Blood. It was the only thing she could think, the only thing she could see. It contrasted vividly against the white carpet of Phil Moretti’s executive office. Anthony Gallo lay bleeding to death on the floor in front of her. Horrified but trying to be brave, she left the bathroom where she’d been hiding and went to him.

His head had moved slightly; words and blood spilled from his mouth. “Run, Lola.”

“I’ll call someone.” She grasped his hand in panicky fingers.

“No. I’m dead already. You have to run.” He pressed a digital recorder into her hand. “Go.”

“I can’t leave you like this. I can’t.”

“Run, damn you.”

* * * *

Lola bolted upright in bed and drew in a ragged breath. She took in all four walls of her studio apartment in one swift glance, looked at the door and relaxed. Pushing aside the covers, she crawled from the single bed and walked into the tiny closet that served as the bathroom. The reflection of her face in the mirror gave her no illusions. She looked like what she was, a woman who’d been on the run for a year. Her hair needed trimming, her skin was dull, and her full lips were prominent on her face. Brushing fingers that used to be soft over the dark circles under her eyes, she wondered if she’d ever be safe.

The Zodiac Hotel and Casino was her past; today she was Mandy Barrister. Sweet, unaffected Mandy Barrister who worked two shifts a day waiting tables, flirted with the customers, and never took more than a tip. Her boss would have told you she was a model employee, if you could get him to admit she worked for him.

She’d worked at Sid’s Café in downtown Chicago for three months, off the books. One look at her face and hard-hearted Sid would have agreed to anything. He figured she was running from an ex-husband or lover. Little did he know that she was running from a mobster named Phil Moretti. Maybe he would have still hired her, but Lola didn’t take chances. She’d stuck to the same story with every city she’d been in. It was easier to answer to now; a part of her could almost forget that she wasn’t Mandy Barrister from Miami.

* * * *

“Hey, what’s your sign?”

Lola turned and grinned. “Oscar, that line is a bit outdated.”

Oscar tapped his newspaper. “Come on, play a little.”

She topped off his coffee and replied with a smile. “I’m a Cancer.”

Oscar ran his finger down the column of the paper. “Let’s see... ah... sounds good. With the sun rising in your house, romance is in the air. A man will enter your life and take your problems for his. Sit back and enjoy. He’ll be a keeper.” He grinned. “See, it’s in the stars, Mandy, so when are you going to run away with me?”

She offered him a friendly smile, cleared his area of the counter efficiently, and pretended to think over his offer. “Oscar, you’ve got grandchildren older than me!”

Lola pocketed tips from two other place settings along the counter. Sid’s Café was small and chic; it catered to both the young and the old. Lola moved around the renovated streetcar easily, working and making the money she would need to disappear again. The customers flirted, but never went too far. They knew better than to hassle a waitress at Sid’s.

She was twenty minutes into a ten-hour shift, and already her feet where starting to ache. Though if she were honest with herself, her feet hadn’t really stopped hurting from her last shift. Taking the opportunity to rest, she leaned against the counter and watched the tables that were still occupied. “Sid, I don’t know how you talked me into the graveyard shift.”

Sid grinned. “I can always count on you, kid. Money talks.”

She nodded and chewed her gum thoughtfully. “So, what’s up Sid?”

He was nervous and had been since she’d walked through the door. “I think it’s time you moved on.”

Lola’s swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there was a man here passing around your picture. ‘Cept he wasn’t calling you Mandy. Gotta figure your man’s catching up with you.”

She forced herself to remain still and calm. “What did you tell him?”

“That I didn’t know you, but I think he’ll be back. I don’t lie worth a damn.”

She knew that, in fact, everyone knew Sid couldn’t lie to save his own skin. It was one reason she trusted him, and had trusted him the five months she’d been in Chicago.

“What did he look like?”

“Like a cop or an ex-cop working on the side.” Sid sighed. “Look, kid are you in legal trouble?”

Sucking in a deep breath, she met Sid’s gaze. “No. I didn’t break any laws.”

“Are you in the kind of trouble that could get you killed?”

She wanted to lie, but didn’t. “Yes.”

* * * *

“Sid, she’s a beautiful woman. I can see how you’d want to protect her.”

Sid sat back in the booth and studied the man in front of him. “She’s a good and decent woman. I told you she’s gone. She left after I told her you’d been here.”

“You told me this morning that you’d never seen her before,” Jared snapped and then rubbed his face. “She’s in trouble, serious trouble. If I don’t catch up with her first she’s going to be killed.”

“She’s gone. I don’t know where she is.”

Jared eyed the man wearily and then reached into his jacket and pulled out his shield. “I’m a U.S. Marshal. Lola Bridges witnessed the murder of my partner. She’s the only witness to his murder. Instead of doing what she could to save him, she ran and I’ll be damned if she’ll let the bastard who killed him get away with it.”

“She isn’t the sort who would let a man die.”

“He bled to death.”

“You don’t know her. I do.”

“You didn’t even know her real name until I showed up.” Jared ground out between clenched teeth and then left the booth. “If you care about her, you’ll tell me where she’s going. I want justice; the other men searching for her just want her blood.”

He turned away from Sid and started to leave. A pair of curious eyes followed him so closely that he paused and walked back to the older man. “Good evening.”

“You scared our Mandy off,” Oscar muttered. “Don’t know if I want to talk to you.”

“Her real name is Lola.” Jared slipped up onto a stool beside him. “She was a showgirl.”

Oscar chuckled at Jared’s unintentional reference to the song. “Yes. She’s a beautiful woman.”

“You knew?”

“Yep, saw her three or four times in Vegas. I even saw her first show as a headliner. When I came in here and saw her behind the counter, my poor old heart nearly gave out.”

“There is a three-hundred thousand dollar reward for her capture,” Jared said in shock.

Oscar snorted. “Damned insulting if you ask me. A woman like that? Hell, maybe a million.”

Jared couldn’t help but laugh. “I see.”

Oscar straightened out his paper. “What’s your sign?”

Jared glanced at the paper. “Scorpio.”

“Oh yeah? Sex god of the Zodiac...” He tapped the paper. “Fate will play on the path of your life and give you the only gift that matters. Cherish it and be happy.”

Grinning, Jared slid off the stool. “Only thing I’m interested in crossing on my path is a long-legged showgirl from Texas.”

* * * *

Lola zipped up her duffel bag, grabbed her teddy bear, and took one last look around the apartment she’d been living in for four months. It hadn’t been a bad place, far better than some of the places she’d ended up. Shaking aside weariness, she shouldered the bag and walked quickly toward to the door before she could give into the urge to get some sleep.

A banging fist connected with the door before she could reach it, and she stumbled backward, startled. Grimacing at the crashing lamp, she stilled as the fist banged again. “U.S. Marshal, open the door.”

Lola tightened her grip on the teddy bear and hurried across the small space to the window. She had the window up far enough to squeeze out of it when the man broke through the flimsy excuse of a door she considered her protection. Cursing the small space, she gripped the bars of the fire escape and pulled hard.

The man grabbed her by the ankle and jerked her back into the room as if she weighed nothing and tossed her on her back. Startled, she was still for an instant, then she kicked out against him and sent him sprawling. Grabbing the bear and the bag, she made a run for the door. He tackled her and they both hit the floor with a dull thud.

Holding her down, he straddled her hips and glared. “You are under arrest for obstruction of justice, depraved indifference to human life, and for generally pissing me off.”

Lola struggled under him. “Get off me, bastard.”

“Resisting arrest isn’t going to add to your less-than-sterling image in my book.”

“Do you have a badge or do you physically abuse strange women like this for kicks?”

Jerking her roughly upward, so they were eye to eye. “You are no stranger to me, Lola.”

“Badge,” Lola ground out through her teeth.

“We’re both going to get up and you aren’t going to try to run.”

Lola nodded and grimaced when he stood and pulled her up with him. With a less than gentle shove, he pushed her into a chair and tossed his badge in her lap.

Lola wet her lips as she opened the badge case and stared. “Jared Copeland.” She glanced at her door, which was half-open. He took the nonverbal clue and walked to the door to shut it.

Carefully, she closed the case and handed it to him.

“I’m not guilty of anything you are trying to arrest me for.”

“You are Lola Bridges.”

“Yes.”

“You witnessed the murder of U.S. Marshal John Castor in August of last year. You were seen leaving the Zodiac Hotel and Casino, and are currently number one on Phil Moretti’s hit list. You tell me if I missed anything.”

“His name was John?” Lola asked softly. “He was nice to me, didn’t try to get too friendly. A lot of the other security men were just waiting to cop a feel.”

“John Castor. He was married and his wife gave him a son six days after she buried him.” Jared sucked in a breath. “You left him to die.”

“There was nothing I could do,” Lola finally said. “I was in the bathroom when Phil and another man entered the office...” She trailed off. She could tell that nothing she said would matter to him. “I’m not going to testify.”

“You’ll testify or you’ll go to jail.”

“Anthony was shot...” She closed her eyes and corrected herself. “John had eight bullets in him.”

“One.”

“Eight,” Lola responded in hard voice. “Trust me. The sound of each one of them being fired will be me with me for the rest of my life.”

“Get your bag. We’re leaving.”

Lola stood and walked to the bag. She picked up the teddy bear with shaking hands. “I thought if someone caught up with me, it would be better if it was law enforcement.” She looked at him then. “But in the end, I guess it didn’t matter. You want me dead just as much as they do. At least they’re honest about it.”

* * * *

He didn’t want her dead. Jared glanced toward her briefly before concentrating on the road. She was pressed up against the door, but had no made no moves to escape him again. Lola was clutching an old and worn teddy bear, her gaze fixed on the dash.

“You should have come to the police immediately.”

Lola snorted. “You aren’t so naïve that you believe that I would have actually been safe with the police?”

Jared gritted teeth. “You watch too much television.”

“Phil had a dozen or more cops on his payroll,” Lola returned. “They were in and out of the casino regularly. It doesn’t matter anyway, the moment he finds out I’m in custody he’ll have me killed.”

“You are my witness, and you’ll stay alive to testify.”

“Be sure to call home and tell your wife how you’d like to be buried.” Lola turned away from him.

“I’m not married and I’m not weak. You’ll stay alive and give John justice. It’s the least you can do for him.”

Lola shook her head. She knew she’d never see the inside of a courtroom. She curled her fingers more deeply into the teddy bear, feeling the sharp edges of the digital device John Castor had given her.

“I don’t think you are weak. John never should have been around a man like Phil.”

“He knew exactly what Phil Moretti was. He was there doing a job.”

“Phil Moretti didn’t shoot John. He just stood and watched while it was done.” Lola looked out the window again. “Phil ordered it. The other man, whom I’d never met, didn’t seem to be all that put out about doing it. Anthony... John was shocked at first. I think he knew the other man.”

Jared’s jaw tightened. “If you’re lying to me...”

“I’ve got no reason to lie,” Lola said simply. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just in the wrong place at the worst possible moment.”

“Why were you in Moretti’s office?”

“I’d opened my first show that night as a headliner. I was so excited. I hadn’t even changed clothes when Phil asked to see me. I was supposed to meet him downstairs, but when he didn’t show I went up to his office. I assumed he wanted to congratulate me and try to talk me into going home with him. He did that on a semi-weekly basis, but didn’t seem to get mad when I said no. I’d heard rumors about him and the casino ... but I was naïve. I couldn’t believe that a sweet little old man like Phil could be with the mob.”

It was Jared’s turn to snort. “You couldn’t have been that stupid.”

“I was.” Lola shrugged. “I was in the bathroom when they came in. I’d left the door open a crack since I was just repairing my make-up. It was important to look good. Phil had a habit of getting rid of girls who got sloppy.” She stopped, realizing that she’d gotten off track.

It was difficult to talk about. She never had before. There had been no one to confide in after she ran. “Anyway, John came in with one of the other security guards, they were talking quietly. Whatever was going down, John didn’t seem nervous.”

“You’d never seen the man that came in with Phil before that night.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t get a clear look at him then either. I only saw his profile once.” She grimaced. “That probably sounds like a lie.”

Jared didn’t say anything. Lola scooted back against the seat and shrugged. It wasn’t a lie. There was no point telling him any more of the story if he wasn’t going to believe her. Disgusted, she shifted and rested her head against the window.

* * * *

Jared waited ten minutes before he realized she wasn’t going to finish the story. “Did Phil give John a reason?”

“No. He dismissed the security guard with John and told the other man that it was time. John seemed confused and then I saw the gun.” Lola swallowed hard. “Everything went very still, and then John shook his head as if he didn’t believe what was going to happen.”

“The man, did Phil say his name?”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “The man said--‘You should have listened.’ Then he shot him. Eight shots.”

“John’s autopsy showed one bullet wound. It was a minor injury. He might have recovered if he hadn’t bled out.”

“Did you see his body?”

Jared paused. “Only in the coffin.”

Lola shrugged. “I was there, I know what I saw. I saw his body jerk with each bullet. He told me he was dead already. He told me to run.”

“And you did.”

“When I was away from the casino, I called the police and told them what I saw.”

“The hell you did,” Jared snapped.

“I called 911 when I got out of the damn casino.” Lola repeated tiredly. “I told them I’d witnessed a shooting and where it happened. They asked my name and I freaked out. I hung up and I’ve been running since.”

She hugged herself briefly as she considered that night. “I may not have known what Phil Moretti was before that night, but I knew what he was afterwards. You don’t get hard like that from an easy life. He stood there, his eyes cool and steady and watched a murder. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it and I doubt it’ll be the last time.”

“The FBI has been trying to drop a net on Phil Moretti for years. He’s always managed to escape charges, only brought him to trial once.”

“I guess that sort of fell through when all of the witnesses died,” Lola muttered dryly.

“There was one witness. His ex-wife, and yes, he had her killed.” Jared cleared his throat.

“US Marshals travel in pairs. Where’s your partner?”

“I refused another partner.” The admission seemed to fill up the car. “I won’t accept another until I’ve done right by John. No one outside the Marshals knows that I have you.”

“Do you trust them?”

“Of course.”

“Then you are a bigger fool than I am.” Lola closed her eyes and turned her head toward the window.

Jared taped his fingers on the steering wheel briefly. He had a thousand more questions. “What happened...”

“I’m tired. I’d like to go to sleep.”

Jared glanced over at her and almost sighed. She’d curled up and was clutching the ratty little stuffed bear as if it was the only thing in her life that mattered. Lola Bridges was not what he’d expected.

* * * *

“No, sir, she hasn’t tried to run.” Jared leaned against the car and eyed the abandoned rest stop. Lola was asleep in the car. She’d slept for hours. “She’s insisting that she won’t testify against Moretti and that he wasn’t even the gunman.”

“Jared, don’t trust this woman. She’s already let one good man die, don’t think for a moment she wouldn’t turn on you, too.”

“I’m watching her.” Jared glanced into the car and sighed. “I’m going to get a room and get some sleep. I’ll check in again when I’m closer.”

“Watch your back. I doubt Moretti’s men are far behind you.”

Jared ended the call and put the cell phone in the pocket of his jacket. Once back in the car, he started the engine. Lola stirred briefly and mumbled in her sleep before she grew still again.

Midnight Hour
Jenna Howard
Prologue

Scorpio watched the party through the rifle’s sight, waiting for the right face and the right moment. Hours had been spent memorizing the photograph; when the moment came, the target would be recognizable. Every intimate detail of Everett’s life was known, right down to the way he liked to screw his high-priced mistress. The man claimed he was in commodities, but he was peddling everything from human flesh--with a penchant for young girls--to drugs, weapons, and information, all to the highest bidder. He was a bleeding wound that needed to be cauterized.

The appearance of a brassy redhead had Scorpio settling into position. Erin Keefe had been Everett’s mistress for three years now. Had the man been thinking with his brain instead of his dick, he would have found a lover who didn’t stand out in a crowd. She was almost as tall as Everett’s six-foot height, was built by the finest plastic surgeons, and had a desire for emeralds the size of golf balls. She was a loud declaration that Everett was nearby. Everett sidled up to his mistress to greet their host, a drug dealer. Scorpio settled the Super Magnum’s crosshairs on the target’s forehead. Inhaling deeply, her finger settled on the trigger. After a slow exhale, her heart rate slowed and Scorpio made the shot.

Even though nine hundred and fifty meters separated the shooter from the party, screams sliced through the still night air. The kill was confirmed. There was no mistaking the splash of gore and gray matter on a pale bodyguard. Rolling away from the rifle, Scorpio stared up at the sky. Another shot, another kill, another stain on the soul. “I’m sorry,” the sniper whispered to the ghosts that never went away.

Scorpio walked away, leaving the weapon behind, and disappeared into the night.

Chapter One

Max Grayson was ready to go home. Nothing bored him as much as schmoozing. He hated people who kissed up because of his name or the money he earned. The novelty of the tux had worn off four hours and fifteen minutes ago. He had done his job. He had bid a ridiculous amount of money on a couple of paintings in the silent auction because it was expected of him, not because he had an undying need to have another oil painting of the Rocky Mountains or a watercolor of the prairies during harvest. Sipping his bourbon, Max wandered around the hotel ballroom. When was it appropriate for the host to go home? He paused at the paintings on display and saw someone had outbid him on the prairie painting. Thank God. Now if someone would bid on the mountains he could go home deliriously happy.

An elegant, bare back caught his attention. He allowed himself a moment to admire delicate shoulders draped in midnight blue silk. The material formed a tempting gathering at the small of her back before cascading to the floor. There was something about a back, with all its smooth skin bared, that turned him into a slavering dog wanting to lick from bottom to top. Light brown hair was pulled up into some feminine twist that made a guy want to unravel it to see where the length reached. Head tilted slightly to the side, she eyed some modern monstrosity that was a lot of colors and slashes.

“You like that kind of shit?” he asked. His mother would be traumatized. One didn’t attend a charity function with Calgary’s elite society and call art ‘shit.’ Even if he owned the hotel. The woman glanced at him and a dark eyebrow arched upwards in regal acknowledgment.

“And if I was the artist?”

She had the heart-shaped face of a cheetah, all angles and planes. The tilt of her grey-blue eyes reminded him of a cat. Sleek and sensual. He wondered what it would take to talk her out of the blue gown. With a flick of his wrists the dress would be a puddle of silk on the floor. “Then I’d apologize by taking you out to dinner.”

Her tongue touched the left peak of her upper lip. “Does that line usually work?”

He tilted his hand from side to side. “What would work for you?”

She flicked a finger at the painting. “You could buy that for me.”

What? Really? Disbelief surged through his blood along with a healthy dose of lust. Max gave the painting another look. Primary colors swooped and coiled in a hideous rainbow tornado. Titled ‘Turbulence,’ Max wondered if it had been painted during a woman’s period and represented PMS, what with the red blob in the center of the storm. He was smart enough to keep that opinion to himself. “You like this? Really?”

“Hmm,” she purred as she traced the neckline that duplicated the back view of her gown, only higher up. His gaze followed her touch. Damn. “I do.”

“What do I get in return?”

She leaned towards him, her lashes lowering over her stormy blue eyes. “My utter devotion.” She winked and walked away. He glanced at the bid written on the paper and felt his lip curl. Someone was willing to spend five hundred bucks on this juvenile depiction of art? Exhaling sharply, Max wrote his name, upping the bid by a hundred and fifty dollars.

“Wow, that must have hurt.”

Rubbing his eyebrow with his finger, Max stared at the woman who had returned with a glass of wine. Damn it, he had missed her. He hadn’t wanted to. Nothing serious they had promised each other when they had started their mild flirtation months ago at his friend Jeff Tamber’s barbecue. Now Mattie was in his blood, haunting him when she was away and making him crave her when she was near. “You have no idea. Now, about your utter devotion bit. Your place or mine?”

* * * *

Max shut the hotel door behind him and looked around the spacious suite. Mattie was one of the few permanent residents in his hotel; a deal she had struck with his father two years before his death last fall. Mattie crossed the hardwood floor to the tiny bar tucked into the corner by the balcony doors. “Can I get you a drink?” She dropped her sparkly purse, barely bigger than his wallet, on top of the bar and glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Bourbon if you have it.” He unbuttoned the front of his tuxedo jacket as he approached her. “Where do you want this?” He lifted the painting, the only one he had acquired from the auction. Personally he wanted to chuck it off the balcony to see what wildlife came along and crapped on it.

She waved a hand and he set it facing forward on the couch. The colors mocked him. She set a glass on the bar, then crouched down to pull a bottle from behind a cupboard built to blend in with the façade of the bar. He admired the way the silk pulled taut over her ass while pooling around her high heels. She was a creature of sensuality. Every move she made was meant to entice and tease. She poured the alcohol into the heavy tumbler, neat.

“No ice?”

“A little burn is good now and then. Don’t you agree?” she asked. She took a sip from the glass as he approached her from behind.

Hell yes. All that visible skin called to him and Max traced the valley of her spine until he reached the folds of fabric draped over her ass. Settling both hands on each side of her spine, he savored the warm silk of her flesh. She stilled her head, turned to reveal her profile. It was a gorgeous profile. He slid his fingers beneath the material, caressed around to the flatness of her stomach and smiled when her muscles tightened beneath his fingers. Her lips parted as he followed the clean lines of her body. He couldn’t decide which was softer, the skin beneath his palms or the silk brushing the back of his fingers. Her willowy body tensed as his hands flowed up to cup her breasts, her taut nipples. She arched, a purely feline move, as she filled his palms.

“A little burn is good now and then,” he repeated softly in her ear as he traced her nipples. She set both the bottle and his forgotten drink onto the bar and flattened her hands on the marble top. A soft purring sound escaped from her when he pressed his swollen cock against her. He leaned down to taste her neck and inhaled her sensual perfume. He bared the curve of her shoulders and elegant arms, revealing more of the pale gold skin he desperately wanted to feel sliding against his skin. Beautiful. She lifted one hand and then the other and he eased the gown down. The silk pooled at her hips, trapped between their bodies.

His fingers slid back up her arms. He couldn’t stop touching her. Damn, he had missed her. Straightening, she leaned against him. He had wanted her the minute he had seen her at the barbecue and the craving grew stronger every time he was with her.

Her head fell back to rest on his shoulder and he ducked his head to kiss her neck. He wanted to push her forward and bury his cock in her and fuck her out of his system. Two weeks. When he reached her shoulders, he let his hands stroke down to the firm, swells of breasts. He traced her nipples, lightly tugging on them. His thumbs flicked the swollen tips and her sigh caressed his neck, her ass lightly rocking against his cock.

She caught one of his hands and guided it over her flat stomach until he was cupping her pussy through her gown. “Make me come, Max.”

There was nothing between the silk and her body. The fabric grew wet as he stroked, his finger sliding over her until he felt her juices through the gown. His thumb searched through the folds of fabric until he found her clit. She gasped and arched against him. A silk covered finger breached the wet entrance of her pussy and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on the bar once more.

At the base of her neck, his tongue found the delicate bump of her spine. He traced the slight hill; then followed the elegant valley of her spine. His silk covered finger moved in shallow thrusts as he crouched behind her. He wanted her to come but he was damn well going to be in her when she did. He abandoned the heat of her sex and slid the remaining fabric slowly down her legs. She shivered and he gazed at her.

From between her splayed legs he could see her glistening pussy and he wanted to part her legs and lick her dry. He caressed the inside of her leg and watched as her hips canted backwards. Heat radiated from her and the cream he touched made him shudder. Her bottom pushed backwards and he teasingly traced her slit--greedy to be filled--sliding down to the swollen bud of her clit. He wanted in her. Now.

Patience was not his strong point. Two weeks. Two weeks of fantasies, dreams and memories. He could only take so much. His finger ran back and forth along the tiny slit. She moaned and pushed backwards to take him into her body. Who was he to deny them both?

When his finger sank into her, he watched her back bow. She was tight and ready. He leaned forward and kissed her left ass cheek. Moisture spilled down his finger and his thumb began to toy with her clit. He traced the elegant letter M with a hooked swooping end that decorated her ass. It was like waving a red flag before a bull and he wanted to charge forward.

Screw patience.

He rose, kissing and licking his way up her spine as his hand stopped moving, simply filling her. “Do you have anything?”

She nodded as vaginal muscles tightened while she pushed backwards, urging him to move. “Max, please. I want to come.”

“Not without me, baby. Where?”

She nodded at her purse and he eased free of her body. After fumbling around with the clasp, he finally got the stupid thing to open and dumped everything on the bar. He wanted in her. Deep in her. She rubbed her ass over his groin and his balls tightened in anticipation. This was not going to last long. Mattie plucked the condom from him.

Like a pale goddess, she turned and knelt before him. He saw her intention in her blue-grey eyes. She opened his trousers and Max removed the clip from her hair, tossing it over her shoulder. Hair the color of fine teak tumbled free and he combed his fingers through the satiny strands. Her hand wrapped around his cock and he nearly came. Her grip tightened and he watched her stroke from base to tip. Ahh, shit, he thought when she leaned forward. Her tongue flicked out; catching a drop of pre-cum. She smiled against the head of his dick. She glanced up at him and his knees nearly buckled when the wet heat of her mouth wrapped around the swollen head. Her tongue lapped around him and when he began to thrust deeper into her, she abandoned him. He growled in frustration.

A wicked grin curved one side of her mouth. “Not without me, baby.”

His fingers fisted in her hair and he tried to guide her back to finish the job. Instead she pushed his pants down to his ankles, rolled on the condom, then stood up. After stripping him from his jacket, vest and shirt, her hands rested against his stomach. Her palms burned him, branding him as hers. “Hi,” he whispered. He wrapped a hand around her neck and kissed her.

Her flavor filled him. He could live on Mattie alone. Their tongues met and danced. The flavor of bourbon-laced woman seared him. Her tongue caressed his, beckoning him to taste more of her. She tasted like his dreams: a little naughty, a little sexy, and all woman.

“Hi,” she breathed against his lips. After one more devouring kiss she pulled away.

She turned, leaning against the bar and he drew a line down her back to the taut globes of her ass. He followed the tight valley and smiled when goose bumps dotted the pale flesh. He followed the trail to her pussy. Her hips pushed back and a needy sound whimpered from her.

Tired of playing, he stepped forward. The head of his cock brushed over her ass cheek and she shivered.

“Max. Now, damn you.”

“Patience, baby.” Yeah, like he was patient. He guided himself home and groaned as she took him to the hilt. “Ah, Mattie.”

Bracing a hand beside hers he began to thrust. His movements were choppy. The hot, tightness of her body was fucking with him. Her skin was soft and seductive. He kissed her shoulder while he reached between her legs.

He teased her swollen clit and enjoyed the soft cry exploding from her. He thrust, driving deep into her until her cries rang deep into his soul. His thumb flicked her clit as he felt his own orgasm crawling up from his balls, dancing along his spine. Her body tightened around him and she moaned his name. Through the rubber he felt the heat of her release. He thrust hard and came, his mouth buried against her neck to stop from saying something irretrievable. Ah hell. He didn’t want to say that did he? Yeah. Yeah, he did. His heart squeezed as she lowered her head, her lips brushing the back of his hand.

“I missed your face, Mattie.” She straightened, her mouth parting in surprise. She searched his gaze.

“You can see it at the newsstand.”

“No,” Max said softly as he traced her lower lip, “I missed your face.” There was a vast difference between the woman wrapped around him and the one who stared at him from glossy magazines. That woman would never sprawl on the floor with four flavors of popcorn to watch an animated movie with his daughter, Bree. That woman would never jump up and holler at Bree to haul ass when she stole the ball in soccer. That woman sure as hell wouldn’t cause Max to drop over six hundred dollars on a piece of crappy art.

“Max,” she whispered as she pressed her fingers against his lips. To stop his words? A wary look entered her eyes, a look he hated to see. The first time he had seen that trapped expression had been when she had met Bree. Mattie rarely allowed her vulnerabilities to leak out; when she did he felt as if he was kicked in the throat. She mouthed his name again and closed her eyes, shutting him out. Max wanted to howl in frustration. Instead he kissed her, letting her keep her demons to herself. He had his own devils nipping his ass. He could understand her unwillingness to fling herself onto the grenade he had lobbed between them. At least she didn’t withdraw from the kiss. They had sex if nothing else. Damn it. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

* * * *

Mattie opened her eyes and rolled over, settling herself to study the man in her bed. She loved looking at him. His was a masculine beauty that crept up on a person. His face wasn’t handsome by the standard definition of beauty, but he still managed to take her breath away: broad cheekbones, broad jaw, bold eyebrows and a bold nose. His eyes were what made Max truly striking. They were a shade she could only describe as Alberta blue, the color of a vast summer sky free of clouds that hurt to look at. She especially loved the way his eyes would light up whenever he looked at his eight-year-old daughter. To be loved by the one person on Earth meant to love and protect unconditionally always made something fragile inside her break. Bree was a lucky girl and Mattie hoped she realized how fortunate she was.

Tracing his jaw, the dark, reddish-gold stubble tickled her fingers. Her lover. Crazy. She liked his sinfully sensual mouth. Not too full, not too hard. Lips that easily smiled, cursed or kissed. She still remembered their first kiss. She cherished it, holding it trapped in the beautiful box in her mind where only the sweetest memories resided. On her darkest nights, she freed everything in the box. She now had many memories in that box thanks to Max and his impish daughter.

Mattie’s finger traced the slightly crooked nose that added to the rough-hewn beauty of the man before her. My lover. He said he’d missed her face.

She licked her lips nervously. And he had bought her a hideous painting. Gads, where the hell was she going to put that thing? She would have to hang it up. If she didn’t, he’d give her a hard time. Maybe she’d wrap it up and give it to him as a present. Smiling, she smoothed her fingers over his hair.

“Are you seducing me?”

His sleep raspy voice made her smile. He made her smile. “Is it working?” He lifted his head and glanced down his body, one tarnished gold eyebrow arched up. She followed his gaze and saw; yep, it was working. “You’re a horndog, Grayson.”

“Hmm.” He lightly caressed up and down her spine, causing tingles and shivers to spill in his wake. “Hadn't had sex in two weeks. What time is it?”

Mattie glanced at her clock. “Five. You should go home.”

“Hmm, I should.” He rolled, trapping her beneath him. “Morning,” he mumbled before he kissed her.

Mattie cupped his cheeks as she opened for his tongue, letting him in. He seeped through her blood; finding new untouched places that made her ache to be worthy of him. Moments like this scared her. She couldn’t afford to have him living under her skin, thriving in a heart that had stopped loving a long time ago. Don’t, she silently pleaded as her tongue danced with his. Don’t make me love you.

Max wouldn’t be an easy man to love. He was like her. He had walls, barriers, and hidden wells she didn’t know about. He liked things his way and if anyone dared to argue with him, all hell could erupt with one hard look from those summer blue eyes. She had felt the icy sting two weeks ago when she had been unwilling to define what was happening between them. Was this a relationship? Panic bubbled inside her but she shoved it down by kissing him harder, deeper as if his tongue had the power alone to calm the storm brewing in her. A relationship was dangerous. If he learned about her...

She very much feared the pain would destroy her. She wasn’t good. She wasn’t sweet. She wasn’t beautiful beneath the surface.

“You’re thinking again,” he growled against her mouth as he looked down at her. “I can hear each synapse firing between your brain cells. If you’re going to worry about shit, figure out where you’re going to put the painting. And don’t even think about giving it back. You wanted it? Baby, it’s yours.”

Mattie smiled as she followed the line of his lower lip with her nail. “I think it would look gorgeous by your pool table.” His eyes narrowed in a mock glare. “Or perhaps in your bedroom. Every time you looked at it, you’d think of me.”

“Yeah, I can see myself jerking off to that vile thing. Nope. Yours, baby, all yours.”

Damn. It was truly ugly. She rose up and kissed him, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. “Do you jerk off over me?” Funny, that sounded rather sexy to her, when with others it had always been a little abhorrent. She didn’t want to know what anyone did when they looked at photos of her. That added a whole new level of ick.

He looked at her, his eyes droopy with arousal. “Oh, yeah,” he drawled as he nudged her with his erection. “Yes, I do. Do you know which picture’s my favorite?”

Mattie shook her head as she slid a leg along his, enjoying the hair tickling her calf. “Tell me.”

“You, licking mustard away from the corner of your lip after you devoured a hot dog. I wanted to be the one to remove the drop of mustard while I inched the little straps of your top down your arms then laid you naked on the table so I could feast on you.”

Mattie’s breaths struggled to escape as he looked down at her. The words made her wet, made her remember. That had been the day they met. After a day of shooting in a farmer’s field of canola flowers, Ricki, her stylist, had dragged her to the barbecue celebrating Canada Day. Max had been the first man to approach her when she had sat down with her hot dog smothered in condiments. “Do models eat hot dogs?” He had asked, sitting down beside her, his eyes shielded behind dark sunglasses. When she had informed him “yes, this model did”, he had asked to witness the moment for prosperity’s sake.

“Did you...?” Slowly, he nodded as he stroked the leg hooked over his waist. “Max,” she whispered, unable to think of anything more to say. He kissed her, a slow seductive infiltration meant to seek and destroy any barriers between them. She couldn’t risk that. If he knew about her...

The nightstand drawer opened with a rasp and her blood heated. Once he was sheathed, she felt him slide in, filling her so, yes, he was everywhere. She felt him, the heat of his flesh surrounding her from the outside in. Max. My Max.

She met the sensual thrusts of his body. How she wished she were a different person, that she was worthy of this moment. She wasn’t. How she wanted to be though.

Heat built within her, burning through her fears and demons. He was a sorcerer; finessing his way into places she didn’t want him to go. Mattie arched into him, needing to feel more of him. His skin touching her would banish her thoughts to the darkest corners. His work-roughened hand caressed the small of her back, easing them closer together. Max. My Max.

Mattie ached to wrap herself around him, to breathe him in. He met her gaze as he thrust deep in her. She mouthed his name as she gripped his wrists, needing to hold on to him before she catapulted into another world without him. I am, she thought as she surged towards him. Cherished. The word exploded in her mind as her body did. Crying out his name, she came in a fire only he created in her. Max. Only Max. My Max.

“Mattie,” he said softly as he filled her, his cock still hard. She opened her eyes and everything in her stilled at the look in his eyes. Emotions brewed there, emotions she didn’t dare name. He, apparently, didn’t have the same fear. “I love you, Mattie.”

And he finally came, his release flowing into her with the same cool heat as his words. Her legs wrapped around him, holding him close though she wanted to push him away. No. No, no, no. “No more fear, Mattie,” he said in a soft voice as he sank down. Belly to belly, breast to breast, heart to heart. She was scared. More terrified than she had ever been in her life. “That’s what I wanted to say two weeks ago. I love you.”

Don’t. Don’t love me. She was unlovable. Tainted. “Max,” she whispered, unable to say anything more. She wrapped the words in gold filaments and tucked them into her memory box.

“No more fear, Mattie.” He eased out of her and she half expected him to walk away because she didn’t say the words back. Max Grayson, however, was made of sterner stuff. He thrived on challenge.

“You’re going to have to go home.”

“Soon. Mom knows where I am.”

Mattie rolled onto her side, unable to look at him. How could she? He curled against her back, his fingers doodling on her stomach.

“One day, Mattie, you’re going to tell me your secrets.”

Her heart jumped in pure fear. Secrets. She had so many.