her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. “Of course, that was really a win/win bet, wasn’t it, baby?” He leered down at her, and she blushed when she saw the way

Trey’s eyes narrowed as he caught the hint in Ben’s words. But she responded with a little laugh.

“Ben, please.” She looked over at Trey. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight. And you know how much Daddy and I loved playing pool before the divorce.

When Ben suggested coming here, I was really excited. It’s been a while since I’ve played, and I’m having a lot of fun.” She reached around and hugged Ben’s waist, bringing herself even closer to him, so close she could smell the rugged scent of his cologne, and smiled up into his slightly bemused face.

Trey looked skeptical. “I never thought this was your type of place.”

She shrugged, giggling. “Well, I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.”

Ben laughed, and looked down at her with a gleam of approval in his eyes. She was pretty proud herself, even though she couldn’t exactly feel her teeth. She pulled herself away from Ben and faced Trey. “Well, if you’ll excuse us, Trey, I believe Ben and I were about to go and dance. Weren’t we, darling?”

“Hell, yeah, honey. See ya around, Williamson.” Ben placed a hand on the back of her waist and gently steered her slightly wobbly figure through the crowd. As she walked off towards the dance floor, she could feel Trey’s eyes boring into her back.

She and Ben reached the crowded dance floor as the band began playing a slow country song. They wove their way through the dancers until they were right in the middle of the floor. “Belly rubbing music. My favorite.” Ben pulled her into his arms, wrapping her close against him, and began swaying to the slow, dreamy beat of Rascal

Flatts’ “I Melt.” And she did exactly that. She melted. Right into his arms. Soon, she had lost track of Trey, totally focused on the music and on the man holding her. His hands drifted up and down her back, pulling her even closer … so close she could feel the erection beginning to make itself evident against the softness of her belly.

When she glanced up, he smiled at her, not his usual mischievous grin, but a knowing little smile. And she smiled back. Inwardly she was somewhat amazed at how she was acting, but she didn’t care. She was enjoying herself.

Ben pressed his hand against her back, holding her firmly in place, his hips grinding into her so she could feel his erection. He bent his head, his mouth close to her ear, and began singing along with the music. “

I melt every time you look at me that way. It never fails, any time any place. This burning me’s the coolest thing I’ve ever felt. I melt

.” Deep and husky, his voice sent shivers of awareness down her spine. His breath ticked her ear, and she knew she wasn’t mistaken in thinking that his lips brushed against the curve of her jaw as he sang.

She snuggled in as close as she could get, and let her hands entangle themselves in his hair where it met the collar of his shirt. His lips moved caressingly across her cheek and caught hers in a slow, languorous kiss. She moaned. His teeth caught her bottom lip and tugged. She whimpered. With that sound his tongue drove between her lips and slid wetly against her own, the tenor of the kiss no longer sweetly seductive but hot and demanding. Her arms tightened around his neck, holding him as close as she could get him. She felt wild. Wild and crazy with need.

He withdrew his tongue, and she chased it with hers. With aroused eagerness, she explored the dark cavern of his mouth. His tongue engaged hers in a duel that had her arching wildly against him, rubbing against the thick, hard shaft she could feel through the rough denim fabric of his jeans. Her breasts were swollen and aching, the tips hard pebbles that craved the touch of a calloused hand, a rough tongue.

No longer dancing, they ground together in an act of simulated lovemaking that would have drawn gasps of shocked disapproval had they not been hidden in the thick press of bodies around them.

His hand moved between them to cup her between her thighs, pressing into her in a rhythmic caress. Thank God no one could see what they were doing, the idea drifted through Callie’s mind in a moment of brief coherence. But she was too far gone to give it more than a passing thought. Between the alcohol she had consumed and the molten desire running through her veins, she was totally lost to anything but the need to satisfy her body’s unruly demands.

Ben pulled back, his hands reaching up to drag hers from the grip she had on his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here, baby.” She nodded. Without another word, he turned, pulling her behind him through the crowded dance floor and out into the cooler air of the parking lot. No thought of Trey crossed her mind. Her total focus was on Ben and the pleasure he had given her. She wanted more.

*

As Ben pulled her around the corner of the building, he knew he was making a

mistake. He knew he should stop this before it went too far. She would probably regret this tomorrow, in the cold, sober light of morning. He shook his head, trying to pull himself back from what was about to happen.

“Kiss me again, Ben. Please.”

Her pleading whisper sent him over the edge. Mistake or not, he had to have a more complete taste of the sweet, sweet Callie. To hell with Trey Williamson. Unable to deny her need coupled with his own desires, he gave her what she had asked for, bringing his mouth down on hers in a hard, demanding kiss. He pushed her against the side of the building and brought his body flush against hers. “Damn, Callie, you’ve got me so hot.”

He dropped burning little kisses across her cheek and down her neck. Taking a bit of skin between his teeth, he drew on it sharply. Sucking her. Marking her. She responded by wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer, parting her legs to allow his to press between. He moved against her, lifting her slightly until she was riding his thigh, and she grasped his arms to steady herself.

His hands pushed beneath her shirt, dragging it upward and yanking the bra down so that her breasts spilled over the cups. In the dim light he could see the pink tips puckered and eager for his mouth. He bent and took one bud between his teeth, nipping lightly before pulling it inside and sucking. With each tug, she arched, dragging herself against his leg where she straddled it, and Ben could hear whimpering little noises coming from deep in her chest. He released one nipple and moved his attention to the other, swirling his tongue in circles around the tip in a teasing pattern until one of her hands clasped his head and pulled him tighter against her.

He gave her what she wanted. Parting his lips he drew that nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, and Callie moaned, “Oh, God, Ben. Yes … that feels so good.”

Releasing the nipple he used both hands to massage Callie’s full breasts. God her tits were gorgeous. Full and soft. He wanted to fuck them. To push her down in the dirt and fuck her tits right there.

Instead he pulled his leg from between hers. She wobbled slightly, but caught her balance against the side of his buildings as his hands went to the zip of her jeans. A quick tug and they were undone, and his hand was pushing them down over her thighs so that he could get at the moist treasure between her thighs. His fingers parted the swollen pussy lips, and she spread her legs as wide as she could. He pressed against the opening he found there and she whimpered. Coating his finger with her juices, he pushed up inside her hot, tight channel.

“Damn, Ben. More, please.”

Her hoarse plea undid him. Eager to accommodate her, he pressed another digit inside her. He gave her a moment to get used to the invasion and then and began fucking her with his fingers. His thumb massaged the area around her clit in smaller and smaller circles until he was stimulating it directly. He could tell from the erratic sound of her breathing it wouldn’t be long. Moving faster and faster, he continued until she froze and cried out. Bending his head, he covered her lips with his as she came, and he caught her breathless cries in his mouth.

He reached down to unzip his pants, totally focused on his need to get his cock into that tight little tunnel. Then a noise from around the side of the building hit him like a splash of cold water. A group of laughing rowdies was entering the bar. They were in no danger of discovery, but it made Ben realize what he was about to do. And … well, he

couldn’t. He knew she was a little drunk and caught up in the moment. He wanted her.

God knows it was going to kill him to stop when he was aching so, but he didn’t want her like this … up against the wall in the parking lot of Troy’s.

Damnit! When had he become so noble? It’s not like he’d never taken a girl against the side of a bar before. But Callie … was … well … she deserved better … more. So instead of unzipping his pants, he helped her fasten hers. She looked at him with puzzled eyes as he finished straightening her shirt. “But you didn’t … I mean…” She blushed, God love her. She had the fastest blush in the state.

“No, baby. I didn’t. And I can tell you right now, somebody’s not too happy about it.

But this isn’t the time or the place. Come on. It’s time for me to take you home. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

He gently guided her towards his truck and boosted her up into the seat. He adjusted his throbbing erection to ease the pressure somewhat, before opening the driver’s door.

When he climbed in and cranked the engine, he looked over at her as she sat in somewhat dazed confusion. Unable to resist, he reached around her waist and pulled her against him, and she leaned her head to rest it on his shoulder. Before they were even out of the parking lot, soft feminine snores were coming from her mouth. He grinned as he steered them down the highway and toward her house, surprised at how right this felt … even with a boner the size of California in his pants and no relief in sight.

Chapter Five

The shrieking of the alarm clock pierced through Callie’s brain bright and early the next morning, almost sending her into cardiac arrest. After fighting her way out of the covers, which seemed to be trying to strangle her, she finally managed find the right button to silence the damn thing. She sat up in her bed, her head clasped in her hands. It felt as if little men had taken up residence in her brain and were doing their best to pound their way out. And if that weren’t enough, her mouth felt like it was coated with some foul-tasting sludge. Ugh!

What on earth was wrong with her? Was she sick? She didn’t remember feeling ill last night. Last night … oh, hell. Disjointed memories of everything that had happened at

Troy’s flooded her brain. She’d been having fun; she knew that. Had Trey even been there? She thought she vaguely remembered talking to him. But what she mainly remembered was Ben. Playing pool with Ben, dancing with Ben, and then, outside …

ohmigod! She fell back, covering her face with her pillow. That … that … in the parking lot … maybe it had all been part of some weird dream. Surely she hadn’t … and Ben hadn’t … and they hadn’t… She screamed into the pillow and then pushed it aside. Shit!

She didn’t have time for a nervous breakdown this morning. She had to be at work in an hour. She glanced at the clock. Make that fifty minutes.

Stumbling from the bed, she made her way gingerly into the adjoining bath where she peered blearily into the mirror above the sink. What the hell was that on her neck?

She leaned closer, pushing her necklace out of the way. Was it … was it…? Damn, it was. A hickey. She hadn’t had a hickey on her neck since… Jesus, had she ever had a hickey?

Shit! Well, it definitely hadn’t been a dream then. What the hell had she been thinking? Ha! She hadn’t been thinking, and that was the truth. She’d been a little tipsy, true, but mostly she’d been drunk on the way she felt whenever Ben had kissed her, touched her, made her … oh, God, had she really had an orgasm in the parking lot of

Troy’s? She had. Right there up against the wall. Christ, what if someone had seen her?

But it had felt so good. Ben’s hands had been so knowing, touching all the right spots in exactly the right way. Unlike how it had been with what’s-his-name, her ex-boyfriend, Ben hadn’t had any trouble making her come. But Ben hadn’t had the same relief. She remembered that, too. He had stopped. She hadn’t wanted him to. She remembered that as well.

Well, crud. Why had he stopped? Did he not find her attractive enough? No, that was idiotic! He had definitely been interested. He’d been hard as a rock all pressed up against her when they’d danced and later outside. She thought she remembered him saying something when he’d dropped her off. He’d carried her to the front door, even though she’d protested that he’d hurt his back. He’d laughed. And then, had he said something about next time? Something about it needing to be perfect? And then he’d kissed her again. Another of those scorching hot kisses that made her weak in the knees and drove every coherent thought right from her brain. How she had made it in the house and dressed herself for bed, she’d never know.

Looking up, she caught her reflection in the mirror. What on earth was she doing

standing here mooning over Ben? With a determined shake of her head, she reached over to turn on the shower.

She made it to work only a few minutes late. Thankfully, her morning was extremely busy, and she didn’t really have time to think much about the events of the previous night. Luckily, the high neck of her shirt forestalled any possible need for embarrassing explanations. A little after eleven, the head librarian, Mrs. Davenport, called to her where she was working on sorting some books in the back. “You have someone who wants to speak with you, Callie. Why don’t you take your lunch break now?”

Callie froze for a moment before nodding and following Mrs. Davenport to the front desk. Who could it be? Was it Ben? Oh, lord, what on earth would she say to him?

Automatically, her hand reached for the necklace that lay against the cotton shirt she wore but then climbed higher to brush over the spot that held Ben’s mark. She turned the corner and saw him. Not Ben. Trey. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Relieved, of course. Glad even. This was Trey. The one she loved … the one … the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with…

But did she? Did she really? Somehow, over the past few days, things had changed.

She had changed. And she wasn’t that sure what she was feeling anymore.

Trey saw her and smiled. “Callie? I hope you don’t mind my dropping by like this, but I thought you might be free for lunch.”

She hesitated a moment, and his smile began to fade slightly. Then she smiled back.

This was Trey, after all. The guy who’d taught her to skateboard and whistle. “Sure. Let me get my purse.”

Moments later they were strolling down Main Street heading towards

Stefano’s.

After they were seated at a table near the window and had gotten some drinks, they spent a few minutes looking at the menus and deciding what they wanted. The waitress, not a sexy redhead, much to Callie’s relief, returned and took their lunch order. When she left, Trey looked questioningly at Callie. “This is nice, isn’t it? It seems like forever since we spent some time together.”

She nodded. “Yeah, it is nice.”

“I’ve been a little worried about you, Cal.” He reached out to take her hand in his. “I

know you’re going to tell me it’s none of my business, but Ben Riley is not the nicest guy, sweetheart. He’s well known for breaking hearts left and right.”

While she listened to Trey as he began telling her all the reasons why she shouldn’t be seeing Ben, she supposed she should have been happy because it appeared Trey might actually be jealous, which was the whole purpose of their little “plot” after all. Instead, though, all she could think about was how strange it felt with Trey holding her hand. She was used to a larger hand now, one that was more calloused. One that made her tingle every time it touched her. And it wasn’t Trey’s hand that did that.

And as she watched his face as he spoke so earnestly, another, darker image kept super-imposing itself over Trey’s blond good looks. She shook her head, trying to dispel

Ben’s face from her mind. “Don’t deny it, Callie. You know that you deserve better. I

don’t want to see you hurt when he drops you for someone else.”

“Oh, Trey, I … I really appreciate you trying to look out for me. Honestly I do. But

I’m a grown woman now. I’m not a little girl anymore that you have to protect. I know what I’m doing. And I know better than to take Ben seriously. Gee, I’m best friends with his sister. You think I don’t know what he’s like?”

Trey grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well. I care about you, Callie. I don’t like seeing you with that jerk.” Trey leaned forward, gazing into her eyes. “I know you’re all grown up, Cal. That’s become incredibly obvious to me over the past few days. You’re a beautiful woman. I don’t know why I never noticed before how much you’ve changed. I

guess I’ve had blinders on. So … if you say you know what you’re doing, then I’ll have to take your word for it. Just know that I am here for you whenever you need me, sweetheart. I care about you, Callie. A lot.”

Callie’s heart should have been thumping like a drum. She should have been thrilled.

He certainly sounded jealous, and interested. The way he was stroking her hand and gazing into her eyes definitely seemed a bit more than brotherly. So, why did she feel so

… so … awkward?

* * * *

Ben was walking down the street heading toward the hardware store to pick up some tools he’d ordered when he heard a voice calling his name. He stopped when he saw

Marianne crossing the street to reach him. “Hey, Sis. What’s up?” Ben reached out to give her a hug.

She hugged him back. “Nothing much. I’m on my lunch break. When I saw you, I

thought I’d see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. Maybe

Stefano’s

? I’m in the mood for

Italian.”

“Sure. I have some tools to pick up at Travis’s Hardware, but I can get them after we eat.” He took her arm and guided her down the street. As they approached the restaurant, Marianne let out a low whistle.

“Well, well, will ya look at that. Looks like my little plan is working like a charm.”

Ben followed the direction of her gaze and saw them. Framed in the front window of

Stefano

’s, Callie and Trey looked like they couldn’t keep their eyes—or their hands—off one another. Trey leaned toward Callie, his hand clasped around hers where it rested on the table. And Callie was smiling as he said something to her. The whole picture had an air of intimacy. Ben’s heart did a funny little jerk in his chest.

Marianne was saying something, and he had to force himself to look back at her, to pull his eyes away from the scene before him.

“Are you okay, Ben? You look kinda pale? Do you feel sick?” Marianne’s voice was filled with sisterly concern as she looked up at him.

Grabbing at the excuse, he said, “You know what? I’m not feeling too good. I must be coming down with something.” He looked away so she could not read the truth in his eyes. “Maybe I oughta skip lunch. Can I have a rain check, Marianne?”

“Of course, Ben. Why don’t you go on home and take it easy?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.” He gave her another brief hug. “Sorry about leaving you like this. It’s probably only a twenty-four-hour bug. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. Take care, okay?”

“Okay.” Ben turned and walked back down the street to where he had parked his truck. He climbed in and sat for several minutes staring out the front window, unable to get the picture of Callie and Trey together out of his mind. He reached up and rubbed his hand over his heart. Something wasn’t right. Callie and Trey didn’t belong together. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he knew it. Deep in his gut. He just had to make her see it too.

*

Marianne watched as Ben cranked his truck and pulled out into traffic, a small smile playing around her mouth. Then she looked back at the window of

Stefano’s just as Callie leaned back and pulled her hand from beneath Trey’s. Her smile widened to a grin. She watched for a few more moments and then turned and walked down the street, pleased with the way her plan was progressing.

* * * *

When Callie arrived home that afternoon, she saw Ben’s truck parked in front of her house. Her lunch with Trey had ended on a friendly but odd note, and she had been trying all afternoon to understand why she hadn’t felt more pleased with the way things were going. After all, it looked like Trey might actually be thinking about her as more than a good friend. And wasn’t that what she had wanted? Wasn’t that exactly the result she and

Marianne had planned for?

But as soon as she saw Ben, thoughts of Trey melted away like ice on a hot day, and instead she felt all tingly inside as she remembered the night before. She paused for a second, hesitating, but then she got out and approached the porch, where he sat pushing himself back and forth in her swing. His dark eyes followed her progress as she climbed up the steps and stopped a few feet from him. He didn’t smile and he didn’t say anything, just continued to watch her, and her nerves got the better of her. Lifting her hand she played with her necklace, and his eyes tracked the movement.

She cleared her throat. “Um … hi, Ben. Was there something you wanted? Were we supposed to have a pretend ‘date’ tonight? Did I forget something?”

He shrugged. “No.” That was all. A few more minutes passed.

Callie shifted restlessly. “Oh … ah, well, did you need something?”

He smiled, not a very pleasant smile. “Yeah, you could say that.” He stood up. “Can

I come in?” His eyes roved down her body, lingering on her breasts, her thighs. And she was suddenly, stunningly aroused.

She looked down, hoping against hope that he didn’t know the effect he was having on her, and then said, “Sure, I … ah … sure, come on in.” Turning, she inserted the key in the lock. He followed her inside and shut the door with a resounding thud. Then he stood staring at her broodingly. What was the matter with him? He was acting like he was mad about something. Could it be last night? Well, if he was mad about last night, it was his own fault. She’d been willing. Hell, more than willing. She’d been downright eager.

So he could just get over his snit or whatever it was.

As she walked toward the back of the house to the kitchen, she could feel him following closely behind her, still not saying anything. And the more she thought, the more pissed she got. If anyone ought to be mad, it should be her. How dare he get all huffy? She flung her purse onto the counter and turned to confront him.

“Okay, what the hell is your problem? If you think that what happened last night was a mistake, you couldn’t be more right. I think…”

“I saw you at

Stefano’s today.”

His words halted her tirade. “What?”

“I said I saw you having lunch with loverboy. You two sure looked cozy.” His tone was sneering. She lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him. Ignoring her attitude, he walked toward her, and she stepped back until she was abruptly halted by the cabinets at her back. He didn’t stop, though. He kept coming until he held her pinned against the

counter. “Yeah, all cozy and lovey-dovey. He was drooling over your hand and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you sat there all mooney-eyed.”

She raised her hands and pressed them against his chest, trying to move him back, to get herself some breathing room. “What?” she said again. She knew she sounded like some kind of moron, but she was totally caught off-guard. What on earth was he talking about? He saw her at lunch with Trey? She got mad again. “So what? Look, I don’t know what bee is up your butt, but you need to back off. It’s none of your business who I eat lunch with. And besides,” she shoved hard, but couldn’t budge him, the big oaf, “…besides, wasn’t that the plan?” She pushed again, tried stomping on his foot, but he merely leaned harder against her, using his legs to pin her more firmly, effectively halting her struggles.

She looked up at him angrily.

*

Ben knew he was acting crazy. He knew he had no right to be so mad. But all afternoon he’d kept seeing that scene over and over, imagining what had happened after he left. Had they gone back to his place? Had Williamson kissed her? Fucked her? The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. That sonofabitch better not have touched her.

Not even a hair on her head. It was unreasonable, unexplainable, uncontrollable. But there it was. She was his. She might not know it yet, but she was. His. The feeling of possessiveness had been growing since the first day he’d agreed to that crazy jealousy plot. And now it erupted into this overwhelming jealous rage.

“The plan? To hell with the damn plan.”

If she knew how angry and out of control he really was, she’d be running and screaming for the door, not inciting him further with her defiant attitude. As it was, he thought she probably got a pretty good idea of how he was feeling when he caught her lips in a hot, scorchingly passionate kiss. A kiss that held all that he was feeling—the anger, the need, confusion. His tongue plundered her tender mouth, which parted helplessly in the face of his demand.

He had no mercy on her but pushed the kiss straight into the carnal. His mouth ate at hers, forcing it wider and wider. He fucked her face with his tongue, and she moaned. At her moan, he lifted her onto the counter. Pressing her legs wide, he jerked her forward so that his cock was wedged tightly against her sweet pussy. He rubbed himself against her, dragging his hardness against her and eliciting another moan. Her hands came up to clasp his shoulders, but he grabbed them and shoved them behind her back, one hand of his making a bracelet to hold hers still.

His mouth never leaving hers, he moved his other hand to shove her shirt up and over her tits. Then he kissed down her throat, hard biting kisses, until he reached the nipple that pressed eagerly against her lace-covered breast. He took it into his mouth and sucked, wetting the fabric, until she arched against him, rubbing herself more firmly on his erection. His hand pushed the wet fabric of her bra down and pinched the aroused nipple as his mouth moved to her other breast.

He was on fire for her, and her needy little moans were spurring him on. Yes, this

was how he wanted her. He moved his mouth back up to smother hers, his hand clasping the back of her head in a rough grip, holding her in place so he plunder her mouth as he willed. More, he needed more. His cock ached to be inside her. He pulled his mouth off hers, panting out the words, “Where’s your bedroom?”

Dazed eyes gazed up at him, the pupils so large he could barely see the blue of her iris. “Hmm? What?”

He shook her slightly. “Where’s your bedroom, Callie?”

“Down the hall. Last door,” she answered huskily, her eyes focused on his mouth.

He released her hands and grasped her hips, pulling her up, and her legs automatically wrapped themselves around his waist. He stumbled his way down the hall in a reddened haze of lust and need. Making his way unsteadily into the bedroom, he dropped her onto the bed and then followed her down. “God, Callie, I need this. I need you so much.”

He kissed her again. And again. Unable to get enough of the taste of her. More, he needed more. He needed her naked beneath him. He sat up, straddling her hips, and began stripping her. First he attacked the shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it carelessly aside. Then her bra followed. His hands massaged her breasts, pinching and pulling on the nipples before they moved to her skirt. It was quickly disposed of as well, along with her panties. Soon Callie lay beneath him completely nude, and he paused for a moment, sitting up to look at her. God, she was gorgeous. Like some pinup girl from the fifties. Her breasts were full, overflowing his hands when he cupped them, and topped with swollen, dark pink nipples. His hands moved down to stroke over the slightly rounded curve of her belly, loving the intensely feminine look and feel of her.

He scooted backward, so he could see her pussy, the neatly trimmed hairs already moist with her need. He moved so he could spread her legs apart. “No, Ben…”

“Hush. Just hush. I want to see you. Every part of you. God, you’ve got me so hot, baby.” He used his fingers to spread her open, his eyes drinking her in—the swollen bud of her clit, the folds slick with her juices. His finger probed the entrance to her pussy, pressing inside. He loved hearing her whimpers of need. He leaned down and flicked his tongue across her pussy and around her clit. She jerked.

“Please, Ben … oh, God, please…”

“Yeah, baby. I know.” He spread her even wider, using his shoulders to hold her legs wide as he sucked and licked her pussy and pumped his finger in and out of her excited tunnel in a hard and fast rhythm. “You taste so good, sweetheart.”

“Ben, I … oh, oh…” With a scream, Callie came against his mouth, and he drank her juices down, relishing every drop.

When her spasms ended, he rose above her. Shoving his pants down, he grabbed a condom from his pocket and expertly rolled it on. Then he pushed his cock into her slowly, loving the tight squeeze of her around him. When he was fully seated inside her, he stretched his body over hers and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pulled out and plunged back in, setting up a steady rhythm that felt so damn good. So fucking good it was unbelievable.

*

Callie’s hands clasped the sheets in a tight grip as Ben sped up, fucking her faster and faster. Ben’s hands tightened on her hips and he changed positions slightly, his cock stroking against a spot inside her that sent cold chills shivering down her back.

Amazingly, she could feel another climax starting deep in the pit of her stomach, and with every stroke of Ben’s cock, the tension grew. Faster and faster, harder and harder, he fucked her. He leaned down, his mouth latching onto her neck and sucking. Then his hand moved around to rub over her clit, and with the first touch, she exploded. Her peak

triggered his own.

When he withdrew his cock from her, she collapsed and felt him fall beside her. She turned her head and saw him lying there, his arm across his eyes and his chest moving with each deep breath he took. Her own breathing was erratic and her heart felt as if it was about to pound from her chest. Good Lord. So that’s why everyone raved on and on about how great sex was.

That was what she had been missing all this time. Ben’s arm snaked out and pulled her against him, cuddling her body close. She relaxed into his warmth. Her last thought before she drifted off was that she had been right. Sex with Ben had been … earth-shattering, mild-altering, incapacitatingly good. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

*

Ben was enjoying the feel of Callie’s body against his. For a while he lay there, relishing the quiet and contentment he felt. Finally, he eased from the bed, careful not to disturb her. He stood looking down at her, at the beautiful picture she made. Her hair was a tangled mass spread out across the pillow, and the corners of her mouth were crooked up in an intriguing little half-smile. He wondered what she was dreaming about and hoped it was him.

He shook his head at his own ridiculous thoughts. Then he turned and quietly made his way into the connecting bathroom. After taking care of the condom and some other personal business, he reached for the glass, which sat next to the faucet. Accidentally knocking it over, he unsuccessfully tried to catch it, but it fell to the floor with a loud crash. He winced and waited for Callie to call out to him, but everything remained quiet.

When he cracked open the door, he saw that she was still sound asleep, so he began picking up the pieces of broken glass and tossing them into the garbage. As he did so, his thoughts wandered again to the woman in the next room. Damn, Callie was something else. He felt a little mooney-eyed over her, but for some reason he just didn’t give a damn.

“Ouch!” He looked down at the slice he had cut across his finger. “Oh, hell.” Well, that would teach him to pay attention to what he was doing. Blood began welling from the wound, and he quickly wrapped a bathcloth over it and began searching through the cabinets for a band-aid. In the top of the narrow linen closet in the corner was a box that looked promising, but when he pulled it down and peeked inside, his eyes widened in disbelief.

The first thing he saw was a paperback novel. But not just any paperback novel. An erotic novel. On the cover was a picture of a nude young woman kneeling on a rumpled bed, hands tied behind her back. A riding crop lay beside her. The title was

Priscilla’s

Painful Pleasures

. After quickly thumbing through the book, he set it aside and eagerly looked over the rest of the box’s contents. Underneath the book was a satin blindfold, bright pink. He moved it out of the way, and saw a vibrator and a butt plug, still in its original packaging, alongside a tube of lube. He picked up a set of velvet-lined handcuffs, also pink, and began to grin. A purple gel dildo and some flavored body paints completed the list of contents. Ben’s grin grew even larger, and he began chuckling to himself and shaking his head. Who would have thought it? His innocent little Callie was into kink.

* * * *

Callie woke slowly to the feel of a gentle stroking across her nipples. Slowly, she

blinked her eyes open. Ben smiled down at her. “Hey, baby.”

Smiling back, she tried to raise her arms to bring him down closer, but they wouldn’t move. She craned her neck around and discovered her hands were handcuffed together and then bound tightly to the wrought-iron headboard with what looked like the belt of her bathrobe.

Her eyes shot to his. “Ben?”

His hand went back to its gentle stroking over her nipples, and he studied them as they furled into tight peaks. “I found your box of toys. Wanna play with me, Callie?” He bent down and kissed each nipple. Then he looked up at her. “Hmm?”

She blushed. How embarrassing. Oh, Lord. “Ben, I need to explain about those…”

“Shh, baby. No, you don’t. I’m glad you are interested in that kind of thing. My kind of thing. Have you ever … played … with anyone else?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He smiled. “Good. So, will you play with me, baby? Will you let me introduce you to a different kind of bedroom fun tonight?”

“I don’t know, Ben. This is a bit…”

“What? Scary? Are you scared I’ll hurt you, Callie?”

She giggled nervously, she but stopped at the serious look on his face. “No. Of course not.”

He nodded. “Nervous? Embarrassed?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I thought so. There’s no reason to be. Honestly. Let me play. Just a bit. I promise, if

I do anything you don’t like, anything that makes you scared or uncomfortable, tell me. If you want me to stop, simply say stop. And I will.”

She gnawed on her lip for a second, trying to think. She tugged against the bonds again, and had to admit to herself she found the situation quite arousing. Like the women in the books she loved to read. Like what he had done to Becky all those years ago in his parent’s boat house. It was so wicked, but also wickedly exciting. She wanted to play with Ben, she acknowledged to herself. And after all, why had she bought the toys if she never intended to use them? This was something she’d fantasized about, dreamed about, wanted so much. Was she going to let her nerves prevent her from doing something she’d been wanting to do? She looked up at Ben, her decision made. She nodded. “Yes, Ben.

Let’s play.”

He smiled. Reaching across her, he picked up the blindfold lying on the bed. “I’m going to blindfold you now. Okay?”

Again she nodded, and he wrapped the cloth around her head, raising her slightly to tie the blindfold snugly over her hair. “Does that feel all right?”

“Yes, Ben.”

“Good.”

She felt his hand stroke across her cheek and outline her lips before his lips brushed over hers. “You’re so sweet, Callie.” He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, exploring its moist dark caverns. Then he kissed down her neck. The roughness of his cheek brushed across her nipples and then his mouth closed over one of the aching peaks, pulling on the aroused flesh. She felt an answering pulse between her thighs.

Every touch, every breath seemed magnified with the blindfold on. “God, Ben.”

His hand moved down across her stomach, to cup over her pussy, the fingers delving

between the moist lips to thrust up into her channel. She moaned. “You like that, don’t you, Callie? Like feeling my fingers inside you.” He thrust in another finger to join the first. Helplessly she arched into his motions, loving the rough feel of him against her tender flesh.

His teeth closed over a sensitive nipple, pulling and biting, almost hurting. Almost

… but not quite. “Ben.”

“Do you want me to stop, Callie?”

She shook her head. “No, please. Don’t stop.”

She heard him chuckle. Then his mouth closed over her other nipple, biting and teasing in time with the fingers that were plunging in and out of her ever-dampening pussy. She could hear the wet slide of his fingers into her and thought briefly that she probably should be embarrassed at how wet she was. But then he bit down a little harder and she moaned again.

He pulled back and she could hear him moving around. Then a buzzing noise that sounded familiar. “What?”

A vibration against her belly answered her question. Her vibrator. Ben trailed it slowly up her torso, around her breasts in ever-decreasing circles until they reached her nipples. “Oh. Oh.” God, that felt good. She bit her lip.

Then he stopped. She felt him lean over and then he took one of her nipples in his mouth again and sucked. “Ben!” He ignored the gasping cry and continued playing with her breasts until she thought she would come just from that.

“Please, Ben. Please.” Callie tossed her head back and forth on the pillow.

“Please what, Callie? Please stop? Do you want me to stop? All you have to do is ask.” His voice was a husky whisper in her ear.

“No, no. Don’t … stop. But … please … I need … I need…”

“What, baby? Tell me what you want … what you need…”

“I need to come. Please, Ben. I need to come.”

He kissed her lips softly. “Oh, sweet, sweet, Callie. I know. But not yet. Okay? Trust me. It’ll be so much better if we wait … just a little bit.”

Then the vibrator turned on again. She could hear the low buzz moving away from her head and down. “Ahh…” He had placed it against her pussy, and she arched upward.

So close … she was so close. But he kept the speed on low, weaving it in teasing little circles around her outer lips, across her hipbones, down her inner thighs. Her legs shifted restlessly and she tugged on the bonds that held her still.

When she thought she couldn’t take any more, he stopped. Raising up, his hands slid beneath her hips. “Turn over, baby.”

“What?”

“Roll over. I want you on your hands and knees.”

She nodded and, following the directions of his hands, she was soon positioned on the bed as he wanted. Her cheek was against the sheet and her ass lifted into the air with the help of a couple of pillows he had tucked beneath her.

“Beautiful. That is so beautiful, baby.” He rubbed his hands over the round contours of her ass, and she lost her embarrassment at the position as she heard the genuine admiration in his voice. Then he stopped, and she heard a rustling sound. He began smearing something across her back opening and she tried to pull away.

“No! What are you doing?”

His voice soothed her. “I’m going to put the plug in, Callie. Don’t you want to try it?

It was in your box of toys. I promise, if you don’t like it, I’ll stop. Remember?”

She nodded.

“Now, relax.” She felt the moist tip of his finger press against the dark hole and tensed.

“Relax, Callie. Don’t tighten up, or it will be more painful.”

Forcing herself to relax, she took a deep breath as his finger breached the opening and pushed inside. It felt … odd. Not painful, just full.

“Good girl, Callie. Very good.” He pressed harder, and his finger slid in the rest of the way. He twisted it back and forth for a few minutes then pulled it out. A moment later, he slid in again, only this time it was two fingers and a lot tighter.

“Is that okay, sweetheart? Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head again. “It… It doesn’t hurt, Ben.”

Without another word, he began pumping his fingers in and out, twisting and spreading the opening with each entrance. He added some more lube and continued until his fingers slid in and out easily. Then he stopped. A moment later, there was another pressure against her. Harder and bigger than his fingers.

“This is the plug, Callie. Just relax. Take a deep breath for me.”

Callie did as he asked. The pressure increased and with it, a twinge of pain as her muscles were stretched wider and wider for the plug.

“Press down, Callie.”

“Ouch! That hurts, Ben.”

*

Ben stopped. He looked down at the plug that was about halfway inside Callie. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen anything so erotic in his life. “Okay, baby. Do you want me to stop? Is it too painful?”

He held his breath, waiting for her answer. Finally she said, “No. No, don’t stop. It’s

… it’s not that bad. I want you to finish.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure, Ben.”

Ben reached around Callie’s hips, and placed his left hand over her pussy. He began rubbing his fingers over her, stimulating her already sensitive clit. Soon Callie was moving her hips in time with his fingers, and he slowly eased the plug inside her until the base rested snugly against her ass.

“There. It’s in all the way, baby.”

“It is?” Her voice had a dreamy quality to it, and he knew that she was caught up in the painful pleasure of having her ass stretched wide and his fingers playing with her pussy. He pushed one of his fingers up into her, and she moaned. He added another.

“Ummmmm … God, Ben. Oh, God, that feels so good.”

He finger-fucked her for a few more minutes, her pussy walls so tight with the plug in place. God, he couldn’t wait to fuck her with his cock.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes, ohhhhhh, yes. Feels sooo good.” Her hips pressed down into his fingers on each stroke. He couldn’t take it any more.

He withdrew his fingers and reached for the condom he had placed on the bed.

Quickly he rolled it on and moved into position behind Callie, kneeing her legs apart in

order to give himself more room.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Callie,” he told her, and she groaned.

He slid his cock inside her channel, and the tight squeeze almost did him in. Pausing for a moment, he regained control and slowly eased himself in further, not wanting to hurt her. From the moans and sighs coming from her lips, though, that wasn’t a problem.

Slowly he pushed in further and further. At last he was completely inside her, and it felt so damn good. He remained poised there, enjoying the way Callie looked stretched out before him, her hands bound above her, her ass lifted high with the plug’s red color standing out against the paleness of her ass. And his cock imbedded inside her.

“Sonofabitch, that’s hot, Callie.”

She moaned again. “Fuck me, Ben.”

He didn’t need another invitation. He eased his cock out and slowly pushed inside again. Over and over, taking his time because he wanted this to be all about her pleasure and enjoyment, he withdrew and thrust again and again. Finally Callie raised herself up onto her elbows and began pushing back against him.

At that signal, Ben picked up the pace, fucking her harder and harder. His hand on her ass kept the plug securely in place as their movements became wilder. Ben raised his hand and slapped it against her right cheek, leaving a bright red handprint. Callie screamed, “Yes.

Yes!

” So he did it again. And again. Each time, her movements urged him to faster speeds, her groans growing louder and louder until, with a wrenching sob, she came. His own hoarse cry immediately followed as he climaxed a moment after she did.

He pulled out of Callie and fell to the side, and she collapsed into a limp pile. His ragged breathing was echoed by her own, and for a long time neither said a word.

Then he stood up and removed the condom. Getting a moist rag from the bathroom, he tenderly removed the plug from Callie and set about cleaning her up. Then he unfastened the cuffs and removed the blindfold. After taking the rag back to the bathroom, he returned and joined Callie on the bed.

*

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing Callie knew, she was blinking her eyes open to find Ben lying there watching her. She didn’t even have the energy to blush at the thought of all they had done. He stared at her for a couple of heartbeats, and then turned onto his side and pulled her against him, nuzzling his face into the damp hair at the spot where her neck and shoulder met. “Damn, baby.” His hand stroked down her face and onto her chest. When he touched the necklace that lay against her breasts he raised his head up. He picked it up gently and ran it back and forth along the chain.

She froze when he asked, “Where’d you get this, sweetheart? I see you playing with it all the time.”

When she didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed and she looked away, avoiding the suspicion that she saw entering his expression. “Ahh … well, I got it … that is…”

He dropped it and rolled away, sitting up in one quick movement. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Trey the Terrific gave it to you. Right?” His back was to Callie as she answered.

“Yeah. He gave it to me for my last birthday.” She confessed reluctantly.

She heard him laugh, a short sound that contained very little mirth. “I guess I should have known, considering how much you love him and all.” She could hear the sarcasm

evident in every word he spoke. She reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, but he jerked away and stood up. He began pulling on his clothes quickly, and she sat up in bed, drawing the covers around her to cover the nudity that moments ago had seemed so comfortable.

She didn’t know what to say. It was one of those moments when words completely failed her. Callie wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but she knew one thing for certain

… it wasn’t a good idea to make love to a man, especially the way she had made love with Ben, and then immediately start talking to him about someone else. But she didn’t have any experience with this sort of situation at all. What should she do? Anything she said right now was bound to sound foolish.

Ben didn’t give her time to come up with something. When he finished dressing, he crossed over to the bedroom door. He paused for a second before turning to look at her.

“You know what I think, sweetheart? I think that Trey Williamson has never touched that heart of yours, not really. I don’t think you could have responded to me the way you did if you really loved him like you say. I think you’re in love with the idea of being in love with him. I think you’ve let a childhood crush fool you into thinking something that isn’t true. How does he make you feel? I mean really feel?”

She shook her head. Tried to respond. But he stopped her.

“You don’t need to tell me. I know. He makes you feel safe. Maybe even happy. Not like you felt with me. No, I don’t make you feel safe and sweet. I make you feel wild and wicked. Hot and dangerous.” He shrugged. “You need to grow up, sweetheart. Let me know if you finally do. Maybe I’ll still be around.”

He turned around and walked out.

Callie jumped up and ran after him. “Ben? No, wait. Ben?”

All she heard was the thud as the front door closed. She buried her face in her hands.

Was he right? Had she let her girlish infatuation for Trey prevent her from having a real relationship? She was very much afraid she had.

Chapter Six

The next week, Callie was completely unable to focus on work. She could hardly sleep at night, tossing and turning, trying to make sense of what she was feeling. Now she had a horrid headache and still didn’t know what she was going to do. Finally, after she’d mis-shelved the fifth book in a row, she went to Mrs. Davenport. When she had explained that she was having some personal problems, she asked for the next few of days off. Mrs.

Davenport studied her pale face carefully. “Sure, Callie. Take whatever time you need.

Laura is here with me, and I’m sure she’ll be glad to come in tomorrow as well.” She laid a concerned hand on Callie’s shoulder. “Is there anything I can do, dear?”

Callie smiled wanly, but shook her head. “Thank you, but no. It’s something I have to handle on my own. I really appreciate this. I know it’s incredibly short notice.”

“Callie, you’re my best employee. You’ve hardly missed a day in the last three years.

If you need the time, I want you to take it.” She smiled, “Besides, I don’t think I feel like re-shelving any more books today.”

Callie smiled back, knowing that she had, indeed, been making more problems for everyone because she was so distracted. She thanked Mrs. Davenport again, and then went to grab her sweater and purse before leaving. Driving home, she realized she needed to get away so she could think. Without giving herself time to re-think her decision, she used her cell phone to call Marianne to tell her she was going away for a couple of days.

“Going away? Where?” The voice on the other end was demanding and concerned.

“I’m not really sure yet, Mar. I just need some time to myself to do some thinking.”

“But we’re right in the middle of our little plot to get Trey interested in you. Hell, you and Ben have only been out once. Don’t you think you should wait and see if our plan is working before you go haring off to God only knows where?”

“No, I … I really need to go now,” she told her friend. “I’ll tell you about it when I

get back, okay?”

Marianne’s voice echoed her concern. “Is everything all right, Callie? Has something happened? Is it Trey?”

“No … yes … well, I really can’t talk right now. Okay? I promise I’ll call you when

I get back.”

Callie could hear the reluctant note in Marianne’s voice as they said their goodbyes.

Marianne was a good friend, and normally she probably would tell her everything. But

Ben was Marianne’s brother. And it made everything a bit of a tangled mess. She thought it was best to do her thinking alone without anyone else voicing his or her opinion.

An hour later, she had packed a small bag and was on her way down I-10. She thought she’d drive to the beach, maybe Gulf Shores or Pensacola. There wouldn’t be much of a crowd considering the time of year. It would allow her some time to be alone and decide what it was that she really wanted. Or who.

* * * *

Late Friday morning, Ben was hosing out the truck bay at the fire station when he saw a pair of high heels approaching. Oh, hell. He recognized those red strappy sandals.

Sighing, he turned off the hose. “What is it, Marianne? I’m a little busy right now.”

His sister raised her eyebrow at his surly tone. “What stick is up your ass, Ben? I

can’t walk two feet down the street without someone telling me what a piss-poor mood you’ve been in lately.”

He shrugged and turned to walk over to the water cooler. After getting some water in a paper cup, he turned it up and chugged it down. Two more times he did the same thing.

Finally, his thirst appeased, he turned back to his sister. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m just fine-and-fucking dandy. So you can take your little fanny back on to work.”

“I’m on my lunch break.”

He laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “Well, then, why don’t you go find your girlfriend Callie and ya’ll do lunch or something.”

“Callie’s left town.”

His heart froze.

Left?

“What the hell do you mean, she’s left town? For good? That’s crazy.”

“No, idiot. Not for good. She called me yesterday and said that she needed to get out of town for a few days to do some thinking. She wouldn’t tell me anything else. You don’t know what that’s all about do you?” She stared at him suspiciously. “I mean, you and she were spending a lot of time together for a couple of days. You didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

He tried to keep his face blank. “No, I didn’t do anything to her. I don’t know why she left. Maybe she was sick of everybody interfering in her life.” He glared meaningfully at his sister. “Maybe she got tired of seeing Mr. I’m-So-Perfect Williamson zooming up into his driveway every night. How the hell should I know why she left?”

“You’re sure, Ben?” Marianne walked up to him and poked him in the chest.

“Because if I find out that you’ve done anything to hurt Callie, you’ll be so sorry.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I know how you like to play around with every attractive girl who comes inside your radar, but Callie’s different.”

“Hell, you think I don’t know Callie’s different? Jesus, do you think I’m blind?

She’s the best thing in this town. She’s so gorgeous and sweet. And Williamson doesn’t deserve her. She’s…” He stopped as he saw the expression on his sister’s face.

“Dammit!” He couldn’t believe he had gone on and on about Callie.

“You’re in love with her,” Marianne squealed. “Oh … my … God. My brother Ben is in love with my best friend.”

“Jesus, Marianne. Take an ad out in the paper, why don’t you?”

“Oh, Ben, you don’t know how happy I am about this. I didn’t think you two would ever realize…”

Ben’s gaze sharpened. “What? Realize what, Mar?”

She laughed. “Oh, for pity’s sake. It was the plain as the nose on my fact you two were attracted to one another. All those heated glances whenever you two got anywhere near each other. But she couldn’t see past her so-called feelings for Trey, and you were so determined to stay a carefree bachelor.” She shrugged. “I just felt you two needed a bit of a … well … a push.”

“A … push?” Ben felt like an idiot. This whole time, his sister had been planning …

plotting … plotting …

damnallschemingwomentohell!

“Are you telling me this whole jealousy plot was a plot? A plot to get me and Callie together?” He growled at Marianne, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Talk about devious. “You little scheming witch. I ought to…”

“Oh, please.” Marianne laughed. “I don’t know what you’re so mad about. You said

… well, almost said … that you’re in love with her. Right?”

Ben grimaced. “Not in love … just … well…”

“Hah! You’re in love with her. I’ve never heard you stammering around and confused about any of your women. You can’t lie to me, bro.”

Ben didn’t say anything. Instead, his mind was working. Love? This was love? He knew he’d been feeling possessive of her. Jealous as hell. He missed her like crazy.

Hadn’t been able to concentrate. His mood had been in the toilet since he’d walked out on her…

“Sonofabitch!”

Marianne giggled.

Ben felt lightheaded. In love? He was in-fucking-love. He started to smile. He was in love with Callie. Yeah, the more he thought it, the more right it sounded. Then his smile faded.

“Okay. So … say you’re right. The problem is … she doesn’t love me.”

Marianne smiled. “Oh, please. She’s crazy about you. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Believe me, I know. I’ve talked to her. I’ve seen the way she reacts to you. Jeez, Ben, surely you know how to get a woman to fall for you, you’ve been doing it for years. If all else fails, you can always sweep her off her feet, and take her to bed. I’m sure you’d be able to convince her there.”

He laughed without amusement. “I’ve already done that, Mar.”

She frowned. “Then I don’t understand. What happened?”

Ben blushed. He couldn’t believe it, but he freaking blushed.

“What did you do?” her voice turned accusing. “You didn’t … make her do anything too kinky the first time, did you? Jesus, Ben…”

“No, no … at least … no, that’s not what happened.” he held up his hand. “I mean she enjoyed all of that… Nevermind that,” he interjected when he saw the suspicion on his sister’s face growing as he fumbled through an explanation. “The sex was great, Mar.

It was fucking marvelous. Okay? It’s … oh, shit. You know that necklace? The one she’s always messing with?”

Realization began to dawn for Marianne. He could see it from the expression on her face. “Oh, hell. The one Trey gave her for her birthday?”

“Yeah, I see you know that. But I didn’t. And I asked her about it right after … well, anyway, it wasn’t the greatest time for me to learn where she got it.”

“You blew up, didn’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “Good God, Ben. Seriously. You knew how she’s always thought she felt about Trey. Why would you be surprised by that?”

His face turned sheepish. “I don’t know. It just pissed me off.”

She shook her head. “So that’s why she went away, huh? She probably doesn’t know what to think now. I know how Callie’s mind works. She’s confused, obviously. She thought she loved Trey but she slept with you. She’ll have a hard time coming to terms with the truth.”

“And what is the truth, Neo?” He teased her with a reference from their favorite

movie to cover his worry. “That there is no spoon?”

“Ha ha.” She snorted. “No, that she has never really been in love with Trey. That she is in love with you, a guy well-known for his womanizing, philandering, wild-ass ways with women.”

“Gee, you make me sound like such a prize.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm.

“Yeah, bro, you are that.”

“So, what should I do? Really. You’re the sneaky, conniving sibling. What should I

do now?”

“You want me to come up with a sneaky plan? Here it is. Tell her the truth. Be up front. Tell her how you feel about her.”

He laughed. “That’s not very sneaky, sis.”

She shook her head, a corner of her mouth quirked and a gleam in her eyes.

“Sweetheart, it’s the sneakiest thing of all.”

* * * *

When Callie pulled off the interstate Sunday afternoon, she had a much more positive outlook. It had been a good decision, she thought to herself, to get away and take some time alone to do some thinking. A few days at the beach, going for long walks, staring out at the endless waves, certainly had a way of bringing things into perspective.

She’d thought long and hard about the two men in her life, and it hadn’t taken long before she realized which one it was that she really loved … which one it was that she wanted to be an intimate part of her life.

A smile crossed her face as she turned on her blinker and prepared to turn. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a vehicle appeared directly in front of her. She had no time to swerve, no time to even think. One moment the car was in front of her, then the screech of tires, the impact of the two vehicles, and then blackness.

* * * *

The tone alert sounded in the fire station, and the men immediately sprang into action. After Ben wrote down the details of the latest call, a car accident, he pulled on his turnout gear and climbed on board Rescue 33. He gave the signal and the driver pulled out, closely followed by Engine 5. Immediately, he got on the radio. “Is PD on the scene, dispatch?”

“That’s affirmative, Rescue. PD is on scene.”

“Situation?”

“PD reports two vehicles. Extraction needed on both. One occupant DOA. Occupant of second vehicle is unresponsive. Airbag did deploy. Ambulance has been called and is en route.”

As soon as the trucks reached the scene, the Captain began directing the men. Ben reached for his crash trauma medical kit while a couple of firefighters off the pumper grabbed the Jaws of Life and headed towards the vehicles. He quickly followed.

Suddenly Ben froze. That car … no, it couldn’t be … she was out of town … it couldn’t be…

“That looks like Callie’s car!” He heard Trey’s voice as if through a tunnel.

Ben broke free of the paralysis that had held him immobile. Oh, God. Callie. Callie

was in that crumpled piece of metal. He began running.

One occupant DOA? Was Callie … no. Not Callie. She wasn’t dead.

“There’s someone injured?” He spoke abruptly to the cop who stood beside Callie’s car.

“The guy in that one is DOA. There’s a female in this one. The airbag deployed and looks like the impact might have knocked her unconscious. I’ve got a strong pulse, but she should have come around by now.”

Ben closed his eyes in relief. Then he nodded and crossed to the other side of the vehicle where the door was undamaged. He pulled it open and climbed inside. Callie lay completely still, her head tilted to one side, covered in a showering of fine glass. A dark bruise was forming on her jaw and a knot on her left temple indicated she must have struck her head on the car window, either during the collision or as a result of the air bag deploying.

With a trembling hand, Ben checked her pulse. The cop was right. It was strong and steady. Thank God, he thought to himself. Thank God. If anything were to happen to her

… hell, Marianne was right. He was totally in love with Callie. No question about it.

Fucking head over heels.

He quickly grabbed the C-collar and put it around her neck to immobilize her and prevent any spinal damage. Then he began brushing some of the glass fragments off her.

He heard the sound of a low moan of pain and jerked his attention back to his patient. Her eyes fluttered, but didn’t open, and she lifted her hand slightly then it dropped back to her lap.

“Callie? Callie, can you hear me? It’s me, Ben.”

After a moment, her eyes opened a sliver. “Ben?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s me.”

“Where am I? What happened?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“You’ve been in a car wreck, baby. Just hang on. We’ll get you out.”

“A wreck? Oh, God, I remember…” He could hear the beginnings of panic in her voice, and he spoke to calm her.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re going to be fine. We’ve got to get you out of here.”

Her hand reached towards him and he clasped it with his own.

“Sweetheart,” he asked, “are you hurting anywhere?”

“My leg hurts. And I’m sore all over.”

“Can you move your toes? Your fingers?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.”

“Good. That’s good, baby.”

“Ben? I want to get out.” He could hear the fear in her voice.

“Nothing to worry about, darlin’. They’ll have you out in no time. And I’ll stay right here until they do.”

“Promise?” Her eyes locked onto his.

“I promise, baby.” He squeezed her hand gently, and she squeezed back.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ben. I missed you. So much.”

Tears welled in his eyes. “Me, too, baby. Me, too.”

Ben spent the next several minutes talking to her and telling her everything that was going on. He knew that the worst thing for the victim was not knowing what was

happening.

Trey stuck his head in. “Is she okay?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But we need to get her out so I can check her completely.”

“Hang on. Only a few more minutes.”

The next half hour was one of the longest of Ben’s life. After the jaws cut through the roof, they extricated Callie from the car and prepped her for transport. As they began loading her into the ambulance, her hand reached for him. She gazed up into his face with such emotion in her eyes. “I … Ben … I need to tell you … I love you, Ben.”

He smiled, amazed at the relief and happiness he felt despite the circumstances, and leaned down to kiss her lips gently. “That’s good. Because I love you, too, Callie.”

“You do?” She sounded stunned.

“Yeah, I do.”

She smiled. “That was easy.”

He laughed and kissed her again.

Then he nodded to the ambulance personnel, and they loaded her into the vehicle.

Ben stood there staring as they pulled away.

He felt someone beside him and looked up. It was Trey.

“Ben, man, I wanted to tell you that I know I’ve been an asshole about this whole thing with you and Callie. But, well, she’s always been like a sister to me, and I was just looking out for her. I didn’t want you to hurt her. You have a bit of a reputation, you know?”

Ben nodded and smiled grimly

“But seeing you with her, well, I can see that you really care about her. So I want to wish you both the best. She’s a great girl.”

“Thanks, man.” Ben held out his hand, and Trey shook it. “I love her, you know?”

Trey nodded. “Yeah, I know. Look, I already talked to the captain. I told him I’d cover for you since your girlfriend was one of the vics. So go on … get your ass outta here.”

Then Trey turned and walked back to the scene to help the other firefighters complete their duties.

* * * *

A short time later, Ben pushed open the door to Callie’s hospital room. His sister sat in the chair beside the bed and held her finger to her lips, indicating Callie was sleeping.

Ben nodded and motioned for her to join him in the hallway.

“What did the doctors say?” he asked, after she’d quietly exited the room and closed the door behind her.

“Her leg is broken, but it’s a clean break. They don’t anticipate any problems. They set it and gave her some pain relievers. She has a mild concussion. Other than that, some scrapes and bruises. But overall, she’s okay. She was lucky.”

Ben nodded, finally able to breathe normally. He hugged his sister, and she hugged him back. “Thank God, Mar. Thank God.”

“I know, Benjy. Look, I’m gonna take off now. I’ll be back first thing in the morning to check on you both. Okay?”

Ben just nodded again, feeling a bit choked up now that the adrenaline which had

kept him going was beginning to leave his system. “Thanks, Sis. For everything.”

She smiled and gave him one last hug. Then she turned and walked down the hall.

Ben went back into Callie’s room and sat down in the chair that Marianne had vacated. For a long time he sat there quietly, watching her breathe. Finally, he moved his chair closer to the bed and picked up her hand that rested beside her. He lifted it up and pressed it against his lips. As he did so, he saw her eyes flutter open.

As soon as she saw him there, she smiled. “Hi.”

He leaned closer. “Hi, love. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m glad you did.”

His other hand came up to brush her hair from her cheek. “God, Callie, when I

realized that was your car in the wreck, I…” He couldn’t go on.

She squeezed his hand. “I’m fine. Just some bumps and bruises.”

“A little more than that, I think,” he said.

“Ah…” she looked down, “about what I said … at the wreck…”

His smile faded and he frowned. “What? That you loved me? Didn’t you mean it?”

Her brow creased and she looked back up and into his eyes. “God, yes, I meant it.

You were all I thought about while I was gone, and I knew you were right. I was in love with the idea of Trey. With the safety and the security he has always represented to me.

But you … you’re not safe and secure. You’re risky and passionate and … well, absolutely everything I didn’t think I wanted. But I do, Ben. Oh, I do. It’s just…” she paused.

“Just what?” he prompted, somewhat relieved by her explanation, but still worried about whatever was floating around in that brain of hers and bothering her so much.

“I don’t want you to feel you have to say you love me because I said it first. The situation was … well … it was very emotional. And I know sometimes, people say things they don’t really…”

“Whoa! Stop right there.” He stood up and paced toward the door and back, wanting to choose his words very carefully. He halted beside the bed. “I knew before you left town I was in love with you, Callie. I just had a hard time admitting it to myself. I’d always thought of myself as this wild and carefree bachelor. But you … well, right from the beginning of that crazy plot I didn’t stand a chance. You … captivated me.” He crossed back and knelt beside the bed so that they were on eye-level with one another. “If you never believe anything else I ever tell you, I want you to believe this. I love you, Callie Ladner. You are my world.”

Tears began welling in Callie’s eyes and trailing down her cheeks, and she reached for him. He met her halfway, covering her lips with his in a gentle kiss of love and commitment that rapidly turned into a blazing fire of passion. This was what it was all about, he thought to himself as he surrendered himself to her. A flame he didn’t ever want to put out.

The End

About the Author:

Jolie Cain is a wife and mother of two whose home is in the Deep South. All her life

she has created characters and stories, with dreams of one day bringing them to life. She finally decided to stop procrastinating and just do it! Thus, her first book was born. She has discovered that there’s much more to writing than, well…writing. But there’s nothing quite as satisfying as taking an imaginary world and turning it into reality. Jolie invites you to visit her at her website at www.joliecain.com

Captive Flame

Rhiannon Leith

Chapter One

The earpiece crackled inside Peter’s helmet and he heard Dave Martin’s voice, tinny through the radio, rattled by the fire and smoke. “Any sign, Pete?”

The chirpy tones he associated with the Londoner sounded as if they had been run through a mangle of stress. But as the leader of Blue Watch, Peter had to keep it together for all their sakes.

“None. Take it slow and steady. It’s thicker up here.”

Smoke blackened the world. If not for the mask Peter knew he’d be choking on the smouldering floor by now. The flashlight wasn’t much help. Nothing was in this sort of inferno, but instinct and experience.

Flames danced all along the far wall, coating it like a curtain. As always when he looked at its heart, he could see the beauty, for all the danger it presented. There was no way through. The stairs were gone.

Dave appeared behind him, his torch darting through the smoke, an erratic firefly, pitiful against the wall of flame.

“Fuck me,” he hissed and took a step back. The crack of timbers overhead made both firefighters snap their heads up, away from the obvious flames to find the black and charred roof sagging.

“Out,” Peter snapped. “Back the way we came. Slow and steady, Martin.”

“The others?”

“I know.”

It was the worst kind of call. Three firefighters missing, the building close to collapse with a fire which had spread rapidly and unchecked. Even the hoses didn’t appear to be reaching the heart of the fire. So it was search and rescue, masks and cumbersome suits and constant danger. The continuing risk three might become five.

Skirting the ground floor, the sound of the fire grew deafening, the groans of the shifting beams, the roar within the walls. The cloying smoke hampered vision and the debris underfoot made the path even more treacherous than on the way in. The foyer of the building opened to a wide space of blackened walls and twisted metal, all reflected in water from the hoses.

And then they heard it—voices shouting from above them.

“The stairs are still good on that side,” Dave called, and from the main door their reinforcements arrived. Fresh men, ready to tackle the flames. Peter waved at them to follow, but Dave’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “We’re done, mate. Let them in at it. You have to know when to step back.”

Peter watched them charge up the stairway, and Dave stepped into the light, unfastening the mask and letting it hang to one side so he could wipe sweat and grime from his face.

EMTs hurried Dave away from danger. Peter sighed and started to follow.

Started, but stopped.

Behind him, he heard a voice, a woman’s voice. But they had all civilians out. He knew that for sure. It didn’t come from overhead, where he suspected the firefighters were trapped, but back the way he had come, back in the heart of the fire.

A woman’s voice sang out, sweetly melodic amid the crackle and roar, as distinct as if she stood right by his side.

“Dave?” Peter barked into his mic, praying that his friend still had the earpiece in.

“Dave, there’s someone back in the room to the south. I’m going after her. Can you back me up?”

Only static answered him and he cursed. It was against protocol, but the voice came again, no words he could distinguish, more like a spoken melody. Almost as hypnotic as the flames had been.

He plunged into the darkness once more.

The smoke was heavier, hampering vision and movement. His feet snagged on fallen timbers and he went down, plunging into the fire-drenched room face first.

He landed heavily, air forced from his lungs in a rush, a line disconnecting from the breathing apparatus on his back. He heard it pop and the fizz of air. Air which would feed the fire rather than him.

Survival kicked in and Peter struggled to shed the tank. He rolled onto his back and blinked through the broken face mask, coughing as the smoke crept around the shattered edges, burning the tender tissues of his lungs with each inhalation.

“Where are you, Martin?” he wheezed.

Then the flames moved, shimmering as they did, forming a body far too human to be real in such a place as this. She stood over him, a shapely column of fire, burning tresses curling around a dazzling face. The woman bent over him and took his gloved hand, pulling him up to meet her.

She had to be a dream, a nightmare. Or maybe he’d inhaled more smoke than he thought, because there was no way this was real.

The woman-in-flames tilted her head to one side, as if studying him with those golden eyes. So beautiful, her narrow face and high cheekbones, her full lips slightly parted. He swallowed hard as all thought left him.

Her hands on his arms were real enough, her touch solid. But it was impossible. The flames that wrapped around her fell back to reveal a naked figure, curved where a woman should curve, breasts that would fill his hands. And a mouth that needed kissing.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he tried to tell her as his wits returned. “We have to get out of here right now.”

Again, she tilted her head as if trying to understand his words. But she made no move, nor showed any sign of fear. Anyone else would be screaming and dashing for the door right now, or at least clinging to him, begging for help. To even be in there in the first place indicated insanity.

Peter pushed her back slightly and that was when his hands fell on her wrists. Or rather on the golden cuffs she wore. Thin chains of gold coiled up her arms to join a golden collar around her neck, so delicate it looked like jewellery. The chains ran down to her ankles as well, little trails of glittering light. Exotic, and faintly erotic in the firelight, it was all she wore. His eyes ran over her body again and his face heated more

than was natural even with the fire surrounding them.

She smiled and lifted her face to his, but then a frown rippled across her smooth brow. She freed herself effortlessly from his grip and her hands closed on the mask. Peter stooped over her, powerless to resist as she pushed it aside to reveal his face. Then she rose on her toes and pressed her lips against his.

He instinctively met her kiss with his own, and her lips parted to take in his tongue.

Deep in her throat she gave a moan and wriggled closer, placing herself in his arms. Her fingers framed his face, trailing fiery strokes down his cheeks.

Her touch was like a flame, one that did not burn but which set the blood pounding through his body, rushing like molten lava through his veins. Her hands moved down his chest, pulling at his kit and sliding beneath to find his shirt and skin. Sweat made her fingertips slide across the muscles of his chest and her tongue darted against his, whipping up the current of desire that was running away with him, obliterating reason.

He deepened the kiss, nipping at her lower lip, thrusting his tongue deep inside her.

Claiming her.

In her arms the smoke and noxious fumes didn’t affect him and the flames were like a cool breeze in comparison. She fuelled the need inside him.

Burning need.

A thud and crash overhead snapped his attention away from her for a second and the ceiling sagged again, lower than before, on the verge of buckling. Peter seized her, lifting her from the ground as if she weighed no more than a child. She gave a cry of surprise and alarm.

“Hold on,” he ordered, some sanity returning to him without her lips to addle his brain. Her arms latched around his neck and she jerked herself tightly against him as he lunged for the doorway.

The room behind exploded into flame and ruin as the ceiling collapsed in their wake.

Peter stumbled into the foyer, the girl clinging to him, but as he reached the wave of fresh air from the door, his feet slipped in the water pooling on the ground and his legs gave way.

“EMTs,” he yelled, but his voice emerged in a strangled croak just before his knees struck the floor and he pitched forward.

The girl tumbled beneath him and cried out in shock, recoiling from the wet and cold. Shivering, wide-eyed, she stared up at him and tears filled her eyes. She reached out to touch his face, her fingers icy cold where before they had burned.

The edges of his world dissolved to charred and smoking ruin and the last thing he saw were a pair of golden eyes, stretched wide in fear and concern.

*

Adara drew in a freezing breath and icy air stabbed into her lungs. It had been so long, so unbelievably long since the air had tasted so sweet, or so cold. It stirred memories of freedom. Of a time when she did not have to obey. She squirmed beneath the weight of her rescuer and carefully pushed at his shoulder.

“Wake up,” she whispered, too afraid to raise her voice. “Please … please wake up.”

But he didn’t. His chest struggled for breath and the fire came closer. If he stayed there he’d die, either from smoke or flames, and neither would be easy. She remembered both, the way her tears had scalded on her face, the way the heat had sucked the sweet breath from her body as she struggled and tried to escape.

Adara tried to wriggle free of him and managed to extract her upper body enough so she could roll him onto his back.

His features, strong and handsome, trustworthy… It imprinted on her mind like being slapped in the face and all around her the flames burned hotter, eager to consume him. He wore the symbol of the Knights, the enemy, but he had saved her. He had picked her up like a child and carried her from the fire.

Why would he do that?

Heat liquefied in the pit of her stomach. The feel of his hands on her body, his lips branding themselves against hers… Memory sent stabs of need through her abdomen. It was impossible. She had not felt such a desire since the flames first touched her. Her body wanted him. Her rescuer. She wanted him. Here and now. She wanted to step back into the flames and consume him, make him hers for evermore.

“No.” She clambered to her feet, standing firm over him. Despite the water on the floor which hissed and crackled beneath her, she swallowed down fear. “No. You will not take him.” She stretched her hands out in front of her, warding against the fire, ordering it back with her mind.

The fire recoiled, bending back in on itself as if it had struck a wall of ice. Adara focused her will.

Go back. Leave him. He is not for you.

The flames twisted like serpents, and then she heard it. A voice. The voice of the

Magus.

You attempt to defy me? Step back into the fire, little djinn and finish what you started.

A band of invisible steel clamped around her chest. The collar and cuffs holding her to this plane flared white hot and she gasped, jerking back from the Magus’ will, struggling like a fish on a hook.

But if she obeyed, her rescuer would die. She glanced down at him, at his strong face, the face of a warrior. He had lifted her bodily from the fire, carried her to safety, or as near to safety as he could before he was overwhelmed. As if she was human, as if she was worthy of rescue…

“No!” She fought back, closing the wall of power around herself and the man. The fire roared, screamed with rage and thwarted anger. It thundered towards her, threatening to sweep aside her defences. Once she would have laughed. Once she would have embraced the fire and writhed in its embrace. Once she would have made the fire her own.

It slammed against her barricade, an infernal battering ram. The Magus threw everything at her, trying to force her back to obedience and somewhere, somewhere from deep inside all she had once been, Adara found the strength to stand firm. The collar and cuffs burned against her skin, white hot and agonizing. The chains tightened, dragging her arms down, searing along her legs and across her abdomen. She sobbed as she felt her magic fail and fade, as the Magus’s power rose like a void to finally snatch her will away.

“In here! He’s here!”

Water blasted into her back, tossing her off her rescuer like a child’s toy. The fire rose to take her for a moment, but then the torrent engulfed it as well. The torrent slammed her against the far wall and into oblivion.

When she woke, the fire, the Magus, and the man were all gone.

Chapter Two

Peter stood very still and kept his eyes fixed carefully on a point three inches behind the Assistant Commissioner’s head. He focused on shutting out words such as “stress”, “post traumatic shock” and “leave of absence”. They hadn’t waited for more than an hour after he’d given his report and that grated more than anything. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned the woman. But the EMTs had reported his distress, that he kept asking if someone got her out. It was the first thing he asked Dave when he came around. He’d never forget the look on his friend’s face.

Or the words.

“What woman?”

No one else had seen her. There was no trace of her. Nothing.

And yet he could still feel her in his arms, and the sensation of her lips on his still lingered whenever he thought of her. His balls tightened every time, and his head started to swim with the strangeness of his arousal. It had to be an illusion. Had to be. But God how it turned him on.

A woman who came unharmed from the flames. A woman made of fire.

“It’s like an old legend or something,” Dave said, trying to be helpful. “You know, when you’ve been at this job so long you recognise fire as a living thing. Maybe you just

… you know … hit your head and thought…”

No, the head hitting had come later. He knew he had seen her, knew she was real.

And he could hardly turn down paid leave to recover from almost dying in the line of duty. He’d come close to death before on the job. Everyone did and, like the rest, he accepted it as a possibility. But to see it so up-close-and-personal…

Which begged the question—had she lured him back there? Had she been trying to kill him? Another moment in the enchantment of her embrace and he would be dead now.

A psychological evaluation was scheduled for a week’s time and Peter agreed, inwardly fuming. By the time he was dismissed he had already figured out a dozen ways to avoid it, but he doubted any of his excuses would really work. No, if he wanted back on active duty he was going to have to convince them all he hadn’t turned into a whackjob who saw naked women in the heart of a fire.

Who did more than see them, if his shaky memory served. The touch of her lips on his still left a faint afterglow. A memory, or a ghost of a kiss. He recalled the way his hands had slid across her skin, following the lines of the golden chains adorning her.

How his blood had pounded, surging like waves inside his head. How he had turned hard as a rock. Thank God he hadn’t mentioned those details in the report.

He stopped for a moment in the corridor and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“Hey, Pete!” Dave waved as he came closer. “Damn, that was close. What was the verdict?”

Peter rolled his eyes. There was no escaping this either. “Leave of absence, psych report. Much as expected. They hauled me straight here from the hospital to tell me what

I already knew.”

Dave avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry, man. I just wrote what happened, what you said

when we found you. I didn’t think… Hell, we even went looking for her…”

Peter brushed off the apology. “You did the right thing. Don’t sweat it.” He forced a laugh. “Maybe I do need a break if I’ve started seeing naked chicks in fires.”

“Naked?” Dave laughed. “You never mentioned naked. Damn, if you’d told me that

I would have looked harder.”

He even forced a smile from Peter. Yeah, maybe a couple of weeks off wouldn’t be so bad.

“Maybe I need a break,” he sighed, accepting the inevitable.

“You need to get laid. Jesus, Pete, most guys get nightmares about being trapped.

But only you get naked women. Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”

Peter almost agreed, but his body ached and suddenly all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Another time, Dave. I’m on leave, remember? Bed’s a bit more attractive than a beer right now.”

* * * *

Peter knew he should have taken a cab, especially when he found his feet leading him right for the burnt-out hotel building. It had been cordoned off and the arson investigators were just packing up. When he saw who was heading up the scene he almost turned his back, but she looked up, her eyes snagging on his and her face hardened. Never good to run into the ex at work. He guessed this was why they said never mix work and pleasure. The aftermath could be hell. With Ellen, it went further than that.

Unable to make a dignified escape now, Peter squared his shoulders and marched forward like a condemned man.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, the cut-glass accent as painful as ever.

“Shouldn’t you still be in hospital?”

“They discharged me. Cuts and bruises, that’s all. Find anything?”

She studied his face for a moment, though what she was looking for he couldn’t say.

“Same as the others,” she admitted grudgingly.

Peter felt his heart sink to his stomach. The arsonist plaguing central London had left nothing by way of a lead. There had been no witnesses, no traces of accelerant and nothing to connect the buildings he torched. It seemed so random. And it had been costing lives, mainly the lives of his colleagues.

“Can I go in?” he asked.

Ellen straightened, her cold eyes sweeping over him. “I guess. Just take the necessary precautions, okay?”

It could have ended there, calm, professional and painless. But the words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“How’s Trey?”

Ellen stiffened and closed her case with a snap. “None of your business.”

“I think the highflyer who stole my fiancée is my business, Ellen.”

“We were never going to make it and you know it. You were always married to the job anyway. I didn’t stand a chance. And you didn’t want to better yourself, just keep doing the same thing over and over again. I’m not going over this again, Peter. Yes, I left you. And I haven’t regretted that.” Her face blanched as she spoke and he could see something in her eyes, an omission that bordered on a lie. He’d always been able to read

Ellen. It was the reason her affair had barely begun before he found out.

She looked scared.

“What is it?” he asked, reaching out to her. “What’s wrong?”

She flinched back from him. “Nothing at all. I have to go. Knock yourself out in there.” Peter half wondered if she meant it literally.

He wouldn’t say she fled, because Ellen wouldn’t flee from anything. But she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Once he would have run after her. But she’d knocked that sentimental part out of him the instant he’d confronted her. Her words still rang through his head.

You always need to be the one in control, the one to command. No one dominates me, Peter. Especially not a jumped-up firefighter without prospects.

And he’d realised he had never matched her expectations, would never be good enough for her, and that it was just as well she was leaving. They would have destroyed each other. Something that had once gutted him seemed so coldly logical now.

* * * *

The foyer was a mess of smoke damage, charred cinders and water. Peter picked his way carefully inside, watching for any sort of movement, listening for any signs of collapse. He knew Ellen would never have okayed him access if it wasn’t safe, but experience made him cautious.

The doorway to the room where he had seen the woman was a gaping mouth, hung with shadows. He stared at it, wondering again if he should have died in there, if he would have if not for her. Or if she had drawn him there to make sure it happened that way. How could he tell for sure?

Was she real? She had felt real enough, even though his eyes had insisted she could not be. He let out a sigh and the movement of air stirred the ashes.

A hallucination. It had to be. Gases, smoke inhalation, stress, maybe he had hit his head when he fell … any number of explanations. He had dreamed her and he needed to face that, to deal with it and move on.

A sob shook the air around him, snapped his spine up straight in alarm. He turned sharply, a full circle, his eyes sweeping the foyer for the source.

Again, a small shuddering breath, this time following the sound of distress and from the corner of his eye, he saw the ashes against the far wall heave. In two strides he reached her and pulled her out of the shadows. Her body drooped against him, a bedraggled young woman coated with soot and ash, her hair hanging in long tangles, a far cry from the fiery beauty from earlier. He held her shoulders and she sagged in his grip, but lifted her face to his and opened her eyes.

Golden eyes, like firelight, like magic.

“Master,” she breathed. Her eyes fluttered closed and her chin fell to her chest.

Peter gathered her in his arms, not knowing what else to do. She wore only her bracelets, anklets and the collar and narrow chains coiled around her limbs and across her stomach, connecting them. The metal was blackened and filthy now, but as his fingers brushed against it, he revealed bright gold underneath.

She had called him

Master

.

He couldn’t begin to accept how that made him react. But neither could he deny it.

His body stiffened at the word on her lips and his heart beat faster. Was it his imagination

or was his mouth suddenly dry?

He held her close and wondered what on earth he was supposed to do. No one believed she existed, and nothing could have survived that fire. Nothing natural.

So what was she?

*

Adara woke to the sound of water and her mind jerked into full wakefulness before her body was ready for it. Her body… Her own body, not part of the fire, but separate.

Whole. Free. The world around her lurched and she fell back onto the soft expanse of a bed far bigger than any she had ever known. As she moved again, she saw the traces she left behind, dirty smudges on the white covers. Guiltily, she got up, taking her time so that her shaky legs had time to become accustomed to taking her weight. She studied the room, a bed chamber, and the short leather and fleece coat which had fallen off her when she woke. It had covered her. She recalled the feel of it against her bare skin.

And beyond that, the strong arms which had cradled her close, carried her to safety.

He had smelled of musk and arousal. And for the first time in centuries she had felt safe.

Adara shook her head, trying to clear the fog of attraction which had settled on her head. The chains of her servitude weighed heavily against her body. She could not forget what she was. And, she supposed, what   was to have pulled her from the fire.

he

He had worn the mark of the knights, the eight pointed cross of St. John, which just made him all the more dangerous.

Another Master, albeit one she found handsome, another sentence of servitude.

The sound of water came from beyond the small door on the far side of the room.

Her skin prickled with alarm. Water had never been a friend to her kind. Was this some kind of torture he intended? She swallowed hard, her eyes darting from door to window in search of an escape.

But he had pulled her from the fire, snatched her out of the grips of another. She had even stood against the Magus to defend him. He was her master now. If she fled, he would only draw her back to him, just as he had roused her from the ashes of oblivion by only his presence and his breath. Where could she go?

On the far side of the room a black box with a pane of glass set in it reflected her pitiful appearance. Adara ran her hands down her sides, trying to brush some of the dirt off. She crept closer and stepped on a small object on the ground.

The box erupted with coloured images and blaring sound. She screamed, throwing herself backward and collided with a hard body and arms which wrapped themselves around her, holding her steady. His scent encircled her and her body ached with sudden desire. It was not fear alone that made her heart pound in her chest.

Her new master.

She twisted in his grip, and though he did not allow her escape, he let her turn to face him, his hold on her surprisingly gentle.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. You’re safe. Do you understand me? Safe.”

She sucked in a breath, then another, trying to form words. Instead she fell back on the only two words she knew might placate him.

“Yes, Master.”

His face softened for a moment and she read a kindred desire there, so strong an emotion that it was almost painful when he pushed it down with his iron will. At the same time the thought of such control, such determination made her own body betray her. She

arched towards him. To her surprise, he stepped back, releasing her.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, but his voice betrayed not a hint of discomfort. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Adara.” She could deny him no direct request, was compelled to answer any question, no matter what it was. It was part of the spell that bound her. She had no choice but to give up her one true name when he asked so directly for it. She could have wept for the indignity of it. Once, once, she would have laughed at such a request, for just that brief moment in the vast years when she had been free. Now she had no choice.

“Listen, Adara, you need to have a shower, clean up and I’ll find you some clothes.

Then we can talk, okay?”

Adara nodded glumly and followed him into the small, tiled room. He was her master and he commanded her. Even his most flighty wish was her command. Steam wreathed a narrow alcove in the wall from the top of which flowed a torrent of hot water.

She froze, watching its descent with horrid fascination. His voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“Your jewellery … does it come off or do you want to…”

She turned her gaze on him and he fell silent, as if unsure of himself, as if her look made him uncomfortable. Strange. She had never met a Master such as this one. It was true it had been years since a man had pulled her from the flames, but still … men didn’t change that much, did they?

“My chains must remain where they are, Master.” How could he not know that? If he removed her chains he would free her, and a free djinn was a powerful adversary, bent only on revenge that had been so long denied. And she so craved such freedom. She doubted that this man, of the firm jaw and steely eyes would be the one to give it to her.

“Okay,” he said, doubtfully. “So, I’ll leave you to it.”

She tilted her head, trying to see inside his mind and figure out what he wanted. “

To it

?”

“Your shower. To clean yourself.”

She snapped her face back to the water again. “In there? You wish me to step into the water?” He couldn’t. How could he wish to destroy her? She backed away and fell to her knees at his feet. “I am weak. I barely survived the water with which your brethren struck me. Please, Master, I don’t know how I have offended you, but please, don’t make me do this.”

“What do you mean?” He bent over her, trying to force her up again. “Adara, talk to me. You haven’t offended me. What’s wrong?”

“It will kill me,” she sobbed, terrified by his behaviour and demands. “Please Master, I won’t disobey you, but don’t make me do this.”

“Why will the water kill you? I don’t understand.”

She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes, terrified, expecting to see his confused face cloud in anger. “I am a djinn, a being formed of fire by the Creator. Please, Master, please, don’t command me to do it.”

Chapter Three

Bewildered, Peter tried to drag the sobbing woman up from the ground, but she just huddled there. Realising there was no hope of getting her in the water, he switched it off and with the cessation of the sound, her tears lessened. When he turned back to her, he found her watching him, her face streaked where her tears had fallen.

He couldn’t leave her like that. Instead, he filled the sink.

“Can you tell me about yourself?” he asked, wondering if conversation could coax something useful from her, or at least calm her down enough so that she might make some sense. A djinn? What the hell did that mean?

Her voice trembled, but she looked somewhat calmer. “What would you know, Master?”

In spite of his best intentions Peter’s temper flared. He struggled to control it. “Stop calling me that. I’m Peter. Call me Peter.”

She frowned, her face crumpling in confusion. “But do you not demand to be called

Master? You like to hear it. I can see it in your eyes.”

Liked it … perhaps. But she didn’t say the word willingly. This woman, if she was indeed a woman … he could sense the resentment. She hid it well, but it could not be love or loyalty that made her call him Master. Not so much respect as fear. The last thing he wanted was for her to fear him.

“Peter,” he repeated. “I want you to call me Peter.”

She hung her head, like a defeated prisoner. “Yes, Mas… Sir Peter.”

Confused again, Peter exhaled slowly. “

Sir

Peter? Where did that come from?”

“You are a Knight. Sir Peter. Is this not your way?” A certain frantic note entered her voice now and yet she didn’t break and run. What had been done to her, for her to behave like this? Bewildered, Peter forced his voice to soften. If she needed to be commanded, he could do that.

“I’m not a Knight. Just call me Peter, Adara. Now I want you to tell me about yourself and while we do that, I’m going to wash some of that dirt off you.”

He picked up a flannel and soaked it in the warm water. Adara knelt on the floor, but didn’t pull back this time. She was shivering though, and her breath came in fast little pants.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” But he wasn’t sure his promises meant anything to her.

Peter knelt down before her and held her chin in his cupped hand. Slowly, ready to pull back if she showed anymore distress, he passed the damp cloth over her forehead and down her cheeks, wiping away ashes and tears alike. Moving carefully, he smoothed her hair back from her face, wondering how on earth he was going to handle that. Well, later on. There was enough of her to deal with at the moment.

As he wiped the facecloth across her full lips they parted with a sigh and he looked up from her tantalising mouth to find her golden eyes fixed on him, filled with fear, begging for something he couldn’t quite equate to her obvious terror.

“There, does that hurt?” he asked, in the same tone he would use for a small child.

Adara shook her head and he smiled. She looked a little calmer, though he didn’t

understand her fear.

“No, Peter. It … it does not hurt.”

“So, aren’t you going to tell me who you are?”

“

What

I am,” she corrected him and then she averted her eyes, bobbing her head in a kind of bow. “A djinn. A spirit of fire, created with free will to live on this earth. But mankind found a way to trap us, to enslave us to do their will instead of our own. And we are bound to our masters, to fulfil their commands, their wishes and their desires.”

“A

djinn

.” As he spoke, he tasted the unfamiliar word. And yet something about it rang a bell. And then it came to him. “A genie? Like in Aladdin?”

“Master?”

This was no blue cartoon character, nor was she Barbara Eden in her pink veils.

Jeannie had never looked as grubby as this. Nor had he ever found her quite as attractive.

He cupped her chin again, lifting her face up. “So you what? Grant three wishes?”

“Whatever you wish, Master.”

He shook his head. They’d have to work on that word. It did things to him he couldn’t possibly act on, not with an obviously deranged woman. He washed her neck and the water dripped down her body, rolling off her full breasts. Peter withdrew, wringing out the facecloth and returning to his task.

“Turn around.” Maybe washing her back wouldn’t be so distracting. But as she turned, he was presented with the sweet flare of her hips and the delicate cheeks of her ass, smooth and inviting. He wanted to close his eyes as he ran the cloth carefully across her shoulders. “Why do you think I’m your master, Adara?”

“You pulled me from the fire, out of the grip of the Magus. You must be powerful indeed to do such a thing. Most humans cannot see us, let alone touch us. But you…” She gasped as he moved the facecloth lower, smoothing it between her shoulder blades, following the curve of her spine. “Oh, Master. Are you sure that is water?”

A small laugh found its way into his voice. “Yes. Just water. Not so bad after all then?”

“It tingles against my skin. Like your touch. It steals my breath.” Was that arousal tightening her voice? Peter paused, unsure of where this was going. As he watched, a flush spread up through the white-gold skin he was revealing. His own body was responding now, his cock swelling and straining against the restricting jeans. Every iota of common sense told him to back away, to order her to finish washing herself, but he couldn’t. He slid the cloth lower, watching the water drizzle down over her skin.

“Turn around again.” His voice sounded hoarse even to him. It scraped against the insides of his throat. She obeyed at once, and he washed her breasts, watching the water trickling down her flat stomach to vanish between her thighs. He swallowed hard on a dry mouth and moved to wash her arms instead.

*

His touch nearly sent her out of her mind. Even though she knew all he intended was to clean her, to make her appearance more appealing, Adara’s body shuddered with each stroke of the damp cloth and the thought of his hands holding her. She longed for him to pull her to him, to kiss her as he had kissed her in the fire, full of passion and hunger. She wanted to feel his hands on her flesh, holding her, teasing her, fulfilling her. Her body ached, blood pounding between her clenched thighs, her clit a single point of need.

She suppressed a groan as he finished her breasts and moved to her arms instead.

Peter had to be made of ice not to feel as she felt. But how could she ask for more? He was not even like her. A man, a mortal. She remembered what that had been like, long, long ago, more than a thousand years of the world. But she had never felt like this. When she had been made a djinn, she had gone to the flames as she had to go, as a virgin. Only the touch of fire could arouse her in this way. And Peter.

Creator, help me. What is he doing to me?

“Tell me what you need,” he said. A command. An order that she speak her mind.

But how? And did she dare?

She could avoid it. Like all her kind she could be artful in misunderstanding if the mood took her. But right now, she couldn’t think.

“I do not know what I need, Master. Your touch … your touch addles my mind.”

“Lie back.”

Cold tiles pressed against her back as she spread her legs before him and the cloth he wielded tormented the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her body burned for him. Her chest tightened.

She heard him groan, a deep and needful sound that rumbled over her body like distant thunder.

“Adara,” he whispered, as if her name was a prayer on his lips.

“I am yours,” she told him. “All I am is yours.”

He seized her, one hand closing on the back of her neck, the collar a band of ice across his palm. The other dipped beneath her shoulders and pulled her against his body.

His mouth descended on hers even as he snatched her from the cold floor. She met him eagerly, closing her grip on his shoulders before pulling at his shirt, trying to free it to reveal his body. His eager tongue plundered her mouth, teeth grazing her lower lip. He knelt, holding her to him. She could hear the pounding of his heart and she slid closer until she sat astride his lap. Beneath the fabric of his trousers, his cock pressed to her and she welcomed the intimacy. How could she do anything else?

So much desire in one man, so much hunger. He might almost be djinn himself. She ran her hands through his soot black hair, soft as silken threads between her fingers.

She rocked towards him, rubbing against his erection as if she could force it inside her despite the clothes.

Peter ground his mouth to hers and growled, his tongue filling her. She strained to respond, to let him know she desired this as much as he did, that she needed this and would do anything for him.

His hand brushed the back of her collar and sent sparks of electricity down her spine.

Her body arched and unwillingly she tore her mouth from his, finally succumbing to the need for air.

“Please, Master,” she gasped. “Please, I beg you.”

Still holding her collar so the energy within it sparked and crackled between them, he slid his other hand between her legs until it was trapped between their bodies. One finger pressed between her labia, then another, and he moved against her, pushing his hand deeper with the bulge of his cock. She cried out as the heel of his hand pressed against the swell of her clitoris, catching the rhythm from both their bodies.

Adara’s breath caught in her throat. Her body drew taut as a bowstring, shaking with the need for release. She threw back her head and Peter’s lips pressed to her throat, his tongue trailing down towards her collar and below, dipping to claim her breast instead.

The pressure on her nipple ignited the final spark and her world exploded in light and flames. She cried out, her voice hoarse with need.

She curled against him and listened to his body. His heart still hammered, and she was sure she could hear his blood rushing through his veins. He wrapped her in his arms and lifted her again. She sighed, bewildered at how comforting she found the sensation.

Peter carried her to his bed and settled her in the centre.

“Master?” she asked, fighting the tiredness that was sweeping over her.

“Peter,” he replied, his voice strained.

“Peter. What can I do for you?”

“You need to sleep.”

That didn’t make any sense. She gazed up at him, the strain of control etched in his face. “But, you are … unfulfilled.”

To her surprise, he stroked her hair. “I’ll manage. Go to sleep.”

She had no choice but to obey, but it didn’t seem right. No one had ever given her so much without demanding far more in return. Confused, she lay back, watching his contemplative expression until her heavy eyes closed.

A short time later, she became aware of water running in the bathing chamber, but before she could fathom what that might mean, sleep claimed her again.

Chapter Four

The cold shower did little for Peter, especially when he came out of the bathroom to see Adara sprawled across his bed, fast asleep, the sheets kicked off to expose her long legs and curve of her back. Captivated by the sight, he stared at her and his blood began to surge through his veins once again.

This was madness. Pure, unadulterated madness, both his reaction to her and everything she had told him.

And yet he believed her, though he could not rationally say why.

Not enough to entirely trust her. Just because he believed she was what she said, that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. Hysterical, perhaps, beguiling, but some instinct deep inside him knew she was dangerous.

Peter readjusted the towel around his waist and prepared to turn away from her. Just as he did, she made a small sound deep in her throat and his body jerked in response. It took every ounce of self will he possessed to walk from the room.

Adara was a genie, or at least believed she was. And he couldn’t find any explanation for the way she had appeared from the fire. Or the effect she had upon him.

He sat on the couch and ran his fingers through his wet hair, his nails trailing against his scalp a reminder of reality. Yeah, reality was good. And yet he couldn’t help but glance back toward the bedroom where a whole world of unreality was fast asleep.

She had mentioned her previous master, a Magus. That was some kind of wizard, wasn’t it? He flipped open the laptop and opened a browser, wondering where to begin.

Djinn, or genie, Magus or Magician, he was out of his depth, not a sensation he was familiar or comfortable with. And the woman herself was the worst part of it. An hour or so on the internet had given him little more information. A djinn was a created being rather than one born, so somewhere along the way Adara had become a djinn. She had once been human.

And now she was a spirit, formed of fire and enslaved by the chains she wore. How long had she been a slave? The thought sent a chill through him. Not many men would have pulled back from what she offered. He had barely managed it. Others … damn, how many times had her masters taken advantage of her? Beauty like that could not be ignored, even if they had other djinn at their beck and call. Suddenly the thought sickened him. If he could find whoever had done this to her, trapped her thus as a spirit with golden chains, he’d show them the displeasure she feared.

But how long ago had it happened? How many hundreds of years had they been dead?

I am yours

, she had said, her voice breathless and desperate.

All I am is yours.

Peter cursed and opened another page in the browser.

Elemental powers, civic pride

, proclaimed the headline from the local paper. It was dated a year ago but as he read, he leaned in closer, fascinated by what he saw.

The article detailed the use of elemental symbolism in modern architecture and how modern big-business would ensure that the most fortuitous elements—earth, air, fire and water—were represented in their corporate structures. Sort of like Feng-Shui, but from the middle east rather than the far east, a blend of Kabbalah and Arabic mysticism.

The article went on to detail examples. That was where his eyes grew wide and some instinct caused his chest to tighten.

The Lakeland centre and the corporate offices of Sweet Red Earth and Aerodrive had all burned down in the last six months. And in each case the arsonist had left no trace, nothing to identify how or why he had done it.

Peter glanced back toward the bedroom door. Beyond it, Adara slept on. A woman made of fire, whom he had plucked from the inferno which went on to consume the

Fountain View Hotel.

Earth, air and water, all of them destroyed by fire.

Not sure if he was finally losing his mind or not, he picked up the phone to ring

Ellen, but stopped before hitting the call button. It was late, and she wouldn’t welcome a call from him at the best of times. Not even with a possible breakthrough on her arson case.

Well, maybe, but he’d have a lot of talking to do before she would listen.

Thinking better of it, he dialled Dave’s number instead.

“Hey there, Pete! Thought better of that drink, did you?”

“No, listen. I need you to talk to Ellen.”

The line went very quiet for a moment and then Dave’s voice came again, more cautious and subdued. “Listen man, sometimes something happens for the best. I mean, I

know the breakup was hard on you, but time passes and…”

Dave was counselling him? Damn if the man didn’t think he was desperate to get back with that harpy.

“Not about me. About the arsonist. I may have found a connection. Could be nothing, but … look, you know how she’ll react if I ring.”

“Seriously? You’re sure?”

Peter got to his feet and paced the floor. “No. Not sure, but it’s a possibility. I think all the buildings are named for the elements—earth, air…”

“Yeah, yeah, fire and water. I know that much. But why is that important?”

“Because there’s this website, about Arabic mysticism and…”

And the genie asleep in my bed was sent to the Fountain View Hotel by her master, a Magus, presumably to destroy it for him.

Yeah, that would work.

“It’s just a hunch.”

“Come on. She’ll love that.”

Problem was, he was right. “Just … just give her the website addresses I’ll send you and tell her to look into it. She’s like a dog with a bone when faced with a mystery. I

know her.”

“You used to.” Dave sighed. “Look, I’ll do it. I promise. But just don’t expect a medal or anything.”

The door to the bedroom creaked open and Adara stood there, wrapped in the sheet, her hair hanging over her face. Peeking through the stands, her eyes were sparks of gold.

“Peter?” she said. “I heard your voice.”

He could almost hear Dave perk up on the far end of the line, and inwardly gave a groan of dismay. “And who is that? Did you finally take my advice?”

“She’s just a … just a friend. A guest. Look, I’ve got to go.” Dave immediately began to protest, his words coming quickly as Peter began to lower the handset. But a single thought froze him. She had been sent to the Fountain View. He had pulled her

from the flames, perhaps, but the Magus had sent her there. She was a creature of fire.

She’d said so herself.

And what did fire do, but burn?

He snapped the phone back to his ear and spoke in a rapid and quiet voice. “Dave, listen and listen carefully, if anything happens to me, you’ve got to tell Ellen.”

“

If anything happens

? God, Peter, what are you talking about?”

“Just do it.” He thumbed the red button on the phone and let the handset fall back onto the sofa.

Adara shifted from one foot to the other and pulled the sheet a little tighter. “Peter?

You … you did ask me to call you Peter, did you not?”

“I need some answers, Adara.” He looked her up and down. Though the sheet covered her, or most of her, it did nothing to disguise what lay beneath. The creamy gold of her skin seemed to gleam against the whiteness of the material. “And you need some clothes.”

She looked down at herself and back up at him, incomprehension plain on her pretty features. “You do not like my appearance?”

Jesus, if this was for real, she was artful. A real piece of work. But if this was a play, what was in it for her? Or—if he was an actual person—for her Magus?

Betrayal grated against his senses and suspicion came hand in hand. She was too much like a dream come true. But after Ellen, Peter didn’t believe in dreams come true.

“Please, Adara, you need to wear clothes.”

Again, she tilted her head studying him. “But you aren’t wearing clothes, Master.”

No, he wasn’t, damn her. He became uncomfortably aware of the towel around his waist. Clothes … clothes would be good. Safer.

For both of them.

“Come on.”

She stepped back as he came toward her, and a trace of fear flickered over her face.

Even that was hard to take, because if he was wrong, he was scaring her. And he was doing it on purpose.

Peter pulled out a pair of sweat pants and a shirt, before grabbing clothes for himself.

Adara stood by the door, watching him pull on his own jeans and t-shirt. She was still standing there when he finished and turned back to her.

“Put them on and then come out here. We need to talk.”

She nodded, trying to push her hair back from her face. It was still a tangled mess and when she saw him look at it, she blushed.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” she said after a moment.

Peter relented a little, she looked so lost. “Normally, you’d wash it.”

Her face fell. “With water?”

“Yes. I’d do it if you’d let me.”

She bowed her head immediately. “I will, Master.”

Inside his jeans, that one word worked its magic again. “Adara, I am not your

Master. I just want to help. And I want you to help me. The first thing, though, is for you to dress and clean up. Can you do that for me?”

He didn’t wait for an answer but closed the door firmly behind him.

Waiting was the hardest part, especially when all he wanted was to open the door and take her in his arms. Especially when he knew that might be fatal.

He contented himself with making a coffee and emailing those URLs to Dave. As he sipped the strong black liquid, he wondered if Adara could possibly be for real. She had looked so bewildered … so hurt

… before he left, that he doubted his own doubts.

Or maybe she was just that good an actress.

Damn, but he wanted her.

The door opened and she stepped outside, her hair now not only tangled, but bedraggled, drenched. She wore his sweat pants, though they settled low on her hips, and she had tied his white shirt up under her breasts, which left her flat stomach fully on view. The golden chains glistened where they crossed her creamy skin. The shoulders and collar of the shirt were almost transparent. She looked miserable and shaky, her long locks soaking wet.

Peter stared at her, waiting for an explanation, but she just stood there, dripping.

“What happened?” he asked at last.

To his surprise, she burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. “I tried,” she sobbed. “I tried to wash it. But I … I don’t know how and the water was cold, and I

couldn’t make it stop…”

Guilt washed through him, possibly as she intended, but right now what did that matter? Frankly, he didn’t care. He abandoned the coffee and went to her, wrapping her in his arms and pressing her cold, wet head against his chest. He let out the tension and suspicion in a rush of air, a sigh he didn’t think was in him.

“Let me help, then.”

What else could he do?

Chapter Five

Peter held her head in his strong hands, leaning her back over the sink and scooping the water over her hair. And she let him.

Though her body wanted to struggle, she held it still. Though she longed to scream, she suppressed the sound to little whimpers and gazed up at his broad chest, his stern face. He averted his eyes from her. Since he now knew what she was, the passion she had sensed in him had transformed to a revulsion as hard as metal.

It made her want to cry, but the tears within her evaporated when she remembered the look of pity on his face. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. Not for being true to herself.

It had taken every ounce of strength she possessed to hold her head under the water. How dare he pity her for that?

She wanted to be angry, to lose her temper and scream at him, but her djinn nature would not allow her. No, not her nature. The chains would not allow her.

What would she give to be free of them?

They hung, cold and heavy, against her skin, an alien weight. Normally they felt so familiar, as if they were part of her now, after a thousand years. But somehow he had changed all that.

Peter, her Master, one of the enemy.

She recalled dancing through the streets of Valetta in fire form, arching through the air at the men on the high walls. The Knights, bearing their eight-pointed cross, had fought with blade, and with water. Many of her kind perished that day. So too did many of their masters. And the stone city of St. John did not fall.

The djinn had been pulled back before their losses became too great. They had some value, after all. Though slaves, there were others more readily dispensable. Foot soldiers and archers had been sent in their place. The death toll had been enormous and the

Knights had won the day.

Men of valour, of inner steel.

Men like him.

Even now he wore the symbol on the tight cotton shirt. It covered his heart. As she looked at it she saw that it was not a pointed cross, not as the Knights of St. John had worn. On inspection, it looked more like a flower. In the centre was an array of implements and a helmet. On one side she recognised a ladder and some kind of spear.

She had no idea what the other things were meant to be.

Peter glanced down at her and met her eyes.

“You okay?”

She tried to say yes, but the word died in her throat. His eyes were like steel, grey and hard. Cold as the ice, as the deep sea, as the endless water she feared.

Water dripped down her neck, dampening the collar of the shirt she wore even more.

Next, he began to rub something into her hair. It was sweetly fragrant, and his strong fingers massaged her scalp, working it through, stimulating her skin. And other parts of her. Her skin tingled with the same frightening sensations as before and within her, the defences she was trying to shore up began to melt beneath the heat of her desire. She pressed her thighs together tightly, trying to get her body back under control. The soft

material of the strange trews he had given her worked the delicate skin, making the sensations even worse.

She closed her eyes and leaned back into his hands.

“Adara?” His deep voice rumbled through her, stimulating her already addled senses further. “Adara, you’re glowing.”

She opened her eyes and saw him staring at her. Light reflected back up onto the handsome lines of his face, light which came from her skin. She raised one hand to study the phenomenon. Light flowed beneath her skin, gilding it with inner light. It moved in waves, growing and fading with the increasingly rapid beat of her heart.

Flame sparkled at her fingertips, just waiting to escape. She closed her hands into fists and swallowed down the desire.

The light dimmed, though it still thrummed inside, desperate to get out.

“I’m sorry, Master. I will try to control it.” That little growl came again, deep in his throat. Irritation. Displeasure. Before he could say a word she corrected herself. “Peter.

I’m sorry, Peter.”

But the expression didn’t change. “You have to stop apologising, Adara. I’m not your master, and you don’t have to say sorry all the time. Please.”

Please?

Adara felt her eyes go round with shock and her mouth fall open.

Peter smiled. “Well, that surprised you, anyway. Now, let me rinse out the shampoo and then we’ll actually get to see the actual colour of your hair again.”

He worked in silence and she couldn’t think of a word to say to him. Water ran over her scalp and his hands chased it, worrying it away from her. He drove away the ash and the dirt, making her anew with his clever hands and the water she feared so much. In his hands it was a marvel, nothing to be afraid of at all.

Although she was not sure the same thing was true of him.

*

She followed him into the kitchen and he pulled out a chair for her. Sitting down, she watched him all the time he got the towel and hairbrush, until he stood behind her and she couldn’t anymore. Peter dried her hair and brushed it while Adara sat like an obedient child. It perplexed him.

Every time he saw a spark of rebellion in her eyes, she quashed it. It was beguiling, but at the same time he found the idea of her challenging him before succumbing even more appealing. Subservience was not the same as submissive. And yet when he had seen her react to his kiss, to his touch, he had never seen anything so beautiful.

“How did you become a djinn?” he asked, mainly in an effort to take his mind off her.

“I was an offering. It was a great honour. And I was only a daughter. My family had many sons to feed.”

Something in the way she said it chilled him. He stared at her hair, red gold, gleaming. Not quite human in its gilded lustre.

“Where were you from?”

She let out a breath that, coming from anyone else, might have been a stifled and bitter laugh. “It was just a village. I don’t even think it had a name. Nowhere.”

“And what happened?”

“I…” He turned her around to face him, scraping the chair on the tiled floor and found that she had scrunched up her face, her eyes squeezed so tightly closed lines

formed all around them. Unable to help himself, Peter ran a gentle hand down the side of her face and her expression softened.

Her gilded eyes opened, examining his face. “I was a sacrifice,” she said, her voice shaky. “They tied me to a post and lit the fire. They let it take me. And the flames made me their own. There are many of us, but humankind cannot see us. We exist in parallel.”

“Like shadows?”

“Like ghosts.”

Her hollow voice stirred pity in him, pity he couldn’t afford right now. He kept his own voice carefully even.

“And what about this Magus? How did you become a slave?”

She hung her head and took a moment before answering. Framing an answer, he wondered? Preparing a lie?

“Just a few years ago, in your terms.”

“And he’s here? In London?”

“Yes.” She looked up, her features guileless, bright and beautiful. “But the Magus—

”

Peter didn’t give her a chance to finish. “And why did he send you to burn down the

Fountain View?”

Something in his tone must have alerted her, his irritation perhaps. She sat a little straighter.

“Master?”

“Not now, Adara. Why did he send you to burn the hotel? And what about the other buildings? He’s an arsonist with a difference, I’ll give him that, but he’s still a firestarter.

And you’re the fire. How many buildings?”

Her hands slipped beneath the seat of her chair, gripping it on either side. She bowed her head low.

“I beg forgiveness, Master, but I do not understand.”

Peter dropped to one knee in front of her and lifted his hand to her face. Adara flinched away from him, no doubt expecting a blow. The movement deflated his anger effortlessly.

“Shh,” he said and moved towards her once more, only to see her flinch again. “I

won’t hurt you, I swear it. You just have to trust me.”

He pressed his hand to her cheek and felt her shiver beneath his touch. That now familiar heat surged between them once again and she looked up.

“I do,” she whispered, although she didn’t sound entirely convinced. To his amazement tears glistened on the edge of her lashes. The urge to kiss her assaulted him once more. He pushed it down, a feat that was becoming harder to do every time.

“Then tell me where to find the Magus.”

Her white teeth worried her lower lip for a moment. “I don’t know.”

Peter sighed, deflated and looked away. He was about to get up, but her hand stopped him, her touch so tentative, but determined. Her eyes were frightened, and she chewed on her lower lip with sharp white teeth.

“But I think I can show you,” she said. “If I may.”

Chapter Six

The first thing Peter realised, when they stepped out into the harsh light of a winter’s morning, was that far from being invisible to the world, Adara attracted quite a lot of attention. Not only was she barefoot and wearing a man’s clothing that barely clung to her slender frame but she displayed a childlike curiosity that had her peering intently at everything they passed, from a garbage bin, to a car, to a soft drinks machine. He had to pull her away from a bookstall, half for fear that she would set it alight, though the way her hands lingered on the books as they left, he sensed she would dearly love to read them.

He wondered if she could read. Certainly from the time she claimed to have been born, he doubted she could, but then again, he was starting to realise that underestimating her might be a very bad idea.

Especially if she was a creature of fire, serving a Magus.

For a moment, he saw them sitting side by side as he taught her to read, introduced her to the world and all its marvels. Madness, of course, and a cliché at that. But to live in his world, she would need to learn so much and he longed to be the one to teach her, to help her.

Idiot, he told himself. She was working with a killer, one who targeted firefighters in his quest for … what? What could the Magus possibly gain from burning these buildings?

“Why did he send you to the Fountain View Hotel, Adara?” he asked.

She pressed her face up against the glass of a shop window, staring at the clothes on the other side as if she had found a treasure. Her fingertips pressed to the glass and a glow sparkled beneath her skin.

“Adara?”

She straightened up so quickly Peter imagined he heard her spine snap. The light in her died.

“Yes Ma … Peter?”

“Why burn the hotel?”

“To gain power, control over the elements. The hotel is a symbol. By feeding it to the fire, the Magus gained the power imbued in the structure at its construction.”

“And the men who died in the other fires?”

Her face froze, carefully placid and impossible to read. “I didn’t know of them. I

would not have killed them, but others would have. Many of my kind hate humans. Many of them have good reason.” He tried to shake off the ominous feeling those words sent through him.

“And what did their deaths gain the Magus?”

She hung her head, folding her arms across her body. “There has to be a sacrifice.

I’m sorry, Peter. Truly sorry.”

This time there was no fear in her voice, but he sensed the regret was genuine.

Suddenly uncomfortable with having pressed her, Peter rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension.

“Which way now?”

She cast one regretful look back over her shoulder at the clothes in the window and

sighed. “Nearby. Moving. I can’t quite sense where.”

Two elderly women passed them, fixing her with disapproving gazes. Adara shifted uncomfortably onto one foot, rubbing the other against her calf for comfort. He could hear the old bitches muttering about her shameless appearance as they shuffled away, casting withering glances over their shoulders. Adara’s face flushed scarlet and she stared at the ground.

Clenching his teeth, Peter took hold of Adara’s elbow. Her skin was smooth against the rougher surface of his palm, her bones so pronounced they were almost as sharp as a weapon. So frail, so vulnerable, despite her power.

“I thought you said people couldn’t see you.”

She tried to smile. “You gave me these.” She indicated the shirt and sweat pants.

“You … you change me, Peter. I cannot say why.”

His heart thudded inside his chest and his mouth went suddenly dry. Appealing, and vulnerable, she had an uncanny ability to render him speechless with desire, with the need to make her his own.

He knew that was impossible, that he was barely sure he could even trust her, and yet, all the same, the need was there. Undeniable.

“Come inside,” he said. “Let’s find you something better to wear.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyes rounded, but she said nothing, merely followed him inside the shop.

With Ellen, Peter had hated being dragged from boutique to boutique, where everything was never quite right, or the fashions never actually met the high mark she set.

A bit like himself. She’d wanted him to go for promotion after promotion, eternally chasing another pay rise, when all he had wanted was to do his job.

Adara hung back, glancing around the small room as if she was in Aladdin’s cave and too frightened to do anything about it. It was one of those hippie-chic sort of places, a step or two away from a thrift shop and all the more charming for it.

A bit like her.

No, a lot like her.

“Well?” Peter asked. “What do you like?”

“There’s so much.”

He found her a pair of jeans that hugged her hips so intimately that they might have been a second skin. The bra and panties set would surely drive him out of his mind if he saw her in them alone. The shop assistant teamed them with a light t-shirt and a chiffon blouse which floated around her like steam. But it was Adara who picked out a tiny pair of sequined pumps, completely inappropriate for most things in life and perfect for her.

She twirled around in the centre of the shop, admiring herself in the mirror and Peter found a smile playing on his lips, despite himself. Adara reminded him of a little girl dressing up for the first time. Or perhaps, like a woman who had never seen her own worth before. Like Cinderella on her way to the ball.

But she wasn’t a woman. Not really. He had to remind himself of that. And this was no fairy tale.

As he paid for her purchases, she lingered by the door, running her fingers across the thin fabric, watching the light play in its colours. Suddenly she jerked up, alert and afraid, frozen in place.

“The Magus, Peter. It’s the Magus, coming this way.”

Two strides took him to her side. “Where?”

“I don’t… I mean, I can’t… Peter…” Her breath came in hard gasps, her face white as ash. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him and she wilted in his arms, her fingers digging into his skin to hold herself up.

Ellen strode around the corner, her briefcase swinging at her side. Her eyes locked on them and her step faltered. She came to a halt, staring at him, at the two of them.

His voice sounded strange in his own ears, hollowed out and tinny.

“Ellen? What … what are you doing here?”

His former fiancée looked Adara up and down with a chilling gaze of assessment.

“I could ask you the same question. I’m on my way to a meeting.” Her hand preened her golden hair, neatly pinned back in a French pleat that was at once businesslike and sophisticated. Then she smiled directly at Adara, a smile which reached no further than her mouth’s corners. She thrust out her hand. “I’m Ellen.”

Adara took her hand gingerly. “Adara.”

“Hmm, unusual name. And a bit younger than usual, Peter.”

She pushed back her shoulders and Peter fought to hide a scowl. Before he could say a word, another voice interrupted them.

“Well, here’s a surprise, Ellen,” Trey said, appearing from the next shop. Almost as tall as Peter, his polished looks matched Ellen’s perfectly. The suit alone probably cost more than Peter would make in a year, but that was what Ellen had been after, he reminded himself. Money. Position. Trey entwined his arm with Ellen’s and her smile transformed, not to pleasure or joy. It became rigid on her face, fixed. “What a coincidence,” Trey went on, oblivious.

“Don’t often see you in this part of town, Trey,” Peter replied. The muscles in his free hand tightened, ready to form a fist, but he kept his shoulders loose, relaxed. Beside him Adara was quivering with fear. If she was unused to even being seen by humans, he could only imagine how being scrutinized by two of the most heartless examples felt.

“Business takes us all over the place. As a matter of fact, I’m planning on some redevelopment work in the area. Property prices are pretty cheap right now,” he tapped his nose with one manicured finger. “But check it out in a year or two. And who is your charming little friend?”

Before Peter could reply, Trey snatched up Adara’s hand and bent to kiss it. His lips brushed the back of her hand. Startled, the djinn let out a breath and pulled back. Trey laughed, a rich and irritating laugh that sounded like triumph.

“We have to go,” Ellen snapped. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Of course not, darling. Well, adieu

, my dear,” Trey said to Adara. “Or more correctly au revoir

.” He nodded his head and said, “Peter.” Then he swept past them, Ellen at his side.

Peter cursed and began to walk in the opposite direction as rapidly as he could.

Adara, her arms still in his, trotted along beside him, her face drained of colour.

“Just what this area needs,” Peter growled. “Another business complex or a mall or an apartment building no one can afford.”

She didn’t answer. She probably didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but she hurried to keep up with him.

“Can you still sense the Magus?” he asked. “Have we lost him?”

“Peter, I…” She stumbled and fell. He caught her before she lost her balance

completely, lifting her back up to her feet. The feel of her in his arms reminded him of the previous night, of her body against his and the sensation of her soft skin, slick with desire. Now a sheen of cold sweat covered her. Beneath it she was hot to touch. Too hot.

“What is it?”

“I feel… I feel so strange. Like I’m being drawn, pulled.”

“Is it the Magus?”

Adara nodded dumbly, her pupils so wide in her eyes that only a sliver of gold appeared around the endless black. He squeezed her shoulders. This could be the opportunity they needed to track him down. “Can you find him?”

She swallowed down her terror, taking back control. Tentatively at first, she pulled away from Peter’s hands. Stepping forward seemed to take a great deal of effort, but she did it. Because he asked. A surge of pride and desire swelled inside him again. He’d never met anyone like her. And never would. How could he?

Adara picked up her pace, walking quickly along the sidewalk, her eyes fixed determinedly ahead of her, and Peter was the follower now. He lengthened his stride, matching her pace, but she didn’t look at him when he drew even. A glance at her face made his heart jerk up inside him. Her eyes were glazed, locked on something far away.

“Adara?” She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned the corner and heading straight into

Regent’s Park, her path unswerving as she marched headlong toward Clarence Bridge and the lake.

Chapter Seven

Adara’s legs wouldn’t obey her. Her body no longer listened to her mind’s frantic commands. Up ahead she could see the body of water, glittering in the sunlight as if studded with gemstones. Beside her, Peter’s voice was an irritating fly, calling her name.

He tried to stop her, but she shook off his hands.

Go to the water, said the voice of the Magus.

Jump in. Snuff out that fire for once and for all and have done with you.

Peter grabbed her again, more firmly this time, and before she knew what she was doing, she hurled him to the path.

“Adara!” he shouted. “Adara, stop!”

She felt like a hook had lodged in her heart trying to hold her back, but another, far stronger, pulled her onwards. She struggled to return to Peter, to break free of the Magus’

power, but she was too weak, her body betraying her in an entirely new way. She moved like an automaton, like a golem, a hard shell holding the fire of magic within locked away where it could be controlled. The feelings growing within her for Peter, a man she would gladly call master, were bewildering, weakening her and the simple touch of the Magus’

mind on hers had been all it took. Her mind might still be her own, but what did that matter to a power like the Magus? Her body was beyond her control and that was all that mattered.

Peter seized her shoulders again, trying to stop her, to turn her back toward him. If she could just look in his eyes, she thought, just for a moment, she might stand a chance, but he came from behind and her neck felt like an iron bar. She couldn’t turn, couldn’t see him, couldn’t break free.

Her palm itched, burned and lifted from her side. In its centre, fire kindled from the warm.

No. No please, don’t.

You know what to do, Adara. If he tries to stop you, destroy him. As you should have destroyed him to begin with. You will do this. Obey me.

Adara’s eyes clamped shut. She pitched to the right, twisting out of his grip. Peter shouted her name again, lunging after her, but she slipped his grasp and flung her hand towards him.

Fire billowed from her fingertips. His instincts saved him. He rolled to the ground, ducking beneath the onslaught. When she found she could open her eyes after all, he was already struggling to his feet.

Adara’s tears spilled from her eyes, sizzling as they struck her cheeks.

She would kill him if he kept coming after her. The Magus would make her.

No. Not if she could help it.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, barely able to voice the words. “Forgive me, my Master.”

Her hands were heating again. She heaved in an icy breath, turned and sprinted for the water’s edge. A small jetty poked its way out from land and her feet pounded against the juddering planks. At the end the water looked still, and deep, and so very, very cold.

“Adara!” Peter yelled. She could sense him closing on her, but she didn’t dare look back, couldn’t risk the urge to attack him rising in her again.

Peter, my Master, my love.

She leaped into the water. The cold shocked her, sent all air from her lungs, all fire from her body. It closed over her like a tomb and she sank. Her hair billowed around her and air bubbled up from her lungs. Cradled in the icy water, she sank like a stone and did nothing to fight against the inevitable.

Cold crept in upon her, and her vision blurred, darkened.

An end, she promised herself. It seemed so long since she had dreamed of coming to an end. And Peter would be safe. That was all that mattered.

She closed her eyes and surrendered.

Strong arms seized her once more, this time pulling her not from the fire but from the water. Peter hauled her up onto the end of the jetty pushing at her stomach so that all the water burst out from between her lips like a geyser.

His lips captured hers as he breathed life back into her body. His own breath, like someone kindling the spark for a bonfire, edged into the ice enclosing her heart.

“Come on, Adara. Come back to me.”

He kissed her again, and the same breath grew inside her again. He was willing her back to life, whether she wanted it or not. Cracks appeared, fissures that raced along the exterior of her cold heart.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere,” he continued, his voice harsh with effort. “I won’t allow it, Adara. I need you. I command you to come back.”

Within her, something roared into life. A single spark, but so intense that it would have ignited an inferno in only minutes, would have melted through metal and stone. She opened her eyes and struggled to focus on his handsome face, on the slivers of polished steel that were his eyes.

“I… I obey, Master,” she replied on the single breath she could grasp.

His harsh expression melted to relief and he lifted her off the ground, cradling her against him. Lurching to his feet, he smoothed her wet hair back from her face, staring into her eyes. They were both wet, soaked and shivering in the breeze, but Peter didn’t pause for a moment.

Striding from the path and the groups of worried onlookers, he headed for the trees, ducking into the undergrowth and out of sight. Thick shrubs and low branches bushed against them, rustling as if a whirlwind cut through them.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Peter growled.

“The Magus,” she replied, though her teeth chattered and her skin crawled across her bones. The only warmth she could feel came from him. That and the newly kindled fire building inside her, more than a spark now, a tiny, isolated inferno.

Peter let her slip from his grasp, her feet touching ground though he still held her upper body tight against his chest. Her legs hung limp, still unable to support her.

“The Magus ordered you to kill yourself? And you obeyed?”

Adara hung her head, wishing the answer was different. She didn’t dare speak, couldn’t have found the words needed if she had the nerve.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone hard.

“I… I cannot…” The cold still ate in at her core, battling the fire that sustained her.

She was failing, in spite of his command and her wish to obey him.

“Adara, talk to me. Look at me. What has he done to you?”

Peter pushed her back against a tree, ran his hands down her arm and must have felt

the cold, the quivering in her extremities that threatened the heat in her core. He started to rub her flesh, his strong hands stirring up a fire such as she had never known.

She responded in the only way she could, her lips hungry as she kissed him, demanding in a way she would never normally be. She needed him, wanted him, begged him for a response.

Peter’s reaction was immediate. He pulled back, tearing his lips from hers and, to her horror, regarded her with something like disdain.

“The Magus has a hold on me,” she admitted. “That power is very great and I was a creature of the Magi for many years.”

Peter didn’t move, just stared at her. The touch of his gaze on her face made heat coil in the pit of her stomach. It snaked its way down to her groin, and honeyed liquid filled her there, boiling.

“Please Master,” she murmured, arching towards him once again.

He pulled the chiffon blouse up over her head and twisted it. Water dripped from the material, spattering on the leaves at their feet.

“So great a hold you would kill yourself for him?” Peter asked.

“Its not a… Not what you think… I didn’t want to. I wanted to be with you. I need only you.”

Again, he paused and terrified he might stop, might turn away from her, Adara lifted her arms to reach for him.

Peter grabbed her wrists and dragged them back around the tree trunk. Pressed to the rough bark, she protested as it bit into her spine, but he didn’t relent. Quickly, with practiced ease, he bound her wrists together with her damp blouse, the golden cuffs pressed together. The energy within them began to pulse through her, increasing the heady sensation between her legs as the rhythm of power began. The fire of her body’s hunger leaped up again.

She couldn’t suppress a groan.

Peter folded his arms, watching her. “Never again, Adara. You are never going to obey him again, do you understand?”

She closed her eyes. If only it were that simple. She wanted Peter. He was the only thing in the world she desired, and she longed to obey him, if he could just bring himself to command her. She trusted him, she realised. She had never trusted any man so.

“Answer me.”

Lie to him

, came the command.

Tell him what he would hear

.

No

, she fought back.

I will not do that.

Lie to him.

“Peter, you must stop the Magus,” she gasped. “Please, my Master I beg you. Before it’s too late, before I am forced to…”

Silence, you fool. Do as you are commanded.

Her desire pulsed through her body, her heart pounding at the base of her throat.

“But who is he? If Ellen hadn’t appeared, if she and Trey…”

She flinched at the sound of the Magus’ name and Peter stared in shocked silence.

Finally he found his voice again.

“Trey? It’s Trey?”

Do as I say and I will set you free.

“Yes.” Her tears welled up again, tumbling down her face and she sobbed as her own

body betrayed her again, in wildly different ways. Her breasts ached to be touched, her lips tingled with the memory of his lips devouring them. Her mouth found other words now, her own words. “Forgive me, please, forgive me.”

Peter’s hand touched her cheek, skirted down the side of her face, leaving a trail of her own tears behind it. He stepped in closer, his body only a hair’s breadth from her own, so close she could feel the heat emanating from him. He had a fire like her own, a passion which could match hers. It called to her. Drew her to him.

His fingertips traced down the line of her neck and she tilted back her head, pressing it against the tree trunk in order to allow him go where he would. Tugging on the t-shirt, he freed it from the waistband of her jeans. When his hand touched the soft skin of her abdomen, her world contracted to the simple fact of the two of them, of skin on skin, and desire.

Oh yes, desire, like the fires which had made her, kindled to white hot in the core of her being by his touch alone. It drove out the cold, the chill of the water, and every fear she harboured that this was wrong, that she would betray him and destroy him.

Peter’s clever fingers dappled her skin with their heated touch. He slid them beneath the cup of her newly acquired bra so he could roll the nipple between their tips.

The gasp that burst from her echoed through the little copse of trees. Outside, she wondered, did all the people in the park hear? The joggers, and the people feeding the ducks, the musicians playing guitar and drums in the distance, the women walking their children in prams? Did they all hear and recognise the desire he evoked in her? Did they feel such passion rise in themselves or did envy take its place?

Peter pushed the cup of the bra aside, so that it held her breast, offering it to him. He lifted the t-shirt right up to her neck, bunching it above the swell of her breast before he bent down. His mouth, sweet and warm, engulfed her, sucking on the nipple, his tongue running over the tip that puckered to meet him. His free hand fondled her neglected breast and his mouth followed. He moved from one to the other, teasing, enthralling her as he played, stirring that heat inexorably.

Then he slowly began his descent. With lips and tongue, he kissed his way down the flat plane of her stomach, spiralling around her belly button and delving into it until she stifled another cry of need and bucked against him.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, running his fingers along the edge of her jeans, pushing them inside. The chains running over her body burned and the cuffs sent shivers of need up her arms and legs instead of the cold.

“I… I need you,” she replied. “I need you inside me. Please, Master.”

He unbuttoned the top of her jeans and his hands worked them down over her hips.

The panties followed, the silk sliding effortlessly against her skin. She shook with need and with the fear someone would step through the thick bushes and find them. Surely someone would hear and investigate, someone would find them.

But then his fingers brushed against the pearl of her clit and all coherent thought ceased. Fear was drowned in a wave of need, of hunger, of desire. She thrust her hips towards him, a low moan trapped in her throat, and was rewarded by the touch of his tongue. He held her hips, subduing their movement to his will, and began to lick. Strong, steady strokes sent her mind reeling. She lifted her face to the light above, cut by shifting leaves and branches. Above her, the world was so peaceful. Below was nothing of the sort. Surging against his face, she struggled toward the release only he could bestow.

And then he stopped.

Panting with need, she sought him with her eyes, only to see him stand and free his cock from the tight restriction of his own jeans. Shock and disappointment were replaced with a greater urgency and a fascination. She followed his movements hungrily though she spoke not a word. For a moment, Peter paused, pulling a small foil object from his pocket, tearing it open and then unrolling a layer of skin down his hard cock. He ran his hand up and down the length once, twice, and then stepped in to meet her.

His mouth took hers, even as he pulled her hips to him and thrust deep inside her in a single, sublime motion. She cried out as he filled her, stretched her, and made her complete. The sound was lost in his kiss.

She had never imagined it could be like this. She had experienced sex before. Even as a djinn, men found her desirable and her masters had been but men. But this man …

she sighed against him, found her breath tangled in her throat, where the collar sizzled against her skin, making her pleasure almost unbearable … this man was a master indeed.

Peter pulled her hips tight against his, pushing deeper and deeper, filling her more than she imagined possible. Her body peaked, convulsing against him, around him and he in turn, came, thrusting harder than ever so she was thrown back against the tree, the bark scraping at her skin in delectable pain. She cried as she kissed him, voice and tears combined in her body’s effort to tell him how she felt even if she could not find the words.

Finally, she sagged against him. He pressed his lips to the side of her neck.

“Are you mine?” he asked.

She nodded, dumb with exhaustion.

“Remember it,” he told her. “Whatever happens, whatever is said. Remember it.”

He slipped from her, replacing her damp clothes neatly before he untied the blouse binding her to the tree. She almost collapsed as her arms were freed.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We go home. And I find a way to let the world know what Trey is without appearing like an insane and embittered ex.”

There was so much she wanted to tell him, but she could not. His frown wrinkled his brow and she reached out, her fingers trembling as they touched him, smoothing the lines away. Surprise filled his eyes.

“Adara, this will turn ugly. There’s no way to avoid that now.”

“I know. The Magus has tried to kill me. And will try to kill you. And most of all I

fear   will be the tool to be used to do this.”

I

Chapter Eight

Back at the apartment, the voicemail light was blinking. Peter made coffee and handed Adara a mug. She was still shivering, though from the shock of the attack, the cold or their fierce lovemaking, he couldn’t say. He pressed the replay button and the world unravelled around him.

The disembodied voice told him that Dave had been lost in a fire last night, caught by a backdraft which had engulfed him before the others could reach him. His body drifted into numb disbelief and shock. Adara rose to her feet, crossing to him wearing a look of such concern he swore she could read his mind, sense the pain and the sense of blind panic.

A freak occurrence, the Commissioner said, but a known hazard of the job. One which had never put someone like David Martin off for a moment.

Damn, he sounded like he was practicing the memorial speech already.

Anger surged through Peter’s body, driven by his pounding heart. He gripped the phone receiver until his knuckles turned white and the Commissioner’s message ended.

When all he could hear was the steady whine of the busy tone, he dropped his arm to his side as if he held a stone.

Adara’s hand touched his shoulder, light as a feather. He could see the fear in her eyes and forced himself to relax just a little.

“What is it?” she asked, her clever hands moving to his shoulders, working the knots there to relax him.

Peter turned away, escaping her ministrations before he could begin to succumb.

Dave was dead, his friend, his colleague, the man who always had his back. The man he had asked to tell Ellen of his initial suspicions.

“I sent him to his death,” he muttered, more to himself than to Adara, although she stood right beside him.

She leaned forward and kissed him. Unbidden, unexpected, her lips brushed against his, and her hands encircled his neck.

So warm, so comforting, her body wriggled closer to his.

The terrifying thought he was about to lose her had almost stopped his heart when he pulled her still, pale form from the lake water, as he had fought to win her back from death.

He could still taste her in his mouth, he could still feel the pulse of her muscles around the length of his shaft. Just thinking of her abandon, of the stifled cries and the rhythm of their lovemaking made him hard all over again.

He met her kiss without a thought and then realised the change that was sweeping over him yet again. She did that to him, filling him with desire in a single second. Pent-up blood pounded in his head, surging like the sea in a storm.

His eyes stung with unsheddable tears.

“It’s my fault,” she mumbled, the words blurred by his kiss.

“How is that?” Peter asked, running his fingers through the silk of her hair, trailing strands out so that they caught the light, shimmering like fire spun to the finest thread.

Abruptly, he knotted his hand in her hair, twisting it around his hand. He jerked her

head back, pulling her from his lips, turning her to face him. “Are you lying to me, Adara? Have you anything else to tell me? The truth perhaps?”

She shrank back. “I’ve told you the truth. I swear it. Master…”

“

Master

,” he sighed. “You use that whenever I ask a question. Is it to put me off? To lull me into a false sense of security?”

“Does it…” Her voice trailed off, the trembling claiming it before she could finish the sentence. She swallowed hard, her eyes closing briefly for just a moment. When they opened, they were bright and so very beautiful it almost stole his breath to look on them.

But not quite. Suspicion blocked their spell this time. “Does it displease you, Master?”

“No.” The answer was immediate. It leaped onto his lips before he even had a chance to think about it and he cursed inwardly. “No, but it does get you out of some tricky situations, Adara.”

She only looked up into his face, her expression unwavering. “You know I am yours.”

“And somehow you are his as well. Isn’t that right?”

A glimmer of fear, of doubt flickered in her golden eyes. “I am yours. I remember where you seem to forget. Your wish overrides the command of the Magus. You only have to say it and I obey. I do not want to serve the Magus. Not willingly, Peter.”

“Not anymore? Not since you met me?” He couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice, but she didn’t flinch.

“Not ever. I may have been forced to serve but I never did so willingly. None of the djinn do. What do you think? That we choose to be slaves?”

He pulled her to him, his mouth savaging hers without a thought for her pleasure, or her feelings. She squirmed beneath him, and then, to his surprise, pressed closer, her fingers pulling at his shirt.

Peter pushed her back once more. “I think you don’t know what you want. Or what you want to be.”

Her hands closed on his arms and the fire in her eyes turned incandescent. Her fingers dug into his hands, and she scowled, for just a moment.

“I want to be free,” she said.

For a moment she didn’t move. He gazed into the golden depths of her eyes, watched the light in them flicker and brighten with her anger. It was anger, true anger. And then her face went blank, like a marble statue.

Adara shoved him back and he stumbled with the unexpected movement. Flames burst from her fingertips. Her fire threw Peter backwards, licking up the front of his body, brushing tender lips against his own.

He crashed to the floor, the breath dashed from his body, his arms and legs splayed out on either side.

“Good,” said a voice, too intimately familiar to his ears. The door to his apartment stood open and heels clacked upon the polished wood floor. The floor of the apartment she had had helped him choose. “Now finish him. Burn him for me, Adara. Burn him to ashes.”

Chapter Nine

Adara stood over him, her golden eyes glittering. Tears spilled down her cheeks, boiling away to nothing before they could fall. At her throat and around her wrists the metal collar and cuffs glowed with a golden light and he could see her skin reddening from their burning touch. But she didn’t move. Peter lay beneath her, staring up into her face, and she didn’t finish him. Her hands dropped to her sides.

“Why are you hesitating?” Ellen asked. Her heels clicked on the floorboards once again, a more threatening sound than he had ever heard. But this was Ellen, his Ellen.

Only a couple of years ago they were going to be married.

Dear God, what happened to her?

“I gave you a command, djinn

.” She said the word like a curse, the same tone one might use for slave

, or scum

.

Adara raised her hands again. They shook as they hovered over him. Her tendons stood out like wires, like the chains encircling her, forcing her…

She tore herself back with a pained cry and twisted away, crumpling against the far wall.

Peter struggled to breathe as Ellen stalked towards him, her eyes aglow with malice.

“You,” she murmured. “Why can’t you just die like every other man on the earth?”

She pointed at Adara. “And why do you have to fight me at every turn? I offered you freedom, and you throw even your greatest wish in my face.” Adara squirmed back, her face stretched in pain. Slowly, Ellen clenched her hand into a fist and the djinn gasped, gripping her chest as if she was being crushed.

Peter pushed himself up, ready to help her, but he was too slow.

Ellen kicked out, her foot catching Peter in the ribs and driving the air from him again. He crumpled.

“Is she fighting me for you?” Ellen asked. “Really?” She pressed her foot to his chest, forcing him back as she ground the heel into his skin. “All she had to do was kill you. But she couldn’t even manage that. Do I have to do everything myself?”

“Ellen, this is madness,” Peter began, but she just pressed harder, the metal tip biting into his skin. “This isn’t like you.”

“What do you know about me, Peter? When I met Trey, he showed me such wonders. Not the frigid science, or the testosterone-induced bravado you and your mates indulge in. He uses the elements so artfully it’s like watching a master musician. But even he doesn’t have the nerve to go far enough. Men don’t. They never do. So I do it instead. And if I take a little revenge along the way…”

“Please, Magus,” said Adara. “Please show mercy.”

She was down on her knees, her forehead pressed to the floor, a picture of complete submission and despair.

He had to help her, couldn’t bear to see her prostrate like this. Peter struggled again, but Ellen just pressed harder, this newfound strength enhanced by her magic.

Magus

, she had said from the start.

Magus and he had assumed master

, had assumed that the one he had stolen her from was a man. His own assumption had blinded him to the possibility. But it made sense, didn’t it?

If you were going to burn down a series of buildings, for whatever reason, whether magical or mundane, what better position could one be in to cover up any little problems than the investigator? Any links to Trey, or to herself, and she could eradicate them without any suspicion. Just leave them out of a report, palm an object or dismiss it as unimportant. He fell back beneath her, stunned by the revelation.

Ellen released him, walking over to Adara. “I’m not known for mercy.”

“No, Magus.”

“Then why beg for it?”

“Because… because…” Adara’s voice shook. “Because you like to hear me do so.”

Ellen’s laughter rang around the room, sudden and unexpected. And all the more chilling for that. Peter struggled to his knees, but his strength failed him, sapped away by

Ellen’s power.

The djinn stood up slowly, careful to keep her head bowed, and she crossed her arms before her at the wrists, waiting in abject submission and despair.

“So tell me how it is you do what he commands and not me? How is it you call him

Master?”

Adara didn’t move. She closed her eyes and Peter saw tears drip to the floor, each one a perfect crystal catching the light as it fell. She chewed her bottom lip, trying to think her way out of this, to find some way to save him. Strong and determined, stubborn.

He had never realised how strong she was up to this moment. His Adara.

“Answer me,” said Ellen. “I command you to answer me.”

Adara stood perfectly still. She didn’t fight. Her refusal to respond was her weapon and she wielded it like a master herself.

“Damn you,” Ellen snapped and punched the air towards the djinn.

Adara folded around the magical blow as if it was physical. Her body expelled the air she still managed to hold in a sharp breath. Then she straightened once again.

Ellen brought her hands together, twisting the air between her fingers until Adara cried out again, staggering back and coughing. Blood dripped from her nose, coating her lips in a red gloss, but Adara smiled through the pain and looked up at last.

Straight at Peter.

Adara had thrown herself into the lake, rather than attack him. She had tried to kill herself rather than hurt or kill him. Now he realised it. Now it made sense. Damnit, she didn’t just obey him. She loved him.

She smiled at Peter.

The gold in her eyes started to dim, to fade. Her body jerked violently, and Ellen raised her fist as if she held a knife ready for a sacrificial blow.

“No!” Peter yelled, scrambling to his feet. He had no idea from where he dredged the ability to do so, but he couldn’t let Ellen destroy her. He couldn’t stand by and watch.

“No. Adara, answer her. Do as she says. I command it.”

Abruptly, the djinn’s eyes opened again, filled this time with confusion. And the first true hint of fear. “Peter, you cannot…” She fell silent as if her voice had been snatched away.

Ellen turned around, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes were triumphant.

“Thank you, Peter. It’s not complete control, but it’s a start. It will do. Stay where you are, Adara. You will not move, or speak unless I tell you to. You will do nothing to help him.”

Adara jerked as if trapped behind a glass wall.

Too late, Peter realised his mistake. He had just handed her back to Ellen. He had just sent Adara back into slavery.

But Ellen had lost interest in the djinn now. She tapped her fingertips against her arm, watching him. “So the question remains, what am I going to do with you?”

Peter scowled. “You killed Dave.”

“I didn’t have a lot of choice there. Poor stupid Dave. He was almost right, too, telling me about elements and the energy released in the destruction of symbolic…” She stopped, realisation sweeping through her eyes. “It was you, not him. You figured it out.

And you got him to call me. Why?”

“I thought you wouldn’t listen,” he replied, inwardly cursing himself. There had to be a way out of this. Something he could do.

“Oh, I would have listened all right,” she smirked. “I listened to him, didn’t I? And now we’re in the same position anyway.”

Peter lunged at her, praying that his strength and will would be enough, that he could allow his rage to drive him and take her down before…

Ellen flicked her arm towards him and a wave of air swept him back. He thudded against the wall, the pictures on either side of him crashing to the floor at his feet. A coil of air, as strong as steel wire, wound itself around him, crushing the air from his lungs, pinning his arms and legs to the wall. A wedge of air forced itself between his teeth, gagging him.

“You’re an idiot, Peter,” said Ellen, walking towards him. Her hands passed through his invisible bonds without impediment, and she unbuttoned his shirt, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her tongue slid along her lower lip, leaving a glistening trail behind it. “But still so handsome.” Sweat beaded from his pores as she pressed her hand against his abdomen, sliding it lower. “I missed this.” The gentle tone that infected her voice belied what he saw in her face.

Lust. More than desire. The need to possess, to conquer.

Peter struggled, but she laughed. “I know what I’m going to do with you, Peter. It’s so obvious. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.” She glanced back over her shoulder to where Adara stood, frozen in fear. The djinn’s gaze was fixed on Peter’s face, and her eyes were desolate, her will broken. “Don’t you think he would be perfect, Adara?”

“You cannot. You must not.”

Ellen snapped her fingers and Adara crashed to the ground as if her collar and cuffs suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. She fell with a cry.

“Don’t you tell me what I can and cannot do, bitch. You had your fun with him. Now it’s my turn. I think adornments such as Adara’s will look very becoming on you, Peter, my love. And as a djinn you will be mine alone, mine to do with as a please. And you will beg to please me, do you understand? But first, my dear, you have to burn.”

She turned away, her golden hair shimmering, her trim body swaying as she walked towards the djinn.

“Get up and do as I say, Adara. I want to see him burn. Just like you did all those years ago. I want to see the flames transform him.”

Adara moved like a marionette. Peter watched her struggle against the command that she could not help but obey. She was crying again, her golden eyes ringed with red, but she didn’t stop. She could not stop unless commanded. And the only commands she

could listen to were Ellen’s.

“Wait,” snapped Ellen as Adara came within a foot of him. The djinn fell still again, breathing hard with the effort of fighting Ellen’s will. “I want to hear him scream when you do it. You will scream for me, won’t you Peter?”

With the briefest gesture from her, the gag of air vanished from Peter’s mouth. Adara reached out, pressing her hands to his bare chest, looking up into his face and pleading with him. Her eyes asked his forgiveness, her lips parting as if to receive his kiss. Her chest heaved and she gazed into his face, like she was trying to imprint his features into her memory for eternity. To brand his soul onto hers.

“Burn him, Adara. Make him mine forever.”

Adara sucked in a breath of fear and her hands pressed hard against him, warming against his skin.

Peter caught her gaze with his.“I wish you were free, Adara,” he whispered. A wish.

A simple wish. The one last thing he could hope to give her. And genies were supposed to grant wishes, weren’t they? In stories, in dreams. Even when the wish was for them.

The djinn smiled, and a wall of flame engulfed the room. Ellen shrieked something, but Peter could hear only the roar of the fire. It rolled up his chest, smoothed tender fingertips along the lines of his throat, and kissed his lips. It rippled through his hair and trailed feather-like all over his flesh.

But it didn’t touch him.

Like a shield, the flames rolled back from him, breaking the hold of the air. He slumped to the floor, trying to see Adara in the sea of fire billowing through his living room, driving Ellen back toward the far wall.

He cried out Adara’s name, but she didn’t reappear. Why would she? She didn’t have to do anything he said anymore. She had no Master now that she was no longer a slave. And she was about to show Ellen just that.

The fire roared in fury and the last thing he saw was it engulfing Ellen’s screaming form.

Chapter Ten

The renovations had been the least of his worries. Peter closed the door behind him and stepped back into his apartment for the first time in three months. Three long months of a complete rebuild in which he hadn’t stepped foot inside his home. Not that he’d had much time to.

The inquiry into Ellen’s death had revealed a labyrinth of ties between her cases and

Trey’s business dealings, and consequently Peter was being investigated by so many departments it was difficult to keep track. To be honest, Peter didn’t try. He knew far more than he wanted to know. More than anyone would ever believe.

The Magus had been Ellen, rather than Trey, although there was no doubt Trey had taught her everything he knew. And now Ellen was dead. They had barely found enough remains to identify her.

Whereas he had come away with minor burns.

They marked his chest with silvery scars, the ghostly impressions of fingertips over his heart.

The last traces he had of Adara.

Nothing remained of her, no sign she had ever been there, apart from the devastation she had made of his apartment. And his heart.

It felt good to be back on active duty, to be on call, doing what he had been made to do. It meant he could throw himself into his work and try to push out the past, the torturous memories of his moment in time with her.

And, he secretly admitted, he could stand before the flames, confront them and look for her. He could demand her back.

But she never came.

Three months seemed a terribly long time, but he still waited. He still looked, unable to give up.

All he wanted now was a shower and to sleep in his own bed again.

Peter went into the bedroom and dumped the contents of his bag out onto the floor.

Clothes spilled everywhere, and he busied himself, picking them up, folding them and putting them back into his wardrobe.

A breeze brushed across his shoulders, as warm as if it came from the tropics, ruffling the hair on the back of his neck. He straightened, frowning. The air carried a scent, woodsmoke and fragrant herbs. Like Adara.

Instantly he found himself recalling the taste of her, the feeling of her hands on his body, of her velvet core closing around his fingers, his cock. Her smile. The way she could look so confused while her eyes filled with desire.

His heart beat faster, his blood pounding through his veins. His treacherous body grew hard just thinking about her. Even after all this time…

Peter raked his fingers through his hair and stretched. A shower. That would help, wouldn’t it?

Yeah. A shower. A cold shower.

And that just made him think of the last time he had needed one of those. Adara had curled up on his bed, sated and sleeping. He’d watched her sleeping and it had dispelled

all the good work that shower had done.

He let out the tight breath that was threatening to suffocate him along with a groan.

Definitely a cold shower. Icy cold.

He stripped off, discarding his clothes on the ground by the bed. Padding to the bathroom, he turned on the water. It spluttered into life, discoloured at first, but it ran clear in moments. He stepped into the flow, right under the shower head and tilted his face up to let the cold water drench him. It trickled through his hair, down his shoulders and trailed icy fingers down his spine.

It felt better.

And he missed her. He missed her so much he could not articulate it. Peter rubbed his face, his knuckles pressing hard against his eyes until white sparks danced inside the lids. His head hurt and he sucked in a breath.

His body realised before his mind, the scent of burning something that his instincts picked up. His nerves shivered. Woodsmoke again, rich and warm, comforting, crossed with fresh herbs still damp with dew. Adara’s scent.

Peter turned so fast his feet almost slipped on the wet tiles. Through the smoked glass door of the shower, he saw a shimmering form, a column of fire framed by the doorway. And within it he saw…

Rubbing his eyes again, Peter tried to focus as the figure stepped forwards. Footsteps sizzled on the tiles, careful and neat steps made by tiny feet. The image stopped, and hands rose to press against the glass pane. The glass warmed beneath them and Peter stared for a moment before bringing his own up to touch his side.

He saw her smile. Through the flames which flickered in a perfect silhouette beyond the glass, he saw her smile.

Sliding back the glass door, he let the water spill out and Adara stepped toward him.

Her body hissed, steam rising to wreath their bodies. The flames died down and she stood before him, naked, her skin gilded with her own inner light. Her eyes gleamed with golden mirth and her long, flamelike hair danced around her head.

“I waited for you,” she said. “You didn’t come.”

“I… I thought you had gone.”

Her smile flickered, reflecting amusement across her perfect face. She stepped forward again, right into the stream of water, pressing against him. The warmth of her body made the shower heat instantly, make his body ache for her.

“I didn’t go anywhere. I waited here. For you.”

He brought his hands up tentatively. They didn’t burn when he touched her. He moved carefully, taking his time in case he broke the spell, in case she vanished again.

Carefully running his fingers down her shoulders, along the length of her arms, he savoured every moment. She no longer wore the collar and cuffs on her wrists and ankles. The chains that marked her as a slave were gone. But she was still a djinn, a being formed of fire. Her body glowed with the flames within.

Yet she had walked into the water for him.

Adara lifted her face to meet his gaze, and she smiled. “What were you expecting?”

“I set you free.”

“Yes, you did. And I saved you from the Magus. Does that make us even?”

Peter couldn’t think of an answer, or anything that might make him even with her.

Adara was a wonder, a miracle, a dream. His fingertips trailed back up her arms, ever so

slowly, watching the water leave gleaming trails, watching the light dance beneath her skin. She felt so warm. He couldn’t believe she was real. And yet she was. There was no denying it.

“You went away,” she said. “You never came back here alone before now.”

“The apartment was gutted.”

She had the grace to look sheepish. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t control it then. I’m better now.”

She reached out, stretching beyond the edge of the shower. With a brief gesture, a flame appeared above her fingers, twisting and dancing in a sultry movement.

He bent his mouth and brushed his lips to hers. With a rush of air, the flame blossomed, white hot for a second before she brought it back into the water. Steam billowed around them as he kissed her. He could think of nothing but her lips, her tongue.

Holding her shoulders he pulled her back, turning her to face him with deliberate determination, stepping between her and any way out, pressing against her until she was pinned against the tiled walls.

Adara clung to his shoulders while his hands roamed her body, while his mouth devoured hers. He heard her whimper and struggle closer, their bodies slick against each other and he broke the kiss.

“But you’re free. I set you free.”

“Yes.” She pushed her breasts into his waiting hands and he rolled the nipples beneath his thumbs, until she gasped. Her breasts filled his palms perfectly, their weight and smoothness working their erotic spell upon his body. He wasn’t just hard. His whole body had turned to steel, ready for her, poised. But he didn’t want to rush this.

Nothing in the world could make him rush this.

Adara groaned, arching towards him again and he lowered his mouth to her throat, trailing his tongue down to the cupped breast. He closed his lips around the taut nipple, sucking carefully, applying just the right pressure so that she circled her hips urgently.

“Turn around,” he told her, and she shivered beneath his touch. Briefly, she caught his hungry gaze and a fleeting smile flickered at the corner of her sumptuous mouth.

She turned slowly, spreading her fingers where she pressed her palms against the slick tiles of the shower’s inner wall. Water cascaded along the length of her back, trailing down her spine. Peter ran his hands down the side of her body, and up her stomach to play with her breasts once more. He could hardly leave them alone. But she didn’t want that. Though she didn’t speak, he knew what she wanted, what she needed.

Her head fell back as he ran his fingertips down her body. He parted her thighs, sliding carefully between her labia, luxuriating in the sensation. He was met with slick moisture, warm as molten honey. He remembered the taste, sweet and musky, addictive. And he would taste it again. He vowed that, swore it on his soul.

Her body closed around his fingers, holding him inside while she rocked gently back and forth. He pushed a second finger inside and she shuddered before picking up her pace.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Later, he would take his time. Later and later and later. But for now…

“Come here,” he growled, standing up and lifting her off her feet. Leaving the shower cascading in the bathroom, he carried her into the bedroom and laid her out on his bed. She watched him, a new hunger in her eyes as he dug out a condom and slid it onto

his aching cock. He knelt between her legs and lifted her hips to his. Peter paused, loving the way she arched from the bed, threw back her head as he poised himself at the edge, teasing, taunting. Adara whispered one word.

“Master.”

Peter gripped her hips and drove himself deep inside her.

Adara cried out, her body clenching around him as she came. He thrust again, harder, filling her and her body shuddered in response. With one hand he reached for her clitoris, swirling his fingers across its surface, heightening the sensations until he could stand it no longer. His body tightened to a tight wire of need, or hunger, and in a rush, he lost control and came.

Adara fell down beneath him, her skin slick with sweat and the scent of burning material hanging in the air. Where her hands pressed to the sheets she had left two perfect prints of burnt cotton.

Unbidden, unexpected, a smile came to his lips. “I thought you said you could control it.” He lowered himself along the length of her, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at her.

“I think I need more practice,” she told him, her lips begging to be kissed again.

“Lots of practice.”

“But you are free,” he replied, nuzzling her neck.

“You said that. Three times now. You are right.”

“But you came back. Here. To me.”

Adara’s look of amazement dissolved to one of disbelief which branded him a fool.

“Of course. Where else would I come?”

In the stillness of the room, he finally understood. He closed his hands around her wrists, holding them so carefully against the scorched sheets.

“This control you claim to have perfected, I think you need to work on it. I may be able to help you with that.”

She wriggled beneath him, the brief touches of her body against his arousing him all over again. Just a movement, just the ghost of a smile. She schooled her expression, immediately appearing as solemn and obedient as anyone could wish.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

The End

About the Author:

Rhiannon Leith never meant to write steamy paranormal romance—it just worked out that way. She is happily married and thoroughly enjoys “research nights”.

Visit her website at www.rhiannonleith.com

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