My House, My Rules

Lori Foser

Chapter One

He knew that damned aggravating little giggle anywhere. It was throaty and pure and never failed to set him on edge. He'd listened to it every Sunday for two long months when Pete, his baby brother, had been infatuated with her. That giddy laugh was often directed at him, instead of Pete, as it should have been.

With a heavy dose of dread and a visible grimace, Sam Watson slewed his head away from his whiskey and toward that annoying twitter. Shit. Sure enough, there sat Ariel Mathers. At the bar no less. And there were two men chatting her up.

What the hell was she doing in this dive? He glanced around but didn't see his brother anywhere. As to that, no one particular man appeared to be with her. Huh. The little twit was slumming.

So many times since first meeting her, Sam had wanted to put her over his knee. For leading his brother on at a time when he'd been vulnerable. For flirting with him, Sam, a man much too old for her. And especially for being so damned adorable, he almost couldn't stand it.

And now this.

His palm itched at the thought of it and his mind conjured the image of her over his knees, her tush bared. He started to sweat, knowing that if he had her in such a position, punishment would be the very last thing on his mind. She was so petite that her bottom would be small. And pale. And no doubt silky soft… Shit, shit, shit.

His eyes burned as he stared at her slim back. She had her hair up with a few baby-fine blond curls kissing her nape. Little gold hoops in her earlobes glittered with the bar lights. The heart-shaped tush he'd so often fantasized over, now perched on a bar stool, was easily outlined beneath the clinging silk skirt of her dress.

At twenty-four she was twelve years too young for him. His mind understood that. His dick didn't care.

She paused in whatever nonsense she'd been uttering to the hapless fool beside her. As she started to look around, Sam twisted in his seat to face the window. Do not let her see me, he prayed. He waited, pretending to be drunk when he was more alert than he'd ever been in his life. He'd nursed one whisky since coming into the bar, but he'd pretended drunkenness on his way in. Anyone who noticed him would assume he was there to top off an already inebriated night.

Fifteen seconds ticked by, then thirty, a minute—no one approached him. Sam relaxed, but kept his face averted, just in case. No way could he carry off his assignment tonight if Ariel got in the way.

He should have known better than to stare at her. People felt that sort of thing, just as he'd felt the big bruiser at the far booth watching him. He would have liked to order another drink, to call further attention to his feigned drunkenness. But with Ariel sitting there, it would be too risky.

Better to get this over with now, before he did something stupid. Like staring at her again.

Opening his wallet to show the bloated contents—two hundred dollars' worth—he pulled out a ten-dollar tip. He laid it on the table, stumbled to his feet and staggered out the door.

Once outside, he deliberately started across the street toward the abandoned, shadowed building where he would supposedly retrace his path home—and where his backup could clearly see him. Sam took his time, singing a crude bawdy tune about a woman from Nantucket, who according to the men, liked to suck it. It was a favorite limerick from his youth and he knew it by heart, but this time he missed some words, slurred a few others.

He pitched into the brick wall, laughed too loud, and started off again, only to trip over a garbage can, causing an awful racket. He gave a rank curse, stepped in something disgusting that he didn't want to identify, and dropped up against the side of a broken, collapsible fire escape.

Sam was fumbling for a more upright position when a meaty paw grabbed his upper arm, filling him with satisfaction. The perp had taken the bait.

"Give me your wallet."

Jolting around, Sam acted surprised, then spat in the big chap's face, "Fug off."

A ham-sized fist hit him in the side of the head and he saw stars for real. Jesus, he hadn't expected the fellow to get nasty so quick. Most of the thefts in the area—and there'd been plenty of late—had been done without any real personal damage.

Across a six-block area that covered three bars in Duluth, Indiana, more than twelve muggings had taken place in less than a month. It wasn't the best part of the city, so muggings weren't uncommon. But twelve? And all against men carrying substantial amounts of money. That smacked of premeditated, organized activity, and grabbed the attention of the police.

Sam twisted away, but was brought back around for another punch, this one in the gut. He bent double and almost puked.

Because he knew the guys would never let him live it down, he managed to keep his supper in his belly where it belonged. Just barely.

Where the hell were they anyway? Taking their own sweet time?

Before Sam could decide to take another punch or sneak in one of his own, a female banshee cry split the air, making his ears ring and his hair stand on end. Two seconds later his perp got hit from behind by a small tornado and the momentum drove him straight into Sam, against the side of the metal stairs. It felt like his damn ribs cracked.

Everyone started struggling at once and they went down in a heap, Sam on the bottom so that his head and back hit the hard, gravel-covered ground with jarring impact. The wind left his lungs in a whoosh.

While supine and wheezing, Sam got a good look at the familiar blond clinging tenaciously to his perp's hair with one hand while trying to use her purse like a club with the other. Sam couldn't quite tell if she was attempting to bludgeon him to death, or scream him into submission.

Wincing, the would-be robber reached back, caught her shoulder, and flipped her over his head. The next thing Sam knew, Ariel's behind was atop his face, her thighs pressed to his ears. Her dress had fluttered open and there was nothing more than a thin layer of silk keeping his nose from glory.

Damn it, why did things like this happen to him at all the wrong times?

He fought for air, breathed in her warm musk scent, and managed to shove her rump a few inches off his face. He was just in time to see the same meaty fist that had dazed him now headed straight toward her very tiny and very cute nose. Outrage exploded inside him.

He was supposed to be drunk, an easy mark.

He was undercover for the night.

But goddammit, no way could he let her get hurt.

Moving quicker than any drunk could, Sam caught the oversized fist in his own, gave one evil, toothy grin—which was somewhat smothered by Ariel's bottom cheeks—and twisted. Hard.

He heard crackling and then a loud pop.

The startled shock of pain on his target's face abruptly turned to one of sheer agony, accompanied by a guttural roar. Sam wanted to break his damn arm. Maybe a leg, too, just for good measure.

How dare he attempt to hit a woman?

Sam was still considering the possibility of doing more injury, when his backup finally charged onto the scene with a clichéd, "Hold it right there!"

Hold it? They had to be fucking kidding, right? He had a woman straddling his neck, an unethical bastard trying to strike her, and they wanted him to hold it?

He gave the fist another squeeze, then shoved, causing the man to shout and recoil on the ground in the fetal position, cradling his impaired wrist.

Sam didn't have a chance to move Ariel before Fuller Ruth, one of the cops working the undercover sting with him that night, caught her under her arms and lifted her up and away. Sam got a bird's eye view of her more womanly parts in silky panties while her high heels poked him in the abdomen, the thigh, and damn near his groin.

"You okay?" Fuller asked her, while still letting her dangle in the air. Fuller was as big as the assailant, but unlike the assailant he had a very fastidious nature. He kept his brown hair well trimmed, his clothes wrinkle free, and he was always clean-shaven. His blue eyes were so pale, they reminded Sam of a Husky.

Ariel clutched at the front of her dress where it had gotten torn. "Put me down, you oaf. I'm fine."

Fuller set her on her feet, but then had to grab for her again when she turned in a rush, trying to get to Sam.

"Hey lady, easy now. Just come with me."

Fuller attempted to lead her away, but she turned on him, too, thumping him on the chest. "Turn me loose! I have to see if he's all right." In her fit, she forgot about the tear in her dress and the whole right side drooped down, exposing the top of one pale breast and a good bit of her beige, satin bra.

"Hey! Stop that." Fuller looked to be playing patty-cake with her the way he swatted at her flying fists. "Damn it, lady, you're spilling your purse. Just settle down. He'll be all right. Let the officer check him."

The officer he meant was Isaac Star, half Native American, half junkyard dog. People considered Sam dark, but that was until they saw him next to Isaac. Much leaner than Fuller, Isaac had the blackest hair and eyes Sam had ever seen. He was currently snapping handcuffs onto the giant, who yelled and complained of a broken arm. The big sissy.

"Let—me—go."

It was a toss-up who made more noise, the perp or Ariel. Since he was supposed to be a drunken slob, Sam couldn't very well just sit up and explain to her that he was plenty fine, other than the damage she'd inflicted. He did, however, work his way to his elbows to mutter drunkenly, "Whass goin' on?"

Isaac grinned at him, making himself look like a pleased sultan. "I just saved your sorry ass, my man. This goon was set to roll you for your wallet."

Feigning confusion, Sam patted his chest, his front pants pockets and finally his ass until he located the pocket holding the packed wallet. He wrested it out, held it up, and said, "S'that right? Thank you, of'ser. Got my paycheck inside."

Isaac was lean, but his size was deceptive. He was strong as an ox. He pulled the giant to his feet with no effort. "Not too smart. Stay put while I stick this guy in the car."

Not more than twelve yards away, two official police cars lit up the block with flashing red and green lights. To the spectators, it looked as though the cops had just happened onto the mugging—not like the whole thing had been planned.

As soon as Isaac had the giant out of hearing range, Sam pulled himself to his feet. For the benefit of onlookers, he stood there weaving, but he gave one barely perceptible nod to Fuller, who then let Ariel go with a shrug.

She launched herself at Sam, big tears glistening in her hazel eyes, her mouth open to blast him with questions, with mothering concern that he neither wanted nor needed.

Sam grabbed her close, squeezed her so tight she couldn't say a single word, and growled into her ear, "I'm working, goddammit, so you better have a good excuse for this stunt."

"Working?" she squeaked out.

Damn, it felt good to hold her so close. He shook his head and tried to ignore the way her belly pressed into his crotch, how her breasts flattened on his chest, and how her soft hair smelled so sweet.

Better than half the customers from the bar were now out front to watch the proceedings. Sam had to keep his head, because he had to keep his cover. "That's right, and since you jumped into the middle of things, you damn well better play your part." That said, he slumped into her, forcing her to stagger under his considerable weight. She was five-two, maybe. He was six-three and outweighed her by damn near a hundred pounds.

The twit.

She grunted and nearly fell, until Fuller flattened a hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her upright again. Under normal circumstances, no cop worth his salt would let a drunk manhandle a woman. But these weren't normal circumstances, he wasn't really drunk, and his two buds had already figured out that she was an acquaintance.

Cops were notorious for trying to help each other get laid. If they thought Sam wanted her—which he did, but would never admit to anyone—they'd happily let him take advantage of the situation.

"Yer an angel," Sam said, leering at Ariel's breast with sincere interest. He'd seen more of her tonight than he had in the entire two months she'd been hanging around the family.

He rubbed his nose into her neck, making her lose her balance once more.

She tried to shove him away, but he snaked one hand down her back and grabbed her ass. Oh, now that was nice. Real firm and plump. Not quite as generous as he liked, being he was a dedicated ass-man, but still nice.

She gasped and struggled, but Sam didn't let go. Huh-uh. No way.

Fuller rolled his eyes. There was a limit to how much help he'd give in this particular campaign. "Here now." He dragged Ariel behind him, out of Sam's reach, then held Sam up with one outstretched arm. "You're drunk, man. I hope you weren't planning on driving home."

"Nope. Gonna walk."

"Well, you can thank the lady for being a good citizen and trying to help you."

Ariel stood there, her enormous eyes luminous in the dark night, her hair mussed in what Sam could only call a "just laid" way, and her makeup smudged. She smoothed her skirt with one hand while clutching her bodice with the other.

"That's quite all right, Officer. I did what anyone would have done under the circumstances." She looked at Sam with malice glinting in her golden eyes. "The poor drunken fool might have gotten killed otherwise."

Fuller choked on a laugh. "True, true. Now don't either of you take off, hear? I'll need statements from the both of you."

Ariel nodded. "I'll just wait over there." She pointed one manicured finger at the broken fire escape, then walked a wide berth around Sam on her way there. He noticed she was a bit wobbly on her heels, and concern struck him. Had she gotten hurt? She'd landed on his face pretty hard. He couldn't see her knees beneath the hem of her dress. Maybe she was bruised.

Playing it up, Fuller took Sam's arm and headed him in the same direction. Under his breath, he said, "Don't molest her, okay?"

"Don't be stupid."

"You're looking at her like she's the Christmas goose, but I need you to fill out paperwork, not be behind bars, resting on your lazy ass."

Sam grinned. "She won't be pressing any charges." Fuller pushed him to sit next to Ariel, causing her to scramble farther over on the rough metal step. "Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

She tucked her skirt in around her legs and smiled with false sweetness. "I won't press charges. But I might break your nose."

Fuller threw up his hands. "Young love."

He was gone too quick to hear Sam's rude snort. Ariel heard though, and she pursed her mouth, then slanted a look at Sam.

God, he hurt all over. All he needed was a boner to finish off the night.

Cautiously, every small movement enough to bring on a wince, Sam turned sideways and eased back against the brick wall, then sighed. "I'm too damn old for this shit."

Under her breath, but not under enough, Ariel muttered, "You're in your prime."

Sam stared at her, incredulous. "What was that?" Had she actually complimented him even while sending him dirty looks?

Without looking at him, she said, "Just because you're older than your brothers doesn't make you old, you know."

Sam grunted. Being six years older than Gil, his middle brother, and fourteen years older than Pete, he'd always felt old. Especially after their father had died three years ago with a heart attack.

Sam had tried to help his family cope as much as possible. He'd handled all the funeral arrangements for his mother, supported Gil in taking over the family business, and did his best to console Pete, who'd had the hardest time with the unexpected loss.

There was no denying that Pete had been a happy accident for their parents. Older and more settled when they had him, they'd doted on him in ways they hadn't been able to do with Sam and Gil. By far, Pete had been the closest with their dad.

"Does being on the downhill slide to forty make me old?"

"Hardly." Her voice was tinged with disgust. "And you're only thirty-six."

How the hell did she know that? "And here I thought all teenagers considered anyone over thirty ancient."

Apparently touchy about her age, she jerked around to face him. "Sam Watson, you know good and well I'm twenty-four, not a teenager. Wasn't that your big complaint about my friendship with Pete? That he was two years younger than me?"

Sam stared off toward the cruiser, wishing like hell they'd hurry up. He didn't want to sit this close to her. He didn't want to talk about her and Pete.

"Well?"

His biggest complaint? There'd been so many it was tough to pick a favorite. His baby brother was too young, far too immature, and entirely too unsettled to be getting serious about any one woman.

And Sam didn't exactly consider Ariel old enough either. She'd at least finished a trade school and was working as a beautician. But Pete had college to finish and he needed to do that without distractions of the female variety, which Sam knew were the very worst kind.

Worse than all that, though, Sam wanted her. It ate him up to think about Pete, who was a good kid but still a knuckle-head, fumbling around in the dark with her. Sam wouldn't fumble. Hell no. He knew exactly where he wanted to touch and taste her—not that he ever would. Nope.

He changed the subject. "What the hell are you doing in the bar by yourself?"

"None of your business."

"Yeah?" Just what he needed to clear his head: a fight with the little darling. He spoke in a growled whisper that nonetheless expressed his anger. "Well I'm making it my business seeing as you damn near blew my cover."

Her whisper was every bit as quiet and fierce as his. "How was I supposed to know you were working?"

Sam eyed her. She had a death grip on her torn dress, pulling the material so tight across her breasts that he could see the outline of her nipples. It was a hot, muggy night, but her nipples stood out like diamonds as if she were freezing. Shock maybe? Or had she liked him playing grab-ass with her?

He groaned.

Immediately concerned, she leaned over him, her small hand on his brow, her sweet breath in his face. "Ohmigod, Sam. How bad are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?"

Not unless a man could die of unfulfilled horniness. "Back off, Florence Nightingale. I'll live."

At his insulting tone, she puckered up and smacked his shoulder, making him groan again. Damn fickle woman.

She sat hunched over, her shoulders rounded, her forearms on her knees. Sam asked, "Did you see me in the bar?"

"That's a stupid question." She hugged herself, staring down at her feet. "When you're in a room, you're in it. Of course I saw you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Giving him a sloe-eyed look, she said, "Even as a miserable drunk, you're sexy. I spotted you the second I stepped inside."

He tried to close his ears, doing his best to tune out her stirring comments…

"Every woman in the bar noticed you."

"No shit?" Now that cheered him up. "I like that."

She went back to moping.

Sam looked around. The crowd had finally dispersed with only a few lingerers still standing around. Fuller was headed back toward him with a pen and pad, no doubt ready to take his fictitious statement just in case anyone should notice.

He stretched out his legs and bumped his big feet into her strappy, high-heeled sandals. She had her toenails painted pink. "So tell me this, Einstein. Have you ever seen me drunk before?"

A little wary, she said, "No."

"But you know I'm a cop, right?"

"Undercover. Lots of commendations. Heralded for being fearless by many, called careless by some, me included. But I know you're a good cop, Sam."

She surprised him with that string of mixed praise and censure, making him shake his head. "Yet you came charging into what could have been a very dangerous situation."

Her lips tightened; her shoulders hunched more. In a nearly imperceptible whisper, she grouched, "I thought you were getting hurt."

Sam's temper snapped. "And so you thought you, a pint-sized beautician, would dash to my rescue? Ha! Do you know what could have happened to you—what could have happened to me because you got in the way?" It took all he had not to shake her. "God save me from illogical women."

Ariel shot to her feet. "Shut up, Sam. Just … shut up." Her entire puny body vibrated with anger, and she actually stomped one small foot. "You are so incredibly insufferable with all your endless harping."

Fuller said, "Now, now, kiddies. Let's play nice for the remaining spectators."

Pinning her with his gaze, Sam stared at her but spoke to the officer. "Ask me a question, Fuller."

"Right. Uh, how about…"

"Good enough. Here's my answer. Ariel, I want to know what the hell you were doing in that damn bar. And don't give me that garbage about it being none of my business because the second you blundered into things, it became my damn business."

Fuller pretended to write, nodding and smiling like a halfwit.

Mutinous, Ariel looked down her nose at him. "And if I don't tell you?"

A challenge. Sam almost rubbed his hands together. "If you don't," he said with a lot of glee, "I'll run your skinny little ass in."

Her mouth fell open and she sputtered. "For what, exactly?"

"Indecent exposure?" He dropped his gaze to her partially displayed breast so she wouldn't misunderstand.

She snatched the material higher. "Pig."

"Yeah, yeah. Real original insult for a cop. I've never heard that one before."

She turned away, came back, glared at him. "For your information, nosey, I was making sure."

His brows rose. "Making sure about what?"

As if awaiting the rest of her statement, Fuller looked at her. "Go on, Miss."

She huffed. "I was making sure there wasn't someone else who appealed to me."

Confused, Sam asked, "Someone other than Pete?"

Exasperation shown on her face. "Pete and I were never more than friends."

Sam's jaw locked. "That wasn't how Pete felt."

"And I'm responsible for that? I told him from the first day we met that I only wanted to be friends, and he agreed. When he finally admitted to me how he really felt, that he expected more, that's when I quit seeing him at all."

"And broke his damn fool heart in the process."

She swallowed. "I never meant to hurt him. He knows that. Besides, he's dating someone else now."

That was news to Sam. "He is?"

Nodding, Ariel explained, "That's why I was here. I waited until Pete found a girlfriend before…"

"Before?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Before making sure."

Sam threw up his hands. The woman just refused to make sense.

Fuller tilted his head. "I'm fascinated, really."

Sam turned to Fuller with a growl. "Officer, haven't you got enough there?"

"You never let me have any fun."

"Your idea of fun must be a toothache."

Ariel looked ready to spit. "If I'm such a pain—"

"You are that."

"Then I'll be on my way." Shoulders squared, her chin lifted in regal disdain, she started around Fuller.

Sam crossed his arms. "Just where the hell do you think you're going now?"

"Back into the bar."

"Like that?" He nodded at her torn dress.

"Oh." She stared down in dismay at the long rip. "Well, I suppose that might not be a good idea."

"But jumping into the middle of a brawl is?"

Her neck stiffened. "Brawl?" One slim brow arched high. "All I saw was you getting your butt kicked."

Insulted, Sam snorted, but not with much conviction this time. Surely, she didn't believe such an asinine thing. He'd been undercover, damn it, unable to fight back without messing up his cover.

But she looked serious, so he said, "You believed that act? Hey, I must be pretty good."

"Why wouldn't I believe it? I thought you were drunk."

She was serious. It was Sam's turn to shoot to his feet. Leaning forward in an aggressive stance, he poked a thumb into his chest. "Even drunk, I could take that guy. With one arm broken, I could flatten him. He was nothing."

She looked at her nails. "Uh-huh."

At the boiling point, Sam started to reach for her, and Isaac hurried over to them. "Are we putting on a damn show? There's enough melodrama over here to blow the whole damn thing."

Ariel again turned away. "I'll get on my way then."

Through his teeth, Sam said, "Grab her," and Isaac automatically obeyed, catching her arm and swinging her back around.

She almost toppled off her high sandals and retaliated by clouting Isaac with that lethal purse.

"There's another offense," Sam drawled while Isaac ducked. "Assaulting an officer."

Very slowly, she lifted her head to fry him with a seething glare, and if looks could kill, he'd have been writhing on the ground at her feet.

Sam grinned. From the first day he'd met her he knew she had a temper beneath all that good-girl, innocent blond pretense. "Before you hurt yourself or someone else, you can give me a ride home."

Like a doe caught in the headlights, she went utterly still. "Why me?"

Sam sent a telling look at Isaac's hand still wrapped around her arm. "You can let her go now."

"Oops. Sorry." He grinned, unrepentant. "I think I'll take our thug on in."

"Yeah," Fuller said, "as long as you have a ride, I'll take off, too. I've got everything I need." He winked at Sam.

"Hey," Sam said, "I don't suppose you guys would—"

Fuller raised a hand. "Consider it done. But you owe us, buddy boy."

"Yeah, I assumed as much." He watched the two men saunter away, Fuller speaking into his radio, Isaac assuring the remaining people that the fanfare was over.

The second they were in their cars, Sam again leaned on the brick wall. He realized his shoulder hurt, turned, and found out his shoulder blades were tender too. And his head… He didn't even want to know about his damn head. Ariel's attack had put him down hard. His brains were probably scrambled.

Truth was, he felt like he'd been run over by a Mack truck and standing on his own steam wasn't all that comfortable.

Ariel looked him over, forcing him to suck it up. "What are they going to do for you that you'll owe them?"

"Paperwork." Then, just to taunt her because he felt physically miserable and she looked as bubbly as ever, he added, "That, and they figure I might get laid if they leave me alone with you. If I did, I'll really owe them."

Rather than look offended, she blinked twice. "Laid by who?"

"You, sweets. They're assuming all your furious bluster has to do with sexual sparks, rather than honest dislike."

After a long, thoughtful moment empty of protests, Ariel nodded. "My car is this way. Should I pretend to help you or is the coast clear?"

After having her fanny on his face, he didn't want her hands anywhere near him. He had enough fodder for three wet dreams as it was. "I'll stumble my way there under my own steam, thank you very much."

Weaving this way and that, Sam trailed behind her, suspicious over her docile agreement to drive him home, and her lack of anger over his friend's crude assumptions. He was also aware of the sway in her hips and that delectable bottom he'd already manhandled.

Hell, half the things he wanted to do to that bottom were probably illegal in some states.

He forced himself to look away. He had to stop drooling over her, for crying out loud. The woman was a complete and total pain the ass, only a year or two older than a teenybopper, and his baby brother's ex-girlfriend. He had to remember all that.

Sam was none too happy when she took the liberty of opening the door for him. Worse, the car was a beat-up, banana-yellow Pinto. "I won't fit," he complained, even as he folded himself painfully inside the cramped front seat.

She slammed the door after him, went around to the driver's side and got in. After she had the key in the ignition and the engine snarled and screamed to life, she leaned back in her seat with a sigh.

Sam waited for her to put the car in gear and when she didn't, he asked, "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" She'd told Fuller she wasn't, but she was stubborn enough to lie about it. He should have checked for himself.

That thought brought a shudder of excitement. Not a good idea. Not at all.

She stared up at the ceiling. "I can't drive and hold my dress up too."

"Ah." Forcing nonchalance, Sam shrugged and said, "Hey, I've seen every female part there is, hooters included, so unless you're unique in some mind-boggling way, it's no big deal. Don't worry about it."

Appearing stunned by such an outpouring of nonsense, she said, "Fine," and dropped the torn material. It fell completely below her breast.

Oh Lord. His nonchalance obliterated, Sam swallowed hard, looked away from her bra and how her nipple poked against the silky material. He did what he could to distract himself. He tried thinking about the job he'd just done, the repeat performance he had to put in tomorrow. He considered all the endless paperwork. He even tried thinking about Pete. It didn't help.

His aching body and splitting head should have been enough to keep him off track, but there was no suppressing those pesky sexual urges. Whenever Ariel was around, they got a stranglehold on his libido.

"Let's play some music." Sam fiddled with the radio while she pulled off the side street and into the denser flow of traffic.

"Sure. Help yourself." Irony filled her tone since he'd already located an oldie station and turned up the volume to listen to, "Ohhhh, love to love you baby…"

Speaking loud to be heard over Donna Summer, she asked, "Mind if I come up for a minute when we get to your place?"

The way she said that, so casually, put Sam on edge. "Why?"

"Don't look so suspicious. I just thought I could find some way to fasten my dress, maybe a safety-pin or something. I know you have a house, but I live in an apartment and who knows how many people will be around when I pull up. I don't want to flash the neighbors and I don't want to start a lot of gossip."

He didn't want her flashing the neighbors either. As long as he got her in and out of his place in a hurry, it'd be okay. He could hold off that long. Maybe. "I have a sewing kit you can use."

"You're so gracious."

"Graciousness is hard to find when my head is splitting, thanks to your tackle."

She stopped at a red light and turned toward him. "And here I thought you were so macho. Let me have a look."

Without his permission she caught his left ear and turned his head. "Ouch," she said in sympathy. "It looks like you're bleeding a little."

Reaching to the back of his head, Sam located a lump, and a spot of blood. "Damn." No wonder his head hurt so much. "It's fine," he lied. When she started to protest, he said, "Green light. Let's go."

They were cruising right along, going about forty miles an hour when she suddenly said, "They were right, you know."

He'd been so busy trying to ignore her warm, softly scented body beside him, her words caused him to start. "Who's that?"

"The other officers."

"Fuller and Isaac?"

"I suppose. You didn't introduce me so I don't know their names."

She made it an accusation, setting his teeth on edge. "It was hardly a social affair, if you'll recall."

Silence reigned until he said, "All right, I give. What were they right about?"

Without him realizing it, they'd left the main road and were now in the suburbs, close to his moderate house.

She turned down his tree-lined lane. "You getting laid. That is…"—she hesitated, peeked a look at him, then forged on—"if you want to."

Several things happened to Sam at once. His stomach bottomed out, his eyes widened, and his dick gave a proud salute.

Well hell. What was she up to now?

Chapter Two

The silence was enough to squash her. Ariel didn't want to look at Sam again, not when her first glimpse had shown him to be anything but interested. Horrified, yes. Shocked, yes. But not interested.

Unfortunately, whenever he was around, she couldn't seem to not look at him. From the day she'd met him, he fascinated her.

It wasn't just his awesome physique that drew her, though that was pretty eye-catching. He was tall, muscular, mean, and lean. He had the attitude of a man in charge, spoke as if he expected to be obeyed, and had confidence down to a fine art.

And it wasn't just his incredible, look-into-your-soul blue eyes, so different from his brothers'. Sam had inherited his mother's eyes, while both Gil and Pete looked more like their father with chocolate brown eyes. They all had inky black hair though, and thick lashes. They were all handsome—just in different ways. Gil was sophisticated, suave. Pete was fun-loving and playful.

Sam was all basic male, rough-edged and rugged and keenly capable of handling any lethal situation.

He was also a pretty nice guy, though his gruff manner and burdening responsibility often hid that fact. Best of all, he was a bonified hero through and through. When his family needed him, he stepped up to the plate without complaints. On the job, he did what had to be done to make things right. His brothers looked up to him, his mother depended on him, and his fellow officers respected him. He was like Superman only real. And sexier.

Finally, with an uncertain laugh, Sam said, "Come again?"

Ariel cleared her throat. His tone of disbelief didn't exactly bode well, but she'd made up her mind. "You know when I said I went to the bar to be sure?"

"Yeah, right. Sure there wasn't anyone else—whatever the hell that means."

"It means I wanted to be sure there wasn't anyone else who appealed to me. But there isn't. That's the third bar I've been in this week."

A thundercloud would appear passive next to his darkening expression. "You've been hanging out in bars?" His teeth actually clenched, fascinating her. "Do you have any idea what's been happening around the area bars lately?"

She hadn't, but judging by what he'd done tonight, she assumed some muggings were taking place. Because she didn't want a lecture, she just shrugged.

His eyes turned red.

To pacify him, she pointed out her other visits. "I've also been to two nightclubs, the grocery, the park, and three concerts. Sorry, but there is no one else who appeals to me." She drew a long breath and admitted the stark truth. "You're the only one."

At that moment, Sam looked to be choking on murderous intent.

"Say something."

He didn't, he just sat there, steam coming off his head while his face colored and his fists curled. Ariel honestly didn't know if he fought the urge to take her or strangle her. Not that she was afraid of him. Never.

Sam protected people—he didn't abuse them.

Because she and Pete had stopped by his house once, she knew where he lived. She pulled into the blacktop drive and turned off the car. She didn't at first look at him, not when it felt like he was frying her with his gaze. When she finally worked up the nerve, she turned to him.

"Well?"

Through his teeth, he snarled, "Inside."

Oh good. At least he wasn't throwing her off his property already. She considered his grudging command a positive step. Slipping out of her car, she managed to hold her dress up, drop her keys into her purse, and close the door. Sam made no gentlemanly moves toward her, but then, he was badly beaten up.

She loved his old two-story house. It had a poured front porch complete with an overhang and wooden swing. The shrubbery was original and thick and outdated, but it made a nice contrast against the red brick. Enormous oaks lined the street and during the day, squirrels scurried everywhere.

At his father's death, he'd inherited a large sum of money. She didn't doubt that Sam could have afforded a posh, upscale home in an exclusive neighborhood. She was glad he hadn't moved.

When she reached Sam's side, he took her arm in an implacable grip and started her in a trot toward the front door. Some elderly neighbors in the house to the right hailed him, forcing him to stop.

"Evening Sam."

Sam groaned, slowly turned and waved at the two people visible by their front porch light. "Booth, Hesper. What are you doing up this late?"

Ariel giggled. It was only eleven thirty.

"The dog had business to take care of. Her old bladder just gives her fits."

Ariel's giggle got caught in her throat. She looked in the yard and saw the most hideous creature she'd ever clapped eyes on. An obese bulldog squatted by a bush, turned to sniff, and then lumbered back to her owners, who praised her as if she'd created gold.

"Who's your lady-friend?" Hesper asked with a nosiness reserved for the old or very young.

Sam leaned in close to Ariel's ear. His hot breath teased her when he growled, "Stay here." Then he moved away to the neighbor's porch railing. They spoke quietly so Ariel couldn't hear what was said.

Seconds later, both elders looked over at her with awe and horror. Ariel frowned. Just what had Sam told them? He returned, took her arm again and said, "Let's go."

"What did you say to them, Sam Watson?"

"Keep your voice down. This is a quiet neighborhood."

His walkway could use a good sweeping, she decided as her toes kicked through scattered leaves. Even the porch was littered with leaves and acorns.

As if he knew her thoughts, he said, "A recent storm blew crap everywhere. I'll get to it when I can." Using a key, he unlocked the front door and held it open for her.

She stepped into the inky darkness, then felt his hands close gently but firmly on her upper arms. With bated breath, she waited for a kiss, but got bodily moved out of his way instead, so he could turn off an alarm. "Wait here."

Left alone, Ariel tried to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When the lights blinked on, she squinted. "Why don't you have a wall switch by the front door?"

"The light's out and I haven't had a chance to change it yet. I've been working overtime on the bar muggings. Let's go to the kitchen. I have a feeling it might be the safest room."

"Why?" She trailed behind him.

He gave her a long look. "No place to get laid."

Refusing to let him derail her, Ariel grinned at his sarcastic wit. "There's always the countertop. Or the table. Maybe even the floor—"

His rough palm covered her mouth. "That's enough out of you." She mumbled against his palm and he lifted his hand. "What?"

"Tell me what you said to your neighbors."

His mouth curved in a sinful smile. "Sure. I told them you were a prostitute who'd ratted out her pimp, and I had to keep you close so he didn't kill you."

"Oh." He expected her to be insulted, so she asked instead, "Have you ever been with a prostitute?"

"No." He didn't bother to hide his indignation at all. "Now behave for a minute so I can think."

While his back was turned, Ariel pulled out a chair, sat down and lifted her skirt to examine her scraped, bruised knees. They hurt, but Sam was in much worse shape than she so she tried not to complain.

"Now about this … what the hell?" He'd turned with a scowl on his face, only to pull up with a different type of anger. "You said you weren't hurt," he accused.

"Just a little. Nothing serious."

Muttering under his breath, Sam whipped off several paper towels, folded them, and doused them beneath cold water. He came to her and knelt down. "Hold still."

Despite his order, she jumped when the icy towel touched her raw scrapes. "Sorry."

"Damn." He dabbed at both knees, removing small bits of dried blood, gravel, and dirt.

Before Ariel could figure out what he intended, he flipped her skirt up higher. "Sam!"

When she tried to shove her skirt back down, he caught both her hands in one of his and held them up and against her breasts, almost shoving her out of her chair. "Shush. I want to see if you're hurt anywhere else."

She had to brace her feet apart to keep from toppling over. "This is outrageous!"

Blue eyes lit like the hottest flame, he glanced up at her. "You sitting on my face was outrageous. This is just concern." Ariel gulped. "Now be quiet."

Mortified, her mouth snapped shut. She had sat on his face. At the time, she'd been so worried about protecting him she hadn't paid much attention.

He found one large bluish bruise on her thigh. "How'd this happen?"

Ariel peered down at the mark. With both their heads bent, her blond curls brushed up against his silky black hair. "I don't know. Maybe when I jumped on that guy's back and we all crashed into the stairs."

"Anything else?"

Since he was on his knees in front of her, more caring than insulting, she showed him her elbow. It was raw and stung every time she flexed her arm. His mouth flattened in displeasure. "I ought to turn you over my knee for that damn stunt. Look at you. You're a mess."

So much for caring.

"Let me get some ice; then I'll fetch my first aid kit."

"I don't need you to doctor me."

He had his back to her, digging in his freezer. "Tough. My house, my rules, so I'm doing it anyway." Within minutes, he had ice crushed inside a damp dish towel and he pressed the freezing compress to her thigh. Ariel almost came out of her seat. The cold prickled so badly she tried to shove it away.

"Leave it," he ordered, keeping it firmly in place until she subsided. He took her hand and put it over the compress so that she had to hold it. His commanding gaze bore into hers. "I want to see it there when I get back, you understand?"

"Yes sir."

His eyes narrowed. "A show of respect from you at this late date is beyond suspect, so stow it." Then softly, with exasperation, "I'll be right back. Sit tight."

Ariel leaned out of her seat to watch him trot from the kitchen, into the hall, and up the short flight of stairs to his bathroom. Once he was out of sight, she lifted the ice away and fell back in her chair.

None of this was what she'd expected. Not that she'd known what to expect, but worry over a few paltry bruises… She heard him returning and quickly replaced the ice pack, wincing at the bitter cold.

He eyed her when he reentered, his expression stern. "I hope you learned a few things tonight."

"Yeah, that you're surly when you're hurt and that you don't like women coming on to you."

He moistened a gauze pad with antiseptic and again knelt in front of her. "Wrong. I'm not all that hurt and I love when women come on to me. I just don't like little girls flirting when they don't know what they're getting into."

Seething, Ariel said, "If you don't stop accusing me of being a child, I'm going to—" She screeched when the antiseptic hit her scrapes, burning like a brand. Her legs stiffened and her hands gripped the sides of her seat.

"Sorry." For once, his voice was gentle, caring. Sam leaned forward and blew his warm breath over her knees.

A new ache filled her, one of overwhelming sexual hunger. She'd wanted him since the first time she saw him. She remembered that moment in vivid detail. Pete had taken her with him to his family's regular Sunday get-together. A storm had knocked a thick elm over in his middle brother's backyard, damaging a fence. Sam was there, shirtless, sweaty, tanned, and so sexy she'd stood dumbfounded for several moments while he swung an ax, cutting up the fallen tree alongside his brother, Gil. The muscles in his strong back had flexed with each movement. His biceps bunched and knotted. His hands were big, lean, his strength undeniable.

"Ariel? You didn't faint on me, did you?"

Taking a breath, she opened her eyes and locked gazes with him. He had one hand on her thigh, holding the ice pack there, the other gently touching her chin. The breath sighed out of her. "I want you so much."

He lurched back as if she'd kicked him, jerking to his feet in a rush. "You look besotted, damn it. Knock it off."

She couldn't reply, could only stare at him with all the love and hunger she felt plain in her eyes. Please, she silently pleaded, and got a wary frown from him in return.

"Here's a new rule. You have to be quiet while I finish this up. Understand?"

She stared.

"Answer me, damn it."

"Yes, all right."

He moved back to her cautiously. "Give me your elbow."

This time she bit her lip when he swabbed the remaining cuts and scrapes. She didn't want to be a wimp in front of him. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her.

He finished off by applying ointment and some bandages. Then he backed up. "All done. Now."

"Now what?"

"About this … wanting me business." There was nothing she could do but wait and see what he had to say.

Sam floundered, but finally bit out, "Wanna tell me why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me?"

Amazingly enough, when she came to her feet Sam backed up. Silly man. "Why wouldn't any woman want you?"

"Ariel…"

She took two steps toward him. He took one more back, then planted his feet and refused to budge.

"You're smart and dedicated and heroic and…" She shrugged, inching closer, more determined than she'd ever been about anything in her life. "You really are so damned sexy."

She'd gotten close enough to touch him. Lifting one hand, she reached for his shoulder.

He snagged her wrist, his warm, strong fingers wrapping around the delicate bones. "Don't curse. You're too young for that."

Enough was enough. She'd warned him, but he persisted in throwing her age in her face. With a smile of warning, she grabbed his neck with her free hand and went on tiptoe to reach his mouth.

"Ariel—" He tried to lean back, to turn his face away. But she'd backed him to the counter and there wasn't much room for him to maneuver. She knew he didn't want to hurt her and that gave her an advantage in their wrestling match.

Her mouth landed on his throat first and she licked the salty taste of his skin, groaned, and bit his chin.

"Goddammit…" He sounded very uncertain, pained, and he grabbed her other wrist. "You little—"

Her mouth smashed up against his. They both froze, but only for a second. Slowly, deliciously, with a purr of excitement, Ariel licked his lips. Her heart threatened to break through her ribs, it drummed so madly.

He brought her arms behind her back, but that only pressed her breasts to his chest, and since her dress hung open, she could feel his heartbeat, as wild as hers. She caught his bottom lip in her teeth and nibbled, all the while breathing hard with excitement, expectation.

And then he exploded. From one second to the next he'd been held immobile by her brazenness. But it wasn't in Sam's nature to be docile, to let anyone else take the lead.

Ariel found herself plastered against him from groin to breasts while his mouth opened over hers in ravenous demand. His tongue thrust in and he groaned low in his throat, the vibrating sound thrilling her.

He slanted his head and drew her even closer, still holding her hands behind her, straining her shoulders, almost lifting her off her feet. Her head was pressed back, leaving her mouth open and vulnerable to his. His whiskers scratched her chin, his erection pressed into her soft belly, and he tasted so good she didn't ever want him to stop.

But he did. She was limp in his arms, merely accepting the onslaught of his kiss, unable to do anything else with the controlling way he held her. With a visible effort, he raised his head a mere inch and stared down at her. An incandescent hunger burned so brightly in his eyes, it almost frightened her.

He looked at her mouth, breathed hard for a moment, then growled low in warning, "You shouldn't push me, little girl."

The way he said that, it wasn't an insult so much as an endearment. Getting enough breath to speak wasn't easy. "You… You kept ignoring me."

His hands tightened on her wrists, making her wince. He immediately loosened his hold, but didn't release her. Every muscle in his big body was bunched. His eyes were bright, his cheekbones flushed, his mouth hard. "You were my baby brother's girlfriend."

"No, just a friend," she gently reminded him.

"He still cares about you."

"Not anymore. He's seeing someone else."

"You're only twenty-four-fucking-years old."

He sounded desperate, giving her hope. "I'm a grown woman, Sam. I know what I want. And I want you."

His head dropped forward, almost touching her shoulder. She could feel his angry, hot breath against her throat, sending chills down her spine, building her sexual excitement to a fever pitch.

Necessary arguments crowded her brain. She had to convince him. "Sam? Look at it this way. It's only sex, and you're known for wanting sex."

His head jerked up. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You have a reputation."

"Several actually." His eyes narrowed. "Which reputation are we talking about?"

She wanted to shrug, to act cavalier. It was well beyond her. "For mind-blowing sex."

For three heartbeats he didn't move; then he gave a rough guffaw. "I hate to break it to you babe, but I only give run-of-the-mill sex."

"That's not what I heard."

"No? Who you been talking to? Besides me?"

That made her smile. Sam was prone to bragging. She'd heard him once when she'd come to visit Pete. He and his two brothers were in the backyard and didn't hear her approach. Sam and Gil had been teasing Pete, accusing him of being a virgin, which Pete vehemently denied with a red face. Gil offered advice, but Sam told Pete he should come to a pro if he wanted to learn how to make a lady squeal in pleasure.

The graphic details she'd heard then had held her immobile in fascination. Even Gil and Pete had looked awed.

When Pete mentioned Ariel, Sam had froze up and changed the subject.

"Your family goes on and on about what a lady's man you are."

"Yeah, well they have to sing my praises because they're family. Ask any lady, and she'll tell you I'm a pig."

"A cop."

"No, I meant in bed."

Ariel shook her head. "I'm not buying it, Sam. Especially not after that kiss." Her voice went husky. "That almost did it for me right there."

"Don't." He tightened up again, and then, slowly, a new light entered his eyes, one of challenge and determination. "So you want to get laid by the best, is that it?"

A trick question, if ever she heard one. "I want you."

He looked down at her mouth. "I think you need to learn a few lessons."

A shiver of alarm slipped up her spine. "A lesson?"

"On why you shouldn't taunt bad-ass cops with ugly attitudes."

"You do not have an ugly attitude." She couldn't really deny the bad-ass part. But she hated for him to downplay all he did for the community and his family. "You're a good man—"

"And you assume I'm a good man in bed. Is that it? You want to use me to get your jollies?"

She started to say she wouldn't care if he wasn't good, but it'd be a lie. She wanted him, all of him, in every way, and fully expected him to be as excellent in bed as he was out of it.

He locked both her wrists in one hand and used the other to softly stroke her cheek. "You tired of twenty-something boys groping you, never quite getting you off?"

When Sam decided to be crude, he was a pro.

Those taunting fingers moved down her throat and across the top of her chest, just gliding, teasing. "Is that it, Ariel?"

She swallowed hard. What could she say other than to keep repeating the truth? "I want you."

His long, rough fingers dipped lower, nudging the edge of her exposed bra cup. "So be it. But my house, my rules."

At his agreement, her knees almost gave out. "What rules?"

So much wickedness and triumph filled his slow grin that she started to shake. "Rule number one, no one ever knows but us. I won't have Pete hurt."

Ariel was pinning all her hopes on the fact that once Sam quit denying his physical attraction to her, he'd quit denying his emotions, too. She was head-over-heels in love with the stubborn cuss, but telling him that now would blow what little progress she'd made, so she nodded. "All right."

Rather than look pleased with her acceptance, his expression hardened even more.

While he stared intently in her eyes, his fingers curled into the top of her bra cup—and then stripped it down, leaving her breast bare. Ariel gasped.

He didn't look down, but that big hot palm closed over her, kneading steadily, rasping her nipple while he continued to intimidate her with his molten stare.

The only sign he was affected by the touch was the flare of his nostrils, his increased breathing. "Rule number two. You do only what I say, when I say." She started to protest and his fingers closed around her nipple in a tantalizing grip that silenced her in an instant. "I'll make you come ten times, Ariel, but my rules stand."

She nodded dumbly, but finally found her voice. "One thing."

"You don't get one thing. You do as I say."

"It's just a … a question."

He considered that for far too long before nodding. "One question."

"Do you want me?"

He tugged gently on her nipple. "I won't have any problems keeping it up, if that's what you mean."

"No, it's not what I mean." She loved him. She wanted him to love her too only he had so many walls in place, so many responsibilities and he'd die before ever hurting a member of his family. She had a wealth of emotion in store for him, but she wouldn't be used. If he didn't at least want her, her, not just any woman, then she'd make herself walk away.

His hand was still at her breast, still teasing and taunting her nipple making it near impossible to think and speak clearly. "You … You've insulted me many times."

"When?" He looked genuinely puzzled.

"You've made it clear that you consider me a nuisance and not too bright."

His hand paused at her breast and his black brows pulled down. "If you're talking about that little stunt you pulled back at the bar, you're damn right—" He stopped, ground his teeth together, then admitted roughly, "You don't own an ounce of caution, but I didn't mean to say you were stupid. I don't think that at all. But I was scared shitless for you. I don't ever want to see you or any lady hurt."

Relief made her weak. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Great. Don't ever let it happen again. Now is that it?"

"Not quite." He rolled his eyes, so she hurried through the rest. "You've insulted my body…"

"I never—"

"You said I had a skinny ass!"

He turned his face to the side and for one horrified moment, Ariel thought he was going to laugh. But when he looked at her again, tenderness filled his eyes. "You have a spectacular ass and once you quit trying to stammer out your explanation, I intend to devote about an hour to it."

"Oh."

"Enough said?"

"Yes."

He turned her around, gave her a stinging swat on the butt, and said, "Go upstairs to my bedroom and wait for me there."

"What are you…?"

"No questions. My rules. Just go."

She started to re-cover her breast but he saw her and said, "Leave it."

She nodded and, feet dragging, made the climb up the stairs. Her belly churned in excitement and uncertainty and so much more. Finally, Sam would make love to her.

She'd give him her body and her heart, and hope he accepted them both.

* * *

The second she was out of sight, Sam turned to the sink and slumped against it. Jesus, he was only a man and not all that sterling a man to begin with. How the hell was he supposed to tell Ariel no when he'd wanted her for months?

He opened his right hand and looked at it, then curled his fingers in, reliving the feel of her young, firm breast. Fucking her would be so sweet, so hot.

And very wrong.

But Ariel was set on having her own way, so he knew he had to do this, and do it right, or she'd never leave him in peace. If he didn't take ultimate control, she'd have his balls in a ringer. Before long, he'd be on his damn knees asking her to marry him.

No. Hell no.

Pete would be hurt and he'd been hurt enough since their father passed away. He couldn't do that to him. And if Pete was really over her, as she'd suggested? Well, she was still too damn young and far too innocent. Where he was dark, his work and his lifestyle ugly and edgy and uncertain, she lived a carefree life of sunshine and smiles. He couldn't take that from her.

He gave himself ten minutes to get a grip on his control and to let her stew. While he kept her waiting, he took two aspirin and used an antiseptic swab to clean the cut on the back of his head. It burned like a son-of-a-bitch, making him wince in sympathy for Ariel. Her knees, her elbow… She could have been hurt worse, even killed if the asshole trying to rob him had had a weapon.

She was a danger to herself and to him, a giddy young woman with more bravado than common sense. What the hell did she think, putting herself in danger for him? If he let her hang around, she'd be forever underfoot, forever taking risks that no woman should take.

With renewed conviction for his quickly formed plans, Sam stormed up the stairs.

He found her sitting on the side of his bed, her feet together, her hands folded in her lap, her breast still uncovered. She looked wary and uncertain and flushed with excitement and so … ready, he broke out in a sweat.

Sam forced himself to stop in the doorway. Watching her, he began unbuttoning his shirt, then gave a grimace of pain as he pulled it off his wrenched shoulder.

"You're hurt!" She shot off the bed in a flash, her soft hands fluttering all over him, finding bruises and swollen muscles, her damn tender touch setting him on fire.

"Sit—back—down."

She blinked at his tone. "But you need the ice worse than I did. That ape hurt you. We should take you to the hospital…"

"Sit, Ariel." She drew back, hurt and confused. "One of the rules," he drawled, trying to soften his command. "You don't touch me unless I tell you to. Now, don't look like that. I'm fine, really. My own brothers have put worse bruises on me just horsing around. Trust me, I'm not being macho. It's nothing that won't heal in a day or two."

She looked undecided, but fell silent when he dropped into a chair and unbuckled his ankle holster.

She stared at his small off-duty weapon, a .38 caliber five-shot revolver. He always had it on him when working undercover because his primary weapon, a .40 caliber Glock, would be too easy to detect. "You carry a gun?"

"That's a…" He started to say stupid question, but caught himself. He really didn't want her to think he considered her dumb. "I'm a cop. Of course I carry a gun." And then, when he retrieved the lethally sharp knife from the other leg, he added, "Among other things."

Her eyes were huge when he crossed to the nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. He lifted out a metal box, turned the key in the lock, and opened it. Once the gun and knife were safely inside, he relocked the box and pocketed the key.

Under normal circumstances, both weapons would have sat atop the box, but then, this wasn't a normal circumstance—not by a long shot. And Sam never took unnecessary chances with safety, especially with his gun.

Shirtless, in his bare feet but with his pants on as a deterrent, he went to her. She looked adorable sitting there, all mussed and nervous and he felt like a conquering hero ready to ravish the innocent. It wasn't at all an unpleasant or inadequate perception.

Using just the edge of his finger, he stroked her exposed nipple. It was puckered tight, a pale pink, and he wanted to draw her into his mouth. Why not? he thought. This was his show.

He caught her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Stand still." With no preliminaries, he bent and covered her with his mouth, curled his tongue around her, and sucked.

She jerked hard and stepped back, almost falling onto the mattress.

Sam looked at her. "I said to be still."

"Reaction." She blinked hard. "I … I didn't mean to—"

He again took her into his mouth and this time she moaned, stiffened her arms and her back and held as still as a statue. He suckled at her, loving her taste, the way she trembled, the desperate little sounds she made. Using his tongue he stroked her, teased, then sucked hard.

"Sam!"

"Shh." He straightened to look at his handy work. Her nipple was now ripe, reddened, and wet. "This is cute," he managed to say, his voice little more than a rumble as he flipped the material of her ruined dress, "but I think I'd prefer you naked."

Her chest rose and fell, both from what he'd been doing and what he would do.

"I'm going to undress you, stretch you out on the bed and taste you like that all over."

Her lips parted. "All…?"

"Over. Don't move." He reached behind her for the zipper to her dress.

Disregarding his orders, she leaned into him and breathed deep. "You smell so good, Sam."

He grunted at that, but didn't push her away. It felt nice having her lean into him. "You find the smell of sweat and alcohol appealing, do you?"

"Your sweat, yes."

He stripped the tiny sleeves off her shoulders and let them drop down to her elbows. He reached for the back fastening of her bra. The position put his cheek over her shoulder and he could feel her silky blond curls touch his ear, his jaw. Shit, now he was trembling.

"You don't smell like alcohol though. Just like a man, like you. I've always thought you smelled good."

"Another rule," he said as he peeled the bra away, leaving her naked from the waist up. "No talking."

"But…"

"No talking. You're distracting me." And making me crazy and I won't be able to do this if you don't quit.

She covered her breasts with her arms, making Sam lift a brow. "Change your mind?"

She shook her head.

"Then don't hide from me." He waited, wondering if she'd call it quits, half hoping she would, half praying she wouldn't. "Make up you mind, Ariel. Anytime you want this to end, all you have to do is tell me. I'll walk you to the door."

She swallowed hard, drew a fortifying breath and let her arms hang at her sides.

He admired her courage. "It's only going to get harder you know. If you've changed your mind—"

"I haven't."

But she would. Eventually. How far would he have to go before she cried uncle? No matter, he had to carry it to the bitter end. He had to ensure she wouldn't test him again, because he wasn't at all certain of his ability to resist her.

"All right, then." He pulled the dress over her hips and let it drop. It pooled around her feet. "Step out of it."

She did, accepting the hand he offered for balance. Left only in panties and sandals, she blushed bright pink. But Sam paid little enough attention to her face when her body was all but bare. His hands at her waist, he stroked her, from her hips to her rips and back again. She was a little to slim, her curves understated. "Damn, you're beautiful."

He didn't get a reply, but then, he didn't expect one.

He glanced up at her face. "You blond everywhere?"

Her color deepened.

"No, don't tell me. I want to find out for myself." Then, smiling into her shocked face, he whispered, "Take them off."

Chapter Three

Ariel had never felt so exposed in her entire life. She gulped and tried to find a little courage. "I'm waiting."

He just stood there, his arms crossed over his hairy chest, his feet braced apart. His silky dark hair was mussed, hanging over his brow and beard shadow darkened his jaws and upper lip. His long black lashes hung low over his piercing eyes, direct, taunting. Watchful and expectant.

She wanted to throw him to the floor and drag his slacks off his gorgeous body and kiss him all over. But he wanted to do things his own way and she knew Sam well enough to know it was his way or not at all.

"All right." Feeling awkward and unsophisticated, she hooked her thumbs in her panties and pushed them down. Sam held her left elbow as she tried to step out, but she caught her stupid sandals on the leg bands, getting her panties twisted. She should have removed the shoes first but she wasn't exactly an expert at stripping with an audience.

When she finally got them free, she dropped the panties on the floor with the rest of her clothes and started to sit down to take off her sandals.

Sam had other ideas. "I like the look." His voice was gruff, raw. "Leave them on."

She peeked at him, but he stared at her belly, or more specifically, below her belly. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he reached out and stroked his fingers through her pubic hair.

"Part your legs a little."

This test of his was a killer. If he'd only kiss her again, hold her … but he wasn't going to. She knew he wanted her to shy away, to run home scared. To prove she wasn't a mature, experienced woman.

The experience part … well, hopefully he'd forgive her for that. But she was a woman, his woman, if he'd only stop being so pigheaded. She forced her chin up and set one foot several inches from the other.

"You're not as blond here," he said while still fingering her curls. "But then your brows and lashes are a few shades darker too. It's pretty."

Never in her twenty-four years had she expected such a conversation to take place. He was complimenting her on her … well, on something very private. This wasn't at all as she'd assumed lovemaking would be. She thought there'd be a lot of reciprocal touching, breathless loss of control, and a simultaneous agreement to move forward in intimacy.

At the same time, being here with him like this was so wildly exciting, she knew she was wet and she feared he'd know it too in just a moment.

He stepped away from her. "Turn around."

Her mind went blank. What in the world did he have planned now? Breath rushed in and out of her lungs. Feeling wooden and clumsy in the stupid shoes, she forced herself to move. When her back was to him, he said, "There. I want to look at you."

She tried to stand straight and tall, but more than anything she just wanted to crawl into the bed under the covers and then convince Sam to crawl under them with her.

The touch of his breath on her nape raised her awareness another notch.

"I love your ass," he whispered, and then both his hands covered her there, squeezing and cuddling. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until her eyes closed. Without thinking, she reached back for him. Her fingertips just grazed his fly long enough for her to feel the straining power of his erection.

"No." He caught her hands. "No touching from you." He placed her hands alongside her thighs.

"I want to touch you," she said. "The same way you're touching me."

"Yeah? Like this?" His hands came around her and he caught her nipples in his fingertips.

Her back arched. "Sam…"

"You like that, don't you?" He tugged, plucked, and rolled. He opened his palms and grazed them over her, then covered her breasts, gently holding them while he kissed her shoulder, her nape. Every damp warm touch of his mouth brought her temperature up another degree.

"Answer me, Ariel."

"I like it, but … I'd like it more if I could touch you, too."

He laughed, the sound masculine and satisfied. "I just bet you would. But then you'd be breaking the rules and we can't have that."

He went back to tormenting her nipples and he took so long she wasn't sure she could stand it. Her every nerve ending was alive, sizzling. Stars danced in front of her closed eyes, her breasts ached and felt heavy, and between her legs she throbbed and burned.

And still he just played with her breasts and kissed her shoulders and back and neck.

In desperation, she whispered, "Sam, please." She honestly didn't know how much more she could take. An imminent explosion skirted through her, almost there, but not quite. Her hips moved, embarrassing her, shaming her but she couldn't seem to hold still.

"All right," he whispered. But he didn't turn her to him. Instead, those tantalizing hands coasted down her ribs, over her belly, and between her legs. "Open them more."

Trying but unable to get her legs to cooperate, she whimpered.

He helped her, putting one large foot between hers and nudging them open. "More. I want to be able to get to you."

Oh God.

"How I teased your nipples? I'll do that here, too." His fingertips brushed against her clitoris and she cried out at the electrifying sensation—then felt his smile press to her shoulder. "Yeah, right there," he said in deep triumph. "It'll make you crazy Ariel and if we're both lucky, you'll come for me. I want you to, you know."

Horrified by the thought of standing and performing to his demands, she stiffened. Surely he didn't expect her to do such a thing with him detached, manipulating her but uninvolved?

"Don't stiffen up on me." Gently, using only his fingertips, he opened her. "We'll get to the bed, I promise. No way in hell will this be it. Unless you tell me to stop." Carefully, holding her open with one hand, he circled her clitoris again. She felt his fingers, his rough, warm fingers, moving over her and she couldn't seem to get enough oxygen into her starved lungs. For one brief instant, she thought she might actually faint.

"Breathe, Ariel." He held still, waiting, leaning over her shoulder to watch her face. She did, gulping air and shaking from head to toe. "You're close, aren't you, baby? I wonder if you can do this standing up. Some women can't you know. That tidal wave of melting pleasure washes over you and your legs go weak and…" He shrugged. "I'll hold you though. Don't worry."

Staring straight ahead at the window opposite his bed, Ariel bit her lip, fighting the urge to plead with him again. "You'll tell me if I hurt you."

"Yes."

He opened his mouth on her neck, giving her a soft love bite—and pushed his middle finger into her.

Her head fell back, a deep, shuddering groan escaping her. He gave an answering growl of pleasure and pressed deeper and it was the most amazing thing, a little embarrassing, very arousing. Her hips moved again and this time she didn't care.

"You're small. And hot. And you feel so damn good."

Ariel was well beyond words. She hung in his arms, her legs open, all her attention on his hands and how he touched her and the expanding pleasure that would ebb and then grow stronger as it rolled through her.

With his finger pressed deep inside her, he found her clitoris with his thumb and he began an incredible slick friction that sent her right over the edge. She cried out, stunned at what she felt, at her total loss of control. She couldn't be quiet, couldn't hold still.

True to his word, Sam wrapped one muscled arm around her waist and held her upright while he continued the press and retreat of his fingers, kept the pleasure flowing until indeed, her legs gave out and she slumped into him, boneless, exhausted, replete.

His arm stayed locked around her while he lifted the other hand. Ariel roused herself enough to turn her head and look at him. She saw his eyes close, saw him suck his fingers into his mouth, taking her taste, her wetness.

Their eyes met. Looking far too serious, he pulled his fingers out and touched them to her lips. She shuddered, but was too spent to pull away.

Gently, Sam lowered her to the bed on her stomach, then stretched out beside her. He stroked her head, found the few pins that still held her hair and pulled them out to flick them across the room. With an open hand, he combed out the curls, spreading them over the pillow. "Sam?"

"Mmm?" Propped on one elbow, he continued to pet her, down her spine, over her bottom.

"Will you make love to me now?"

He slanted glittering eyes at her and said, "You just can't be quiet, can you?"

Ariel felt hurt. He'd just done the most amazing thing to her and still he was apart from her. It wasn't easy, but she got her sluggish limbs to work and turned on her side to face him. He stared down at her body, his gaze concentrated, hot.

She stared at his chest. Among a smattering of older scars randomly dispersed over his torso, there was a fresh, dark bruise coloring his ribs, evidence of the night he'd just had. Stricken, Ariel thought of how many times he'd been hurt, how much he must have suffered in his efforts to protect. Maybe, she thought, he physically wasn't up to making love with her. Old wounds, new wounds… Was she being selfish?

He'd already given her pleasure without intercourse. She could do the same, sparing his sore body.

Wanting to make him feel as good as she did, Ariel leaned forward and brushed a butterfly kiss over the nearest scar, a small bullet wound that grazed his shoulder. Sam froze, not even breathing.

Encouraged, she spread her hands over his chest, tangling her fingers in his dark chest hair, stroking him as he'd stroked her.

Ariel noted a thin, light line near his collarbone, about two inches long. It looked like it might have been a deep cut, perhaps with a knife. Appalled at the awful risks he took, she kissed that, too.

This close, his scent was twice as potent. Those odd turbulent feelings roused in her again.

She kissed three bruises, one on his shoulder, his temple, another on his ribs. "Sam," she whispered, and opened her mouth on him. His skin was deliciously warm and sleek, his flesh firm. Turning her head, she moved closer to a flat nipple hidden beneath his chest hair. Her tongue touched him.

Sam grabbed her shoulders. In a heartbeat, Ariel found herself flat on her back with Sam straddling her hips. "I said no touching, Ariel."

She blinked up at him, unable to move, confused by how quickly he'd reversed their positions. He sounded so stern, looked so dangerous. "I'll try…"

"Too late."

Her eyes widened. Oh no. He was going to tell her to leave. He would throw her out and she hadn't had a real chance yet to make him understand how perfect they'd be together.

He stretched her arms high until they nearly touched the slatted headboard, then reached across her for the nightstand and jerked open the top drawer. Ariel twisted, trying to see what he was doing … He pulled out handcuffs.

"Sam."

"I haven't had much chance to use these since going undercover." He let them dangle in front of her face, waiting, she knew, for her to protest, to insist he release her.

They stared at each other, his expression lethal, hers uncertain, but neither of them backed down. Sam leaned over her.

One metal bracelet clicked around her wrist, then clicked and clicked again when he tightened it to fit her small bones. She had room to turn her hand, but she couldn't slip it free. Her stomach fluttered in apprehension.

He glared down at her. "You ready to call a halt?"

Damn him. She wasn't a criminal he could intimidate so easily, because she knew Sam would never hurt her. No matter his games, no matter his intent, she knew him, loved him, and trusted him. "No."

His mouth tightened. "Make sure, Ariel."

She would not let him scare her. She would not let him off the hook that easily, either. One way or another, she'd get through to him, even if that meant showing him her trust first by playing out these bizarre games of sexual dominance.

She stared him in the eyes. "I'm sure."

* * *

Sam wanted to howl, to curse the moon and punch a hole in the wall. Ariel had taken his control and turned it back on him, openly sharing her pleasure, then kissing his injuries—old and new—as if she wanted to heal him.

Like a few stupid marks on his body really mattered to her.

He was so damn hard his guts clenched and his brain cramped. Watching Ariel come had been something he'd never forget. She was so sweet she made him break out in a sweat just by smiling.

Would she taste as sweet as she looked?

Jesus. Before he could change his mind he caught her other wrist, aware of how tiny her bones were, how delicate. He slipped the chain connecting the handcuffs through a slat in the headboard then snapped the cold steel around her.

Breathing hard in both regret and shattering lust, he looked down at her pale, slim body stretched out beneath him, shackled in place. He didn't want to think about anything, he only wanted to devour her, to take everything she had and give her another mind-blowing orgasm.

He plumped up her breasts in his hands, thumbed her nipples roughly, watched her squirm.

"Not a word," he warned, knowing if she started telling him what she wanted again, he'd lose the fight. He moved off her, opened her legs wide and repositioned himself between them, on his knees so he could drape her legs over his. "That's better."

Those beautiful hazel eyes of hers, now more topaz than brown, watched him without blinking, conveying some silent message that he damn well didn't want to hear. Her mouth looked puffy and soft and kissable. Her small chin quivered, but not because she might cry. No, he knew Ariel wouldn't do that.

Probably it quivered with stubbornness.

"I like to see a woman, all of her, when I take her," he explained. Her legs draped his, white against his dark slacks, sleek and lightly muscled. He looked at her breasts. Earlier her nipples had been velvety soft, but once he'd touched them, they'd stayed puckered, begging for his mouth.

She lightly licked her lips, luring him. Bracing his hands on the pillow at either side of her head, Sam bent down and savaged her mouth with ruthless hunger, kissing her hard, thrusting his tongue between her teeth. She didn't fight him or pull back. No, she accepted his tongue, sucked on it, returned his kiss with equal passion.

He groaned, aware of her straining up to him, trying to get more of him. Her thighs were tensed, her belly lifting into him.

He pulled himself away and took his pleasure at her breasts. He loved suckling a woman and could be content to spend an hour on her nipples alone. But not this time. As soon as Ariel started writhing, he moved lower, nibbling on her ribs, then lower still until he could dip his tongue into her navel.

She held her breath, anticipating what he might do, he knew. Did she like oral sex? Had any man ever kissed her between her thighs? He hoped not. He wanted to be the first.

"Wider," he said as he pressed her legs farther apart and held them in place when she would have automatically brought them together again. He glanced up at her still face, flushed but uncertain. "Keep them that way."

Using his fingertips, he opened her lips, exposing her glistening pink flesh. Her clitoris was swollen from her recent climax, extra sensitive. Gently, he kissed her, heard her shocked, eager gasp, and he closed his mouth around the tender bud.

With a hoarse cry, she nearly lurched away, but he cupped her hips firmly in his big hands and held her secure. Because he knew her nerve endings were already tingling, still alive from her last orgasm, he was very careful not to push her too fast, to cause her any discomfort. He suckled softly, easily, taking his time, stroking with his tongue. When she was ready for more, her legs stiffened and her arms pulled tight against her bonds.

"Sam," she said, all breathless and low. "Sam, Sam, Sam…"

Her cries were raw, real, and he loved it, the way she responded, the pleasure he gave her so easily. She didn't hold back at all, didn't try to temper her response. He replaced his mouth with his fingers and raised his head to see her face.

Her neck was arched, her teeth clenched, her breasts heaving. "Beautiful," he breathed, ready to come just from looking at her. After endless moments, she quieted, and Sam moved up beside her, smoothed her hair from her face, placed a kiss on her open lips.

"That was nice." He waited, but she didn't open her eyes, didn't reply. Sam smiled. "For a youngun', you come with a lot of energy. I like it."

Sweat glistened on her chest, the tops of her cheekbones. A rosy flush covered her body and her heart still raced. With an obvious effort, she licked her lips, swallowed, and said, "Shut up, Sam."

He grinned, fighting off a chuckle. "You're not supposed to talk."

She cast him a wanton look that nearly did him in. "No? I've never been handcuffed before, Officer. What should I be doing?"

Sam lowered his hand to her belly and felt it hollow out when she dragged in a breath. "Rest. You're going to need your strength."

"I am?"

"Mmm. I'll give you a few minutes before we start again."

Her eyes widened, darkened. "Start…? Sam, no. I … I can't."

He pushed his hand lower until he cupped her mound. She was slick, very wet and pulsing with heat. "Yes you can." All the teasing left him. "I'll see to it."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Sam…"

"Crying uncle?"

A sob almost rose in her throat, but she managed to swallow it back. Sam watched her closely, waiting for the words he needed to hear, waiting for her to tell him to fuck off, to get out of her life once and for all.

"No. I'm not crying uncle."

They watched each other, at a stalemate, until finally Sam cursed. "Fine. Have it your way." His fingers curled against her, his middle finger sinking past her creamy wetness, into her up to his first knuckle—and someone rang his doorbell.

They both jerked to a breathless, astonished standstill. Their motions were frozen.

Ariel gasped, "You have company?"

Sam shoved himself off the bed and stalked to the window, barely moving the curtain aside to peer out. "Ah fuck." A loud knock sounded.

He turned to Ariel, took in the sight of her handcuffed naked to his bed and knew he'd just screwed up royally.

"Who is it?" she whispered in a fearful voice.

Sam rubbed his face. "It's Pete."

"Ohmigod." She began jerking and twisting. "Let me loose!"

He walked past her. "No, just be quiet. I'll get rid of him and be right back. I promise." He snatched up his shirt and pulled it on.

"Sam!" Her face went white. "Don't you dare leave me here like—"

He held a finger to his lips. "Shhh. You made a deal, Ariel. Now keep it. If you're real quiet, Pete will never know you're here." He pulled the door shut, aware of her distress—and aware of his own regret. But she did fall silent, thank God.

He closed the door and trotted quickly down the stairs. His brain churned, trying to think of what to say, how to explain Ariel's car in his driveway, how to get rid of his baby brother.

Pete knocked again, growing impatient.

"All right already, give it a rest." Sam threw the door open. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

Pete, looking healthy and happy and in something of a hurry, burst in and said, "I need the keys to Gil's boat."

"What?"

His black hair was mussed, his shirt untucked and he had a hickey on his neck. "Gil's out of town, but he said I could use his boat only I don't have a spare key and you do."

"Gil's out of town?"

"Yeah. Business—don't you remember? He's been gone all week. Forget that part. Just give me the key."

Suspicious, Sam leaned around Pete to look out the door. His brother's sporty little Focus was at the curb, still running, and in the passenger seat was a cute blond. "Ah. Big plans?"

Pete bobbed his eyebrows. "Is she hot or what?"

Amazed that Pete apparently hadn't even noticed Ariel's car in the drive, Sam went to the kitchen for the spare key to Gil's houseboat. "Yeah, she's cute."

"Cute? You've gotta be kidding me. She's in my statistics class, smart as hell and sexier than that."

"And willing?"

With a sly look, Pete said, "Oh yeah."

At twenty-two, Pete was a good-looking kid with an athlete's body that had yet to finish filling out, sincere brown eyes, and a sexual drive exclusive to young male animals of the human variety. Sam loved him so much that it sometimes hurt and in the three years since their father's death, he'd felt more responsible for him than ever.

He held the key out of reach. "You got protection?"

"No, you wanna loan me a gun?" He grinned.

Sam didn't take birth control lightly. "You know what I mean, Pete."

"She's got it covered."

Scowling, Sam grabbed him by the ear and lifted him to his tiptoes. "She does? How many times do I have to tell you—"

Laughing and wincing at the same time, Pete pulled a condom from his pocket and waved it under Sam's nose. "Hey, I was teasing, all right! It's covered. Literally."

Sam turned him loose. "That's it? One?"

"With three more in the glove box."

"Then don't exceed four, you hear me?"

Pete snatched the keys from his hand. "Yeah, four." He held his heart and pretended to stagger. "Four."

Sam laughed and walked him back to the door. Not for a single moment was he unaware of Ariel upstairs, naked, waiting. "You like them blond, huh?"

Pete shrugged. "Or brunette or redhead or…"

"Well, I meant because both she and Ariel are blond."

"She," Pete emphasized, "is a lot more fun than Ariel ever tried to be."

Sam's knees locked. "Yeah? How so?"

"You kidding me? All Ariel could ever say was no, no, and no. No real dates, no kissing, and definitely no sex. Got to where I thought my name was No-Pete."

Sam's heart gave a heavy thump. "She cut ya cold, huh?" Now why the hell did that thrill him so much?

"She cut everyone cold, not just me. She told me she was waiting till she got married." Pete rolled his eyes.

Dropping back against the wall, Sam said, "No shit?" His head started to pound.

"Yeah, real old-fashioned attitude, right? I think she just liked to lead guys on. You know, like a tease."

Anger roiled up, making him want to take Pete by the ear again. He didn't, because it shouldn't matter to him what was said about Ariel. But as a big brother, he could say a few general things, and did. "I hope like hell you're not repeating that to anyone but me, because if I hear of it, I'll be royally pissed."

"I know." Pete winked. "Preserve a woman's honor no matter what. I remember."

Sam caught his arm. "I mean it, Pete."

He looked down at the hand holding him with marked confusion. "No sweat. I liked Ariel a lot, still do as a friend. But she made sure it was never more than that, end of story."

"You were really hung up on her."

"I thought I was. Gil told me I was suffering lust, not love and I have to admit he was right. But hey, I'm not bitter and I'm not out to trash her." He tipped his head toward the door. "I am out to have a good time tonight though, if this impromptu lecture is over."

Sam opened his fingers by force of will. "It's over. Just be careful."

"I'm twenty-two, Sam. Not fifteen."

"I remember. Make sure you remember it, too."

Rolling his eyes again, Pete playfully punched him in the ribs—causing Sam considerable pain, which he managed to hide—and then Pete trotted out to his car. Sam propped himself in the doorway, waved to the young lady when she laughed and lifted her hand toward him, and once the car pulled away he closed and locked the door.

Ariel had wanted to wait till she got married.

His pulse raced, causing a wild thrumming in his ears. Breath held, he looked up the stairs at that closed bedroom door. Surely to God she wasn't a virgin?

But even as he thought it, his balls tightened and his blood boiled. He could be her first. That upped the stakes even more, made the temptation nearly impossible to resist. He had a choice to make—take her and give himself a fantasy to last a lifetime.

Or send her innocent little butt packing while he still could. There was really no choice at all.

Chapter Four

Ariel was livid by the time Sam walked into the room. Her wrists were raw from the furious pulling she'd done when she heard Pete spewing such nonsense about her. She hadn't gotten this far with Sam only to have his youngest brother ruin it with exaggerated nonsense.

Frowning, Sam sat beside her on the bed and caught her arms to hold them still. "Stop that," he said, "you're hurting yourself."

"That miserable little cretin." She tried to jerk again, but Sam was too strong for her, keeping her immobile. "Who?"

"Pete, that's who." Ooh, when she got hold of him, she'd box his ears. "I can't believe you let him stand there and say those awful things."

Sam leaned back, his expression guarded. "You heard?"

"Every damn word."

"And you're jealous?"

"Jealous?" Ariel sputtered at such a ridiculous notion. "I'm furious!"

Sam's scowl was black enough to straighten her hair. "Because he's taking his new girlfriend out to Gil's boat for some privacy?"

She gasped so hard, she nearly choked herself. "Don't be an idiot. I couldn't care less who Pete sleeps with, as long as it isn't me. I'm mad that he stood down there and spoke about me like I was some ice princess or a … a…"

"Cock tease?"

Fury rolled through her. "Let me go. Right now."

Sam scrutinized her. "I don't think so. You look violent."

Digging her heels into the mattress, she pulled and tugged and thrashed—until she saw Sam holding the key in front of her face.

"You're destroying my bed."

Ariel arched her neck, looked upside down at where the chain for the cuffs had gouged the smooth wooden slats of his headboard, and she smiled in evil satisfaction. "Good," she practically spat at him. "I'll tear the whole damn thing apart if you don't unlock me."

Sounding very put upon, Sam sighed. "I give you two orgasms and all you can do is threaten me."

That was true enough, so she grudgingly muttered, "Sorry. I do appreciate what you did."

That made him laugh and shake his head. A second later the key clicked in the lock and the cuffs opened.

Sam drew her arms down, held her wrists loosely in his hard hands and gently rubbed. "Look what you did. You had enough scrapes and bruises without deliberately adding to them."

For the first time that night, he sounded calm, completely detached. Ariel got worried.

"Tell me something, will you, Ariel?"

Uh-oh. She didn't trust this new mood of his at all. In the time she'd known him, she'd become accustomed to his sarcasm, his sharp wit, his merciless teasing—but never indifference. "What?"

He snared her gaze with his and wouldn't let her look away. "Are you a virgin?"

Well damn. She started to pull her hands away but he resisted and Ariel didn't think it was worth a struggle. Silence stretched out, more uncomfortable by the moment. She felt pinned to the mattress with the way his unblinking stare penetrated her confidence. Stalling, hoping for an out, she asked, "Do you mean, like, technically?"

His eyes narrowed at her avoidance. "Have you ever had intercourse?"

She squirmed, chewed on her bottom lip. "Well, if you mean—"

"Sex, Ariel. I mean sex."

"There's like, sex, in the general term as in touching and—"

"Have you ever been fucked, goddammit?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin at his abrupt blast of outrage; then her own temper ignited and she jerked her arms away from him and came up on her knees to face him head on. Poking him in the chest to emphasize every word, she said, "No, all right? No, there's been no one."

His eyes widened over her attack and he leaned back out of reach.

More softly and with a little desperation, Ariel explained, "I only ever wanted you."

Looking equal parts pained and provoked, Sam started to rise from the bed. He'd turned halfway from her when resolve overrode her anxiety, and Ariel hurled herself at him, tackling him hard from the side.

Unfortunately, her surprise attack sent him right over the edge of the bed. Unprepared, he had no way to stop himself. Arms flailing, he crashed to the hard floor. Ariel landed on top of him with an "omph," forcing a loud grunt from Sam.

For five seconds, he just stared up at her, his face blank in shock at what she'd done. Ariel quickly took advantage. She grabbed his ears and kissed him.

When he tried to turn his head, she bit his mouth.

"Ow!" He wrenched back. "Damn it to hell—"

"You have a foul, but delicious mouth, Sam Watson." She kissed him again, licking her way past his teeth, rubbing her breasts against his naked chest. When he stopped fighting her, holding himself in a sort of suspended indecision, she ran her hands all over him, over his sleek hard shoulders, his wide, hairy chest, down his sides and back up again. She couldn't get enough of him and let him know with the way she touched him, how she crawled over him.

Sam groaned and in the next instant, his hands opened wide over her behind, gripping her tightly, grinding her into his erection. Thrilled, Ariel opened her legs to straddle his hips, and threw her head back with a triumphant moan. Beneath her mound, even through his slacks, she could feel the thick rise of Sam's erection. She had thought herself long done, half dead, uninspired toward anything else sexual.

But it took very little for Sam to have her wild again. A look. A touch. The two combined and she wanted to beg him to take her.

She kissed his chest and when his fingers gently laced into her hair and he said, softly and with apology, "Ariel," she bit him again, making him jump.

"Be quiet, Sam."

He half laughed, half moaned. "You're stealing my thunder, babe."

"I want you, enough for the two of us." She tenderly licked his discolored, sore ribs while inching her way down his muscled body. His fingers tightened in her hair, holding her back for only a moment before urging her lower with sublime surrender.

"Yes," Ariel whispered and she attacked the fastenings to his pants, hurrying before he could change his mind. Every time he shifted, she kissed him through the material, stroked him beneath the zipper, did her best to keep his lust at an urgent level so he couldn't concentrate long enough to reject her.

When she finally got his fly opened she snaked her hand inside, then paused with the wonder of it, the amazing way he felt, so alive and solid and yet velvety textured, flexing and pulsing in her hand.

Staring down at him, her lips parted to accommodate her fast breathing, Ariel examined her very first up-close and personal penis. What a revelation. "Sam."

"Kiss me, Ariel." The words were so guttural, she could barely understand him but she knew what he wanted.

Holding him now in both hands, she brushed a kiss up the length of him and heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the way his hands clenched in her hair, how his big body trembled.

Amazing. And exciting. She ran her tongue up to the very end, then over the glistening tip and he lurched so violently he nearly tossed her off. She quickly repositioned herself and did it again, this time lingering on the head, on that warm bead of moisture that tasted both salty and rich and not quite how she'd ever imagined.

"Oh God."

"I like this," Ariel purred, pleased with her discovery and Sam's reaction to her touch. She glanced up at him. "Do you?"

He laughed again, but it was a sound of agony, not humor.

"Will you like this?" She opened her mouth and drew him in, not real deep because he was big and she was new to this, but taking the head all the way inside to suckle at it, to roll her tongue around him. She tasted more fluid, felt him grow even more, pulse. Sam let out a growling rumble and his whole big body jerked.

Before Ariel could fully appreciate all that splendid response, she found herself on her back, Sam firmly between her thighs, his mouth covering hers. He was ferocious, breathing hard and fast, his hands everywhere, his tongue hot in her mouth, his hips stroking her.

"Protection," he groaned and, as if by a mighty effort, pushed himself up enough to fumble in the nightstand drawer until he snagged three connected condoms. He ripped one free along the perforated line, opened it with his teeth and sat back on his heels to roll it on.

"You asked for this," he told her as he shoved his pants down and kicked them off, then wedged himself back between her thighs before she could get a good look at him completely naked. "Remember that."

For an answer, Ariel twined her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and hugged him tight. She loved him so much that tears sprang to her eyes. "I won't ever forget it," she promised him.

He hesitated, his chest working like a bellows. Ariel was so afraid he'd just changed his mind that she tightened her hold.

"Shh." He smoothed his hand up and down her side. "Relax."

"Don't leave me, Sam." She hated pleading, but if he turned her away now…

"No, I won't." And then, with sober apology: "I can't." He eased his weight onto her and carefully coaxed her arms from his neck. "I don't want to hurt you, Ariel."

"You would never hurt me."

"I might if I take you like a crazed sailor on shore leave. But you set me off, honey, you really do. I need you to help me out here."

With complete and utmost sincerity, Ariel told him, "You can take me like a crazed sailor. I won't mind."

He smiled, the most tender smile she'd ever seen from him. "I'll mind. Now quit talking and kiss me. No, gently. Yeah, that's right."

Ariel melted. Sam's voracious, hungry kisses were incredible, but the way he kissed her now, almost as if he cared about her, maybe loved her just a little, too, was enough to fill her up for a lifetime. And he took his time, kissing her long and slow and deep until she was the one who demanded more by pressing her belly up against him.

"Sam?"

"Yeah baby?"

"I'm dying to feel you inside me."

He shuddered. "All right." After levering himself up on one elbow, Sam reached down with his other hand to guide himself in. Ariel saw that he was shaking, the high color in his face, how impossibly blue his eyes looked. The broad head of his penis nudged her soft opening, pushed marginally inside.

Sam locked his jaw. "You are so damn wet."

"I know." She flushed. "I can't help it."

"It's good. Damn good." He sank in a bit deeper with a groan. "Small and tight." His jaw worked as he forced himself into her. "And all mine."

Ariel's heart lurched at those possessive words. "Yes. Always."

But he didn't seem to know what she said, or even what he'd said. His eyes were glazed, burning as he stared down at her and she saw the acute pleasure in his face as her body accepted him. There was a stretching sensation, a little burning, but no real pain. She felt full, complete. Wonderfully alive.

Suddenly his shoulders bunched. He cursed, squeezed his eyes shut; then he snapped. He thrust into her, causing her to lose her breath in one startled gasp of mingled discomfort and joy.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, even as he slid back out, then stroked in deeper again, gaining a rhythm, harder and faster with each turn.

I love you, Sam. But the words were only in Ariel's mind. She held him, cradling his big body close to her heart while he thrust heavily into her, his arms locked tight around her, his face pressed into the side of her throat. He was sweaty, heat pouring off him, and then he arched his back, burying himself so deeply that Ariel cried out.

His face was beautiful, harshly masculine, etched with pleasure so sharp it mirrored pain. Ariel smiled at him, stroked his chest and shoulders until the tremors passed, his primal growls faded, and he slowly sank down onto her.

The carpet on her back prickled, her thighs ached, and Sam's weight pressed her down, making it difficult to breathe. But she didn't want to move. Not ever.

Without lifting his head, Sam said, his voice a sleepy rumble, "You probably have carpet burns on your ass now to add to your other injuries."

Ariel giggled.

Smiling, he forced his head up to see her. "That damn laugh," he said fondly. And he kissed her.

Ariel was so full of love, she couldn't imagine being any happier.

"You all right?"

Dreamily, she sighed. "I'm perfect."

"Yeah." He sat up beside her, his back against the side of the bed, one leg bent, and he looked at her body. He shook his head in chagrin. "That you are. But you'll be more perfect after a shower and some sleep."

Oh no. Panic twisted inside her, but she tried to hide it. "Sam, are you sending me home?"

He shrugged, scooped her up as he stood, groaned at the pain in his shoulder and ribs, and then looked at her. "Unless you want to spend the night. Up to you."

Her heart raced. "You don't mind if I stay?"

Taking that as an affirmation that she wanted to, Sam headed for the bathroom. "The damage is done—but I'm not. Be forewarned though. If you stay, I plan to take you at least a few more times." He looked down at her. "In a few more ways."

Filled with relief, Ariel put her head on his shoulder. "Maybe," she said, tugging at his crisp chest hair, "I'll just take you instead."

He stopped in midstride, groaned again, then rushed her into the bathroom and stood her in the tub. "Virgins are the very devil." He turned away as he removed the spent condom.

"Ex-virgins." When he joined her in the tub, Ariel admired his body with eyes and hands and a few well-placed kisses. She liked the way his dark chest hair tapered off into a long thin line down his body. It circled his navel, then arrowed down to his groin, surrounding and framing his heavy sex.

"Right." Sam took her mouth, smothering her screech of outrage when he turned the cold water on full blast and it hit her in the back. "An ex-pushy virgin who gloats when she gets her own way."

"Sam!" The water quickly warmed, taking away her chills.

He lathered her up, somehow always managing to keep a good hold on her soap-slick body. By the time he finished, Ariel was ready to learn about the new ways he'd mentioned. The night couldn't be long enough to suit her.

* * *

Sam awoke to a soft, damp kiss on his lower spine. His eyes snapped open but he didn't move. He was on his stomach, his legs sprawled out, his body heavy with sleep.

Deep shadows still filled the room, telling him it was early morning. His brain felt foggy, as if he'd been on a three-day drunk but with alarming clarity, he knew it was carnal gluttony that had him sluggish this morning, not booze.

Ariel was amazing. Everything he'd ever wanted in a sex partner. Everything he'd ever wanted, period.

He felt her warm fingertips tickling down his spine to the top of his ass. She hesitated, then stroked lower, until she found his testicles and could fondle him from behind. He bit back a rumbling groan.

After the excesses of the night, he should have been dead to the world, unable to rise to the occasion. But this was Ariel—and he was rising rather quickly.

"You're awake," she murmured, sounding more than a little pleased with herself.

"I am now." Sam rolled to his back and dragged her on top of him, appreciating her early morning, sleep-rumpled appeal. "Awake and ready, thanks to a certain little sexy lady who tried to molest me in my sleep."

She gave him a willing smile.

Sam sighed. "Unfortunately we're out of rubbers and I don't take chances, so quit torturing me."

Her face fell. "Bummer."

"Yeah." She sounded so forlorn, Sam almost laughed. "What time is it?"

"Six."

Aware of numerous aches and pains, he stretched beneath her. Laughing, Ariel almost slid off him. She grabbed him tight and managed to hang on.

Her giggle, which had once grated on his nerves, now seemed beyond adorable. "What time do you have to be at work?"

"Ten."

He swatted her bare behind. "Let's go get some breakfast, then. I'm famished."

He gently pushed her onto her back, gave her a smacking kiss on the mouth, and rolled out of bed. If he'd been alone, he would have limped to the dresser for his shorts because every muscle screamed in complaint as he moved. But with Ariel watching, he did his best to do the macho thing and hide his discomfort.

She came to her knees in the middle of the bed. "My dress is ripped and I never got around to fixing it last night, so can I borrow a T-shirt?"

He cast her a quick look. "Naw, I like seeing you naked."

Her face turned bright pink. "I can't cook or eat breakfast naked."

"Sure you can." He stepped into black boxer-briefs and hiked them up. "My house, my rules."

Her back stiffened. "Sam."

"Ariel." She was so damn cute, he couldn't resist teasing her. "You're such a spoilsport."

Her disheveled blond curls trembled in her agitation, forcing Sam to swallow a laugh. "All right, all right, don't start fuming. You can have a shirt." And then, just to tweak her anger, he added, "I suppose modesty in someone as young as you is to be expected."

He tossed her a white T-shirt, but it hit her in her glowering face, then fell to her lap. She didn't even attempt to catch it.

Sam leaned on the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest, surveying her. "Changed your mind?"

Her chin lifted; she flipped the shirt to the floor. "I believe I have." In lofty disdain, she slid out of the bed and strode naked to the door. "What's a little nudity among adults?"

Oh hell. Sam went after her, his gaze glued to her bare butt swishing and swaying down the stairs. He clutched his heart, thinking he was far too old to survive so much stimulation. He grinned at the thought, remembering that Ariel was the first one to fall asleep last night—and she'd had a fat smile on her face.

He'd literally worn the little darling out, and damn, that made him proud.

His grin died a quick death when, just as they reached the landing, an outraged knock sounded on his door. Ariel jumped a foot and dashed behind him, staring at the door as if it had suddenly become transparent and whoever lurked on the other side could see her. Scowling, Sam went to the peephole to look out. Ariel clutched at him, staying so close he felt her nipples on his back.

"Shit."

"Who is it?"

Dropping back against the door, he said, "Pete. And judging by the look on his face, he's finally noticed your car."

She covered her mouth with a hand. "Oh no."

"Oh no" was right. What the hell should he do now?

The door rattled again, and Pete yelled, "Open up, Sam! I know you're in there."

Sam gave Ariel the once over, then lifted a brow. "Now might be a good time to display that innate modesty, sweetheart. I somehow doubt Pete will believe anything I try to tell him if he sees you flitting around my house in your birthday suit."

Her mouth fell open and in a flash she turned around and dashed back up the stairs. What a sight, Sam thought, watching the way she bounced and jiggled in all the right places. He shook his head. He was an idiot, letting himself be ruled by his gonads instead of common sense. He should have sent her home last night.

Hell, he should never have touched her in the first place. But he had. And he'd more than enjoyed himself.

Now he'd have to pay.

Pete had his fist raised, apparently ready to pound the damn door down, when Sam drew it open. He took his brother off guard, saying, "Hey Pete. What's up?"

Pete's look of surprise disappeared beneath censure. He shoved his way in, looking this way and that. "Where is she?"

"She who?"

Pete whirled around to face Sam. "Don't be an asshole. You know damn good and well I'm talking about Ariel. It didn't register last night, but that's her car in your driveway and now it's still there—"

"Yeah?" Sam leaned out the open door, looked at the car, and said, "Huh. So it is."

Pete's teeth clicked together. "Where—is—she?"

From the top of the stairs, Ariel said softly, "I'm here."

Both men turned to look up. Sam took a surprised step forward. Did she have to hit him with one emotional punch after another? He knew Pete gave him a startled glance, but Sam couldn't get his gaze off her, not even to reassure his brother.

Ariel had hastily dressed in one of Sam's extra large white T-shirts. It was so enormous on her, one shoulder hung down nearly to her elbow and the hem landed almost at her knees, more than adequately covering her. Still, she'd also borrowed a pair of his drawstring running shorts. She'd tied them so tight, the string hung to her ankles. She looked … comically precious.

It was a wretched situation for Sam to find himself in, and still he smiled.

Pete punched him in the arm, glowering and bristling and somehow looking protective. Toward Ariel? Well hell. He'd sworn he was over her, yet here he was with his shoulders hunched and his jaw jutting forward.

"You're in your damned underwear," Pete told Sam under his breath, as if Ariel might not have already known that.

"Yeah, and you know, Ariel just might be in my underwear, too. Are you, honey? Did you find the boxers, along with the shirt and shorts, in my third drawer?"

Not amused, Pete slugged him again.

In an odd way, Sam was proud of him. Pete was a man, and apparently he'd listened to at least a little of what Sam had told him about respecting women.

"This isn't funny," Pete said.

"No, I don't suppose it is." Sam wondered how the situation could get any worse. He found out when his neighbor, Hesper, and her bloated bulldog poked their heads though the open front door.

First family and now friends. You'd think he was throwing a party, rather than debauching one very sexy, too young, slightly ex-virgin.

Emotions ran through him, guilt, regret … and overwhelming tenderness. He would have liked more time with her, but it appeared his time had just run out.

Chapter Five

"Everything okay, Sam?"

Before turning, Sam closed his eyes and said a quick prayer that some brilliant explanation would come to him.

His mind remained blank. "Hello Hesper." She was still in her housecoat and slippers, curlers in her hair. "What has you up so early—given you were also up late?"

"I saw the young lady's car was still here and then your brother was pounding on the door and… Is there any way we can help?"

"No." Sam edged toward the door, trying to block the stairs with his body before Hesper noted Ariel. "Everything is fine. Pete's just visiting, that's all."

His efforts were in vain. The damn bulldog barked, Hesper looked up, and she spotted Ariel. "Oh my. Are you all right, sweetie? Sam told us what happened."

Pete stepped forward, aghast at such a possibility. "Just how much did my brother tell you?"

"Why, everything. That she's a dear family friend who he cares about and that she'd been mugged and was upset so he brought her home to make her feel safe for the night."

Ariel choked, coughing and gasping. Pete just stared at Sam.

A smile locked firmly in place, Sam took Hesper's arm and nudged her back out onto the porch. "Everything's fine here, Hesper, really. I promise it is. But thank you for your concern."

"That's what neighbors are for." Regretfully, she made her way to the steps and the bulldog lumbered along in their wake. "Oh Sam?" She turned to give him a coy smile.

"Yeah, Hesper?"

"If Booth looked as good in his drawers as you do, I believe I'd burn all his breeches."

Sam grinned. "Why thank you, Hesper."

"My pleasure," she said, and then to herself as she walked away, "Indeed it is."

Still grinning, Sam shut the door and turned to find his brother breathing fire and Ariel standing nervously beside him.

"I thought you told her I was a prostitute."

She sounded disappointed, and Sam shrugged, only to have Pete grab his arm and whip him around. "What's this about a prostitute?"

"Nothing. I was only teasing Ariel."

Pete's dark eyes, so much like their father's, narrowed with contempt. "Looks to me like you did a sight more than tease her."

"Pete!" Ariel tried to step between the two men. They didn't let her so she settled on poking Pete with her finger. "This is none of your business, Pete Watson. Now knock it off."

"I presume," Pete said, looking between the two of them, "that a wedding will be planned for the near future?"

Sam almost fell on his ass. "A wedding?" Good God, surely Ariel didn't expect… He cast an appalled glance her way.

She stared back, white-faced and mute, her mouth pinched.

"You heard me." Pete crossed his arms, every line of his body filled with unwavering resolve. "I told you last night how Ariel felt about this sort of thing."

Yeah, he'd known. And rather than dissuade him, the fact of her virginity had been an impossible lure. His basic nature was such that the idea of being the first—the only?—had driven him well beyond common sense, gallantry, and self-survival. He'd had to have her.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, well maybe she's changed her mind about it. Did you think of that?"

They both turned to Ariel. At that moment, she appeared so small, so lost and alone and wounded, Sam's stomach twisted into a knot of indescribable pain. He started to reach out for her, intent only on offering comfort, but she backed away from him.

Chin lifted, she whispered, "Maybe I have." Just a few minutes ago, she'd been playing, smiling, and prancing around naked to drive him wild. She'd looked happy, and now… Now she'd shut down, her eyes flat, empty. Sam could have thrown his brother out for ruining the pleasant, no-pressure mood she'd enjoyed before his arrival.

They all stood frozen, uncomfortable and unsure what to say or do next; then Gil's voice intruded. "Damn, I expected to find you in bed, Sam, not holding court in the foyer."

"Gil?" Sam turned to his brother, took in his beat-down, haggard expression and stormed forward with concern. "What's going on? I thought you were out of town."

"I just got home." He handed Sam his briefcase and dropped back against the wall. His tie hung loose around his neck and his shirtsleeves were rolled up past his forearms. He looked fatigued, both mentally and physically. "I checked my messages and then … I dunno. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just came here."

Pete crowded closer. "What's happened? Is something wrong with the company?"

Ariel had backed up so far, Gil didn't even notice her. "No, the company is fine. But it seems I have a problem." He paused, looking much struck, then laughed hoarsely, without any real humor. "Well, no, that's probably not the best way to put it. Perhaps a surprise is more like it. A life-altering surprise."

Sam's middle brother was by far the most staid of the three, serious where Pete was playful, calm where Sam was turbulent. He had a great head for business and he wasn't prone to melodrama.

Sam was more than mildly alarmed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Gil?"

Gil's brown eyes—so much like Pete's, identical to their father's—were bloodshot. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I got a call from a young lady who lives in Atlanta. You remember I handled some business there right after Dad passed away? Well, it seems…" He swallowed, closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. "It seems I'm a father."

* * *

Sam hadn't seen her for a week, though God knew it wasn't from lack of trying.

But now, here, was not a good time to run into her.

He'd tried calling and repeatedly got her machine. She hadn't bothered to return any of his calls. He'd even dropped by that fancy boutique where she worked, only to be told by one of her coworkers that she'd taken an impromptu vacation.

When he couldn't find her at her apartment either, no matter how long he stood in the hallway knocking, he finally decided she really was on a vacation. Maybe she'd gone out of town. Maybe she wasn't upset. Maybe she didn't even care about how their night together had ended.

She might well be off partying it up and having a blast—while he was smothering in guilt and worry.

But that last look on her face had continued to eat at him. He wanted to talk to her, to make sure she was all right.

After Gil dropped his bomb on them, Sam had been so floored he'd almost forgotten about her. The brothers had all milled to the kitchen for seats and caffeine, which was their normal routine whenever a situation arose that had to be dealt with. Sam had assumed Ariel would follow. Only she hadn't.

He'd turned, expecting to bump into her, and her absence struck him like a sucker punch to the gut. He'd rushed back to the front door in time to see her little yellow car disappearing past the corner stop sign. She hadn't said good-bye. She hadn't said anything after letting him off the hook with that shaky, whispered, "Maybe I have."

She'd just stood there, silent and hurt.

Given Gil's disclosure, Pete hadn't questioned Sam too much when he'd returned to the kitchen, fallen into a chair, and announced that Ariel had gone home. Gil had looked at him funny, but Pete had said, "We'll talk about that later."

Later hadn't arrived yet, since Sam was avoiding Pete—much like he assumed Ariel was avoiding him. Except… She'd just walked in, and again, she sat at the bar.

This time she wore sinfully tight dark blue jeans and a flowing white blouse with a ruffle at the neck and long sleeves. She had her curls contained in a French braid and wore white sandals.

She looked so feminine and sexy, his heart lurched at the sight of her. Other body parts followed suit.

Because she didn't so much as glance his way, Sam couldn't see her face.

"Hey, I saw you get your ass beat down at Freddie's." The laughing comment was accompanied by a gust of sour alcohol breath.

Sam looked up into the grizzled, bearded face of an older man, maybe in his fifties, reeking of booze and ready to join him at the small round table. Damn. The last thing he needed was a real drunk that he'd have to protect. Trying to sound both slurred and surly, Sam said, "Ain't been to Freddie's."

The guy laughed and flopped into the seat opposite Sam.

"Sure ya have. I seen ya. Two cops came along and saved your ass, though."

When Sam ignored him, putting all his concentration on his glass of whiskey, the man snickered.

"You were prob'ly too drunk to remember."

"Maybe." Sam kicked back the whiskey, suddenly needing it, appreciating the burn as it went down. Please, he thought, please don't get involved in this, Ariel. He had a hard enough time keeping her out of his head without having her close while he tried to work.

He glanced up, so did she, but she looked through him as if not recognizing him at all, then went back to smiling and talking to the young man beside her. Sam wasn't sure whether he should be disgruntled or relieved.

He definitely wanted to escort her out, away from the men vying for her attention and those leering at her, away from where he had a job to do. Away … to maybe someplace private where he could touch her again.

His hands curled into fists.

Unwilling to test her patience or his possessive nature, Sam pulled out his wallet—again well fattened with bills—and put money on the table. In the two hours he'd been sitting in the bar, he'd noted several possible suspects, but there was one man in particular he thought might bite. He'd watched Sam with a type of greedy anger that made Sam edgy. With any luck, the guy would follow Sam out, and Ariel would not.

To the drunk who'd joined him at his small table, Sam tipped a nonexistent hat. "I gotta go while I still can."

"Yeah, yeah sure. You be careful, now."

Without answering, Sam stumbled toward the door, ran himself into the doorframe with a curse, then continued bumbling on until he was across the street on the opposite walk.

Even though it was midnight, the temperature hadn't dropped much and the hot night air washed over him, making him sweat with both anticipation and disgust. Anticipation because he sensed they were close to finding an end to this particular assignment, and disgust because he was sick and tired of swilling whiskey and listening to drunken fools grouse and rumble as they wasted their money on drink.

There were plenty of things he'd rather be doing—and most of them centered around Ariel, no matter how he tried to fight his feelings.

He'd be damn glad to finish the paperwork on this one. Maybe then he could get his head clear.

He was thinking of her, not paying any real attention while making his way to the designated spot where his backup would be able to see him. His mind was filled with thoughts of her stretched out on his bed, teasing him, taunting him, pushing him past his control—and then a sudden flash of movement came into his peripheral vision and Sam's reflexes took over. He ducked and took a pace to the right.

A heavy pipe crashed into the brick wall where Sam's head would have been, chipping the wall and reverberating with a loud clang. Sam dropped and rolled, barely getting out of the way of a sharp knife blade that sliced toward him. He came up on the balls of his feet, battle ready, poised to move.

Two of them! Not just the man who'd been watching him, but also the drunk who'd joined him at his table. Shit. A set up and he'd totally missed it. His senses went on alert and adrenaline rushed through him. He said, "You picked the wrong guy," and he laughed just to taunt them.

Outraged, the bigger man with the pipe lunged forward. His cover was already blown, leaving no purpose to his pretense of drunkenness. Sam went on the attack.

Eyes locked on the assailant, he judged his next move, feigned right to dodge the pipe and turned with his elbow raised, delivering a solid clip to the chin that sent the man to his knees. A boot to the belly finished the job, and the pipe fell from the man's hand with a clatter.

Sam heard the swooshing sound too late. He jumped, but not fast enough to get completely out of the way. The lethal edge of a knife sliced through his shirt along his shoulder and across to his side, not going deep but making him grit his teeth with the awful burn. A warm flow of blood trickled down his back.

Sam whirled, saw the bearded man had drawn back his arm to strike again, and he kicked him hard in the knee. Something broke and the man crumbled, for the moment, immobilized.

This particular night, Fuller and Isaac were on shift with Sam again and they ran onto the scene shouting orders. "About time," Sam complained.

Isaac cuffed the biggest of the two men. Fuller radioed for an ambulance and backup. Seeing he was no longer needed, Sam slumped forward, his hands on his knees while he sucked in air.

The exhilarating rush of adrenaline faded, along with his normal strength. Sam felt shaky and pissed off and so damn weak his knees wanted to give out. Then he saw Ariel standing across the street and he slowly straightened, revived by a new emotion. She had her arms around herself, her bottom lip in her teeth, and her face was etched with fear.

They stared at each other until Fuller said, "Jesus, Sam. We got here as quick as we could, but it wasn't quick enough, was it?"

He felt Fuller's hand on his arm, dragging him down to sit on the curb. Sam's vision swam a little, making Ariel weave in and out of his sight. "Ariel?"

Fuller looked up, saw her, and yelled, "Hey, c'mere, Miss. I need you." Then to Sam, "Just breathe, damn it. She's coming."

Though she'd looked as still and pale as a statue up to that point, the second Fuller called her name she dashed forward. Fuller took off his shirt and folded it. "Hang on, Sam. The paramedics are on their way."

"Yeah?" He didn't take his gaze off Ariel's rapid, wild-eyed approach. When she was near, he reached up a hand and she clutched it in both of hers. "What for? I didn't do any real damage to them. Just didn't want them creeping away."

Fuller snorted. "They'll both be fine, minus a working bone or two, but you're bleeding like a stuck pig. The bastard got you. Jesus man, I'm sorry." He pulled up Sam's shirt, cursed again and pressed his folded shirt against the wound.

Ariel was so silent, Sam couldn't stand it. "Sweetheart?"

Big tears swam in her eyes and she gulped. "What?"

"I'm amazed." He would have liked to have more conviction in his voice, but even to his own ears he sounded weak and raspy, damn it. "I didn't know you could show such considerable restraint."

Not quite so pale now, she dropped to her knees in front of him. "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't interfere."

"No, of course not." She tried to pull her hand free. "Let me see your back, Sam."

He held tight. "Fuller's taking care of it."

"But…" Her voice shook.

"You stood off to the side like a good civilian instead of playing my White Knight. I'm impressed, really I am."

She frowned at him, shook her hand free and crawled behind him. "Ohmigod."

"It looks worse than it is," Sam told her.

"You can't even see it," she snapped back.

Sam laughed.

An ambulance's siren sounded in the distance, nearly drowning out Ariel as she said, with renewed calm, "You're a condescending, patronizing bastard, Sam Watson. The way you fight … well, I didn't think you needed my help. You fight dirty."

"But despite all that, you love me anyway?" He waited, breath held, his heart aching much worse than his back did. Fuller whistled low.

As if trying to offer comfort, Ariel kept smoothing his shoulder. She stayed so close to him, Sam could smell her sweet soft scent. Then she whispered, "Yeah, I love you."

Sam's eyes closed. "I suppose that's only fair."

"What does that mean?"

But Sam couldn't do anything other than concentrate on not passing out like a girl. The ambulance raced onto the scene. Paramedics swarmed around him, gently moving Ariel aside and working efficiently over both him and the man he'd struck in the knee.

Within moments, they helped Sam to his feet. He saw Ariel wringing her hands and he whispered, "Come to the hospital with me. We need to talk."

"Sam…"

"Fuller, make sure she—"

Ariel huffed. "I'll be there, all right?"

Both Sam and Fuller smiled at her worried, waspish tone. Then he was inside the ambulance and they shut the doors and Sam couldn't see her anymore. He let out a long shuddering groan of intense pain.

It had been a real bitch holding it in.

* * *

Ariel waited with a crowd of Sam's family in the emergency room. They'd been notified by Fuller, who'd stopped in to see that Sam would be all right before getting back to his shift. The family had shown up minutes later, rushing in like a small battalion.

The nurse had promised them all that it was a mere flesh wound. Yes it required numerous stitches, would indeed leave a scar, but he really, truly was fine. She'd even smiled, bobbed her eyebrows, and stressed the word fine, when she said it, making Ariel want to smack her. They were stitching him up and he'd be ready in no time.

And then what? Ariel wondered.

Pete continually paced, but then Pete was young enough and energetic enough that he seldom managed to be still anyway, even when he wasn't worried.

Gil sprawled in a chair sipping a cup of coffee and staring blankly off into space. Ariel assumed his mind might be divided between thoughts of his brother and his new responsibilities as a parent.

Sam's mother, Belinda, sat beside Ariel, pretending to read a mystery novel while fretting nervously.

Ariel put her head in her hands.

"He really is okay," Belinda said to her. She patted Ariel's knee, and Ariel could hear the amusement in her tone—a tone so like Sam's. Apparently, it wasn't only his mother's bright blue eyes that Sam had inherited.

Ariel nodded, but didn't uncover her face. She felt exposed, sitting with all these people who now, thanks to Pete, knew she was in love with Sam.

Gil had amazed her, giving her a big hug and saying, "Fate is the damndest thing, isn't it?" Ariel wasn't certain if he meant her predicament in loving his brother, or his current state of fatherhood.

Pete kept grumbling, saying, "I hate that he's so bull-headed and aloof and damn it, he deserves to be settled."

Belinda patted Ariel again. "Are you really so worried? Sam's tough you know. This won't be the last time he gets hurt, so you ought to get used to it."

Ariel finally gave up the dubious privacy of her hands and lifted her face. "I probably shouldn't be here."

"And why not?"

Because I told Sam I loved him but he didn't tell me anything of the kind. Ariel shrugged. "I'm not family."

A commotion came from the room where they'd taken Sam, making Ariel's heart lurch until the nurse appeared, pushing Sam in a wheelchair.

"It's hospital rules," the nurse insisted, "so just be quiet and sit still."

"It's a stupid rule and I do not need a damn wheelchair. There's not a single thing wrong with my legs and—"

Belinda stood. "Be quiet, Sam."

He shut down in an instant, but he still looked belligerent. Until he spotted Ariel. "You waited."

Belinda didn't give her a chance to answer. "Well, of course she waited. What a stupid thing to say. Now, let's go. We'll all take you home first and make certain you're settled and then I need to get to my bed. I have church early and as it is I'm not going to get enough sleep."

Ariel would have been shocked by Belinda's tone except that she'd already seen how Belinda hid her mothering behind a gruff show that made it easier for her sons to accept.

En masse, they exited the hospital, Belinda leading the charge, followed by the nurse pushing Sam, then his two brothers talking quietly together.

Feeling like an interloper, Ariel inched along behind them.

At Belinda's minivan, Sam shoved himself awkwardly out of the chair before anyone could assist him, and stood to look around for Ariel. He looked desperate for escape. The nurse gave up and went away, grousing to herself.

Sam stared at Ariel. "Did you drive?"

She nodded, cleared her throat, and said, "Yes."

"Good." He gave his mother a fast kiss on the cheek. "I'm going with Ariel."

Pete said, full of laconic insistence, "Oh no. I'm coming with you then."

Gil shrugged. "I'll drive Mom."

Belinda wasn't having it. "I'll drive my own car, thank you, and Pete, you're coming with me." She smiled at Ariel. "We'll meet you at his house, dear, all right?"

Ariel found herself nodding before she could give good thought to other possible responses. Sam had said he wanted to talk, but whatever he had to say … well, she wasn't ready to hear it yet. A week of trying to prepare herself hadn't gotten her ready.

Muttering under his breath, Sam took her arm and said, "Where the hell's your car? Never mind, I see it." And then, just to be ornery, she was sure, he added, "It's kind of hard to miss."

And Pete said from behind him, evil intent lacing every word, "Yeah, ain't it, though? Even in the dark, and even when you're in a hurry with other things on your mind." With that cryptic remark, he crawled into the backseat of the mini-van and slammed the door, leaving Sam to scowl at him in confusion.

Ariel fretted and worried as Sam crossed the lot and eased himself into her car. Plenty of bandages padded his back, but he still looked mighty uncomfortable as he tried to get his seat belt fastened.

She leaned over him. "Let me."

Sam stared into her face, only inches from his, while she pulled the belt over and hooked it around him as gently as possible. She tried not to look at him, but when she started to settle back into her own seat, he caught her. They were nearly nose to nose.

Sam leaned forward and kissed her. "I missed you."

"You did?"

He searched her face and nodded. "Let's go. The sooner I deal with my family, the sooner I can have you alone."

Ariel didn't know what to make of that, but she did as he said, driving slowly and trying to avoid any bumps.

Sam watched her, his gaze unwavering, setting her on edge. "I'm sorry you had to see that," he finally said.

Ariel glanced at him, then brought her attention back to the road. "You move so fast."

"I didn't have much choice. It was move or get stabbed." She gasped and he rushed to say, "But it didn't happen because I can handle myself. And it worked out for the best. The big guy, the one with the pipe? Fuller says he started spilling his guts, looking to cut a deal, as soon as he got him alone in the cruiser. Seems the other man, the old geezer who sliced me, he's the one who ran the show. By now Isaac and Fuller should have all the info they need."

Relief washed over Ariel. "I'm glad that's done then."

Sam gave her a long look. "I'm still undercover though, babe. There'll be other jobs."

"I know."

He waited as if he expected her to say more, but what else was there to say? Sam loved his job and he excelled at it. He was a cop through and through. That wouldn't change.

When they reached his house, they found his family congregated on the front porch along with Hesper, Booth, and the elderly bulldog. Sam groaned. "Jesus, can't a man find any peace?"

"They care about you."

"Yeah, well they could care about me tomorrow instead." He gave her another searching look, and seemed annoyed when she turned away. But she just couldn't bear it.

She'd meant to leave him alone, to let him get beyond his brother's ridiculous insistence on marriage. Then she'd hoped to go to him, to see if he wanted to continue seeing her, no strings attached. Despite what she'd originally told herself, she'd rather have Sam any way she could, than not at all.

Her trip to the bar had been impromptu, one last-ditch effort to get her mind off him for a few minutes.

And fate had stuck her in the same bar where he was working.

She'd been heartsick at the first sight of him, then terrified because she knew what would happen, why he was there. In a dozen different ways, loving Sam was going to be tough.

Sam didn't say anything else as he grunted and groaned his way out of the car. His family merely stood back, watching his progress without offering help. They seemed to know how he felt about assistance—not that Ariel gave a hoot. She took his arm and led him along the walkway that had thankfully been swept clean.

After helping him up to the porch, Ariel took his keys from him and opened his front door, but Sam didn't go in. He put his arm heavily around her and turned to face his family and neighbors. To Ariel, he looked pale and pained and her worry escalated.

Until he said, "I'm fine and while I thank you all for your concern, I'd really like to speak to Ariel. Alone."

Ariel felt her face turn bright red. Now they all knew that he was going to read her the riot act for being in the wrong bar at the wrong time again. Odds were, he'd tell her she had no place in his life, too.

Pete crossed his arms. "Got wedding plans to make?"

Ariel gasped at such a ludicrous comment. "Pete Watson, that is enough."

"No, it's not," Sam told her, and his arm tightened. He looked very put out with her attitude. "I'd like to explain about the other morning…"

"There's nothing to explain," she assured him, unwilling to have him forced into saying things he shouldn't have to say, especially with an audience. "I told you, I'm an adult. I knew what I was doing."

"What'd she do?" Booth asked his wife in confusion, and Hesper said, "You don't remember our youth?"

"Ahh." Booth gave a toothy grin. "No wonder the boy's riled."

Belinda shook her head at Ariel. "Let him explain, dear. This might prove interesting."

Sam glared, but none of them budged. "I suppose you all want to hear it?"

Gil said, "I know I do. Hell, I need a distraction."

"Fine." He turned to Ariel and cupped her face. She couldn't look away from the earnestness in his beautiful blue eyes. "I can't bear the thought of you being hurt."

Misunderstanding his meaning, Ariel swallowed, then tried to reassure him. "I'll be fine, Sam. You don't owe me anything." And to try to prove that, she added, "I'm sorry we ended up at the same bar again, but Duluth isn't exactly a hotbed of social outlets. My choices were pretty limited and I promise it was an accident."

Very slowly, the pain seemed to leave him and he stiffened. "What were you doing there, then?"

Ariel took a step away from that gritting tone. "I wasn't trying to watch over you. I promise."

Her assurances only annoyed him more. "Then why?"

She glanced around at the rapt faces of their audience. No one looked ready to intervene and rescue her, so she scowled and thrust her chin up. "I was there to … well to be sure again."

His face went blank, then turned red and angry. "Damn it, Ariel. I thought you were already sure."

"Don't you dare yell at me, Sam. I've had a rough enough week as it is."

He drew a slow breath, gathering himself. "I'm sorry."

Her shoulders drooped. "It's not your fault. I was the pushy one."

"I don't mean that."

Pete laughed. "No, he definitely doesn't mean that."

"Shut up, Pete."

Still grinning, Pete said, "You should be thanking me, you know. I'm the one who got her there in the first place."

Sam and Ariel turned to stare at him. "How's that?" Sam demanded to know.

"Why, I got a new girlfriend, that's how. I finally realized she was waiting for me to do that."

Ariel's brows shot up. "You knew?"

He snorted. "Everyone saw you two ogling each other."

Gil and Belinda nodded.

"You fought it, Sam, I'll give you that. But any time I brought her around, you watched her more than I did."

"I did not."

"Yes you did, Son," Belinda told him. "The poor girl couldn't blink without you noting it."

Hesper laughed. "If it was anything like the way he looks at her now, I'm surprised she didn't go up in flames."

Exasperated, Sam rubbed his face, then suddenly stiffened. His hands dropped to his sides and he stared at Pete. "You saw her car that night. That's what you meant about it being impossible to miss, even in the dark."

"Of course I saw it." Pete snorted. "Why do you think I told you all that stuff about her? Hell, I don't gossip about women, especially women I love—as friends—so get rid of that evil look, all right? I just wanted you to know up front how she felt about you."

Humiliated beyond all reason, Ariel tried to inch away, anxious to escape. Without looking at her, Sam caught her wrist and kept her at his side. "Then you came back here the next morning and pretended outrage, reading me the riot act like…"

"Like a brother who loves you, yeah. I was trying to make it easy for you to give up, you know, salvage your pride and all that. I figured you could blame me or something since I pretty much figured you hadn't told her that you love her." He elbowed Gil hard. "But Gil here showed up and everything got off track."

Ariel cleared her throat. "Really, none of this is necessary. I don't expect Sam to—"

Sam cast her a look. "Get used to it, honey. They're all pushy as hell, but they're part of the package."

"They are?"

His eyes narrowed. "My house, my rules. Love me, love my family."

Her heart started a furious pounding and she couldn't get a breath. "But…"

Sam gave up with visible bad grace. "I didn't want to involve you in my life, all right? I didn't want you to be at risk for being around me and with me. I didn't want you always worried and afraid." He touched her cheek, and Ariel felt the gentleness, the uncertainty. "You're so soft, Ariel. And so sweet. You aren't cut out for my life."

Belinda scowled. "What am I, chopped liver? I'm your mother and I'm certainly a part of your life. You don't consider me sweet or soft?" The venomous glare she gave her son kept him silent.

Gil and Pete, however, snickered with good humor.

"And don't forget your baby brother." Pete put the back of his hand to his head in a gesture of emotional distress. "I'm traumatized nightly, thinking about all the risks you take. I believe you've stunted my growth."

Since Pete was six-two, his claims were deliberately absurd.

Booth nodded vigorously in agreement. "Poor Hesper here can't sleep at night, listening for young Sam, wanting to make sure he gets home safe and sound." He harrumphed. "Don't see him concerning himself with the likes of us though."

The bulldog barked.

Sam said, "How I feel about Ariel is different, damn it."

With the concise, no-nonsense tone he was known for, Gil said, "Then will you please tell her so? She looks to be in an agony of suspense."

Sam took one look at her, nodded, then faced his family. "I need to sit down. Will you all just leave?" And then just as quickly, "Not you, Ariel."

Pete said, "He still has to propose."

Ariel fried Pete with a look. She would definitely get him later. Couldn't he see that his brother was in pain and not up to all that teasing? "Come on, Sam. I'll help you inside."

Sam allowed her to hug into his uninjured side, attempting to offer him support; then he looked back at his family and grinned. "Bye."

His mother said, "We'll leave, but I expect to hear from you in the morning."

Sam nodded. "Ariel or I, one will give you a call." And then he stepped inside and kicked the door shut. "Peace, at last."

"Are you all right?"

"Getting better by the minute." Then: "Upstairs, babe. I need to lie down."

"Oh, Sam." Her worry was a live thing, but Sam went up the steps without too much help from her and once in his room, he lowered himself painfully to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Will you help me get my clothes off?" When she stared at him, he said, "I want to lie down."

"Oh. Yes of course."

"I'm not hurt that bad, but the loss of blood…"

She went pale and rushed to get him out of the shirt Gil had brought up to the hospital for him. Snowy white gauze wrapped diagonally over his dark, powerful chest, from his right shoulder to beneath his left arm, covering him front and back. Ariel touched her hand to her mouth and just knew she was going to cry.

Sam kicked out of his shoes, then stood. "My pants?"

She shook herself. The last thing Sam needed now was a whining, weepy, overly emotional woman on his hands. The way he held his right arm, it had to be hurting him. "Of course."

Going to her knees, Ariel stripped off his socks and reached for the fly to his slacks. He was hard. Her gaze snapped up to his.

He grinned. "Hey, you're on your knees in front of me, sweetheart, ready to take off my pants. What did you expect?"

She'd missed him so much, and loved him more than that. She just couldn't take his teasing right now. "You're hurt, damn it. Be serious." Shaking now, Ariel pulled his pants down over his hips and Sam stepped out of them.

His hand touched the top of her head. "You've been avoiding me for a week, Ariel. I finally have you here, alone in my bedroom. Believe me, I'm taking this very seriously." Wearing only his underwear—and that tented—he sat in the bed and leaned carefully back against a pillow on the headboard. He let out a long sigh. "Now strip off your clothes and get into bed with me."

Her stomach flip-flopped. "Sam…"

"My house, my rules."

His voice was gentle, but his gaze burned and Ariel felt a smile twitch on her mouth. "Your rules are ridiculous and you know it. There's no way you're up to … that."

"That?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking."

"I'm thinking that I need to hold you, and I'm thinking you're more inclined to say yes if you're naked in bed with me.

"Yes about what?"

He stared at her a long moment, then, in the softest, most uncertain tone she'd ever heard from him, he said, "About whether or not you'll marry me."

Her mouth fell open. "Sam?"

He scowled, rallying forth arguments. "Look at it this way, if you marry me you get to change some of the rules because it'll be your house, too."

Happiness bubbled up, swelled until Ariel felt ready to burst. Watching his face, her own wide smile in place, she stripped off her clothes and climbed in beside him. Sam urged her close to his left side, shifted until he was comfortable, then said, "Now, tell me you love me again. It's the truth, I need to hear it."

"I love you, Sam."

He groaned, hugged her as tightly as he could, considering he was hurt, and kissed her hair. "I love you, too, Ariel. So much that I don't think I could take it if you didn't marry me. At first … well, I hate to admit it, but I was as fretful as an old woman."

"If you said that to your mother, she'd bop you on the head."

He smiled. "I don't like the thought of you worrying about me when I'm at work, and I absolutely can't stand the thought of you showing up where I am, maybe interfering and putting yourself at risk."

"As long as I know where you're at and what you're doing, I won't get in your way."

"And you won't worry?"

"There's absolutely nothing I can do about the worry, Sam. I love you." She gently touched the front of his bandages. "You're a good cop—"

"A great cop."

She laughed. "And you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. But I'll still worry. You'll just have to accept that."

"I'll accept it," he growled, "if you'll agree to marry me."

"I'll marry you."

"Thank God." They fell silent for a long moment, holding each other, Ariel with her hand over his heart. She thought he might have dozed, but then he said, "About those rules? There's only one you can't tamper with, okay?"

Ariel twisted to smile up at him. He looked rugged, wounded, and horny. She laughed. "And which rule is that?"

"The one about being naked at breakfast. I've decided I like that rule, and starting every day off with a view of your sweet backside … well, know that you're stuck with me forever, okay?"

Ariel grinned. "As long as it goes both ways. And that, Officer, is my rule."