Masquerade

MASQUERADE

Flesa Black

® www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Masquerade Flesa Black This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © August 2007 by Flesa Black All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-532-6 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Sherri Lynn Cover Artist: Croco Designs

Dedication Dedicated to my husband, who believes Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Loren are the epitome of womanhood. And to Sherri, an editor with endless patience and boundless inspirational links.

Chapter One

She sighed as she watched the dancers whirl by, the scene playing out like a Regency novel. Everyone, including the gentlemen, was dressed in period costumes, some more appealing than others. She gave a quick glance down at her breasts, which looked as if they were trying to escape the Empire style bodice, and tried not to wince. It was definitely a far cry from her normal attire of loose pants and baggy shirts. This dress, as Annie had put it, showed off all her ample assets, leaving almost no room for imagination. But at least the ice blue material was soft against her too naked skin. She had no idea why she was here. Because she was curious, that was why, and because she’d let Annie talk her into coming. Two tickets to the most coveted underground masquerade ball, no strings attached. She still didn’t want to know how her friend managed to snag them from her boss. She was suddenly nudged from behind by a stiff elbow. “Come on, Sophie, you won’t find a partner plastered against the wall.” She turned to find Annie standing beside her, her white fan coyly flipping as her undulating hips sent ripples through her peach-colored dress. With a soft velvet mask framing her twinkling hazel eyes, she looked like a barely contained nymph. “I’m enjoying watching.” “They have a room upstairs for that,” her friend said with a sly smile. “You aren’t still worried that someone will recognize you, are you? In that properly fitted dress with your hair down and curled, not to mention those brown-tinted contacts, there’s no way they would. They’re used to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Miss Prim. So get yourself out of the corner, start mingling, and find yourself a man to play with.” “And what about you? Have you found anyone you want to, um, get to know better?”

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Annie gave a bright laugh and shook her head. “I’m still trying to decide. Meanwhile, I’m wondering why you came if you aren’t going to participate.” Sophie adjusted her own soft mask and shifted her weight. “Because you wouldn’t take no for an answer.” “And because you were nosy. Come on, admit it; you want to try all those naughty things you read about. Don’t try to deny it, because I’ve seen some of the books you’ve brought home from work. Who knew being a librarian could be so…stimulating?” She shook her head and felt her lips curl into a smile. “Who knew that under your CPA exterior beat the heart of a sex kitten?” “Who enjoys bondage,” Annie added with a grin. “Now, come on, it’s time to stop playing wallflower.” Sophie bit her bottom lip and turned, watching the couples and small groups make their way upstairs to the pleasure rooms. Somehow it was disconcerting to know what was going on in the gracious three-story Colonial mansion. But it was a yearly ritual of the rich and influential, each person sworn to secrecy by a binding contract signed the moment they entered the marbled entryway. She knew what the ball really was: a chance for like-minded people to find one another and explore a sexual relationship without any ties. Men and women, couples and trios and more, came together for the sole purpose of experimenting. She had to admit that when she’d first heard the rumors of this mysterious masquerade ball she’d been skeptical. “I’m going to go over there and flirt outrageously with that gorgeous man in the corner. I think he might just be the one.” Annie sent her a long look over her shoulder, her Romanstyle brown curls dancing. “Don’t wait up for me, and I’ll hope I don’t have to wait up for you, either.” Sophie studied the lithe movements of her friend as she made her way across the room. It was so easy for her, easy in a way Sophie had never experienced or understood. There had always been the reluctance, the uncomfortable feeling of filling out instead of up, of having too many curves to be sensuous and graceful. At the moment she felt bitingly raw with so much of herself exposed, and sadly alone since she had yet to be approached. “Excuse me.” She jerked at the sound of a deep male voice behind her. Certain he was going to ask about Annie, she turned slowly, making sure there was a neutral expression on her face. When she encountered a pair of astonishingly green eyes she almost gasped. His hair was a dark chestnut color, not quite black, but not brown, either. The lights sparked red highlights in the thick mass, making her fingers want to touch it. He had chosen not to wear a mask, a bold move that only a few had made, leaving his strong features exposed. His wideshouldered body was impressive underneath his dark jacket. The tan pants, which fit like a handmade glove, showed his lower body -- all of his lower body -- perfectly. A woman definitely wouldn’t be disappointed with the gift underneath the wrapping.

Masquerade

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He stared at her for a moment, as if he knew she was taking him in. He gave her a crooked smile and slowly held out his hand. “Would you like to dance?” Sophie blinked several times, sure she had misheard. “Dance?” He gave her a curious look and she hoped her voice hadn’t been too cool. “The waltz. I can’t promise I won’t step on your toes, but I’ll try not to hurt you too badly.” She saw the sparkle of humor in his eyes and smiled back. “I suppose I can say the same.” Whoa, was that actually her voice? It had sounded…husky, almost sensual, the timbre a hint deeper than usual. Her drawl, which normally didn’t appear unless she was tired or extremely nervous, was pronounced and unmistakable. Must be a mix of nerves and champagne, she decided. His eyebrows lifted slightly, prompting her for an answer, and she replied by slipping her gloved hand into his. He led her to the dance floor and fit her carefully against him. Though he didn’t have her pressed completely into him, she could still feel every part of his body. She placed a hand on his shoulder and realized with a silent sigh that there was very little padding underneath his dress jacket. Broad shoulders…she’d always been a sucker for them. Heaven help her if he had a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes tucked away in his pocket. She just might fall at his feet panting. His hand circled her waist and he splayed his fingers across the small of her back. The heat of his touch burned through her dress, sending little shivers of pleasure up and down her spine. She’d never felt tiny or fragile or delicate in a man’s arms. Not until this very moment. Somehow he made her feel infinitely feminine by simply holding her. They began moving to the gentle music, whirling in a slow pattern as the other dancers maneuvered around them. “You’re wonderful,” he whispered, a laugh in his voice. “I think you lied about being clumsy.” She gazed up and found herself being scrutinized with such blatant male speculation that she nearly giggled. Giggled for heaven’s sake! She wet her lips with her tongue and tried to sound unaffected. “I suppose I have a good partner.” He nodded in acknowledgment and spun her in an easy circle. “Do you know you were the first woman I saw tonight?” Stay calm, stay steady, don’t blabber, she coached herself. “Oh?” “Well, really you’re the only woman I’ve seen, since I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you.” Sophie didn’t know whether to laugh or gape. “That’s…hard to believe.”

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He pulled her even closer, pressing his aroused cock into her stomach. “I would never lie about something like that.” His fingers massaged her lower back as the palm that was holding her hand tightened. She watched, mesmerized, while he brought her knuckles to his mouth and scraped his teeth against her soft flesh. She tried to remind herself to breathe, but was afraid she’d forgotten how. He leaned up and nuzzled her ear. “Have you found a partner for tonight?” “N-no.” “Are you interested in a single partner?” Her mind searched frantically for the answer. She knew it was there, but when his tongue snaked out to taste the skin behind her ear she could only gasp. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulled back and stared down at her, the waltz forgotten as they stopped on the outskirts of the dance floor. “I’m only a blue card.” Red…red was ménage. Gold, that was sub and dom and heavy bondage. Blue card…someone looking for an evening of fun, possibly light kink, with one person. Vanilla, Annie would call it, but extremely enjoyable. “A blue card as well, no mix of the other colors.” She watched his enticing mouth begin to form words as he took her hand again. “Would you like to go upstairs?” It was the point of no return. She had every right to say no, to walk away with just the memory of the dance. But that would be all she had. There wouldn’t be any daydreams of the night spent in a stranger’s arms. No thoughts of how it had felt to try out one or two things she’d been curious about. Sex with a stranger. He wouldn’t know her, and she wouldn’t know him. There was a kind of security in the anonymity. She could be as wild as she wanted. For one night she could become the woman she’d been fantasizing about being. She could take, and give, and she could enjoy it without giving away any part of herself that she didn’t choose to. She tightened her hold on his hand and turned toward the curved staircase. “I’d like that very much.” She thought she heard a low growl as she began leading him up the carpeted steps and smiled. They didn’t speak as they wandered down the upstairs hallway in search of an empty room. She found one at the end of the house. “I believe this is ours.” She opened the door and stepped inside, surprised that she wasn’t nervous. It felt as if her inhibitions had suddenly disappeared. She felt…liberated. Smiling to herself, she watched as the man flipped the card on the handle so that the image of red roses showed before closing the door behind him. He turned to stare at her, his eyes perusing her body with male frankness.

Masquerade

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“I’m not sure how this starts,” he said softly. She chuckled and was surprised by how sensuous the sound was. “You were doing a good job of it downstairs.” His mouth tilted into a lopsided smile as he moved forward. When he stopped in front of her, she felt the air in her lungs come to a standstill. His gaze roamed her face as he lifted a finger to trace her naked jaw. “I’ve never had sex with a woman in a mask before.” “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She reached up and touched his face, feeling very much like the sexy southern belle she sounded like. “I’m glad you asked me to dance.” “So am I.” His voice was a bare whisper as he leaned forward, his eyes directed at her lips. The second his mouth tasted hers the world fell away. It was a heady sensation to have one small, relatively chaste kiss send bolts of layered electricity straight to her core. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, requesting rather than demanding, and she opened her mouth for him. His tongue swept in, sure and hot, to tangle with hers. She stepped closer and felt his arousal press into her as a harsh stab of lust exploded deep in her stomach. When he pulled away she barely checked the impulse to moan a denial. But his fingers took the place of his mouth and she found herself sucking his forefinger between her lips. The sensation was incredible, the rough pad of his finger rasping against her tongue as she nibbled and sucked. She heard him groan and experienced the most amazing jolt of desire. “You know what to do to drive a man wild.” She gave his flesh a final nip and looked up at him with a new confidence. “I want to play with you, to try something I think we’ll both enjoy, if you don’t mind.” “My God, why would I mind?” Sophie ran her hands down his shoulders, enjoying the heat of his body through his jacket. “I don’t think you’ll need this.” Without a word he discarded it, letting it fall to the floor. She began working the buttons on his shirt, slowly opening the soft white material so that she could see his chest. She was giddy with power and approval by the time she touched his nude skin. “You’re gorgeous,” she breathed. “Mac.” “What?” His voice was rough when he replied. “Mac. My name is Mac.” “Mac.” She leaned in and kissed his chest, marveling at the way his muscles rippled underneath her palms. “Mac, you’re perfect.”

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He reached out to skim his fingers across the top of her exposed cleavage. She didn’t object when he pulled the sleeves of her dress away, exposing her breasts which were trying to pop out of her strapless bra. He gave a deep grumble as his mouth landed on her sensitive flesh. The world went gray as tiny explosions of surprised pleasure echoed in her head. “You’re perfect, too…” She hesitated, knowing she couldn’t give him her real name, but afraid he might stop if she didn’t supply one. She said the first thing that came into her thoughts. “Scarlet.” He lifted an eyebrow but didn’t argue, instead moving to kiss and lick her neck. His palms smoothed slowly down her back, pausing to squeeze her bottom rhythmically. She shuddered underneath his hands, absently massaging his shoulders while he touched her. She hadn’t realized what he was doing until her dress fell away, leaving her in stockings, underwear, and bra. His hands slid back up her body and she had the most delicious feeling of raw desire as his calloused flesh scraped along her spine. Then he was cupping her shoulders and taking a step back, his gaze studying the body he’d exposed. She had a bad moment during his silence, wondering if he would call the whole thing off once he’d seen her. Instead, he grabbed her and yanked her against him. Need slammed through every fiber of her body, clawing and demanding. She wanted him, wanted what he was doing to her. But more than that, she wanted the sensation of exploration and sexual gratification wrapped into one. Gently, she pushed him away. “Wait, Mac, I want to do something.” “What is it you want? I’ll do whatever you ask me to.” The surge of power was intoxicating, washing down to pulse through her lips and clit. “I want you strip and go lie down on the bed, and then I’d like to use the velvet cuffs.” He stared down at her, his expression a mixture of surprise, delight, and anticipation. Her heart gave a little kick when he kissed her again, a soft laying of lips on lips. “All right, Scarlet. Oh, and you don’t have to be gentle with me. I want you to think of me as your personal play toy.” She let out a long, silent breath at his declaration. Oh, yes, she was definitely glad he’d decided to pick her for the night. Sophie watched him as he peeled out of his clothes. It was an amazing striptease as inch by inch of his body was revealed. She’d never been the kind of woman who was turned on by male strippers, but she found herself licking her lips and fighting the urge to tackle him. The moment he was naked he turned to her, his erect cock thick and proud as it stood out in front of him. It took a few moments for her to pull her eyes from his impressive appendage, and when she did he gave her a satisfied grin. He didn’t say a word as he climbed on top of the rose-colored spread, propping himself on his elbow as he watched her.

Masquerade

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The next move was hers and she knew it. It was time to take everything off, to complete expose herself to him. And why not? He’d already seen her mostly naked, and he hadn’t left. In fact, he was more than willing to participate in her little game. She found herself moving slowly, intentionally tempting him as she unclipped her bra, tossed it away, then stepped out of her blue silk panties. His green eyes were burning, his nostrils flaring, and his hands fisting. His obvious desire made her want to tease him even more. She was about to roll down her stockings when he stopped her. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to leave those on.” She tilted her head, felt her mouth lift slowly. “Do you like them?” “Oh, God yes.” She gave him a minute to study her nude form before moving to the bed. Once she was there, she gently pushed him to his back. “Lift your arms.” He did as she said, compliant while she carefully fastened the cuffs around his strong wrists. The moment he was restrained she straddled him, resting herself against his hard stomach. “If I do something you don’t like, tell me,” she said. “I want you to enjoy this, too.” He gave a short, rough laugh. “I have the feeling I will.” It was do or die time, she thought, and decided that doing was so much better than dying. She lowered her mouth to his, licked at his lips, coaxing his tongue to mate with hers. She felt his body jerk involuntarily underneath her and became bolder. She pulled away from his lips, nipping along his jaw, lapping his earlobe, biting his throat. When her teeth scraped along his shoulder he hissed and growled, so she did it again. “Hell, Scarlet, that feels so good!” She continued down his body to his chest, pausing when she reached his nipples. She heard him catch his breath, so she hovered there, letting him anticipate. When she finally licked the hard flesh he gasped, his hips bucking up. She lapped one, and then the other, moving back and forth between the two until he was struggling for air. She snuck a peek up at his flushed face, darkly delighted when she met his smoky eyes. She moved further down, laying open-mouth kisses across his stomach, down his pelvis, dipping her tongue in his navel. Finally she was at his cock, her eyes taking in the satin-over-steel appearance. She felt moisture begin damping her thighs as she studied him, thinking how good he would feel inside of her. “You’re torturing me,” he gasped. She couldn’t stop the throaty laugh that escaped. “Am I?”

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She waited another beat before taking him into her mouth, velvet inch by velvet inch, tasting his hot flesh. He gave a strangled cry as she sucked him between her teeth, holding his shaft there as she swirled her tongue along his length. She pulled away, bobbed back down, slowly, carefully, savoring each movement. She’d never been able to do something like this for as long as she’d wanted. She’d only ever been uninhibited enough to go down on one man. He had barely been able to contain himself for two minutes, always tossing her down and slamming right into her the few times she’d done it. This was like heaven, having a man to try and to taste. “That feels so good, so good…” His sex-heavy voice spurred her on, curling wildly into her libido. She moved faster, bringing him in and out, his length mesmerizing as it slid along her tongue. “Baby, I’m going to come if you don’t…don’t stop.” He sounded as if he were in pain, as if he’d been holding himself back so that she could enjoy herself. Part of her thought of giving him his release, but she wasn’t ready for that to happen yet. There was still more she wanted to do. His desire made her feel wanton, sexual in a way she’d never felt before. She looked at his handsome face and knew, at least for tonight, that she had a man in the palm of her hand. Prowling up his body like a cat, she perched on his stomach again and considered her next move. She was in charge right now, and not just of him, but of her own fulfillment. If she wanted something, she only had to ask for it. With that in mind, she leaned over, offering her breast to him. “Suck my nipples.” He readily complied, pulling one taut peak into his mouth with abandon. He sucked and nipped at her nipples, just as she had his, lapping with his hot tongue. The invisible string between her breasts and clit vibrated with each touch, singing through her like bright fire. But she wanted more, so much more, and she felt the greed override her. She pulled away reluctantly, reaching into the small bowl that had been placed on the table beside the bed. She took out a foil package and kept her eyes on his as she slithered back down his body. Her tongue snaked out to lick his sac while her fingers worked to sheath him. A moment later she maneuvered herself on top of him. He tried to move his hands to touch her, but the cuffs prevented it, and she felt his shaft bounce impatiently against her thigh. “It’s okay, you’ll get exactly what you want,” she promised. Holding her breath, she eased down on him, taking his cock inside of her in one steady, slow slide. He groaned the whole way, his body rumbling with the noise. Sophie bit her lip as he stretched her to overflowing, filling her so completely that she nearly sobbed with it. She sat for a moment, reveling in the sense of astounding satisfaction, knowing that true gratification wasn’t far away.

Masquerade

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She began rocking her hips, sliding away a mere inch, engulfing him completely when she slid back. She let out a sharp gasp when the head of his shaft rubbed a spot she’d never known existed. “Oh, God!” She moved again, and the sensation intensified. She was only vaguely aware when he picked up her rhythm, grazing inside of her directly where she needed him the most. He didn’t push her, only matched her, and the orgasm that had been simmering just under her skin turned to a full boil. Digging her nails into his ribs, she rode him, holding onto the incredible spiral of near climax while he plunged in shallowly. And suddenly it was there, slamming through her in thunderous waves as she screamed in pleasure. When the surges eased, she looked through glazed eyes and found Mac staring at her with a mix of wonder and pain in his eyes. She wanted more of him, wanted more of what had just happened. What would he say when he realized exactly how she wanted it? She lifted herself off his cock and laid a hand on his chest when his face registered confused shock. “It’s okay, I won’t leave you like this. I just wanted to try something different.” She didn’t move far. Leaning over, she took the tube of lubricating jelly that had been placed beside the condoms. “What are you doing?” She gave him a catty smile. “You’ll see.” She turned and squeezed the liquid over his shaft, making sure it was well coated. When she was done, she put the tube aside and climbed on top again. This time, she positioned him between the rounded cheeks of her bottom. She held his gaze and waited until she knew he realized what she was about to do. When his breath caught in his chest and his eyes blazed, she knew he wanted this as much as she did. She was careful as she pushed down gently, giving her body a chance to adjust as he slipped inside. She had tried this with toys, but never with a man. As he pressed further into her, she realized that she’d never get the same pleasure from her sexual aids as she was getting from him. It took a few heart-pounding moments, but he was soon seated inside, cradled between her walls. The sensation was so much more than she expected. Her clit throbbed with new life, her own wetness soaking the juncture of her thighs. “Is this…is this good?” He growled in response, yanking at the restraints. Taking courage from his attitude, she lifted herself up, then pushed back down. It was incredible, indescribable, as she rode him with increasingly fast movements. How could she have ever expected to feel this? “I want you to come again.”

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She popped open her eyes and found his gaze boring into her. Though he was the one physically bound, Sophie found herself mesmerized by his demanding voice. She ran one hand over her stomach and down her thigh, easily finding her pulsating core. The moment she touched the raised flesh she tossed her head back in ecstasy. He shoved inside of her, filled her over and over, as she brought her climax closer. She was shocked by how quickly her need had come back, and yet somehow she wasn’t surprised that she would be able to climax again. “I’m…yeah…” His strangled cry told her he was about to orgasm, and it was enough to send her plummeting into release. Her voice blended with his as they reached the peak, exploding together with such intensity that she thought she just might faint. Several minutes later she released the cuffs, her eyes widening when Mac’s tongue ran a path along the side of her breast. Chuckling, he pulled her down on top of him, cradling her head underneath his jaw. She fought the urge to snuggle into his warm skin, instead contenting herself to draw circles on his chest. “That was incredible.” He stroked down her long hair, wrapping a strand around his fist. “When my friend gave me his extra ticket, I never expected to actually participate.” “I’m glad you did. I didn’t know if I’d find anyone I would want to do this with.” “I’d like to do it again.” She rolled her lips together, holding back her quick acquiescence. He was a stranger, for heaven’s sake! He’d probably used a fake name, just like she had. One night was all she’d been anticipating, and all she’d wanted. So why was it that she was tempted to stay right here and enjoy a repeat performance? “No answer, Scarlet?” The clocks inside the house sang out, reminding the guests of the time. No one wanted to be seen leaving this particular gathering, and so the rule of leaving before sunrise was strictly adhered to. “The night is winding down,” she said quietly. He didn’t reply, only continued to play with her hair. When the idea of asking him for another night became a mantra in her head, she knew it was time to go. Reluctantly, she pulled away, sitting up on the side of the bed. She heard Mac give a long sigh as he, too, swung his legs over the mattress. She said nothing as he dressed, instead using the time to memorize his body as he covered himself. His fingers hesitated over the buttons of his shirt. She looked up to find him scrutinizing her, as if he, too, was memorizing her. He took one deep breath before he spoke softly. “I want to see you again.” She immediately began shaking her head. “No, I don’t think that would be --”

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He strode over to her and knelt down, taking her cold hands into his warmer ones. “My friend told me that sometimes people continue to see each other after this ball.” Her heart sped up wildly as a strange, tenuous emotion rose up in her chest. “Well, I, um, yes, I suppose a few do.” “So, why not us? Wait, before you say no, just think about it, okay? You’re incredible in bed, and you just enjoyed the hell out of me. We’re two healthy adults; I know that because I had to show all my test results and identification to the women at the front door. Great sex is hard to find, and trust me, baby, you have mind-blowing sex written all over you.” Her body began to tremble as she considered the possibility. What a wonderful fantasy it was, to have a man to enjoy anytime she wanted. But eventually he would want to know who she was. He’d want to know her real self, the one outside of the bedroom, and she knew he would be disappointed. She simply wasn’t the hot vamp that he thought she was. “Mac, I don’t know --” “Here.” He pulled his hand-sized blue card from his pants pocket and ripped a piece off. Grabbing a pen from the nearby desk, he scribbled something on the back and handed it to her. “This is my private number. Please, call me. I can promise we’ll both enjoy a mutual arrangement.” Leaning up, he placed a soft kiss on her lips, beginning the slow boil of desire again. He touched his fingertip to her mask, gave her a small smile, and stood. She swallowed as he strode to the door, fighting back the urge to ask him to stay. He paused with the door handle in his hand and turned back a moment to stare at her. “Call me, Scarlet. I won’t disappoint you.” And that was the problem, she thought as he finally left the room. She hadn’t expected to find a man who would ever please her in the way Mac just had. She’d reluctantly accepted that, like it or not, she was going to have to be in charge of her own sexual pleasure. The men she tended to attract weren’t exactly Casanovas in or out of bed. So it shocked her that she’d stumbled onto a man who’d desired her in a place like this. But then, she wasn’t really herself in this costume. She was Scarlet, sensual and adventurous southern lady, a woman who could make a man burn and have him begging for more. That’s the woman Mac had been attracted to tonight. If he’d met Sophie outside of the ball, he would probably overlook her as if she were a piece of furniture. Thank God he had no idea who she really was. At least now she could have her night, tuck the memory away, and enjoy it when she wanted. To call him, to begin some sort of scheduled liaisons, would be a complete disaster. She was definitely better off walking away with her glowing satisfaction.

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Chapter Two Sophie straightened her glasses as she stared down at the book in her hand. It was old, the binding worn, the leather cover pliant with age. She thought it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. Annie didn’t understand, nor did her mathematician parents, about her affection for books. But the feel of them, the smell of them, the whole idea of them made Sophie happy in a way she couldn’t explain. She was fascinated by the way writers took ordinary, even mundane words, and strung them together to make extraordinary stories. She could fall in love, have her heart broken, and find redemption without ever leaving the safety of her bed or couch. But then books couldn’t have given her the sexual thrill that she’d gotten from the stranger at the ball. She sighed as her vision blurred, her mind going back to the night nearly two weeks before. She’d never known sex could be like that. She’d never known she could be like that. Somehow he’d made her feel…sexy, alluring, desired. He had treated her as if she was the whole focus of his attention, and she’d reacted in kind, becoming a completely different person. He’d lured out the vamp, and she’d shown up in spades. Sophie felt her entire body blush and fought down the reaction. What she and Mac had done had been a one-time thing. She certainly wasn’t going to call him, though she did have the small paper with his private number tucked in her underwear drawer. Pushing a strand of hair back into her French twist, she climbed down the short ladder and made her way to the laptop humming on the heavy oak desk. When she’d first accepted this summer job she’d thought it would be an interesting way to spend a few weeks. Now she was beginning to wonder if she’d still be cataloguing these books when she went back to work at the college library. It had been an interesting enough proposition, going through Lionel Kincaid’s collection and putting it all in order. She’d been itching to see the legendary

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library of old, rare, and unique books for years, so she’d jumped at the chance. She would have never guessed that the recently hospitalized Mr. Kincaid would have such a massive compilation in his My Fair Lady-style library. With a slight groan, she swiped the dusty book over her baggy jeans and loose white shirt. She was just adding the title of the book she still held into the spreadsheet when she heard the door open. She glanced up quickly and began to look back down, intending to ignore the intruder. Then, just as quickly, her gaze swung back up. Standing in the blinding summer light was a terrifyingly familiar figure. Blinking, she squinted and tried to focus, sure the vision would disappear. Instead he stepped forward and came into sharp relief. The light pouring in from the tall windows lit his chestnut hair and silhouetted his broad form. Even in his casual jeans and short-sleeved gray shirt his presence seemed to swallow the room. Her heart leapt spastically, her stomach clenching as her skin became clammy and cold. Dear Lord, he’d found her. Somehow he’d found her. And now he was going to see who she really was, in the light of day, with no mask, no sexy lingerie, no deep southern voice. He’d stare for a moment, and then he’d laugh, asking her what she’d thought her little rouse would bring her. He would regret their night… Tamping down her thoughts, she held her breath and watched as he turned to glare at the books surrounding him. She wasn’t going to think like that. Any man that wanted her had to want the whole package, period. She was who she was, and she’d learned to become content, if not completely comfortable, with that fact. Still, she was sure his reaction to her would be less than flattering, considering she’d done quite a lot of false advertising the night of the ball. The silence stretched on, filling the room, and she realized suddenly that he hadn’t seen her. She felt a tug for him, the memories of how incredible their sex had been heating her quickly. Ignoring her sudden desire, she worried her thumbnail with her teeth and searched the room for a means of escape. Maybe if she crawled underneath the desk she could wait him out. She was seriously contemplating the idea when his eyes swung around and found her. Her muscles tensed and her bones chilled, the sudden rush of blood deafening her and dulling her brain. She studied his face, watching for the inevitable shock. Instead, a quick, friendly smile leapt to his lips. He strolled over to her, his legs eating up the space between them as she swallowed back panic. “Hi, I’m MacAllister Kincaid. You must be the poor woman they convinced to put together my uncle’s library.” It took her a full thirty seconds for the truth to dawn. He had no idea who she was. He was watching her curiously, his hand still poised in the air, his eyes completely puzzled. Sophie swallowed against the tangled nerves in her chest and took his hand. “I…um…”

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“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Mrs. Hodges said she told you I would be checking up on the house and your progress.” “You’re…you’re Mr. Kincaid’s nephew?” Oh, God, why didn’t the floor just open up and let her fall through to China? It might be simpler. “That’s right.” He dropped her hand and studied her as if she were a slow child. “MacAllister, but everyone calls me Mac.” “Mac.” So, he hadn’t lied about his name. He smiled at her and her heart did a little flip. This man, the man she’d slept with, the man who had encouraged her to continue their anonymous affair, was her boss? Her boss! At this moment she was absolutely convinced that fate despised her. “And you’re…?” He lifted his eyebrows coaxingly. “Sophie,” she eked out, then cleared her throat. “Sophie Pierson.” He nodded in satisfaction before turning around to scan the library. She took the momentary reprieve to try to calm herself. Okay, so, he was technically the man signing her paycheck. He was the one that she would ultimately be answering to, until Lionel Kincaid came back at least. The man she’d seen naked, the man she’d tied up and touched and tasted and seduced, was standing in front of her looking casual and relaxed. There was an upside to this, she assured herself. He had no idea who she was. As far as he was concerned, at least for the moment, she was an employee. That had to be a good thing, considering. And yet she felt a little fissure of disappointment and annoyance that he hadn’t swept into the room and demanded answers. “You’ve really saddled yourself with it, huh?” She blinked and shook her head, trying to ignore the way her body was quietly shaking. “Yes, it’s going to be quite a challenge.” His gaze found her again, his green eyes sparkling, and she felt saliva gather in her mouth. Good heavens, was she about to drool over a man? “I’m guessing you’re putting all this information in a spreadsheet of some sort?” She licked her lips and tried to sound brisk and efficient. “I’m breaking them down by author, title, publishing date, and condition. Hopefully you and Mr. Kincaid will be able to sort through the ones he would like to sell, the ones that need repairing, and the ones that are fine as they are.” “My uncle is quite a pack rat,” he replied, and looked back at the straining bookshelves. “I’m considering hiring someone to organize the wine cellar and his closet. I swear he still has a twill leisure suit hanging there that scared the hell out of me last night.” Sophie barely stifled a laugh when she thought about Lionel and his penchant for the odd. “At least the houndstooth coat hasn’t accosted you.”

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His head whipped around in surprise a split second before a full, deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “If I could just teach him some fashion sense, I’m convinced I could marry him off in six months.” “But when you love someone, their sense, or nonexistent sense, of fashion doesn’t really matter. What you should do is find a woman who still believes beehives are the height of fashion.” Mac tilted his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, I think you’re onto something there. There’s this waitress downtown at the Daly Diner; she wears white nursing shoes, white stockings, and her hair is taller than I am. Maybe I should introduce them.” “Mac, darling, what are you doing?” The voice ricocheted through the room, the tonal quality pitched just high enough to be grating. Sophie turned to find the source and saw it standing in the doorway. A woman was posed there, tall, lithe, and decked out in a beige pantsuit that probably cost more than Sophie made in three months. Her glossy brown hair was swept up on the sides, her perfectly made-up face finely sculpted and just a touch haughty. “Really, I’ve been waiting in the sitting room for an hour. I thought we were supposed to be leaving for lunch.” Sophie felt herself fade into the background as the woman approached, her heavy floral scent permeating the air. She wondered if she’d have a headache from the aroma. Mac gave the pampered female an indulgent, slightly annoyed smile. “Danielle, it hasn’t been an hour. I wanted to come in and meet the librarian Mrs. Hodges hired.” The woman named Danielle swept her brown gaze over her dismissively. “Um, yes, nice to meet you. Mac, did you forget we’re meeting Josh and Kendra?” He gave a quiet sigh, a sound so soft that Sophie barely heard it. Obviously he was irritated, but Danielle apparently didn’t realize or care. “Why don’t you go wait in the car for me? I’ll be out in a minute.” Though it was said casually, there was steel underlying the words, daring her to stay and argue. Danielle stood for a moment then gave a slight shrug. She strolled out of the room, her back straight and her nose in the air. Sophie spoke without thinking better of it. “Wow, I’ll bet she’s high maintenance.” Before she had a chance to become completely horrified, a grin appeared on Mac’s face, his eyes shining. “Yes, she is, very. Sometimes I wonder why I bother being her friend.” “Friend?” “Danielle and I grew up in the same circle, where there was plenty of money but not a lot of common sense.” The exclusive circle she added silently. It was easy to imagine him surrounded by powerful people, being groomed for the day he would be the one in charge of the family

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business. The Kincaid’s owned hotels -- several hotels -- all around the world, and all of them five star. She had to wonder how many beds he’d tried out…and how many “friends” he’d romped in them with. His teasing voice cut into her thoughts. “From the look on your face I’d say you’re not impressed with Danielle.” She tried to smile as she looked back up at him. “I’m sorry, I guess I had my fill of that when I was young.” He quirked an eyebrow and propped his hip against the desk, looking as if he were settling in. “Really?” “My parents are both college professors, so I grew up surrounded by academics. Some, not all of course, but some were very snobbish and elitist. I learned how to avoid them.” “And your parents didn’t mind?” She shook her head. “They always told me I was mature for my age, so they let me make my own decisions early on. If I didn’t want to be forced to sit in the same room with someone, they didn’t push me.” “You were very lucky,” he said softly. A horn blared from outside, three staccato beeps that sounded impatient. He reluctantly straightened, his eyes still on her. She felt his gaze all the way to her toes, the sensual curls of awareness tightening around her stomach and between her legs. It was hard not to remember him as he’d been that night. What would he say if she jumped him right here, tossed him to the ground and ripped away his clothes? He’d probably scream bloody murder and have her arrested, she thought. He had no idea who she was, and that was for the best. “Well, good luck Ms. Pierson.” “Sophie.” He sent her a small smile. “Sophie. If you need any help, just let me know. Since I’m living here for the duration, I won’t be hard to find.” She watched him as he left, struggling to keep her eyes from his derriere. When she heard the door close quietly she fumbled for her chair and slumped down into the buttery leather. What was she supposed to do now? There wasn’t any doubt that they would run into each other from time to time. Lord help her if she happened to catch him shirtless, or pantless, or both. She didn’t think her heart or hormones could take that. Slipping her glasses off her face, Sophie stared into space and tried not to think about the consequences of her new job and her new boss. He didn’t know who she was, and she wasn’t about to tell him. And yet their brief meeting had done nothing but whet her appetite for him and for what they’d done -- and could -- do together. They’d been good in bed, very good, and working with him was only going to make it harder to forget that.

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It would be insane to call him again. It would be the worst kind of mistake. An affair with the boss was rarely a good idea. But would it really be an affair? Didn’t an affair imply emotional involvement? It would just be sex, nothing more, and he wouldn’t know who she was. There was no hard and fast rule saying she couldn’t keep her disguise. But, no, it was too crazy a thought. Wasn’t it?

***** “Mac, really, you should pay more attention when people are talking to you.” Danielle’s exasperated voice echoed in his ears and he tried not to wince. Lord, the woman could drive a lesser man to scream. One of her more annoying habits was the way she talked to him as if he was a naughty five-year-old. “When I hear some interesting conversation I just might listen,” he retorted. She pursed her lips and stared out the car window, obviously annoyed. “That was mean.” “It wasn’t mean, Danielle, it was honest. I’m sorry, but I just don’t care who is going to throw what party during the summer.” “Well, you should. This is your social group, MacAllister, the people who frequent your hotels and tell their friends and family to stay there, as well. They are the ones who book the ballrooms for weddings and parties, who go to the day spas and have dinners there.” “And they do it because we have damn good service, an excellent staff, and superior food. My going or not going to a barbeque isn’t going to change that.” He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel and maneuvered around a gentle curve. “Maybe you should have stayed in New York.” She was quiet for a moment before her fingers brushed his arm. “I know you’re upset, Mac, and that’s why you’re acting so irritable. Obviously being here and taking care of your uncle’s home and assets is wearing you down. But I meant it when I said I didn’t want you to be lonely.” Oh, but he wasn’t lonely. He hadn’t been lonely since that night at the masked ball. He’d had his very vivid memories to keep him warm. He’d thought of Scarlet, as she called herself, with every other breath he took. She had been so warm, so inviting, and so blatantly sexual that she’d nearly scorched him alive. Danielle had it all wrong. It wasn’t the pressure of taking care of a sick man and putting his house in order. It was the fact that he’d begun checking his private voicemail six or more times a day, hoping that she had called. Danielle stroked her fingertips down his arm before drawing her hand away. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” He sent her a quick glance and tightened his jaw. “No, there isn’t.” You’re not the one who can.

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She eyed him speculatively but gave an eloquent shrug. “Well, it seems that Mrs. Hodges has made sure everything is organized. She even hired a librarian to go through your uncle’s books.” “I’m surprised she didn’t just hire a backhoe and demolition crew for his library.” “She struck me as strange.” He drew his eyebrows together and slowed the car. “Huh? Mrs. Hodges?” “No, the girl cleaning up your uncle’s books. Oh, I’m sure she’s very efficient,” Danielle hurried to add. “It’s just…well, my goodness, look at how she was dressed.” “What was wrong with her clothes? They looked comfortable enough to me.” “And her hair, all scraped back like that, not to mention the glasses. Hasn’t she heard of contacts?” Her comments were enough to make him slam on the brakes in the middle of the twolane road. “Danielle, you sound like a spoiled bitch.” Her eyes popped wide open, her mouth falling slack. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. Those comments were completely uncalled for, and you know it. So what if the woman doesn’t wear five hundred dollar skirt suits while she’s scrounging around a dusty library? And it makes perfect sense that she had her hair back, since she was doing actual work.” He watched as her face flushed, the dark crimson color seeping up from her neck. Her mouth opened and closed several times while her brown eyes snapped indignantly. He waited for an explosion, but it never came. Instead she hung her head and folded her hands together in her lap. When she finally spoke her voice was cool and clipped. “You’re right. I had no right to say that about a woman I don’t know. I was irritated and I let myself be mean. But you didn’t have to call me a bitch.” Mac let out a deep sigh and shook his head. She may not have realized exactly what she was apologizing for, but at least she was trying. For someone like her, it was quite a feat. Not that he could blame her completely for her attitude; she’d been raised by snobs, had been steeped in the tradition, and had been taught from an early age that anyone outside of their social ilk wasn’t as worthy. He didn’t speak when he began driving again, instead focusing on the road ahead. “You’re still upset with me.” “I just wish you wouldn’t…never mind.” He heard her turn and felt her shoulder brush his arm. “No, what? Tell me, Mac.” “I liked Sophie,” he said. “Okay, she’s shy, and maybe a little mousy, but she was sweet. She’s also got a brain, considering she has a degree and came highly recommended. But you didn’t see that because you were too busy sizing her up.”

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“A person’s appearance is very important. You never get a second chance to make a good first impression.” No, Danielle didn’t understand, not that he’d really expected her to. She was back to physical aesthetics and defending her position. Not that he had any room to argue. After all, he was still fantasizing about and wishing for the gorgeous Scarlet. When he’d approached her it had been because of her looks. All that lushness, all those dangerously provocative curves, the porcelain skin and the mind-numbing scent of her perfume. “Please, Mac, let’s not fight. I don’t want to ruin our trip.” He didn’t know why, but her linking them together rubbed a raw nerve. “It’s not our trip; I’m here for Uncle Lionel, and you decided to come along to see some of your college friends.” She shifted in her seat and didn’t reply. For the rest of the trip back to Kincaid house Mac’s thoughts strayed to the mysterious Scarlet. If she didn’t call him soon, he was afraid he might have to resort to desperate measures.

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Chapter Three Sophie dragged herself into her modest living room and collapsed on the floral print sofa. It had been one hell of a day. She stared up at the spackled ceiling and wondered if she would be able to sleep tonight, knowing that she would be running into Mac tomorrow. Annie was going to get a good laugh out of this, especially since she’d been broadly hinting that she thought Sophie should set up a permanent sex date with her mysterious one-night stand. She needed a drink. Sitting up, she saw the note on the battered coffee table and picked it up. “Have a hot date with an interesting man. I’ll call you later to check in, but don’t wait up.” She tossed the letter on the table and sighed. “At least one of us is going to have a good evening.” Shoving up from the couch, Sophie let out a little groan, kicked her shoes off, and wandered toward the kitchen. The tension that had been building since that morning was a solid knot in her stomach, so tight that she wasn’t sure it would ever ease. Complete shock had waited a full ten minutes after Mac had left the library to smack her in the face. When it had, it had left her quaking and nauseous. Standing on tiptoes, she pulled open the top cabinet door and pulled down the everpresent bottle of Jack Daniels. She stared at the thick glass container, contemplating drinking to the point of oblivion, then dismissed it because she knew she’d have to face him tomorrow. The last thing she needed was a blinding headache on top of everything else. Taking down a glass, she stared at the phone on the peach-colored wall, narrowing her gaze as she poured out whiskey. “Don’t you dare mock me,” she told it. “I’ll call if I want to.”

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She downed the shot, winced and coughed as her hands gripped the counter. She felt the amber liquid roll down her throat and splash into her stomach. Grimacing, she poured another drink. “Call me, he says. Here’s my private number, he says. Does he mention a girlfriend? Of course not. Friends, he tells me. Sure they’re friends. Friends with benefits, I’ll bet.” She swallowed the whiskey, winced slightly, and decided the burning feeling wasn’t so bad. She splashed more into the glass and glared back at the telephone. “Yeah, yeah, anonymous sex, that means no strings attached, which means it doesn’t matter if he’s sleeping with someone else. Fine, let him screw perfect Danielle.” She drank again, slamming the alcohol back like a pro. “He can roll around with whomever he wants. I don’t care. I wasn’t going to call him, anyway.” No, no she wasn’t, she absolutely wasn’t. She swallowed the whiskey, glowered at the handset that had somehow ended up in her grip. The light up buttons seemed to grin knowingly at her. “Oh, shut up!” She put it down, had another shot, picked it up, put it down. What the hell was she doing? And just exactly how much had she just drunk on an empty stomach? She marched to her bedroom, ignoring the gloating phone as she scooped up the Jack Daniels and empty glass. She’d take a nice, hot shower, put on her comfortable pajamas, and settle in with a bad horror movie and a bowl of extra buttered popcorn. Screw Mac. Yep, that’s exactly what she wanted to do -- screw Mac. Horrified, she stopped dead in the middle of her bedroom, inadvertently trying to cover her mouth with the whiskey bottle. Those thoughts were off limits. Absolutely, completely, without a question, off limits. There was no way she could carry on any extra-curricular activities with a man like Mac. He was from a completely different world, not the mention the fact that he was her freakin’ boss! A very sexy boss, with a solid body, a mobile mouth, and large hands that conjured up all sorts of fantasies. A boss who knew parts of her body that she could barely even see. A boss that had been a willing participant in one of her fantasies. A boss who’d brought her to the most sizzling, mind-blowing orgasm she’d ever experienced. Shaking her head, she absently tipped the bottle against her lips and took a long swallow. She had to stop thinking about that night. She had to ignore the heat and moisture that pooled in her panties, the hard peaks of her breasts, the sensually flushed skin that begged to be touched. Growling, she took another swig and stomped into the bathroom. She twisted the knobs in the tub, made sure the water was steaming before she stripped. She paused a moment and stared into the mirror, shocked when she realized her body looked more than ready for another go around with MacAllister Kincaid.

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Her hands smoothed over her stomach, slowly easing up to cup her swollen breasts. She massaged them, biting her bottom lip as her mind conjured up the image of Mac’s tongue licking them. Groaning, she dropped her hands away, took a deep drink of alcohol, and stepped into the shower. She bathed as efficiently as possible, trying not to linger too long when she washed her most sensitive parts. But the feel of the washcloth grazing her vibrating clit, the sensation of the water smacking into her raised nipples, the way the soap glided down her back and over her bottom, was hard to ignore. By the time she climbed out of the tub, she felt as if she’d been teased mercilessly before being left with no satisfaction. Sophie took long sips of whiskey as she towel dried her body. She was shocked when she looked down and realized nearly half the bottle was gone. She wasn’t that much of a drinker; she couldn’t imagine that she’d obliterated that much of a bottle. Had some been missing when she’d taken it down? Yes, yes, of course, it couldn’t possibly have been full when she’d started. She wandered back into her room, squinting when she almost tripped over her dresser. Had Annie been moving furniture around again? It was possible. Shrugging, she stopped to open her underwear drawer, only to come up short when her hand touched a soft plastic vibrator. She stared down at the purple-colored device, squinting slightly when the image blurred at the edges. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, was she? She reached up and swiped at her face, nodding when she found her nose and eyes bare. She touched the toy again and felt a distinct tingle hum between her legs. She didn’t need Mac for an orgasm, she thought, and smiled happily to herself. In this day and age, there were all kinds of ways a girl could take care of herself. She was pulling it out when a small scrap of paper dropped on the floor at her feet. Wrinkling her brow, she bent down, promptly smacked her head on the drawer, and let out a hiss. “Damn it! That hurt!” She rubbed the sore spot as she plucked the scrap from the top of her toes. It took her a few seconds to realize what it was. Mac’s private number. She nearly flung it away, but at the last second thought better of it. Holding it pinched between her fingers, she cradled the vibrator in her palm and took another swallow of Jack. Damn man, irritating man, annoying man. He was making her burn while he was out having wild monkey sex with snobby Danielle. She was suffering and he wasn’t. Furious now, she strode to her bed. She sat for a moment, annoyed that it was suddenly off kilter and she had to try to balance carefully on her bare bottom. Maybe the mattress needed to be replaced. She took another fortifying sip of whiskey, slammed the bottle on her bedside table, and picked up her phone. She held the note up, moved it back and forth until she could make out the digits, then angrily dialed. She waited impatiently for him to answer. Instead, his voice mail picked up.

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“This is Mac, you know what to do.”

“You know what to do to drive a man wild…” The memory was potent, so vivid that she could nearly feel him underneath her again. His voice was like warm honey, coating her fury with desire. Deep down she suddenly knew why she was calling him; she wanted to have a connection to him while she pleasured herself. She wanted him to suffer just a little of the frustration she was dealing with. “Hello, Mac, this is Scarlet.” She leaned back on her pillow and twisted the knob on the vibrator. “Do you know what I’m doing right now?” She ran the toy along her slit and moaned at the feel of it. “I’m fucking myself, Mac, and I’m thinking of you. This feels so…oh…good.” She moved it up and down, slowly, enjoying the spasms it created. “I wish you were here. I wish you were licking my nipples, sucking on them, touching them. I’m running the vibrator over my lips, and they’re aching, twitching.” Carefully, she sank the dildo between her walls. Her back arched and she hissed in delight. “It’s inside me now, but it doesn’t fill me like you do. I remember how big you are, how wide and hard. Oh, Mac, it makes me want to come.” She ran the toy in and out, in and out, gasping and groaning into the phone as invisible fingers of need curled around her apex. “Should I come now, Mac? Please, can I? Oh, I don’t think I can wait much longer.” She pulled the vibrator out and moved the hot tip to her clit. Pulses of sharp pleasure shot through her system, tightening her muscles while her climax began to pull at her. She let out a little cry as her toes curled. “Oh, I remember your tongue, I remember how it felt for you to lick and suck my nipples. It was so…so good! Yes, that’s it! I’m coming…” She yelled her release, splintering into pieces as she writhed on the bed. She floated down gently, her fall cushioned by aftershocks. Her breathing was still heavy when she remembered the phone in her hand. “Thank you, Mac. It wasn’t as good as when you made me come, but I needed that. Have a good night.” Smiling with smug contentment, she hit the end button and sprawled back on her bed. Let him deal with that, she thought. She was the one in charge, the one who would call the shots if she wanted to. Mac didn’t have to know that he was running the show in her daytime hours. Let him have a little taste of being out of control.

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Chapter Four “Wow, some party.” Sophie groaned at the sound of Annie’s voice and tried to crawl deeper into her pillow. The sun was particularly bright this morning, as if it wanted to pierce through her eyelids with shards of glass. “Did you drink half this bottle? And you’re still breathing?” She attempted to raise her hand to wave her friend off, but the movement jarred her head. Or what used to be her head. Right now it felt like a thin-skinned bottle that was on the verge of shattering. Another moment of assessment and she realized her stomach was turning into a queasy mass of wriggling worms, her eyes had somehow acquired buckets of sand, and her tongue had grown a fur coat overnight. She had the feeling that if she moved her limbs might fall off. “Oh, my God! You got drunk!” Annie laughed and threw herself down on the bed. “I can’t believe you, Sophie Pierson, drank in excess and passed out naked on your bed. It’s about time.” Sophie yanked the covers over her, trying to create a cocoon. Maybe if she hid Annie would let her die in privacy. “Oh, no you don’t.” The cover was pulled down with a sudden jerk. “You’re going to tell me why Jack Daniels was your friend last night, and why he was the only man you took to bed. Obviously you needed one.” “What?” she managed to croak. “Well, I just happened to notice the vibrator --” Sophie sat bolt upright, clutching her stomach as the world whirled crazily. “I must have forgotten to put it away.”

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Annie lifted an eyebrow and tried to hide a smile. “And you still don’t think you should call the guy from the ball? I’d say you’re more than ready for his…services again.” “I did call him.” The moment she said it she regretted it. She would have covered her mouth with her hand, but she was afraid if she let go of her middle, her toes might try to heave their way through her throat. “You called him? When?” Annie leaned closer, her dark eyes excited. “Come on, and don’t spare details.” “It’s not…it’s not what you think.” “So tell me how it is.” Sophie sighed as she leaned back to rest her head against the brass headboard. “I got a little surprise yesterday at the Kincaid house. Turns out, my new boss…he’s Mac.” “Mac?” Annie blinked, stared, blinked again. “The Mac? Mr. Make-My-Friend-SmileFor-A-Week is your boss? Old man Kincaid’s overseer?” “Yes.” “And you called him last night, after you were four sheets to the wind?” Sophie covered her eyes with her palm. “After about half a bottle of whiskey, yes, I did.” “So he knows who you are?” “No, he doesn’t, because I didn’t tell him. I left a…voicemail for him.” Sophie thought of the toy lying on the covers and just knew that her friend understood exactly what had happened. She wished she had the energy to be mortified. She could feel Annie’s perplexed gaze turn to her. “You’d better explain this in more detail, and very slowly.” Sophie took a deep breath, too tired and miserable to argue the point. “Remember I told you how my accent sort of…kicked in that night, and I didn’t bother to hide it. Not to mention the mask, the contacts, et cetera. Apparently all of that worked like a charm. Mac, which, by the way, is his real name, didn’t have a clue that I was Scarlet when he saw me yesterday. I, of course, was about to have a heart attack, thinking he’d somehow tracked me down. Turns out I didn’t have to worry.” “So this guy had no idea the newest woman on the payroll is the one he was boffing the other night?” “Exactly, and he’s not going to know.” Annie let out an exasperated breath. “And why not, Sophie? He’s going to find out eventually, especially since you’re going to be working for his family.” Sophie dropped her hand and gave what she hoped was a stern look. “I’m not going to expose myself, end of conversation.”

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“Because you don’t think you could be what he wants. I swear, for a smart girl, you sure are stupid sometimes.” “Hey!” “Seriously, Sophie, why couldn’t you be what he wants? He picked you out at the ball. He slept with you because he wanted to.” “He didn’t pick me out, Annie, he picked Scarlet out. He slept with Scarlet. He wanted a woman who doesn’t exist.” Her friend narrowed her eyes. “Don’t try pulling that with me. When you were rolling around with him in bed, you sure as hell weren’t some alter-ego.” “Actually, that’s when I felt like I was Scarlet. Besides it doesn’t matter. He has a girlfriend.” Annie was silent for a moment before she put a warm hand on hers. “I’m sorry, honey. That has to suck, having some other woman butt in on your fantasy.” Sophie gave a soft laugh and squeezed her fingers back. “Thanks. It is. And it sucks that she’s gorgeous.” “Pretty is as pretty does.” “Stop channeling movies before I really do toss up yesterday’s lunch.” “Um, well, you’d better get over your hangover because you have to get ready for work.” Sophie felt herself pale but nodded. She knew she couldn’t afford to lose her job, not when she needed the paycheck to see her through the summer. Besides, with Danielle flitting around the scene, Mac would probably be far too busy to worry with the plain Jane librarian. She was just mustering her strength to stand when the phone beside her rang. She looked at the black contours, wondering who in the world would be calling so early. It was her private line, so she doubted it was some sort of crazed solicitor. And no one, not even her mother, would think to call her so early unless it was an emergency. Thinking there could be something wrong, she started to reach for the phone. “Wait, you didn’t happen to have the Caller I.D. block on when you called your boss last night, did you?” She looked up, horrified, as she stared at Annie. “Oh, no…no…” “You’d better grab that before your voicemail picks up. If it’s Mac, then your little game will definitely be up.” Sophie fumbled the receiver up, praying that it wouldn’t be him, strangely hoping that it was. She made sure to school her voice before she answered. “Hello?”

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Annie’s eyebrows shot up as her mouth dropped open. Sophie rolled her eyes and gripped the phone harder. “Scarlet? I’m glad you finally called.” Sophie covered the phone and mouthed, “It’s him.” Annie gave her a bright, mischievous smile and wiggled her bottom further into the mattress. Sophie would have rolled her eyes, but she was afraid they might pop out. “I enjoyed your message.” “You did?” She could hear the heat tingeing his words as he continued. “I did, a lot. I had all sorts of dreams about you last night. They drove me crazy.” “Poor thing. I hope you didn’t have to suffer too long.” “I didn’t, not after I took matters into my own hands. But, God, it would have been so much better if they’d been yours.” The very thought that she’d made him so desperate that he’d gotten himself off to her voice sent waves of heat through her body. Almost immediately her breasts swelled and she felt the telltale dampness against the sheets. His voice was gravelly and deep when he spoke again. “I have to see you again. Name the time and place and I’ll be there.” “I’m not sure, Mac --” “You don’t want to say no. If you didn’t want to see me again, if you didn’t want to continue what we started, you wouldn’t have called me last night. You want me just as much as I want you.” She gnawed on her thumbnail in indecision, still uncertain. She couldn’t deny the truth of what he was saying. But going on with an affair… “Do you have any idea what I want to do to you, Scarlet? Do you know how many times I think about licking every inch of your body? I imagine tasting you until you scream for me, and how good you would feel against my mouth. Then I think about sliding inside of you, feeling you come around me again. I want to do so many things with you and to you. Let me.” And how exactly was she supposed to say no to that? Her expression must have said everything, because Annie was nodding at her, making a shoving motion with her hands. She closed her eyes to get away from the visual cues, but the sound of Mac’s breathing forcefully reminded her of the emotional and physical desire that she couldn’t seem to control. “Where, Scarlet?” He asked it with hard resolve, as if he already knew she was going to say yes. “Tomorrow night, the Regency Inn, nine o’clock.”

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“I’ll make the reservations.” “And Mac, please don’t call this line again.” There was a long pause and she held her breath, waiting for an answer. “I won’t make promises I can’t keep. I’ll see you tomorrow, Scarlet. Oh, wear the garters again. I like them on you.” The line went dead and Sophie sat back, staring down at the phone as if it might bite her. Or worse, as if Mac could see through it and knew exactly who he’d been talking to. “You’d better get ready for work,” Annie said with a grin. “I have the feeling that boss man is going to be whistling a happy tune today.” Sophie replaced the receiver and nodded. “I suppose. He said…he wants me to wear garters. I only have the one pair.” “I can pick you up a pair during lunch today. I think red would be a good choice, along with red stockings. Oh, and shoes, gorgeous shoes.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “I know how much you love those strappy kind. Maybe I’ll see about a skirt and top, too…” She watched as her friend continued to talk to herself, already euphoric with the thought of shopping. With a long sigh, Sophie climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, trying not to think that this was one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

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Chapter Five Why didn’t she want him to call her? The question played over and over again in his head, taunting him. Was there someone she didn’t want him to know about? Or someone she didn’t want to know about him? Mac was almost certain she wasn’t married; he hadn’t seen a ring or a mark where one had been. Of course, that didn’t always mean anything. She could still have a husband somewhere in the wings. Or maybe a boyfriend. Was there a man that he didn’t know about? It wasn’t any of his business, he thought as he descended the stairs to the floor below. Their night together was supposed to be anonymous. Neither one of them was obligated to give any more information than they had to. Hell, she hadn’t even given him her real name. But what had he expected? She’d obviously gone to the ball expecting just the one night. To be honest, he’d gone not even expecting that much. But he hadn’t had any idea that he’d be meeting the beguiling Scarlet. He wandered past the front door, squinting at the sunlight that bounced from the side windows and shown across the marble floor of the foyer. His mind was foggy with anticipation and desire. He already had a long mental list of things he wanted to do with the curvaceous blonde, things that he knew she would enjoy. He had no idea how he was supposed to last until tomorrow night, especially with the sound of her orgasm still saved on his voice mail. When the toe of his tennis shoe smacked into a half-open door, his head cleared long enough for him to realize he was at the library. Strange how his feet had carried him to the one room where he knew he could find some peace and quiet. Even if the little librarian were hard at work, the solace of the room wouldn’t be disturbed. He smiled to himself as he pushed the door completely open, thinking about Sophie Pierson and her studious appearance. She was…appealing, he decided, and so honestly

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candid that she’d shocked him. Without realizing what he was doing, he began looking around for her. He spotted her at the table again, worrying her thumbnail with her teeth as she stared at her laptop. Books were stacked in small piles around her, so painfully neat that he knew they were probably alphabetized as well. Her hair was pulled back, twisted and pinned to the back of her head. Her gold-rimmed glasses sat perched on her nose, slowly sliding down the gentle slope. She was wearing another baggy shirt and, he was sure, another pair of loose jeans. But despite all of that, there was a wholesomeness about her that struck him as classically pretty. For someone who should have been nondescript she had a way of catching a man’s attention. He felt his spirits rise slightly as he approached her. “Ms. Pierson, I see you’re hard at it this morning.” She looked up, holding him with a startled look. His gaze narrowed as he studied the dark circles underneath her eyes and the vague green cast of her skin. “Are you okay?” She swallowed and her gaze skittered away from his. “Yes, I’m fine. I just didn’t get enough sleep last night, that’s all.” “That seems to be going around,” he mumbled. “Excuse me?” “Nothing.” He gave her a smile and propped his hip on her desk. “So, have you managed to make a dent in my uncle’s collection?” “Um, a tiny one. Minuscule, really. Did you know that he hid books behind other books? There are rows of inner books on half the shelves.” “Really?” Mac wrinkled his brow and trailed a finger along one leather spine. “Wonder why he did that?” “Space, probably.” He chuckled and decided he was glad he’d meandered in here. “And what would you do if you ran out of space?” She tilted her head and he noticed the tips of her lips were creeping up. “Oh, but I wouldn’t, because I’d have this database and would know what could be sold, and how many copies of each story I have.” “Uncle Lionel has multiple copies of books?” She cut him an amused glance before looking back at the computer screen. “He’s quite a fan of Shakespeare and Twain. In particular, he seems to have a burning passion for Taming of the Shrew and The Tragedy of Pudd’nhead Wilson.” He leaned back wearily, afraid to ask but knowing he would. “And just how much of a, um, passion is that?”

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“Fifteen copies worth for Shrew, twenty-one for Pudd’nhead.” “At least he appreciates the arts.” “At least. But no Playboys yet.” Mac choked on his own air. “Wh-what?” She looked him squarely in the eye, appearing deadly serious. “No Marilyn Monroe Playboys. I thought that I might find at least three or four copies hidden somewhere between Keats and Poe.” Laughter erupted from his chest as he imagined his painfully thin uncle with his hawklike nose buried in the centerfold pages of a girly magazine. He was still gasping for breath when he heard a familiar voice call through the doorway. “If it’s that funny, then you should share it.” He turned to see his friend, A.J., strolling across the room, his mouth quirked as he stared at Sophie. A.J. always had an eye for the ladies, and the ladies usually fell for his charming act, which was probably how he’d managed to coax two tickets to the ball out of a patroness. And, Mac knew, A.J. also had the uncanny knack for sorting out the wild women from the staid ones. Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable as he watched his childhood friend watching the woman he’d been having a casual conversation with. Mac came to his full height, determinedly keeping a pleasant look fixed on his face. “Sophie was just wondering if Uncle Lionel had any Playboy magazines hidden in here.” A.J. stopped just in front of the desk, his blue eyes dancing. “Lionel Kincaid? I always thought he was gay myself, but I suppose he might. Why, have you found something interesting collecting dust around here?” Sophie slanted her head up and scrutinized the other man for a moment before turning her attention back to her work. “Nothing I think you’d be interested in, sorry. But if you’d like some really titillating reading, I might suggest Madame Bovary. There are two copies of that, one in almost mint condition.” “And would you read it to me?” “Under an oak tree with the sun shining down on us, your head in my lap while you feed me grapes and birds serenade us? Be still my romantic heart.” She lifted one doubtful eyebrow as she peered back over the screen at A.J. For his part, A.J. took the put down well. “Actually, I was thinking on a bed in a dark room, where we had most of our clothes off. But I could still put my head in your lap, if you wanted.” “Ah, but how would I read without light? I like to think I’m an intelligent woman, but I’ll admit I haven’t managed to memorize that particular book. I could quote some Bible scriptures for you, though.” A.J. stared, dumbfounded, before swiveling his eyes to Mac. “Did she just turn me down?”

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“Yep, and pretty damn well, too.” Mac felt inordinately pleased about that. Because Sophie seemed like such a nice girl while A.J. was a womanizer, he told himself. “You have to marry me.” His friend rushed around the desk and fell to his knees beside Sophie. “I’ll take you to a little deserted island where we can grow our own food and make our own wine. We’ll spend the days swimming and talking, and the nights making love.” Sophie sat back in her chair, fighting against a smile. “But what about the rest of the female population? It would be a crime to take you away from them. Besides, I don’t even know your name.” “Andrew Williams, Jr., but you can call me anything you’d like. Eduardo works for me.” “A.J. works for the rest of us,” Mac put in, not particularly enjoying the little scene. “Well, my dear Eduardo, I fear I must live with a broken heart and set you free. It wouldn’t be fair to try to tame a wild thing.” “Okay, then how about lunch? I was invited over for steak, and didn’t have time to scrounge up a partner.” Sophie peered up at Mac with uncertain eyes. Damn if she didn’t look torn between saying yes or no. Could it be that she was afraid that he, as her pseudo-boss, wouldn’t approve? He thought of the way Danielle had spoken of her the night before and battled back the sour taste in his mouth. “You’re more than welcome to join us if you’d like,” he said softly. She gave an almost imperceptible nod of understanding, the whole time watching him instead of A.J. His friend took her hand and laid a kiss on her knuckles, distracting her and breaking their eye contact. “Please, say you’ll save me from being the third wheel…or would that be fifth wheel, since Josh and Kendra are coming over?” Mac was becoming distinctly annoyed with his friend when he heard Danielle sigh loudly from the doorway. Just what he needed, he thought, another person to mix in the fray. He’d been enjoying the quiet conversation with Sophie, and now finishing it would be impossible. “Really, A.J., get off the floor,” Danielle said. “You look ridiculous. Did the librarian drop something?” A.J. didn’t bother to stand, and didn’t bother to look at the other woman, either. “I have found a beautiful woman who has consented to be my lunch partner.” Sophie started to shake her head in protest. Mac put a hand on her shoulder and found himself fixed with her pretty eyes again. “You have to eat sometime, and I’m sure Mrs. Hodges will have more than enough food.”

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“She’s going to eat with us?” Danielle’s voice was teetering on the edge of outrage. “But she’s…she’s…” Mac cut her a quick look and waited for her to finish her sentence. If she started acting like a bratty five-year-old again, he would gladly toss her out the door on her expensively clad ass. She must have seen the intent in his eyes because she tightened her spine and ran her hands down her blue-striped Capri pants. “Of course she’s welcome to join us if that’s what you’d like, A.J.” The other man stood and, smiling, pulled Sophie to her feet. “Now, you have to tell me how someone like you decided to be a librarian instead of an actress. A stage actress, of course; with that bone structure and lovely voice, you’d be perfect. If you tell me you’ve done Our Town, I think I’ll be your slave for life.” Sophie followed A.J. toward the door, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder to Mac. He tried to give her an encouraging smile but was afraid it was more of a grimace. Something inside just didn’t want to share her with anyone else. He didn’t want her to be exposed and probed by the people who surrounded him. He liked the image of her sitting studiously in his library, combing over books. Which was ridiculous. He barely knew her. He’d only enjoyed her company for a handful of minutes. But, damn it, he couldn’t help but feel like someone was taking the last piece of his favorite cake and eating it right in front of him. Danielle sent him a long, cool look before she crossed her arms over her chest. Her white shirt bunched over her arms, blinding against the salon tan of her skin. Her bobbed hair was perfectly coifed, her make-up just so, her fingernails manicured. For a moment she was side-by-side with Sophie, and he couldn’t help the comparisons. He much preferred the blonde woman’s honest prettiness to Danielle’s slick artifice. “Josh and Kendra are here. I suppose we should go into lunch now. But really, Mac, you should talk to A.J. about making a fool of himself like this.” He watched her spin on her heel and go, taking deep breaths before he dared to move. He wanted to believe it was irritation with Danielle that had riled him, but he was afraid it would be a lie he couldn’t believe.

***** By the time the dishes were being cleared, Mac was convinced that Sophie had made three friends. Josh and Kendra were fascinated by her knowledge of the history of the area, and A.J.…well, he just seemed to be fascinated, period. Danielle, of course, was frigidly civil, but everyone, including himself, ignored her attitude. Sophie laughed at something Josh said and Mac tried to watch her as unobtrusively as he could. She looked at home on the stone-floored patio, the sunlight slanting through the shade of the trees to illuminate her face. A few strands of her hair had escaped their pinned

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up prison, dancing happily around her throat and ears as the breeze stirred. She seemed to…sparkle, he decided, then cringed silently at the word. He wondered if they would revoke his Man Card for even thinking something like that. Sophie turned to listen to what Kendra was saying, and Mac was reminded of what she’d told him that first day. Her parents were professors, and she’d been swathed in academia from the moment she took her first breath. He could easily imagine a cute little girl in braids with a pair of glasses balanced precariously on her nose chatting with long-haired philosophers and sleek-suited administrators. That was probably where she’d learned to listen so intently to people, to make them feel like they were the only person she was wholly focused on. It was a trick he had yet to totally figure out himself. “So, you’ve decided to try to fix old Lionel up with the waitress at Daly’s?” Kendra asked, bemused. “Actually, it was really Mac’s idea.” She looked across the table and shared a smile with him. “I only suggested that when you care about someone, their style doesn’t really matter.” Danielle leaned forward, a wine glass poised in her hand. “As Shakespeare said, ‘Charm strikes the sight, but merit wins the soul’.” They all turned to stare at the brunette, completely silent as she sat looking smug. It definitely wasn’t her style to quote literature; hell, he didn’t even know if she read anything other than the gossip columns. Sophie’s voice broke into the quiet. “Alexander Pope.” Danielle turned cool eyes to the other woman as she put down her glass. “Excuse me?” “Alexander Pope, that’s who you just quoted. I think you have that particular passage confused with Shakespeare’s, which says, ‘Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind’.” Kendra gave a little jerk, Josh’s eyes went wide, and A.J. stared at Sophie like she’d just won an Olympic medal. Mac laughed. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Mac, really,” Danielle protested with a hiss. “So -- Sophie, you enjoy Shakespeare -- and Pope?” Mac tried his best to swallow his laughter. A slow grin spread across her pretty face. “Actually, I just love books, period. I graduated with a double major in Library Sciences and Literature. I suppose I’m forever labeled a nerd now, huh?” A.J. leaned closer to her and Mac felt his good humor begin to die. “But you’ve read Madame Bovary, so I think that puts you at the top of the nerd pile.” Kendra shook her head, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders. “The quote…which play is it from?” Danielle sent a venomous look across the table. “Which quote?”

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“Shakespeare, of course. I might have a degree in design, but even I know who William Shakespeare was. I’d like to get a copy of whatever play it’s from. Guess I’ll be making a trip to the library when I go into town tomorrow.” “Unless my uncle has a copy you can borrow. Apparently he’s been considering opening a book shop.” Sophie, who had been taking a sip of her water, almost did a spit take. She covered her mouth quickly with a white linen napkin. Mac sent her a wicked grin as her cheeks became pink. Danielle looked between the two, her eyes narrowing. “Must be an ‘in’ joke.” “Does this have to do with the girly magazines?” A.J. tried to look innocent as he sipped his beer. “And I’m sure you can tell us all about those kinds of things, couldn’t you?” Sophie gave his friend an amused look and A.J., in turn, lifted his glass in a mock salute. Dessert was brought in, a soft cheesecake topped with sugary strawberries. It was one of Mac’s favorites, and he smiled when he saw that he’d been given a large slice. He’d have to remember to ask his uncle to give Mrs. Hodges a pay raise. Danielle gazed down at her plate for a moment, gave a loud sigh, then peered at Sophie. “It looks delicious, but I simply can’t eat it. Some of us are watching our figures.” His eyes narrowed as he watched Sophie’s hand pause, a bite of dessert hovering just in front of her mouth. She’d become very still, her graceful face going parchment pale. Everyone at the table stopped to stare at Danielle again, this time with matching looks of disbelief. Mac said softly, “That’s fine, Danielle. You watch your figure, and I’ll watch…everyone else’s.” His eyes cut directly to Sophie, hoping to see some sort of glint pop back into her gaze. Kendra, for her part, forked a large piece of cake between her lips and smiled benignly. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye on yours.” Josh leered humorously at his fiancée. Kendra reached over and brushed a lock of dark gold hair from his forehead. “You do that, sweetheart, because I know how much you love curves on a woman.” Mac kept his gaze on Sophie and nearly grimaced when she started to push her dessert away. A.J. came to the rescue. “I love curves on my women, too -- lots of them. I hate to think I’d break a bed partner in half just by squeezing her too tight.” He moved the small plate back in front of Sophie. “Eat up, my sweet, so that you’ll have plenty of stamina for our honeymoon. I think I’ll take you away to a ski chalet, where we can lock ourselves in for a week and no one can find us.” “You’re obsessed with hiding me; that could give a girl a complex.” Sophie smiled gently and finally took a bite.

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Josh leaned around Kendra and pointed his fork at Sophie. “Mac tells us that you’re putting Lionel’s library back together. You’re a brave woman.” “Hmm, or foolish, or in desperate need of money, or all three.” She took another bite of cheesecake and chewed slowly. “Actually, I’ve been dying to see his collection for years. We even had a pool at the college to see who would be the first in his library.” “You work at the college?” Kendra asked. “For the last three years.” A.J. spooned a strawberry from his plate to Sophie’s and bent even closer to her. Mac had the strangest desire to put his fist in the other man’s face. He settled for glaring at him. “Do your parents work at the college, too?” “They’re professors at William and Mary.” “Do they teach English or literature?” Josh wanted to know Sophie chuckled, her animated features lighting up. “Neither. My father teaches physics and my mother teaches economics. They used to joke that I was switched with the Eskimo baby in the room next to theirs. Apparently we looked an awful lot alike when we were born. It was a running joke that when my brother was born a few years later, they made sure he stayed in the room with them the entire time they were in the hospital.” “Let me guess, your brother’s a rocket scientist.” Though A.J. said it as a joke, Sophie’s red-stained cheeks spoke volumes. “As a matter of fact, he is. He works for NASA, and we’re all very proud of him.” Mac tilted his head and studied her. “And are they all proud of you?” She gave him a startled look. “Of course they are. They brag about me all the time, to the point that it gets embarrassing. They’re just very practical people, and, well, I guess they have a hard time understanding my choice of careers.” “But you put things in order. Isn’t that a lot like what they do?” “Yes, in a way it is, but they’d much rather work with numbers than words.” Mac sent her a lopsided grin. “But what about the Dewey Decimal System? Danielle stood up, obviously annoyed; probably because she wasn’t the center of attention, he thought. But, honest to God, Mac didn’t think any of them were up to chatting about clothing sales and the ineptitude of the hair salon in town. He’d actually enjoyed this meal since he hadn’t had to listen to a laundry list of backhanded compliments and illdisguised complaints. “I have other things to do, if you will all please excuse me.” She gave Mac a warm smile. “Don’t forget you promised to come shopping with me. We have the party this weekend, and I want to make sure we have everything.” Mac felt his muscles tense, his jaw tightening in irritation. “A party? You never asked me about having a party.”

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“Oh, I didn’t? I was sure I said something about that in the car last night.” She shrugged lightly. “Only a few family business acquaintances and some old friends.” “Wonderful! I happen to have Saturday free.” A.J. beamed up at her. “I’ll see if I can’t convince the very lovely Sophie to be my date.” “But…but…” Danielle’s expression turned to appalled confusion. His friend ignored her stuttering and talked to Sophie. “I’m an old friend of Mac’s. When he came to visit in the summers I was always there to make sure he got into plenty of trouble. I’m sure I won’t be left out of this little…celebration.” Mac watched with slow growing anger as Danielle very nearly stomped her foot like a three-year-old. At the last moment she pulled herself under control and instead sent a disdainful look down her nose to A.J. He was at the end of his rope when it came to her attitude, and he was about to tell her so when she spun on her heel and left the patio. He was still simmering when he saw A.J. tuck a loose strand of Sophie’s hair behind her ear. The action nearly brought him out of his chair. Damn it, what was wrong with him? Sophie was a grown woman. Probably more innocent than most when it came to men like his friend, though. But she was smart; she could take care of herself. Why should he care if A.J. and his librarian had a fling? His…had he just thought of Sophie Pierson as his? “You’ll come with me, won’t you, pretty lady? We’ll drink champagne, eat caviar, and make fun of the people pretending to be nice to each other.” She shook her head, her full, unpainted lips tilting at the corners. “I like champagne, but it doesn’t like me. Caviar is too salty for my taste. But people-watching has always been one of my weaknesses.” A.J. gave her a sly wink. “I’ll take that as a yes. It’ll be nice to have a partner in crime, since I’m sure Mac will be otherwise occupied.” Sophie’s eyes flickered over him for a moment and he thought he saw a flash of hurt, but she pulled her gaze away too quickly for him to be sure. Mac wrinkled his brow and tried not to think about what Sophie’s glance might or might not have meant…and why he was already figuring out ways to keep her and A.J. out of dark corners.

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Chapter Six Sophie stared down at the clothes, or what was supposed to pass as clothes, strewn across her bed. Against the creamy white of her blankets, she had to admit that the material looked sinful and tempting. Cautiously, she hooked one finger around the string of nearly transparent red material. “What is this?” Annie smiled broadly. “A thong.” Sophie gave her a doubtful look and gingerly scooped up the other garment. “And this?” “Oh, come on, you know what that is.” “A merry widow? You got me a merry widow to wear?” Annie nodded happily as she dropped to the corner of the bed. “I so lucked out on that! I can’t believe the store had your size. The sales girl told me I’d snatched up the last one. I swear, it’s like if you’re over a size four they want to force you into baby-doll teddies. At least we didn’t have to overnight something from overseas, like you have before.” Sophie’s eyes moved from the top of the contraption to her chest. “My boobs won’t fit. There’s just no way.” Her friend gave a little snort. “They aren’t supposed to fit, not completely. You’re supposed to show some flesh.” She traced a shaky finger over the black strip that ran up the front of the lingerie. “I don’t know if I can get the lacing tightened.” “Yes, you will; seriously, Sophie, it’s going to fit. And it’s going to drive him crazy!” “I’ve never…I mean, finding this stuff to fit me is a miracle, so I don’t exactly have a closet full of this stuff, and…”

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“You’ve never worn something like this before,” Annie concluded. “Well, now you have a place to shop for things for your illicit little meetings.” “Annie!” She chuckled and shook her head. “Really, you’re going to have the man on his knees before he has a chance to wipe the drool off his chin.” Sophie stared down at the Merry Widow and felt a jolt of purely feminine desire to try it on. She could just imagine what the black straps would feel like over her shoulders, how the matching black trim of the breast cups and garters would look against her skin. The red hose that Annie had bought matched the satin material perfectly. And the black high heels… Carefully placing the garments back on her bed, Sophie gently lifted the shoes out of their box. “These are absolutely amazing.” Annie tilted her head and wiggled her eyebrows. “Damn sexy, if I do say so myself. I thought they’d set the outfit off nicely.” The heels were at least five inches, high enough that she’d be nearly eye-to-eye with Mac. The heels themselves were red, and the opening of the shoes were trimmed in small lines of the same color. The rest was flat, unforgiving, decadent black. Dark laces were attached to the sides, meant to be crisscrossed just below and above her ankle, ending in a bow right above her Achilles heel. “I’m almost afraid to ask how you matched the reds,” Sophie said reverently. “Let’s just say the salesclerk will be going to find one of those merry widows in her own size.” Sophie couldn’t stand it any longer. She toed her socks off and slowly slipped her feet into the shoes. She gave a little sigh as she balanced herself on her new heels. She turned slowly, enjoying the anticipation, and smiled when she saw the reflection of her feet in the mirror. “If you look at good old Mac the way that you look at those, then I know why he wanted you to call him back.” She turned a dazed look to Annie. “Actually, I think I’d meet him barefoot.” Her friend was silent for a moment while Sophie looked back down at her new shoes. “He must be damn good.” Sophie sent Annie a small smile in the mirror. “Oh, he is. He definitely is.” The other woman hopped off the bed, grabbing the merry widow as she moved. “Come on, try this on. Once you’re in it we’ll do some yoga, just so you can be sure it’ll hold up to sex aerobics.”

*****

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Danielle stared at Mac, trying not to lose her temper. She silently tucked her hands into the pockets of her pants and took a deep breath. How dare he ruin this moment? Everything was perfect, from the moonlight in the clear sky to the slight breeze that sent ripples through the pool. She’d already imagined his words, the way he would touch her, the way he would kiss her and admit that they were perfect together. This was not how he was supposed to react to her tonight. “What did you just say?” He straightened his shoulders and cocked his head. “I said I think you should move out.” She blinked several times, sure she’d heard wrong. “But, where am I supposed to go, Mac?” “I’m sure your friends will be more than willing to offer you a room. After all, reconnecting with them was the whole reason you came, wasn’t it?” She paused for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. “But Mac, you’re my childhood friend, too.” “Yes, and it was convenient for your mother to send you along with me in the summers to visit your father when he lived out here. But we’re not ten years old anymore, Danielle. You don’t need someone to look after you on a plane trip.” “And what if I can’t find a place with our friends?” He lifted an eyebrow at her insinuation. “Your friends can direct you to a hotel.” She snorted in derision. “Around here? Are you joking? Surely you don’t expect me to stay someplace where the sheets are only changed once a week.” Mac sighed and she knew she’d said the wrong thing. But, damn it, he was not cooperating. Hadn’t she stopped her life to come out here with him? He had to have known it wasn’t just to renew old acquaintances. She had very much expected a ring by the end of the summer, and she was going to get it. Mac just needed time to realize that marrying her was what he should do. “Danielle, I’ve tried to be patient with you. I’ve tried to remind myself that you were raised a certain way, that you were taught to expect certain things from the world. You were raised to believe that if a person wasn’t born into money, or if they come by it through sweat and blood, they’re beneath you.” She bristled at his words, hurt and angry that he would dare to judge her. Him, MacAllister Kincaid, eldest heir to a fortune that would support a small country for generations, was passing judgment on her? Ludicrous! “Mac, we grew up in the same circles.” “Yes, we did, and apparently we got very different things out of it. My parents would have dragged me by the ear into the bathroom and washed my mouth out with soap if I’d been as rude to someone as you were to Sophie today.”

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The librarian! She knew it! So there was a little something going on. Well, she’d been around her mother long enough to know how to ignore these little flings and transgressions. The mouse of a woman must be pushing him for something more than a quick screw between the bookcases. Slowly, she lifted a hand and rested it against his chest. “I’m sorry, I suppose that I was a bit…upset. A.J. enjoys throwing monkey wrenches into plans. I guess it wasn’t really her fault that he invited her, but I’ll admit I was irritated that she accepted, especially when she knew that the lunch had to have been planned.” She gave him what she hoped was a sweet smile and waited expectantly. Instead of accepting her apology, he very gently, but very firmly, removed her hand. “So you’re angry with Sophie for accepting a well meant invitation to lunch, even though A.J. was obviously enjoying her company? Doesn’t that sound even slightly selfish to you?” She swallowed her immediate desire to snap back, pushing herself to remain calm. “Of course if he wanted to have lunch with her I wouldn’t have objected, as long as he’d given us advanced warning.” Warning so that she could make sure she and Mac didn’t have to share a table with little Miss Sophie Pierson. Taking care of your employees was one thing, but this obsession Mac seemed to have about making friends with them simply wouldn’t do. She would have to see about changing that particular habit once they were married. “Danielle, I’d like for you to be out by tomorrow afternoon.” She felt heat creep up her body to stain her cheeks. “All right, if that’s what you want.” “It is.” She nodded once then took a step closer to him. “You’re going to miss me, Mac. You’re going to miss what I would’ve gladly given you.” She traced her fingers across his abdomen and down to the fly of his jeans. He jerked back and she sent him a slanted look. Let him think about that, she thought. Let him compare his little frumpy librarian to her carefully pampered body. He’d be begging for her in a week, two weeks tops, and then she’d make sure he understood what she expected if he wanted a piece of her. “The party on Saturday, I’m assuming we’ll still be having it here?” He gave her a carefully controlled look, his green eyes shuttered tight. “It will be the last one you’ll be planning for me this summer.” She very much doubted that, especially after he finally let go of his silly notions and caved in to her demands. She kept her thoughts to herself, understanding that the much rumored Kincaid temper wasn’t something she wanted to trifle with. Holding her head up, she moved away from him, making sure her strides were studied and long so that her bottom swung deeply. She smiled as she thought of him dreaming of her tonight. Oh, yes, he would

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be hers before they flew back home. She breezed through the open doors of the sitting room and continued toward the staircase, her mind filled with visions of a fall wedding.

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Chapter Seven Mac paced across the luxurious room, completely oblivious to the expensive appointments and elegant furnishings. He wasn’t usually the nervous type, but tonight…tonight he felt like he was proving to Scarlet why she shouldn’t stop seeing him. His friends would be shocked if they saw him right now. He was a man who had stared down irate celebrities, who would gladly toss out anyone, famous or not, if they caused problems at any of his family’s hotels. He’d stood in front of cameras, shrugged off personal questions, headed off scandal mongers when they tried to find out who was doing what at the hotel spas…or hotel bedrooms. But all of his composure was slipping and he wasn’t sure if he cared or not. He couldn’t wait to see her, really see her, for the first time tonight. There wouldn’t be any barriers or any need for awkward introductions. They had ripped the sheets up the last time they were together; he could easily imagine them setting the curtains on fire tonight. After he’d played with her, after he’d made her scream and pant, after he’d exhausted them both, he would make sure she didn’t walk away without promising another night to him. He fully intended for them to use each other until they’d burned themselves out. And it had to burn out eventually; nothing could possibly burn so hot and last that long. A soft knock came and he practically bolted toward the door. Shaking his head at his own action, Mac took a moment to calm himself down. He definitely didn’t want to scare her away. After a deep breath, he opened the door…and found himself face to face with a hooded figure. “Scarlet?” “Hello, Mac.” He stepped aside, forcefully pushing his irritation to the back of his mind. “I’m glad you came.”

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She gave a throaty chuckle that sent a wild thrill straight down to his groin. “Why would I miss this, after everything you promised me?” He shrugged as he closed the door and flipped the lock. He didn’t know how to explain the uncertainty he’d had; it wasn’t usual for him, and he wasn’t sure if he could explain it even to himself. “I wore red.” His body tightened painfully at her statement. He watched, his mouth literally watering, as she slid the long cape off of her body. Anticipation had his throat in a tight knot as the long piece of material landed on the floor. Then he saw the soft mask that covered nearly all her face and the anticipation turned to anger. “You’re still wearing it.” She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, before she lifted her fingers to touch the velvet material. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?” Hell yes, he did. He had a major problem with taking a woman he’d been craving and still not seeing every nuance of her face. He’d wanted to see her, all of her, and watch her expressions as he touched her, tasted her, brought her to orgasm. But he was in a corner and he damn well knew it. If he demanded she take the mask off, she could, and probably would, walk away. For whatever reason she wanted her anonymity, and he had no real say in the matter. “I suppose I don’t,” he finally replied. She nodded in satisfaction then cocked her head. “And the rest? Does it meet with your approval?” He deliberately tamped down his annoyance and let his eyes roam down her body. His irritation was quickly replaced with the rush of lust. Her gorgeous curves were encased in a red corset, her plump breasts popping from the top. His fingers itched with the desire to unlace the enticing lingerie, to feel the smooth skin he knew lay underneath. She wore a miniscule scrap of material over the triangle between her legs; just a thin scrap between her and the world. She’d also worn stockings, dark and dangerous, attached by easily flipped buttons on her garter. His gaze trailed down, following the curves of her thighs, the lines of her calves. He stopped abruptly at her feet. Heaven help him, even her erotically sexy shoes matched her seductive outfit. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “I take it you like my choice of outfits.” Instead of answering, he reached out and stroked a finger down her throat. His cock was throbbing, screaming for attention, and his blood was already at a low boil. He’d been imagining this all day, even when he’d been wondering where Sophie had been hiding herself -- he shook his head to dislodge the stray thought. “The first time, I was yours to play with. Tonight, I want to play with you.”

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Her brown eyes lit with heat and he could feel her pulse jump underneath his fingertips. Fascinated, he leaned down and laid a soft kiss on the soft spot just below her jaw. Her body didn’t hesitate; it melted into him like warm wax. He laid gentle kisses up to her ear, pausing long enough to nuzzle the warm lobe. “If I do anything you don’t like, tell me. I want you to enjoy this.” She let out a sound that he took as understanding. He smiled to himself as he continued to kiss her, bringing his mouth over to nip hers. She tasted just as good as he remembered, sweet and hot and rich. He swiped his tongue over her lips and she immediately opened to him, giving him access. Her tongue reached out to tangle with his, wrapping and laving and driving him crazy. Reluctantly he pulled away, determined to continue with his plans for her. He looked down at her, ignoring the ripple of annoyance that he couldn’t see her whole face. Something niggled in the back of his mind, something that made him just the slightest bit uncomfortable. Firmly pushing that away, as well, he let his hands glide down her full curves. “I like what you’re wearing.” She gave him a deep laugh as she rocked against him, cradling his hard cock against her. “I can tell.” He groaned as she gyrated again and took her hips firmly in his grasp. “Are you as turned on as I am?” “My panties are soaked.” He sucked in a breath at her frank statement. “Good.” His eyes strayed down to her ample cleavage and he felt saliva pool in his mouth. What the hell, he thought, and dived down to nip at the pliant flesh. He heard her moan and felt her back bend as her rich aroma surrounded him. She tasted so good, so warm and sinful. He gorged on her, enjoying her as he moved one of his hands up to palm a breast. He squeezed and kneaded, his shaft straining against his pants as she wiggled and hissed. When her nipple popped up above the red material he immediately latched onto it, sucking the hard point between his teeth. “Mac!” “Hmm, you taste good, really, really good.” He pulled a little harder and she gasped with delight. He smiled to himself when he heard her little sounds of encouragement. He was going to get her exactly where he wanted her, and soon, or else he wouldn’t make it. He leaned away from her, keeping his hands on her back. “Come with me, Scarlet.” She stared at him, her breathing heavy, before she finally nodded. He felt his sac begin to hum and tingle, his cock so hard he could have easily ripped through his pants. He led her

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to the bed, holding her firmly when she would have lain down. She sent him a curious look and he smiled. “Trust me.” She didn’t answer, she didn’t need to. The fact that she sat still as he situated himself on the mattress said enough. Slowly, he reached out to take the small paddle off the side table that he’d put there earlier. Her eyes flared wide when she saw what he had. He wanted to reassure her because he didn’t want her to balk at his idea. “It’s padded, see? Nice and soft. I’d like to use it on that luscious bottom of yours. I promise, I won’t hurt you; and if you don’t like it, all you have to do is tell me to stop.” She worried her thumbnail between her teeth, a cute little habit that she probably did without thought. But instead of looking doubtful, she appeared to be excited. This, he thought, was definitely a good sign. He held his hand out to her and she took it, her fingers sliding over his. He held her against him for a moment, nuzzling her stomach, then lower, inhaling the scent from her damp thong. Her hands delved into his hair, holding onto him as he moved to nip her hipbone. He looked up at her and saw that she was struggling for air, but for all the right reasons. Gently, he pulled her across his legs, situating her across his lap. He groaned as he stared down at the rounded butt that was now completely at his mercy. His hand reached out to knead the soft flesh, his shaft throbbing with every squeeze. She wiggled closer to him, lifting her backside up for easier access. He wet his lips and lifted the paddle. The first swat was soft, a gentle tap that had her jerking upward. He waited, but she didn’t protest. The next was a bit harder, but only enough that her flesh bounced. “Oh, Mac…” Her cooing was enough to tell him that this was a welcome sensation. He smacked her again, watched as her bottom gyrated and her hips pumped. He slid her outside leg down just enough so that her crotch was rubbing his thigh. The moment she felt him against her lips, she began rubbing in a steady, almost desperate motion. He spanked her over and over, listening to her gasp, feeling her dampness soaking through his pants. His body was begging to be the hard device that was pushing her so close to the edge. “Do you like this, Scarlet? Tell me.” “Um, yes, yes! Oh, God, I didn’t know.” Neither had he. He couldn’t take it any longer. With a quick yank he had her flipped over onto the bed. He stared down at her, at her breasts that were spilling over, her trembling lips, her moist thighs. He hurriedly shimmied her thong down her legs, then licked his way back up to the searing heat between her thighs. He didn’t hesitate; he ran his tongue along her swollen slit, savoring her flavor as it exploded on his taste buds. She

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screamed and heaved, her hands fisting the white comforter. He tasted her again, the tip of his tongue slipping inside before pulling away to lave her hardened clit. She was writhing underneath him, panting and nearly sobbing as he continued his assault. “Do you want to come, Scarlet?” “Yes! Yes, please, God!” He grinned wickedly and flipped her to her stomach. She went willingly and he knew she was as ready him. He reached down with one hand and let his fingers pleasure her while he worked his pants off. He left her alone only long enough to rip his shirt away. Without a word he palmed her hips and lifted her. The view was incredible; if he’d been younger, less experienced, he might not have made it. As it was, he had to fight not to slam inside of her. Instead, he pressed his shaft into her wet opening, slowly slipping between her scorching walls. He felt her flex as he filled her completely, accommodating his size so well that he growled with pleasure. He listened as her gasp mingled with his, sending bolts of lust straight through his system. His fingers dug into her delicate flesh as he slid out, then slid, inch by inch, back in. The pace he set was excruciating, balancing him on the edge of insanity. But he wanted her to have it, too, to have the same wild need, the same crazy desire to fly apart. “Faster! Please, faster!” He complied quickly, wanting to please her, demanding his body hold out just a while longer. He pushed forward again and again, moving with the rhythm of her hips, grinding his teeth as he pleasured her. He felt his orgasm simmering, ready to boil over, and had the very real fear that he would come before she did. Then she screamed, the noise high and full and keening. Her muscles contracted, milking him steadily as her body rippled inside and out. Only then did he let himself go, slamming into her. His release was furious and hot, strangling him with pleasure as he spasmed with painful relief. It was several long minutes before he could think again. When his mind began to clear he rolled down beside her, chuckling when he gazed over at her prone body. She was still on her stomach, her face now in the bed as she tried to steady her breathing. Tiredly, he reached out and patted her naked bottom. “I think you liked that.” Her answer was a slow, deep chuckle. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling, his eyes closing in contentment. He would give her a few more minutes, then he would weigh the situation and ask her about the mask. But for now…well, for now he was going pray he got the feeling back in his extremities. His feet had just begun to tingle again when she moved. He didn’t think much of it until he heard what sounded like clothing being moved. He opened his eyes slowly

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wondering if she was getting completely naked. Instead he found her shoving her arms into her coat. “Hey, wait a minute.” He said it mildly even though he felt like yelling. “What are you doing?” She sent him a quick look over her shoulder. “I’m leaving.” “What? Hey, hold on.” He jumped up and grabbed her arm. “So, we just have sex and you take off?” She paused for a moment, keeping her face turned away. “Isn’t that what this is? An affair?” “An affair means we talk. This is…it’s…” “It’s what?” Scarlet let out a soft sigh. “Mac, please, I can’t stay. If you can’t play this by the rules then I can’t…I just can’t.” He hated it. He hated being backed into a corner. Damn it, she was right. He’d asked her to come, to continue what they’d started, and what they’d started hadn’t been a relationship. It had been mutually shared pleasure. And wasn’t that what he wanted? He wasn’t so sure at the moment, but obviously it was the way she wanted it. “All right, I can play it your way. That’s the way we started, isn’t it? But I’d like to see you again, Scarlet. I’m staying at a relative’s house while he’s…away. There’s a renovated carriage house in the back. I’ll give you the address.” He didn’t wait to get an answer, but quickly went to the table and wrote down the information. She didn’t move, holding herself still when he handed her the folded paper. “Meet me Sunday night, ten o’clock. If you don’t call me, I’ll know you’re coming.” Her hand slid up and slowly plucked the note from his fingers. She began to move to the door before he spoke again. “Scarlet, don’t call.” She paused and he wondered if she might be about to say something. But she didn’t. She walked out the door without a backward glance.

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Chapter Eight Mac didn’t bother to keep his smile plastered on. There was no use pretending that he was enjoying even half of this party. His mind was filled with Scarlet; images, scents, memories of her voice. He had stayed up most of the night trying to figure out why she still insisted on the mask. All of the activity to set up the party, the constant noise and constant movement, had rubbed him raw. He’d deliberately stayed away from the house all day, visiting his uncle, getting reacquainted with the college town, picking up and dropping off the few things that Lionel had needed. He only wished he could have hidden out in the posh hospital room and avoided the crowd of people he barely knew. This party looked exactly like the dozens of others he’d been to over the years. The backyard was lit up by floodlights, tables had been drug around the pool and draped with white cloths, and elevator music was being piped in to play over the buffet and open bar. Waiters and waitresses milled around, scooping up empty plates and glasses, offering champagne and shrimp puffs. It all felt so…fake. The people who were here were mostly business acquaintances, or friends of Danielle’s. He quirked an eyebrow as he watched her schmooze, gliding from one group of fawners to the next. She thrived on this, thrived on the attention and the idea that she was doing something important. While Mac agreed that having associates over once in a while for a meal or a small dinner party was essential, however annoying, he didn’t revel in it like she did. In fact, the more he thought about it the more he realized his parents hadn’t exactly reveled in it, either. They had been polite, even gracious, to their guests, but he distinctly remembered his father placing bets with his mother about who would cry uncle first and declare the party over. What they had truly enjoyed were the evenings with their friends, when they could laugh at bawdy jokes or debate over the state of politics and who’d really won the last game of cards. The older he became, the more he found he wanted the same thing for himself.

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Danielle flicked him a sly smile as she flitted to yet another knot of vapidly chattering females. He had the sinking feeling that she was trying to prove something to him. Mac downed the rest of his whiskey and moved toward the bar, wondering just how long the crowd would stay. If the invitations hadn’t already been sent, if there hadn’t been a pile of RSVPs, he would have canceled the whole damn thing last week. He was just leaning against the bar when he felt the strangest shudder dance up his spine. The tingling ran along his limbs, settling heavily in his crotch as it raised the hair on the back of his neck. Wrinkling his brow, he turned…and found himself staring directly at the cute little librarian. Or at least at the woman who had been a cute librarian. She looked different, even though her hair was still up and her glasses were still perched on her pert nose. She was wearing a sundress tonight instead of baggy pants and shirt; he had to admit the glowing white of the material was a welcome contrast to the darker colors the other women wore. It was a pretty number, a halter style dress that showed off her shoulders and a modest but tantalizing view of cleavage. Really nice cleavage, he decided as he stared at the soft, plump flesh. He felt his cock twitch to life and blindly reached out behind him for the drink the bartender was offering. As Sophie moved the skirt played around her knees, the light material bringing his attention down to some very appealing calves. He followed the line down to her feet where a pair of sexy white shoes were attached by an intricate web of straps. Holy hell, he thought, and drained his glass. She was close now, smiling at him, and he realized suddenly that the dress wasn’t completely white. There were tiny purple flowers dotted along a gauzy overlay of the dress, giving it a sweet look that made his body ache. The outfit did a damn good job of mixing naïveté with sensuality, and Mac was afraid he’d fallen neatly into the trap. When his gaze strayed to the man escorting her, he was irritated to see that apparently A.J. had fallen into it, too. “Mac, hi.” She stopped in front of him and his eyes caught a new temptation; there was a small amethyst pendant winking just above her breasts. “Uh, hi, I…I’m glad you made it.” A.J. grinned wickedly. “We almost didn’t.” Mac watched angrily as Sophie blushed. “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?” The question came out with more of a bite than he’d intended, but, damn it, A.J. shouldn’t be fooling around with his Sophie. She looked up at him, puzzled. “His car had a flat. I told him it was an interesting twist on the running out of gas line.” A.J.’s smile grew brighter as he stared at Mac. “Lucky for her I have triple A. No way was I going to change a flat in this get up.”

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He tilted his head and stared at A.J.’s white silk shirt and expensive black pants. They weren’t much different from his own blue shirt and tan trousers, and yet he felt an inexplicable surge of aggravation. “You’d have left Sophie in the middle of nowhere, at night, just because you didn’t want to ruin your clothes?” Instead of being annoyed, his friend laughed. “Absolutely not. I would’ve stripped naked and changed the tire. Now that could have definitely made us late.” Mac ground his teeth against his unreasonable reaction. Sophie was a sweet woman, and a very appealing one, too. He’d enjoyed their conversations, their bantering, their jokes. She deserved to be taken out and pampered and shown off. So what if A.J. was the one to do it? He knew that Sophie, despite her quiet tendencies, could and would defend herself. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if she knew some form of deadly martial art. If his friend made an unwanted move, she would bloody his nose and bruise his groin. The thought made him feel lighter in one moment, then guilty in the next. “Drink?” he asked, and plucked a glass of champagne from a passing silver tray. She shook her head, the confusion in her pretty blue eyes easing away. “I was being serious when I said alcohol doesn’t like me. I’m not a good drinker.” “I am!” A.J. stole the flute from Mac’s fingers and took a long drink. “I’ll have to be sure to drink for the both of us.” “Then I suppose I’ll be the designated driver,” Sophie replied. “Um, I guess that means I get to spend the night at your house, since the car is mine.” She arched an eyebrow, her lips tilting in a half-smile. “My mother always taught me to bring enough money for a cab. I can drop you and your little red toy at your hotel, and still get home without you.” A.J. heaved a heavy sigh. “My plans are thwarted again, pretty lady. If you don’t watch it, I just might have to whisk you away in my jet to that deserted beach.” Mac had had about all he was going to stomach. “Don’t you mean your family’s jet, Junior? I think your dad would get suspicious when it came back without you.” “Darling, you should be mingling.” Danielle slid a hand along his shoulder and Mac tensed. “I’m talking right now, in case you didn’t notice,” he bit out. “Why don’t you go and mingle for me?” He turned to see her glaring at Sophie, her red nails curving into the soft material of his shirt. She must have realized that she wasn’t going to be the center of attention for much longer, not when the delectable and entertaining Ms. Pierson began circulating. “Well, I’m sure A.J. and his date will understand.”

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Mac grabbed her hand and carefully removed it before he stepped away from her. “I have something to do…inside.” He strode away, not particularly caring what excuses Danielle made for him. He didn’t want to be out there, anyway, and he definitely didn’t want to see other men drooling over Sophie. Not when he wanted to be the one staring at her, talking to her, bringing her drinks, touching her skin, tasting her -He stopped short, his hand on the smooth handle of the French door. What in the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t possibly -- there was just no way that -- it was impossible! There had to be an easy explanation. Yanking the door open, Mac hurried through the sitting room and made his way to the study. He didn’t bother to put on the light. Ignoring the tall leather chair, he came to a stop in front of the high arched windows that overlooked the side lawn. Even though the back of the house was lit as bright as day, here he could still see the moon and clear night sky. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he took several long, deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. He had to look at the facts, to be objective. But the problem was his brain refused to be cool or calculating. It was still churning with images of Sophie and thoughts of Scarlet. There was no reason for his libido to be this strung out when he’d just had a mind blowing night with his secret sex partner. At least, that’s what she considered herself. He’d been disappointed when she’d refused to let him know who she was. He’d been curious about why she felt she had to keep herself a secret from him. And maybe that’s what she’d intended; maybe she wanted to keep that mystery so that he wouldn’t lose interest. An hour ago he would have thought that idea was ridiculous, but after the way he’d just reacted to Sophie, he wasn’t so sure. Sophie had snuck up on him, damn it. Not that he hadn’t found her attractive; it was just that she deliberately downplayed her looks on most days. Now here she was, all dressed up, provocative without realizing it, making him react so strongly that he felt…he felt…hell, he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt. Hard, hot, throbbing, that was how he felt. “Mac?” Her voice was soft in the dark room, the touch of concern adding depth. Something in it sounded so familiar, like he should know it for something other than being Sophie’s voice. He couldn’t quite place what it was, though. It was his roaring hormones making him crazy, he decided. “Mac, are you all right?” He didn’t turn when he replied. “I’ll be fine.” He heard her move closer and turned to look over his shoulder; what he saw stopped his breath. She stood in a beam of pale moonlight, seeming to glow against the darkness of the room. In that moment she reminded him of a goddess, which had to be wrong…completely wrong.

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“I think you might have upset Danielle.” He shrugged and forced his gaze back to the window, though the view wasn’t as appealing. “I needed a few minutes away from the crowd.” A moment later he could feel her behind him, smell her sweet scent and the deep undertones. “I can understand where I’d be overwhelmed, but you, Mac? I’m surprised.” “Yeah, well, there’s a lot about me that might surprise you.” “Really? Like what?” Like the fact that he had the wild urge to push her against the wall and find all the secret places of her body. That would definitely shock her, probably just as much as the idea was shocking him. How could he want a woman like this when he’d had such a satisfying night with Scarlet only a few hours before? “Mac?” “Shouldn’t you be out there with A.J.?” His stomach knotted as she gave a throaty chuckle. “Oh, he’s doing just fine without me. But I think a few of your guests saw your sudden exit.” “So now I’m the hot topic of conversation?” “I suppose it’s better than politics; I don’t think anyone will come to blows speculating why you left.” He felt the corners of his mouth lift despite his rioting libido. “I don’t know, some of those women are scary; they may just use it as an excuse to attack each other.” “In that case, you definitely don’t want to miss the party.” She was silent for a moment, waiting for him to say something he imagined. “You know, if you and Danielle have had a fight --” “What?” He spun around and deliberately fisted his hands, determined to keep his urge to touch her under control. “What makes you think Danielle and I had a fight?” “I saw her leaving this morning with a suitcase, and the way you just reacted to her…” She lifted her eyebrows as if the answer were a foregone conclusion. Mac sighed as he shook his head. “It has nothing to do with Danielle.” “Well then, what? Work, family -- never mind, it’s none of my business.” No, it wasn’t, not really, but she looked so sweet and so earnestly concerned that he couldn’t take her question as being nosey. But he couldn’t very well tell her that it was her fault he had sequestered himself in the study. That would lead to all kinds of questions that he knew he couldn’t answer. So he grabbed at the first reasonable explanation he could think of. “I just don’t like parties.” She lifted an eyebrow, looking surprised. “All parties, or just this one?” He sent her a half-smile, glad she believed his lame excuse. “Just this one.”

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“I don’t blame you,” she admitted with a conspiring smile. “But if it’s your party, Mac, you can change it. You are the host.” Now she had his curiosity peaked. “You don’t like it, either, huh? And exactly what would you do if this was your little get together?” “Oh, no, if this was my shindig, it would be a barbeque, and people wouldn’t be teetering around trying not to spill food on their thousand dollar outfits.” He let out a soft laugh. “I think I’d much rather go to your party than this one. But let’s say that you had this set-up to work with. What would you do in, say, an hour to change it?” She tilted her head and studied him for a minute, as if she were weighing something important. She finally appeared to come to a satisfactory conclusion as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her very nice chest. Her soft skinned, slightly flushed, delectable looking chest. His body jerked slightly as he yanked his thoughts back. Those were very dangerous observations to be making right now. “For starters, I’d find gentler lighting. Maybe some candles in the pool, soft twinkle lights in the trees, some decorative hanging lamps…but I’d definitely turn the floodlights off. I’d put out colored tablecloths, something blue, maybe, and I’d put hurricane lamps in the middle of the tables for lighting and decoration. And, no offense, but I’d change the music. Not that I don’t like the Beatles’ music in its original form, but the Muzak version…I sort of feel like I’m in my dentist’s waiting room.” Mac blinked as he took in her last comment, realizing that she was completely right. “What music would you play?” “For this crowd? Light classical, nothing with a hundred strings that sounds like a dirge. Maybe Bach or Beethoven.” “You’re pretty good at this.” “Me? No, not really. I guess it’s all a matter of reading human behavior.” He watched her mouth relax into a gentle up tilt and had to wonder what she’d taste like. Honey, deep and sweet and layered. He was absolutely sure she’d taste like that…and more. A deep blush crept into her cheeks, a fascinating tinge that almost brought his hands to her face. Instead he took a deliberate step away and forced lightness into his voice. His reaction to her was too intense, too uncertain, and he sure as hell didn’t want to scare her away. He was still looking at her as casually as possible when he nodded toward the door. “Well, we can’t change the lighting, or the tablecloths, or the menus, but I think we can do something about the music. She’s using CDs. I’m sure Uncle Lionel has some better music stashed somewhere.” A distinct twinkle played in her eyes. “Um, but do you want to live with the fallout?” “I’d rather listen to Danielle’s complaints than the slaughtering of Barry Manilow.”

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She laughed softly and nodded, apparently in agreement. He gestured through the dimly lit room, silently asking her to leave. She turned and he saw that the back of the dress, or what should have been the back of her dress, wasn’t there. Instead, he was staring at soft, flawless skin, luminescent in the moonlight. Before he could stop it, his hand was out of his pocket and reaching out. He caught himself just before his fingers grazed her shoulder blade. Maybe it would be better if she weren’t with him while he switched the CDs. “Why don’t you go out and distract the crowd?” he said, not surprised by the slight rasp in his voice. “How about I butcher Barry Manilow right along with the violins?” She spun, a brilliant smile on her face, and he held his breath. “I could stand on the bar and do a little cha-cha when I start singing about Rico. What do you think?” He was too caught in her pretty face to reply, so he shrugged and hoped he didn’t look like a complete moron. He waited until she’d stepped out of the house to take a breath. It was going to be a very long night.

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Chapter Nine Sophie checked her face in the rearview mirror one more time. She should have called. She should have told him no. But all she’d been able to hear was his deep, dark voice telling her to come tonight. And all she’d been able to see was the smile he’d given her during the party. So here she was, sneaking onto the Kincaid property in Annie’s car with a mask on her face and a toy in her bag. She figured if she was going to be fool enough to continue this, then she was going to enjoy continuing her fantasies. And he would enjoy them, too. She supposed she should feel a little bit of guilt, but at the moment she couldn’t find any. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to be the woman he spent his nights with. At least some of his nights with. The fact that he had Danielle to fill in the evenings when he wasn’t with her shouldn’t factor in, not when they had a tacit agreement that this was an anonymous affair. She wondered what kind of man had a woman to show off to the public, and another one to have sex with in private. But then, maybe Danielle wasn’t as keen on trying new things as Scarlet was. She didn’t exactly strike Sophie as the type of woman who might like being spanked, or who might tie someone up. She definitely didn’t seem the type who would go to a sex ball and have a hell of a time. Sophie took a quick moment to wonder if Danielle even sweated. Tonight wasn’t about Mac’s girlfriend, though. It was about her and the man waiting in the carriage house. She eased the compact car around the back of the house, noting the darkened windows. In opposition, the pretty white renovated carriage house was well lit, the front porch bright in anticipation. She thought she saw the curtains flick back then down in the upstairs window. He was waiting for her; that felt good, almost too good. By the time she reached the door, her purse in hand, she had gotten her nerves back under control. She straightened her shoulders, thought about what she wanted to do to and

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with Mac tonight, and let her Scarlet persona slip over her. She felt warm, sexy, a very different woman than she had a few minutes before. She was just lifting her hand to knock when the door was opened. Mac stood there, staring down at her with a brilliant smile. Her heart did a flip-flop as he stepped aside for her to come in. “I knew you’d come.” “You’re very confident, aren’t you?” Her voice was textured with a southern drawl again, deep and throaty from the way he made her feel. “Optimistic.” He closed the door as she looked around the small house. Actually, it was just as large as her apartment. Directly in front of her, the living room was surrounded by large windows and filled with comfortable, pastel-shaded furniture. The windows to the right showed a pretty view of the house gardens, the cheery kitchen to the left had a breakfast nook. The stairway just on the other side of the kitchen archway must lead up to the bedrooms, she thought. Sophie peered over her shoulder to look at him. “It’s very nice.” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “You have simple tastes.” “Is that a bad thing?” “No, not at all.” He moved up behind her and cuddled her bottom against his hard cock. “Just as long as you aren’t saying I’m simple.” She wanted to tell him that the things she was beginning to feel were far from simple. Instead she leaned back and let her head rest against his chest. “The things I’d like to do to you aren’t simple,” she whispered. She felt his tongue snake out to lick the soft shell of her ear. The thrill of it jolted her nipples and swelled her lips. A sudden image of him touching Danielle this way popped into her mind and she furiously shoved it away. She knew the rules going into this, and she wasn’t going to hurt herself by trying to change them. She took one his hands into hers and began pulling him up the stairs. “The bedrooms are upstairs?” He made an affirmative sound and she could feel his eyes scanning her back. He followed her docilely, though the tension in his body was more than evident. She stopped at the landing and looked left, then right. “To the left,” he told her in a gravelly voice. She turned and led him to the door at the far end of the hall. When she opened it, she found herself standing in a room she could easily be comfortable in. The hardwood floor was covered by soft oriental rugs, the soft woods of the furniture were set off by the delicate pale green of the walls. And the bed…good heavens the bed. It was massive, like a luxury yacht

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piled with fluffy pillows and creamy white covers. She could roll from one end to the other three times and still not reach the other side. “It’s an antique,” he explained as his hands began stroking up her arms. “I like it.” She turned and smiled, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten when he smiled back. “I’m going crazy trying to imagine what’s underneath that coat, Scarlet. If it’s anything like your sexy black shoes, I think I might need to call 9-1-1 right now.” She felt his compliment all the way down to her marrow and her Scarlet persona melted a small degree. She quickly grabbed hold of herself and let the vamp have total control again. “And wouldn’t the paramedics have a great story when they arrived and saw what I was doing to you.” A deep moan rose from his throat, the sound vibrating every piece of her body. God, how she wanted him, wanted him in a way she’d never imagined. She would use him, just as he used her, and then she would walk away with the memories and the feminine knowledge that she could be a potent woman. “Come here.” She pulled him around and gently pushed him down to sit on the end of the bed. “If you pass out then the mattress will catch your fall.” He grinned wickedly and she sent the same look back to him. After a moment of silence, she slowly opened her coat, watching his expression as each inch of her was revealed. His eyes began to dilate, the skin over his cheekbones going taut, as the light material pooled at her feet. She knew what he saw: her body fitted into a purple lace, skintight teddy that left almost nothing to the imagination. She was glad she’d listened to the little devil on her shoulder when she’d happened to find it in her size. His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke. “Thank God I sat down.” “But you’re still dressed, here I am, practically naked.” He cocked his head and studied her, then stood, his lust surrounding her. He moved slowly, as if he knew he was teasing her, shifting with surprising ease for a man of his height. He toed his shoes off, then his socks, and she had the vague thought that the old saying about a man’s cock and his foot size was probably true in Mac’s case. He stripped each piece of his clothing with deliberate movements, letting his shirt, then his pants, and, finally, his underwear drift to the floor. She stared at him, her breath caught in her throat as he stood, completely exposed. Her gaze took in his muscled legs, hard abs and broad chest. His shaft stood out, hard and thick, and her inner walls quivered in anticipation. “You are the most incredible man I’ve ever seen.” She stepped toward him and laid a hand on his chest. “I could stare at you day and night.” “And you make me harder than I’ve ever been.”

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She felt the corner of her mouth tilt up as her hand drifted down to cup him. “I can see that. But tonight you’re going to have to trust me. It’s my turn.” He made a noise somewhere between a groan and laugh as he nodded. She pushed him back to the bed again. He went willingly, his eyes holding hers. A thought occurred to her as he stared at her and her blood sang with hot desire. She quickly scanned the room, not sure if she could find what she needed. Then her gaze landed on a cheval mirror that stood in the corner. Silently, she hurried across the room and carefully pulled the mirror closer. “I can help you --” She shook her head as she positioned the wooden frame. “Can you see yourself?” “Yes,” he drawled. “Perfect.” She went to him then and picked up the small bag she’d tossed onto the bed. “Now, let me show you what I brought with me.” Her hand sank into the dark depths and landed first on the smooth, egg-shaped device. She pulled it out and laid it on the cover beside his thigh. He stared down at it, looking both perplexed and a little unsure. Instead of answering his unspoken question, she reached back into her bag and pulled out her other toy. This one, a soft, flesh-colored vibrator, was a new purchase. “What do you plan to do with these?” He sounded intrigued, which she was glad of. “I plan to make you a very happy man.” She laid soft hands on his shoulders and pushed, pleased when he took the hint and moved further up the bed. She waited until he was settled to crawl over his body, letting the delicate lace brush against his bare skin. The sounds he made were the most erotic things she’d ever heard. When her crotch found his cock, she watched his eyes roll to the back of his head. It was tempting, very tempting, to simply climb on top and take him inside. She would come in two seconds flat, she was sure. But she had other things in mind. “Prop your head up with the pillows.” He paused for a moment, then suddenly his face flushed and his eyes flared. She realized he understood what was going to happen and felt her entire body hum with pleasure. He quickly did what she asked. “Now, I’m going to climb up there, and I want you to undo the snaps of my teddy.” He looked very eager to please as she straddled his chest. His fingers, so long and talented, played along the juncture of her thighs for endless seconds before finally reaching down to unhook the material. She felt the dampness and heat between her legs begin to moisten her flesh. Before she could stop him, he’d slipped one finger inside of her and began to play. She wiggled and moaned as he pressed into her, scraping along her sensitized walls. When he pulled his hand away she had to bite her lip to keep from protesting. “Are you ready?” she asked.

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His breathing hitched as he nodded. She kissed him then, slow and languorous, enjoying his tongue against hers. When her lips moved away he gave a startled grunt, as if he didn’t want her to leave. But she only went to nip at his jaw, along his throat, down to his chest. By the time her tongue lapped at his nipple he had his hands fisted in her hair. She sucked at the hard points, keeping the pull steady and firm. His hips bucked up and a hot wave of need poured through her to settle in her groin. She pressed herself against his hard thigh, pumping in time with her licking. The sensations were so sudden and so incredibly wild that she gasped. She knew she had to continue or she’d be completely lost. Her mouth made its way down to his stomach, lingering to lay open-mouthed kisses on his hips, across his lower abdomen, to the top of the opposite thigh. She leaned up quickly and stripped her teddy completely off, leaving herself as naked as he was. His eyes caught hers as she lowered herself again. Slowly, she took his cock into her mouth, savoring the feel and taste as he filled her. She heard him hiss, saw his hands slam down onto the bed and dig into the covers. She held him inside for a moment, then pulled up, moaning as he slid against her tongue. She set the rhythm, long and easy, and reveled in his gasps and the heaviness that was building against her throbbing core. When she was sure he was on the edge she eased her torture, but only long enough to grab the silver vibrator she’d left on the bed. Handling it carefully, she quietly turned it on and gently laid it against his perineum. He nearly shot off of the bed. She raised questioning eyes to him, but he was so far gone, his eyes shut tight in painful pleasure, that she knew he was enjoying the feeling. She swallowed him again and pressed the device just a bit harder into his flesh. He responded by growling loudly. Sophie’s nipples were so hard now that they hurt, and her lips were pounding with frustrated lust. Still, she gave him pleasure, laving his shaft while the toy played against him. She felt his body tense completely and knew that there wasn’t long before he would come. She took her mouth from his cock, leaving the vibrator in place. Leaning over, she took the rabbit she’d brought and placed it against her aching slit. “Open your eyes, Mac. Look in the mirror and watch me.” He did what she asked immediately. She turned the vibration of the toy on and eased herself down, losing herself in the feel of it. Once she was seated, she switched the rotate dial, screaming with delight as it began humming in circles. “How does it feel?” he asked, his voice raw. “Incredible.” She looked at him and saw that he was focused on the image in the mirror. The excitement of that, of knowing he was watching her pleasure herself, was beyond her wildest imaginings. But there was more that she wanted, more that she’d thought of experiencing.

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She leaned down and placed his shaft between her breasts, moaning at the mind-melting sensations coursing over her skin and through her body. “Hold them, Mac. Hold my breasts as tight as you want.” His gaze didn’t move from the reflection when he cupped her breasts and squeezed them together. She rode her vibrator and him, keening loudly as her orgasm tightened and built. She panted and called his name, held onto his hips as her pace became hurried and frantic. The edge was there, just in front of her, and she scrambled for it. When she finally came the world ripped apart, torn into bright, tiny pieces as she screamed and growled. She felt Mac tense underneath her, heard his own short screams as his hot liquid spilled over her collarbone and breasts. She collapsed against him, spent and satisfied. With the last of her energy she turned both devices off and managed to pull herself up to the head of the bed. “Scarlet, that was…it was…” His panted attempted at a praise made her smile. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” “Where the hell did you learn to give such a good blow job? Some place in Europe?” She gave him a deep laugh and shook her head. “I don’t really travel.” Sophie quickly sealed her lips together and silently derided herself. She’d let that little bit of information slip. Surely he wouldn’t figure out her rouse from one little, insignificant comment. His reply squelched that idea. “Really? You struck me as a woman who’s been to a lot of places.” “I don’t think the lack of stamps in my passport should matter.” She hoped he let the matter drop and sent up a silent prayer that went unanswered. “Would you like to travel? Or is it that you just don’t enjoy hopping on planes or sitting in cars?” “I never said I didn’t like to travel, Mac, I…this isn’t relevant. I’m still trying to recover, so could you please stop with your questioning? Can’t you just enjoy what we did, what we will do?” He pulled her against his chest and nuzzled the top of her head. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” “It’s what you want, too.” “Why do you say that?” She sighed and held back the real reason. She would have to explain far too much if she said he’d be disappointed. “Because those are the rules we started by. I’m going to lay here and enjoy the afterglow, if it’s all the same to you.”

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He didn’t say anything else, instead holding her until she felt his breathing become slow and even. She eased away from him and stood, watching him sleep for several, unending minutes. Then, because she thought it was cruel to leave him without a word, she left a neatly printed note letting him know she would call. As she dressed and put her toys back in her purse, she prayed she’d remembered never to print anything for him. She’d have to remember to always write in cursive. At least for the short time they had together.

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Chapter Ten Rain sluiced down in crisscrossing torrents, streaks of sacrificial drops carving thin patterns against the kitchen window. Sophie sighed as thunder rumbled irritably overhead, rattling the floor and dishes. They’d said it would rain, but they certainly hadn’t predicted this kind of storm. And now the forecaster on the radio had said it was going to get worse, a lot worse, before the night was over. Anxiously, she glanced down at her watch. She should be heading out for home by now, but there was no way she was crazy enough to brave the road and the other drivers in this mess. The only other option was to stay here until there was a lull, which she was beginning to doubt would ever happen. She had hoped to hide out in the kitchen, lured here by the fresh strawberries Mrs. Hodges had promised her had to be eaten before they went bad. Too many, she’d said, and Mr. Kincaid wasn’t going to be able to finish them all himself. Sophie secretly thought the older woman had been trying to ease her out of the library, where the floor to ceiling windows had nearly bowed with the wind. There was a definite maternal streak in the stern gray-haired woman, though she did her best to hide it. Resting the small of her back against the marble island, she let her mind drift to her last rendezvous with Mac. It had been everything she’d wanted to experience and more. He had gladly capitulated to everything she’d demanded, given himself to her completely, letting her have the power. And yet she knew the kind of power he could wield with his skilled hands and heated words. He could just as easily dominate her as be a willing slave to her needs. It was a mind-numbing combination that left her panting even now. She shook her head to dislodge her thoughts, turning around to reach into the white bowl of fruit. She didn’t need to be thinking like this, not now, not inside his house. She tried not to feel annoyed that she hadn’t seen Mac in two full days now. After all, he was a busy man, she reasoned. There wasn’t any motivation for him to carve out time for his uncle’s librarian, even after their collusion at the party.

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Sophie was just biting down into a tart berry when the door was pushed open. She stopped mid-bite as she watched Mac stride into the room. Her stomach quickly began to flitter with tiny whirlwinds. A Blue Tooth was fit snuggly into his ear and his handsome face appeared thoroughly annoyed. There was something different about him, something that made the air around him fairly vibrate with authority. He wasn’t the same man who teased Sophie, or even the one who tormented and satisfied Scarlet. He wasn’t even the thoroughly annoyed man she’d witnessed a few times before. This, she realized, was the side of him that had been molded by his work and his lineage. Lightning streaked across the sky, a clap of angry thunder on its tail, and he didn’t so much as flinch. Before she could make herself known he was talking to an unseen person on the other end of his phone. “I see, and how long has the Blankenship/Jennings reception been booked? And the Brewer’s anniversary party? And what’s planned for the Green Room that day? The time? Damn.” He ran a hand through his already messy hair and stared at the pineapple print wallpaper with hard eyes. “Tell Mr. Brewer that we can give him the Green Room at halfprice -- yes, I know you’ll only have an hour to set-up, but there really isn’t a choice here. We’ll pay time and a half for any employee who stays over to help us, that should get you enough hands on deck. Throw in a free night in the Ambassador Suite for the Brewers, and a free day at the spa for Mrs. Brewer. That should make him happy. And Harry…apologize to him and let him know that we’ve fired the person who was overbooking. I’ll send along a personal apology letter myself. Anything else?” A small smile appeared, easing some of the tension in his face. “Send Abigail my best, then. Twins, huh? She’s going to have her hands full. I’ll order some flowers and assure her we won’t be giving the kitchen to anyone else while she’s away. Give me a call if anything else explodes. I’ll call you this weekend to see how the parties are going.” He let out a long breath as he ended his conversation, turning so that he was facing her. There was just the barest of hesitations then she watched, mesmerized, as his grim look transformed into a grin. “Sophie, I thought you’d be gone by now.” She pulled the strawberry away from her mouth and licked the juices off her lips. “I would have, but the storm…” She motioned to the windows behind her and he nodded. “Ah, yes, the lovely summer weather we’re having. You definitely shouldn’t be out in that.” “Mrs. Hodges agrees with you.” She gave him a tentative smile and felt her stomach do a somersault when he plucked the strawberry out of her hand. “I’m starving.” Sophie watched as he ate the rest of the fruit, not sure why the move felt so sexual. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, too. How about some dinner?” She nodded dumbly, feeling like a complete dolt. Mac began rummaging in the refrigerator, giving her a nice view of his tight bottom. She remembered exactly how those

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taut muscles felt in her hands, all solid and supple and hot. She had the sudden urge to reach out and stroke him. Taking a quick step back, she cleared her throat, frantically searching her mind for something mundane to fill the sudden silence. “You, uh, you’re having trouble at one of the hotels?” “Yeah,” he sighed into the refrigerator. “The Boston Kincaid. It’s taken care of, though.” “Do you usually have crises like that?” He shrugged and turned to peer over his shoulder. “Sometimes. Different days bring different problems. One year some of the staff threatened a strike; it turned out that the manager at the time wasn’t very good, especially to the staff, and kept blaming them for the issues the hotel was having. Once we negotiated with the staff and investigated the manager, he got the boot, Harry was promoted, salaries were raised, and they were all satisfied. Except for the ex-manager, of course.” She wrinkled her brow as she watched him begin digging again. “Wow, your negotiation team was very accommodating.” “I would hope so, seeing as how my father and I were the ones doing the negotiating. Besides, they deserved a pay increase, and they were absolutely right about the manager.” But she knew there was more to it than that. She understood the pitfalls and the stresses when workers threatened to walk out; living with her parents and their peers made it hard to avoid the truths of things like that. Yet he treated it as if it were nothing more than a blip on his radar. She could only imagine the kind of loyalty the Kincaid workers gave to him and his family. “How about salmon?” She shook her head and tried to refocus. “What?” He held out a white platter and she automatically took it. Looking down she found four pieces of grilled fish topped with lemon wedges. “Let’s see…there’s some pasta salad, and…ah!” He emerged with a bowl balanced in his hand. “Bruschetta; I love bruschetta. I’ll toast the bread if you’ll heat the fish.” He gave her such a hopeful look that she chuckled. “Okay, you have a deal.” They worked together companionably, laughing about Mrs. Hodges, admiring her handiwork when it came to running the household. He told her terrible blonde jokes while she obligingly rolled her eyes. The talk was light and easy as they filled the room with spicy aromas. It felt homey, almost too homey, but Sophie tried not to analyze the situation too closely. When they were finally sitting at the butcher-block kitchen table, she sent Mac a curious look. “So you and your father run the hotel chain?”

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“My father, my younger sister and brother, and myself.” She slowly cut into her fish, keeping her eyes on him. “You have siblings?” He smiled warmly and she could feel his quiet affection. “Owen and Christie. They’re twins.” “Hence how you knew Abigail’s children would be a handful.” “Exactly. They were holy terrors alone, together they could have taken over the world if they’d wanted to.” Sophie laughed softly. “Ah, sibling love.” She took a bite of her food before she continued. “How much younger are they?” “Three years. Christie just got married last year. It was strange seeing her walk down the aisle, all decked out in satin. I kept remembering when she was little and was the biggest tomboy I knew. She could keep up with us boys without breaking a sweat. Of course, she still cried when she skinned her knees.” “And did you tease her about that?” “Actually, no.” His eyes became vaguely distant, as if he was pulling up a very old memory. “I’d pick her up, wipe her face, and remind her she wasn’t some sissy wimp.” It was poignant image, one that tugged much too hard on her heart. She took a long sip of her iced tea while her mind scrambled for another -- easier -- topic. “MacAllister…is that a family name?” Oh, brilliant change of subject, she thought. Now she sounded like someone making dry chitchat at a bad party. Either Mac didn’t notice, or he didn’t mind, because he finished his bite of pasta and nodded in agreement. “It’s my mother’s maiden name. All of us are named like that; it’s a family tradition.” “So your brother and sister were given maiden names?” She hoped she didn’t sound as thoroughly interested as she felt. “The first born gets the mother’s maiden name, or a version of it. Then it branches down the maternal family tree, taking maiden names from her mother, then her grandmother, and so on.” “Wow, that’s quite a tradition.” He sat back and laid his napkin on the table. “It’s something the Kincaid family’s been doing for a very long time. Personally, I think it’s nice. It gives the other side of the family a chance to keep certain names alive. Our middle names are first names from the family tree.” “So your brother is…” “Owen Scott Kincaid.” “That means your grandmother’s maiden name was Owen.” He nodded and said, “Owens.” “And Scott was…?”

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“My father’s great uncle.” “So if good old Uncle Scott never had anyone to carry on his first name, this is a way to make sure his name isn’t completely lost.” Mac tore a piece of tomato-smothered toast between his teeth as he made a sound of concurrence. “You’ve got it. It’s a little complicated, I admit, but it works for us. What about you? Are you named after anyone in particular?” “Sophie La Roche.” He quirked an eyebrow in surprise. “Your parents named you after a famous novelist and they were surprised when you became a librarian and studied literature?” She found herself chuckling in answer. “Well, my mother did say something about prophetic monikers.” “And your brother?” “James Alfred Pierson, for the explorer James Cook and for Alfred Nobel.” “Um, high hopes early on, huh?” She shook her head slowly. “I think it was more about setting us on a solid road to success. Besides, I could spell my name in kindergarten. I’ll bet you were in college before you could spell yours.” He laughed as he pushed himself away from the table. “Lord, Sophie, you could bring a genius to his knees in five words or less.” “Thank you…I think.” Mac stood and stacked her empty plate on top of his. She watched, impressed, as he put away dinner and loaded the dishwasher. He caught her stare and didn’t look even the slightest bit embarrassed. “Mom taught me to take care of my own messes,” he explained. “Now, why don’t we go see what sort of trouble we can get into?” She followed him out of the kitchen, pausing only for a second as he held the door for her and she passed by him. His warm scent was enough to make her want to melt completely into him. She let Mac take the lead, following him down the hallway and into the sitting room. Surprisingly Lionel Kincaid’s odd sense of décor hadn’t found it’s way into this room. It was still very feminine, dominated by creamy beiges and splashes of sedate rose hues. Plush furniture sat in a two small conversation areas, one facing a marble hearth fireplace, the other a flat screen television. Oil paintings hung on the wall, and a small roll top desk sat in the corner, waiting patiently to be used. Like most of the other rooms, there were tall windows giving the illusion of extra space. Next to the library, this was by far her favorite room.

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“Well, with the storm the satellite’s out. I don’t know if we want to risk my uncle’s taste in movies. So…” He stopped and turned, his gaze landing on the impressive looking controls of a radio system. “How about some music?” Relaxed, Sophie nodded with a smile. Strange how cozy and at home she felt here, wrapped in the cool air of the house while the oppressive clouds drenched the world outside. At the moment, her limbs were so lax that she could have easily sprawled on the floor like a contented cat. She watched as Mac fiddled with knobs and pressed a button. The moment the music filled the air she let out a little laugh. “Sarah Vaughan.” He gave her a sideways look and a crooked grin. “Let me guess, you minored in music.” “No, I just appreciate the arts. I don’t think it’s fair to torture anyone with my voice.” As the female singer’s smooth voice began singing about what the letters in the word love stood for, Mac held his hand out. Sophie had a flash of memory, remembering the way he’d asked her to dance that first night. Happily snug in the moment, she tossed her better judgment aside and slid her hand into his. The immediate jolt was no less than she’d expected, and she kept her eyes averted for a moment while she adjusted to the sensation. Then she was spinning, Mac’s strong arms holding her loosely as he swung her in wide circles. She moved with him, catching the rhythm quickly as he led her around the room. She felt nearly weightless as he spun her under his arm then twirled her out. She let out a full laugh as he pulled her back in, bringing her body flush with his. For a moment she was cuddled against his chest, her ear directly over the slightly quickened pounding of his heart. His heat felt so good, so right, and she was loath to give it up. The world seemed so far away, as if it had dropped into nothingness while he was holding her. He couldn’t know it, of course. He couldn’t possibly realize the woman he was dancing with was the same woman he’d spent such erotic nights with. He couldn’t know Sophie and Scarlet were one in the same. One woman who had such tangled feelings, such confused love, for him. The word rang in her ears like a death knell. He gently pushed her out again, holding onto her two hands, maneuvering her so that she slid down his arm, only to be caught when his fingers twined with hers. But the joviality she had been feeling was now laced liberally with panic. She loved him. When and how had that happened? It was too terrifying to consider at the moment. She kept a smile firmly in place, her heart skittering madly as her stomach became as light as air. She couldn’t tell him how she felt. She couldn’t dare tell him that he’d been sleeping with her instead of a stranger. If he found out she knew inherently that she wouldn’t be able to deal with the fallout. Her heart would never survive the pain he’d inflict. He fitted her into his body and dipped her back as the song ended on a long flourish. He grinned down at her, his face easy with laughter, his green eyes sparkling. Then she saw

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it, the slight change in his stare, the softening of his features, the slackening of his mouth. He was going to kiss her. She panicked. With a brittle titter she moved her hands from his forearms to his chest, pushing herself back to a standing position. She swallowed against the fist of fear that had lodged itself in her throat and prayed that her face wasn’t betraying everything she was feeling. As the next song began, she ran her hands down her jeans while soothing lyrics about flying to the moon and playing among the stars filled the room. “Dance lessons?” she asked, trying to sound casual. His eyes skimmed around her face, as if he were trying to search something out. “Um, yeah, my mother insisted. My father told me that girls liked a man who could dance.” She gave him a hesitant smile. “He was right.” There was a heavy pause, one that filled every corner of the room, making it hard to breathe let alone think. “Sophie.” Her name was like a rasped benediction, both sinful and redemptive, and it melted her bones completely. Mac took a small step forward, effectively swallowing what room she’d managed to eek out. She stared up at him, felt his confusion mix and mingle with anticipation, and tingled with heady emotions of her own. He eased closer, his head angling, his intent blatantly clear. She was so mesmerized that she didn’t avert her lips until it was almost too late. Sophie deliberately kept her gaze on the toes of her blue Keds, sure that if he got a glimpse of her expression he’d know who she was immediately. And she wasn’t ready for him to know that. She wasn’t ready for their affair to end. She knew it was selfish, but for once in her life she wanted to have something just for her, something she could tuck away and take out to remember when she was alone again. She heard him let out a long breath and could picture him running a frustrated hand through his hair. She watched as his shoes disappeared from her view and she knew that he’d moved away. “Sophie, I’m…you know what? No, I’m not sorry.” He said it so forcefully that her head snapped up, her eyes quickly landing on him. He was staring out the window with an expression so intense she thought he just might crack the glass. “You’re a beautiful woman, Sophie. You’re smart, and you’re funny, and you’re interesting. Now I can add great dancer to that list. I wouldn’t be a red-blooded man if the rain and the music and your company didn’t give me…ideas.” She wasn’t sure what to say, or even if he wanted her to reply at all. Silently, she rolled her lips together and continued to study him, aching with uncertainty. Had it only been the evening that had made him want to kiss her? Had it been the dinner, the conversation, the

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dancing? Didn’t all of that entail what most people would consider a date? And didn’t most people kiss at the end of their dates? Of course they did; if they were smart and lucky, they ended the night with a heck of a lot more than a meeting of lips. “I suppose you could sue me for sexual harassment.” He turned to give her a teasing look that didn’t quite disguise the bewilderment in his eyes. She shook her head, meeting his look with a small smile. “I don’t think it would stand up in a court of law.” “You and A.J.…I know I don’t have the right to ask, but you two, are you…” She lifted her eyebrow as she crossed her arms over her stomach. “A couple? No. We agreed that I’m too intelligent for him and he’s too socially exhausting for me.” “Oh.” He slipped his hands into his pants pockets. “You seemed pretty social to me at the party. Kendra and Josh really like you, too.” Fingers of tension were creeping up her spine, twining around to hold her in a merciless grasp. Absently, she lifted her thumbnail to her teeth and began worrying it. She turned from him and paced over to sightlessly stare at a watercolor of two girls in a meadow of sedate colors. “Maybe it wasn’t so much social exhaustion as very different goals. I don’t think A.J. is the type of guy who’s ready to settle down.” “And you are? Ready to settle down?” She spun around to look at him, surprised by his intently probing eyes. She suddenly felt naked, stripped right down to her very essence. She realized she was gnawing at her thumbnail again and instantly jerked it away from her lips. “I, uh, well, yes, I guess so. I mean, I had my parents’ example; they were married when they were in their mid-twenties, and they’re still very happy together. I suppose I’m at the point in my life where, when I date, it’s with the hope of becoming serious.” His gaze narrowed, as if he had pinpointed something very important. “But you don’t date.” She was taken aback by his statement. “What makes you say that? You haven’t known me long enough to know my dating habits.” “I saw the way you reacted when A.J. maneuvered you into coming to the party. You aren’t used to being asked out. Frankly, I’d say the men around here are complete idiots, only I see the way you dress and act. It’s all about putting them off.” Her mouth dropped open, hanging for an endless moment before she snapped it closed. “Since when did you become a psychiatrist?” He shrugged negligently. “Running hotels teaches you how to watch certain nuances of human interaction. I don’t think you do it deliberately, Sophie, I think it’s completely subconscious. It’s like a test for the opposite sex. ‘I dare you to figure me out, to like me

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without wanting to change me before I show you what’s really underneath’. It’s quite a nice trick.” “Trick?” She felt her anger rise to smother her sexual frustration. “You are way too presumptuous. I dress this way because I’m comfortable.” “You dress that way to hide your body.” It was a dead hit on the truth and she blushed with the knowledge. “I sure as hell didn’t wear this to your and Danielle’s damn party!” When he replied his voice was low and deep. “No, you didn’t, which is why I can say what I did. What I don’t understand is why.” “What?” “Why?” He advanced on her slowly, holding her still with invisible bonds she couldn’t define. Her feet refused to budge even though a very loud voice in the back of her mind was screaming for her to run away. “Why, Sophie?” She had the strangest feeling that he was asking about something more than her dressing habits. “I -- I told you, I’m comfortable like this.” He stopped directly in front of her, tilting his head and unnerving her with his nearness. “I remember you telling me the first day in the library that when someone cares for another person, it doesn’t matter what sort of style, or non-style, that person has. Is that what this is all about?” “I --” “Explain it to me. I want to understand.” “It’s…I just…” She exhaled, closed her eyes to gain her composure, and when she opened them again found she wasn’t any calmer. “I’m not Danielle.” He jerked back like she’d smacked him. “What?” “I said I’m not Danielle. I’m not Kendra. I’m not any of those other women.” “And that’s a bad thing?” “No -- yes -- in some ways. I’m not exactly a size three, Mac.” He looked completely puzzled for a moment before his muscles relaxed. “I see.” “I suppose you do.” She worried her nail again, yanked it back down, almost chewed on it again. “I’m not ashamed of myself. I guess I’m just a realist.” “A realist?” “I can’t compete with perfect legs, perky breasts, flat stomachs, or buns of steel. So, I choose not to.”

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He narrowed his eyes again and studied her. “Obviously A.J. didn’t need you to be any of that.” “I already told you that A.J. wasn’t serious. And honestly, men in your world wouldn’t normally show up at a social function with someone like me.” “No one seemed to mind your being at Danielle’s party. In fact, they enjoyed being around you.” She leaned forward, hoping he would understand what she was trying to explain. “But they knew A.J. and I weren’t a couple. If I’d walked out there with an engagement ring on my finger it would have been very different.” His voice dropped to a near whisper as he continued to watch her. “Do you really think we’re all that shallow?” “Of course not, not all of you. But if I…loved a man who lived in your world, then I wouldn’t want him to end up being hurt because of who I am, and I’m not going to change.” “What about the man? What if he loved you? Then it wouldn’t matter what the most shallow of the people in his circle thought. Any true friend would be thrilled for him.” Sophie sighed and shook her head. “That’s great in theory, but I know how it works. I know because I’ve been there. Even if he did really care about me, it wouldn’t be long before the pressure started tearing at him, and eventually he’d have to choose. I couldn’t do that. It just wouldn’t be fair.” He reached out, his fingertips brushing her arm. “That’s quite a double standard you hold yourself to.” “Yes, well, once burned, twice shy I suppose. I’d be much safer with someone who’s more…” “Like you? In your own sphere of people? Isn’t that just as snobbish as the people you think wouldn’t accept you in my circle?” “No, it’s not.” She looked away, feeling as if the conversation’s undertone had been completely lost to her. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. It’s ridiculous to suppose some rich, handsome man who could have his pick of women would fall for an opinionated librarian who couldn’t fit into a size six even if she was poured into it. Heck, I can’t even make a centerpiece with flowers.” Before he could argue, she peered over his shoulder to the windows on the other side of the room. Deliberately stepping around him, she kept her eyes on the weather outside. “It looks like it’s letting up a bit. I’d better go while I can.” Stilling herself, she turned back to look at him. “Thanks for dinner and the dance, Mac. I had a good time.” He nodded mutely, saying nothing as she walked toward the door. Her hand was on the knob when he finally spoke. “I’ll see you tomorrow Sophie.”

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She didn’t trust her voice, instead relying on her jerking head to answer for her. She held onto her composure until she’d raced through the rain and was sitting in her car. A moment later she was crying, her fingers tight around the steering wheel as the fact that she’d fallen in love with Mac played over and over again in her head.

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Chapter Eleven Mac stared at the bedside phone and willed it to ring. It was ridiculous, of course. He couldn’t very well reach into her head and force her to dial his number. But a man could always hope. He caught a glimpse of himself in the dresser mirror and let out a deeply revolted snort. What the hell was wrong with him? Since when had he started playing lap dog? He was always in control of his affairs, even if he shared the responsibility and enjoyment of them. He’d never had to push a woman in the direction he wanted. They’d always just cooperated and been very obliging. But then, none of them had been his Sophie. His. There he was again placing a possessive brand on her. But, damn it, he couldn’t help himself. His physical reaction to Scarlet had unnerved him. That first time they’d had sex he’d chalked it up to the forbidden fruit aspect of the evening. A sanctioned one-night stand with a hot woman did a hell of a number on a man. Then he’d spontaneously asked her to call him. If he were truthful he’d admit he’d practically ordered her to do it, another first for him. For some reason it had been imperative that she had his number and that she knew he wanted more. That in itself had shocked him. Then there’d been the wild, seemingly inexplicable reaction to Sophie. Sweet, adorable, terrifyingly intelligent Sophie; he’d been stirred by her the first time he’d seen her. Which had actually been the second time. He should have been pissed as hell last night. When he’d seen her chew on her thumbnail, the very same cute habit that Scarlet had, it had all suddenly fallen into place. The way her body called to him, the familiar curve of her face, the familiar sound of her voice. He should have ranted and raved and demanded answers. Instead he’d had a feeling of relief. He’d been driving himself crazy trying to figure out why he wanted Scarlet so much, but at the same time had the impossible desire to make sure no one put their hands on

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Sophie except him. Now he knew. His body had recognized who she was even if he hadn’t. So he’d had a choice. Be angry because he’d been fooled, or be grateful because the two women who’d been making him slowly insane were actually the same person. He wondered if anyone else could possibly understand the war going on inside of him. There were only two people he knew of who would. And since he was sure Sophie wouldn’t be calling him after their almost kiss, he figured he had some time to get at least a small glimpse into what she could be thinking. Before he could change his mind, Mac did pick up the phone, but he dialed his parents’ number instead of Sophie’s. His father answered on the third ring. “Hey, Dad. Just the person I was looking for.” “I am?” He sounded genuinely happy to hear that. “And what does the great MacAllister Kincaid need with lowly Jackson Kincaid.” Normally he enjoyed talking with his father, but tonight he had a deep need to get right to the problem. “I need some advice, actually.” There was a moment of silence before Jack answered. “Okay, this sounds slightly serious. Is this about business?” “No, no it’s not.” “Well, I’m sitting down whenever you’re ready.” Mac took a deep breath to calm his stretched nerves. “Tell me about when you met Mom.” His father’s deep chuckle carried through the line. “You’ve heard that story a million times.” “Yeah, from her, but I’d like to hear it from you.” “From me? Why?” “Because I want to hear your side of it.” He listened to the sound of his father sinking deeper into his recliner. “Let’s see…I was twenty, and I was working at the Seattle Kincaid. I was filling in that week in the kitchen, being a waiter, taking meals to rooms, that sort of thing. Normally I wouldn’t have minded, but I’d had a long year at school, and I was feeling sorry for myself. Most of my college friends were at the beach, or overseas, with their parents footing the bill, and there I was working my tail end off. Anyway, the day I met your mother I wasn’t in the best mood. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and I was wheeling a cart full of food down a long hallway, thinking that I’d rather be anywhere else. Then I knocked on her door, room onefourteen, and forgot that I was upset. “There was this amazing creature standing there, laughing, with rollers in her hair, four different shades of lipstick on her lips, two different shades of makeup on each eye…but what I saw was her smile. She stared at me for a minute before she started blushing. And that was it. I knew I had to know her. I kept an eye out for her, and when I saw her go to the

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pool I asked one of the girls working around the bar there if I could cover her break. I took a drink to your mother that I knew she hadn’t ordered, but she took it anyway. We started talking…and talking.” He laughed softly, the sound full of memories. “I found out that she was there for her sister’s wedding, that she was attending Cornell studying history, and that she was possibly the nicest, most intelligent young woman I’d ever met. She scared me to death.” “But you didn’t tell her who you were.” “No, no I didn’t. Mary just assumed I was working my way through school, and I suppose in a way I was. She never made me feel any less of a person because she thought I didn’t have the sort of money her family did. She had no idea that the money her father made as a corporate lawyer was pocket change to mine.” Mac fell back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. “What was the point? Why not tell her who you really were?” “Because she liked me, just me, nothing else. It was nice to have someone appreciate who I was instead of what I was.” “And she was furious when she found out.” “Oh, she was more than furious. She found out from a family friend who saw us out together. She wouldn’t believe me when I swore that I was going to tell her that night; she didn’t take my phone calls for a good week. Luckily her parents and sister liked me, so they helped me fight on the home front, so to speak. But it took persistence and a lot of groveling, which I suppose I deserved since I’d been such an idiot about the whole thing.” Mac ran a tired hand over his face, still feeling at a loss for an answer. “So you didn’t tell her because you wanted her to like you as a person and not a dollar sign. But there had to be another reason. Keeping your identity from someone is a big deal.” “I didn’t say it was the most intelligent thing I’d ever done, but at the time I felt like I had to do it. Mary got to know who I was separate from the family name and money, and that was important to me. Eventually it got to the point that I was afraid to tell her, because I didn’t want to disappoint her.” “Disappoint her?” He could practically hear his father nodding. “Yes, disappoint. She had me built up in her mind as Jack the waiter, not Jack the heir. I had nightmares about what she would do or think of me when she found out I was actually Jackson William Kincaid and not Jack Williams. I was afraid she wouldn’t understand that I was the same person she’d fallen in love with, even with my background.” He felt a slow warmth seep through his mind as light slowly began to dawn. While the circumstances were different, they were alike in a lot of ways, and his last explanation actually did make a strange sort of sense. Especially when he considered her complicated ideas about the relationships she could or couldn’t have.

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“Son, why do you want to know this?” Mac held himself back for a moment, trying not to stumble over his words. He wasn’t ready to tell anyone what was going on his head. He definitely wasn’t ready to let anyone know what was happening in his heart. “I was just…curious.” “And did I appease your curiosity?” “Yeah, Dad, you did. I, uh, I have to go.” There was amusement in his father’s voice when he replied. “All right, then I’ll let you go. I’ll give your mother your love.” “’Bye, and, um, thanks.” He could have sworn he heard a chuckle when he hung up. Before he could think better of it, he dialed the number that was permanently scored in his brain. Three rings and he heard the receiver fumbled up. He realized she must have caller I.D. and was torn between laughter and irritation when he knew she must be panicking now that she’d seen his number. “Hello?” The sweet drawl rolled over the line and he felt his cock jump to immediate life. “Scarlet.” “Mac. I thought I asked you not to call me.” He lifted an eyebrow but plowed ahead. “I thought you would have figured out that I don’t always play by the rules.” “Just when they suit you, huh?” “Oh, you suit me very well.” She paused a moment, as if she weren’t sure how to answer that particular statement. “We’re meeting tomorrow night. I promise I’ll be there.” “I’m sure you will. But that wasn’t why I called you.” “Oh? So why did you call?” “Because I wanted to give you a little sneak preview of tomorrow night.” “Really?” She said it in a long, drawn out question, and he could very easily picture her stretching like a warmed cat. He very nearly chuckled and her sudden sensual tone. “Really. I wanted you to dream about me, about us, about what I want to do to you.” “And what’s that?” “I want to lick every single inch of your skin, from your little toe all the way up to the tips of your ears. I’ll be very thorough, Scarlet. There won’t be a piece of you that won’t be sweating, or shivering, or both, and I’ll be the one feeling every little quake. Would you like me to tell you where I’ll start?”

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Her breathing had become deep and shallow. “Where?” “Your feet. I’ll kiss them, slowly, before I move up to your ankles. Then I’ll lick, very, very slowly, up your calves. I’ll stop when I get to your knees and go back down until I’ve covered every inch. When I get to your thighs, your creamy, soft thighs, I won’t lick…I’ll nibble. Soft little bites, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you scream. By then you’ll be wet and I’ll be able to smell you; I might even be able to taste you on your legs. But I won’t lick you; you’ll be begging, but I’ll just tease you. And then…” He stopped and let the sentence hang, ignoring the throbbing of his groin as he waited. When she finally prodded him, her words were little more than a whisper. “And then what?” Mac pulled the phone in closer, so that his lips were touching the mouthpiece. “Come tomorrow and you’ll find out. Sleep tight, Scarlet.” She groaned a harsh laugh. “You’re a very cruel man, Mac. I might not be able to wait until tomorrow night.” It was a tantalizing idea; just thinking about it reminded him of her torrid phone message. But he wanted more than that now; he wanted to see her when she came, not just hear her. He wanted to be there to watch her bow underneath his hands, feel her muscles tighten and contract while she screamed for him. “No, no toys, no orgasm, not without me.” His voice was hard and authoritative, surprising him, but he didn’t want to let it go. “No masturbating, Scarlet.” “Oh.” The single word was filled with heat and excitement. “Okay, Mac. I won’t touch myself tonight.” “Good. Now, get some sleep. You’re going to need it.” His words became softer as his body eased back into the mattress. “Good night.” “Good night.” He waited until she’d quietly hung up to push the end button. With long, frustrated breath, he closed his eyes and pictured Scarlet…Sophie, actually. By the time he was done with her tomorrow night, they would both be more than satisfied. Until then, he was going to have to suffer, because he was determined to live to up to his own demands. If it didn’t kill him.

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Chapter Twelve Mac took a deep breath as he stared at the library door. His call to Sophie last night had been a spur of the moment idea. He’d wanted -- no, he’d needed to hear her voice. The sweet cadence of her accent, the one that occasionally slipped through when she was Sophie, did wicked things to his libido. And he’d wanted to reassure her in some small way that he wanted her; that she was exactly the kind of woman his body craved. It had been in the middle of the night, with his libido raging and screaming, when he’d remembered Sophie’s words. At the time he’d been too filled with confusion and dawning realization to hear her. All that perfectly serious talk about disappointing a man. She’d been hurt, and hard, and instead of damning the other person she’d blamed herself. She still did. And that bothered him too much for words. He wanted her to see what he saw. He wanted her to see the petrifyingly smart, shockingly sexy, amazingly beautiful woman she was. It would be a fine line to walk. She obviously held onto her disguise because she was comfortable behind it. He couldn’t just rip it away and expect her to be thankful that he’d found her out. And in the guise of Scarlet she managed not only to scorch him from the inside out, but she also let herself be free. As strange as it might seem to some, he actually did understand it. Have the physical without the fear of the emotional. But just exactly why did she feel the need to protect herself like this? He sure as hell wasn’t going to get his answers standing out here glaring at the white paneling. Letting out a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and prepared for a very carefully played battle. He saw her the minute he stepped in. There was no way he could miss her, not when his cock was playing compass. She was on the ladder, reaching up for another of his uncle’s books. Today she wore baggy beige Capri’s and the ever present long shirt, this one a pretty

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sky blue. It didn’t seem to matter what she covered herself with; his body was already screaming like a wild animal. And now that he knew just exactly how she tasted, and just exactly how her flesh felt underneath his hands, he wasn’t sure if he could keep himself from tossing her onto the floor and sinking deep inside her body. Those thoughts, he knew, weren’t going to help matters any. Slowly, carefully, with easy steps, that’s how he needed to move with Sophie. Determinedly shoving his hands in his pockets, vaguely hoping his erection wasn’t very noticeable, he cleared his throat. She gave a little hop, her head whipping around as she gave him a startled look. He smiled at her expression, inordinately warmed by the way her glasses were perched on her nose, framing her large eyes. “Good morning.” She blinked at his cheerful greeting, her hand still poised over the bookcase. “G-good morning.” He strolled casually to the desk and leaned against the smooth edge. “Looking for more treasures?” “I found another copy of Twain, and three copies of Anna Karenina.” “I’ll bet Tolstoy’s story is one of your favorites.” She began climbing down, her gaze carefully avoiding his. “Actually, no. I thought she was stupid to toss herself under a train.” He lifted an eyebrow, amused with her analysis. “But it’s a tragedy.” “No, that’s not a tragedy. That’s bad judgment. Tragedy is Hamlet; an over the top tragedy, but still a tragedy.” He waited for her as she took the final step down, nearly sighed when she kept the ladder securely at her back. It was obvious she wanted to keep the subject of what had happened the night before in the past. She was going to be disappointed. “It occurred to me that I don’t know all that much about you,” he said conversationally. “Well, I…I’m not sure what you think you need to know. I’m more than qualified to --” He pushed off the desk, effectively silencing her. “Look, Sophie, I like you. I mean genuinely like you. You’re someone I’d like to consider a friend.” “Oh.” “So, I think it’s only fair that I know a little more about you.” She blinked, looked away, swung her eyes back again. He could see the hesitancy in her and it was all he could do not to pressure her to speak. Instead he waited, and was rewarded when she moved to the desk and slid the book onto the slick surface. She was so close he could smell her sweet, deep scent. “You already know I have a brother, and that my parents are professors.”

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As nonchalantly as he could, he asked, “Do you live with anyone? A boyfriend? A fiancé?” Her brow drew together quickly. “I live with my best friend, Annie. No boyfriend, and definitely no fiancé.” He nodded, slowly letting out a relieved breath. He’d still been uncertain as to why she hadn’t wanted him to call her. Now he could definitely say it was because she hadn’t wanted him to know her real identity. “You said you grew up on college campuses. Did you like that?” She shrugged as she eased down into the chair, her body language telling him she was still nervous. “I’m not sure, to be honest with you. I didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. But I suppose it could have been worse. I had the chance to meet all kinds of interesting people, and I got to see world viewpoints from all sides of the aisle.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “And did you ever do anything wrong? Ever get into trouble?” “Once I rolled my high school principal’s house.” “Uh-oh. How long were you grounded?” “Actually, my parents didn’t punish me. I argued that it was justified since he wouldn’t let the girl whom was Valedictorian make her graduation speech because she’d just had a baby. He wanted the Salutatorian to do it. He said she wasn’t a good example, but I thought she was a lot more inspirational than I was. I mean, she’d managed to make it through the last year, pregnant, miserable, then with a newborn, and she had the highest grades and test results in our school. In the real world, I knew that stood for something.” He latched onto one particular part of her explanation. “Wait a minute, more inspirational than you were?” She nodded and replied absently, “I was the Salutatorian.” “Of course you were.” He grinned, completely amazed by her, and yet somehow not surprised. “I’ll bet your parents led the picketing outside the graduation.” Her lips curled up slowly, her features softening. “They petitioned the school board and demanded an emergency meeting. Then they threatened to call on all the college professors and their contacts to write editorial letters to the newspapers and run ads on television about what was happening. Needless to say, I didn’t have to make a speech.” She was so completely different than most of the women who flocked and flitted in his circle. He couldn’t help but wonder if they would have been as outraged by an injustice at such a young age, or if they would have reveled in the gossip and the sinful nature of it all. Stilling himself, he broached the subject he’d been anxious to approach since the night before. “Okay, let’s make a deal. I’ll tell you a story of one of my most embarrassing, heartbreaking experiences, and you tell me one of yours.” “Share mutual embarrassment and make a bond?”

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“Something like that.” He smiled as he wandered over to the other side of the room, giving her space. He had the feeling she was going to need it. Slipping down into the soft padded chair, he hooked an ankle over his knee and waited for her to agree. Finally she gave a short nod before resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Plainly she was settling in for a good story. “I was fifteen years old; it was the middle of the summer, and I was taking a two-week vacation from working at the hotel.” “You worked at your family’s hotel?” “Of course. Every Kincaid works over the summers from the minute they can lift a hand. We learn the operation from the ground up. That year I was a bellhop. So, anyway, when my friends asked me to go off to camp with them, I agreed. We were going to be Junior Counselors at a co-ed camp, so we got some power and perks, got to check out all the gorgeous girls in their shorts and bikinis, but didn’t have to deal with too much responsibility. It sounded perfect to me. The first day I was there I saw Nina. I thought she was the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid my eyes on. She had this thick blonde hair, hazel eyes, and the most luscious curves. I tried to put the moves on her. At the time I thought they were pretty slick, but really, they were awful. I flirted with her, tried to find her alone, acted sickeningly macho; I did anything to get her attention. Finally one day she started flirting back. That night at supper she asked me to meet her at the lake, once all the kids were asleep. How could I say no? “I got there and I waited, and when she finally showed up I wasn’t sure what to do. I definitely knew what I wanted to do, I just wasn’t sure how to go about it. Then she suggested we skinny dip. I was more than happy to oblige. I took my shirt off, she took hers off. I took my pants off, she took hers off. When we were down to our underwear, she became very shy; she asked me to strip down and jump in first, because she’d never been naked in front of a boy before. I had my Fruit of the Looms off in two seconds and was diving in, picturing her without her bra. The next thing I knew, I’d surfaced and she was laughing at me. I had no idea what was really going on until a couple of her friends came out of the woods and snatched my clothes. I’m not sure how long I treaded water, but eventually I got tired and I knew I had to try to get back to the cabin. I snuck around in the woods, hoping no one would hear me, but apparently the Camp Director and the nurse had keen ears. They caught me and did their damnedest not to laugh. The director was nice enough to give me a towel, so I could get back at least semi-covered. Of course, all the guys were waiting up to find out all the gory details. It didn’t take them long to put two and two together. I didn’t live that down for the rest of the week.” She was biting back a laugh and he knew it. But with the way her humor lit her face, he couldn’t find even a shred of embarrassment or resentment. “And how did you get revenge?”

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He sent her a sly wink. “I went back the next year and made out with nearly every female counselor there. Now that I’ve bared my soul, it’s your turn.” She leaned back and gave him a speculative look. “I don’t see how that was a heartbreaking experience.” “Do you know how fragile the male ego is? I was seriously crazy about this girl, at least as crazy as a teenager can be. Then she did that, and my confidence was shattered, not to mention my delusions about my prowess. As far as fifteen-year-old boys are concerned, she should have just taken my heart out and showed it to me.” He watched her for a moment to see if she understood, relaxing when she finally gave a slight nod. He raised his eyebrows in encouragement, but otherwise didn’t prompt her. Sophie would tell her story when she was ready, and pushing her wouldn’t win him any points. A few moments later her tongue darted out to wet her lips and he had to swallow a groan. “I was eighteen, a freshman in college. They were low on student staff in my father’s department, so I would go over and help him out a couple of afternoons a week. I figured since they were paying for school, it was the least I could do. One day a boy came in to see my dad. I’d seen him around campus a bit, but I’d never met him. He was popular, a basketball player who everyone loved. His family came from old money, and his parents were almost always in the social section, giving money, attending charity events, that sort of thing. Mike was also very handsome, in a weepy poet sort of way, which is exactly what appealed to me back then. While he was waiting for his appointment we started talking and he found out I’d actually tested out of the literature class he was having trouble with. He talked me into tutoring him. I suppose he didn’t have to talk too much.” She gave a little selfdeprecating lift of her lips. “I wanted to spend time with him, even though I knew for him it would be all academic. But a funny thing happened when we started meeting in the library; we started talking, and I found out that I was very attracted to him. It was toward the end of the semester when he admitted that he liked me, and not just as a friend. I was thrilled, of course. Mike started taking me to little out of the way coffee houses, small movie theatres, hole in the wall restaurants. At first I thought it was sweet, that he wanted to keep me to himself. In fact, I thought it was so sweet that I…well, he was the first boy that I…Well, after a few months it finally stared dawning on me that maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t want to share my attention. “He’d managed to keep from introducing me to the people he knew on campus. He was very careful about making sure his classes and extra curricular schedules didn’t coincide with mine. I finally confronted him about everything, and he denied he was trying to hide our relationship. And to be honest, I don’t think he was, not consciously. So, he invited me to one of his parents’ parties. I was nervous, really nervous, because I didn’t want to embarrass him, and because it was going to be the first time I’d ever met his parents. It was a total disaster. From the very start I just didn’t fit in. I wasn’t interested in the gossip that the other girls were laughing about, I wanted to debate politics with the people discussing them but I

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was afraid to rock the boat. I had trouble keeping up with everyone’s names, and I ended up calling several people by the wrong one. I spilled my drink all over the white tablecloth, then I fell over one of the house staff trying to leave the dinning room. “Oh, all of them were very nice to me, very…tolerant, but it was perfectly clear that I was going to be grist for the mill for months. The next day Mike found me in my dorm and tried to explain things to me. His parents and friends expected certain things of him, expected him to be seeing girls who would help him maintain the family dignity. He didn’t want to disappoint his family. I wasn’t comfortable around his ‘circle’ and he didn’t think that was fair to me. They didn’t understand his seeing a brainy, overweight girl with a twisted sense of humor, and he didn’t want me to be hurt.” Mac felt the fury rise in his chest to choke him. “And you let this -- this -- boy color the way you see yourself? You let what some bastard did to you dictate who you do and don’t date? All because he was too stupid and inexperienced and decided a formal dinner party was the best way to introduce you to his parents? He obviously didn’t take your feelings into consideration.” She gave him a soft smile and he had a hard time not growling at her. For all his anger, she looked so damn serene that he thought he might roar. “Mac, I know he handled the whole thing abysmally. But he did teach me to take a long, hard look at reality. You can’t deny it, either. Very few of the people you grew up with marry outside their social status. There are certain things that are expected from a girlfriend of an affluent man. The fact is I just don’t live up to those expectations, and frankly I don’t want to. I am who I am.” He stared at her a moment, horror mixed with irritation. She was scared, scared of messing up, scared of putting herself out again and being hurt. He wondered what she would do if he grabbed her and shook her. Instead he narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare at her. “So you aim low, is that it? Just be happy with whatever man deigns to want you?” Her mouth opened and closed, her face going white with shock. He felt a leap of satisfaction that he’d stumped her. “You have a crappy opinion of men in my circumstances.” “No I don’t!” “Yes, you do. You don’t think someone like me could appreciate someone like you? You tell that to my mother and she’d flay you with her tongue. Your problem, Sophie, is that you don’t see in yourself what everyone else does.” She blinked, her blue eyes huge. “I -- I don’t?” “No, you don’t. And as your…friend I’ll tell you that any man worth a damn would be proud as hell to call you his.”

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He was too furious to stay in the same room with her. If he weren’t careful, he’d be dragging her against his body and showing her in no uncertain terms just exactly what he thought of her. And she’d be screaming her thanks each time he made her come. Stifling his raging need, Mac gave her one last, long look. “Sophie Pierson, you need to stop hiding behind that one bad moment of your life. If you don’t, you’re going to be stuck in the same damn hole forever.” He didn’t add that getting rid of her mask would be a good start. He wasn’t so far gone that he’d jeopardize losing her by admitting he knew what she was up to. Let her keep coming to him. Let her make love with him over and over, in all the interesting and stimulating ways she could think of. Before it was all over, he would convince her, masquerade or not, that she couldn’t live without him. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the library, hoping she would think about what he’d said. He had plans to make for tonight, for when she was Scarlet.

***** She was still reeling from what Mac had told her, that had to have been the reason she hadn’t heard Danielle come into the room. If she had, she might have been prepared for the oh-so-cool voice. “Mac’s not in here? He said to meet him in the library.” Sophie turned to stare at the woman sheathed in smooth sky blue linen slacks and striped top. As usual, Danielle looked exactly like what she was: a very rich, very affluent, very attractive woman. She struggled against her mind’s instant need to compare and contrast them both. “He just left,” she said softly. “Um, well, I’m sure he’s making sure our lunch is coming along.” She strolled further into the room, her eyes narrow and assessing. “You’ll be done with your job soon.” It was more of a statement than a question, and Sophie felt her hackles rise. From anyone else she would have thought it an innocuous, or even curious, comment. But from this woman it sounded much more like a challenge. “I’ll be done when I’m done. Of course I’m hoping it won’t take the rest of the summer, but if it does, then it does. I would never rush something like this, not when so much is expected.” “Oh, there’s a lot that the Kincaids expect, Ms. Pierson. I’m sure when it comes to working with their books, you’re…adequate.” Danielle didn’t need to add the unspoken insult that Sophie would never be good enough to be anything more than an employee.

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Sophie stood, pointedly ignoring her as she took the small stack of books from her desk. As she made her way to the bookcases, she could feel Danielle’s gaze boring directly into her back. “That was quite a scene you and A.J. caused at the party.” She took a deep breath and let it out, hoping it would help her to control her roiling emotions. “A scene? I wasn’t aware we’d done anything to get that sort of attention.” There was the sound of material swishing, as if Danielle were changing position. “When one of the wealthiest, die hard bachelors shows up at a party with a woman who’s not…well, we’ll just say not in his social class, people tend to talk. They wonder why he would bring you, what it is that he could possibly see in you. Silly how people blame the woman, call her things, assume things about her. But I suppose that’s just how society is.” Sophie felt an unwelcome shaft of ice trickle down her spine, the feeling of shock mixed with inexplicable guilt. Slowly, she turned, pinning the other woman still with slanted eyes. Danielle must have seen the fury rising in her gaze, hot enough to melt Sophie’s sickly cold feelings, because she took an involuntary step back. “Maybe in your society people talk like that, but not in mine. I can assure you that if one of my friends introduced us to someone we didn’t know, we would be gracious, openminded, and civil. We would want our friend to be happy, even if the woman was so filthy rich she reeked.” Danielle’s face bled of all color, giving Sophie a warm, triumphant surge. She didn’t need to know that she’d ripped right into one of Sophie’s insecurities. What was in her heart was her own, and not public property. Danielle gave a little huff as she pulled herself up to full height. “If you cared anything for A.J., or even for Mac, you would stop throwing yourself at men you could never have.” It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that she’d had Mac plenty of times. Instead, she stared the lithe brunette down, letting her silence shred whatever confidence Danielle might be faking. Finally, the other woman spun on her heel and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Once she was alone, Sophie laid a trembling hand on her stomach and sank down onto the bottom step of the small spiral staircase. She didn’t like being tossed into confrontations, not when she wasn’t wholly prepared for them. And especially not when her nerves had already been racked by a devilishly handsome, apparently brooding man. Silently, she let her head fall to her knees and she closed her eyes. Her affair was becoming more and more complicated, twisting and turning her until she wondered if she was inside out. Sooner or later it was going to have to end. She just couldn’t go on walking the edge for much longer and still hope to have a shred of sanity left.

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Chapter Thirteen She was standing in the carriage house again, trying not to feel guilty over her need for him. Sophie knew that their affair was quickly racing toward the bottom of the hill, but she couldn’t help but want to enjoy every second of the ride. And when she’d slipped into the see-through midnight blue chemise her wicked side had come out and demanded to play. For the moment, she didn’t see the need to deny herself or Mac. Now he stood in front of her, wrapped in a black robe that revealed his bare legs and feet. Just looking at him made her blood race down and pound in her core. “Wait, let me look at those sexy shoes before you take your coat off. I never thought I’d have a foot fetish, but I swear those strappy things you wear are changing my mind.” She smiled because she’d known he’d like the dark blue shoes. “I have a closet full.” “God help me,” he said with a profound sigh. She didn’t say anything, merely lifted her eyebrows and smirked. Two seconds later she had slipped out of her coat and she watched with feminine pleasure as Mac became transfixed. “Is that even legal to wear in this state?” She chuckled and shook her head, loving the feel of empowerment his reaction gave her. “No, it’s not, but for you I thought I’d risk it.” He sent her a scorching look that had her toes curling. “And if you were pulled over, you could always flash the officer. I’m sure you’d have a good hour to get away before he got his eyes back in his head.” “You certainly know how to make a girl feel special.” His gaze changed, shifting slightly to something more intense, something that was uncomfortably real. “You are special, don’t forget that.”

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Sophie licked her suddenly dry lips and tried for a flippant half-smile. “I’m sure all your women are special.” “Not like you.” She was so taken aback by his statement that she followed behind him docilely when he led her up the stairs. The room was lit with two soft lamps tonight, casting warm shadows around the walls. There was something…different. It took her a few moments to realize what it was. On the heavy side table there was a white towel laid out in a strange, tent-like shape. There was another white towel, no, a bath sheet, she decided when she realized how big it was; this one was spread across the edge of the bed next to the side table. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the towel tent. He sent her a slow, heated grin that had her muscles melting into pools. “I’ll show you. But first…” He lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue stroking out to play with hers in long, languid swipes. Her entire body became nothing but one erogenous zone, immediately responding to the man it knew could and would bring her mind numbing pleasure. His fingers played under the straps of her chemise, silently slipping them off of her shoulders. She didn’t realize it was gone until he filled his hands with her breasts and began gently squeezing them. But she didn’t just want his hands on her; she wanted to feel his naked flesh against her. Slowly, she reached between them to unknot the tie of his robe. A few seconds later she was skimming her hands over his warm chest, scooting the soft material off his body to join her silky chemise on the floor. He moaned his approval, moving his hands from her breasts, skimming them down her ribs, not stopping as he hooked his fingers into the thin elastic band of her transparent panties. She expected him to continue ravaging her mouth; instead he moved down her body, laying open mouth kisses along her exposed skin. He didn’t stay long in any one place, but then again he didn’t need to. She felt as if she might collapse from his avid tongue and teeth and clung desperately to his shoulders. He licked down her thighs, paused to nuzzle at her lips, then continued on his path. By the time he’d reached her ankles she knew she was willing slave. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I have to take these off.” Reverently, he unstrapped her stilettos and gently slid each foot from their cradle. Finally, he stood up and stared down at her, looking extremely pleased with what he saw. He carefully laid her down across the bed and stared at her naked body and she felt herself shiver. Not from cold, but from the extreme heat that glimmered in his eyes. There was the slightest thought to cover herself with her hands, but she quickly ignored that idea, knowing he was enjoying the view. At the moment she simply wasn’t willing to question her good fortune. “You asked what’s under the towel; I’m going to show you now.”

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He lifted the white terrycloth to reveal a strange set up. There was a large bowl of water, three washcloths, a pink can of feminine shaving cream, and what looked to be a brand new razor. She lifted her eyebrows and turned her gaze back to him, wondering if what was forming in her mind was what he had planned. “I’ve always been curious,” he said in a thick voice. “You do realize what I want to do, don’t you?” “Sh-shave me?” “Um-hmm.” The thought sent a bolt of sizzling electricity through her, quickening her blood and pooling heavy desire in her nether regions. She’d always been curious, too, but had never done it. But having Mac do it…it was such a blatantly erotic thought that she could barely breathe. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.” She paused and held his stare with her own, wanting him to feel the sincerity of her words. “I know.” He seemed flustered for a moment, but quickly recovered. “All right, then I’m going to get started. I’m already hard just thinking about this; I hope you don’t mind if I have to slip inside you when I’m done.” She chuckled and shook her head, licking her lips in anticipation. A moment later he was placing a wet, warm washcloth over her swelling lips. He took his time, turning the soft material and his fingers into love toys as he massaged her. She wiggled against his palm as desire swirled in her belly and reached down to harden her clit. He laughed softly and she opened her heavy eyelids to see him take the shaving cream from the dresser. He shook it, watching her with lustful eyes, then sprayed a tall dollop in his hand. He slowly began working the cream into her skin, the heat from his palm mixing with the surprisingly arousing sensation of the foam. By the time he pulled his hands away she was sweating and panting, sure she would come if he touched her again. “You have to lay very still now, Scarlet. I don’t want to knick this beautiful flesh of yours.” She bit her bottom lip as she watched him slosh the razor in the warm water. Slowly, he lowered the razor to her. The first swipe he made was long, sure, and easy. She lay on the bed, completely at his mercy, as he continued to wield the razor. His fingers moved from here to there, steadying her thighs, then helping to situate her sodden lips. She had no idea just how stimulating the process could be. The rasping of the razor, the feel of his hands on her, the thought of what it would feel like for her most vulnerable area to be totally bare. She groaned as he moved up her mound, clearing the way with expert strokes.

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She wasn’t sure how long she’d lain there, being sumptuously tortured by his shaving. All she knew as that she was close to begging for him to slide his cock inside of her. “All done. Now just let me wipe everything off.” His voice sounded as strained as she felt. She waited for what felt like an eternity before she felt the warmth of another washcloth. But this time it was pressed against completely naked skin, and the feeling of it was unspeakably erotic. “I know, I know,” he whispered hoarsely. “You are so beautiful. You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen.” What should have been crude wasn’t; it made her hips jerk up off the mattress in a silent plea. “Oh, no, not yet. I didn’t show you my other little surprise, but I promise you’ll like it.” Her gaze was hazy with desire as she looked back up at him. He gave her a wicked smile and she returned it three-fold. Before she could ask what else he had planned, he was opening the bottom of the dresser and pulling out other, extremely interesting implements. “I’ve always thought you were delicious, now I think I’d like to try other flavors with yours.” She nearly gasped when he pulled out a bottle of whipped cream. She’d seen it in movies before, of course, but she’d never experienced it. But, oh, she wanted to, right now, with this man. He turned the tube upside down and held it over one of her nipples. Exerting pressure, he released the whipped cream and carefully swirled it on the hard peak. It was cold and sticky, and so unexpected that she moaned in approval. He did the same to the other nipple, topping it, then sat back to look. “Um, not quite done yet.” He shifted and was soon coating her newly shaved lips with the topping. He stared at her and she saw the dark flush that covered his face and the tightness of the skin over his jaw and around his eyes. “Almost perfect.” Once again he took something out, this time a small bowl filled with strawberries. “Now I’m ready for my dessert.” She nearly came off the bed when he twirled one luscious berry in the cream on her breast. Then he was slipping it between his teeth and taking a slow, luscious bite. Words refused to form in her mouth as she watched him; her body was beyond the hot tingling now and had gone into scorching embers. He did it again, scooping up the whipped cream from her other breast. This time, though, he brought the strawberry to her lips and gave her a lust-filled, I-dare-you, look. If he wanted to be tortured, she thought, she could very well oblige. She snaked her tongue out and curled it around the red fruit. As provocatively as she could, she bit down, sucking in the juices as they flowed into her mouth.

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“Holy hell,” he hissed. The strawberries were forgotten as his tongue began lapping at the peaks of her breasts. She gasped as he sucked a nipple between his teeth and gently nipped, creating waves of hot need that swallowed her. Once he’d cleaned one breast, he moved to the other, sending more insane desire coursing through her system. She was panting for air when he sat up, his eyes blazing so hot that she thought she could have been burned. “I still have one more place to taste.” She sucked in her breath as he moved down her body, his intent clear. She waited for the feel of his tongue, anticipated it, and hissed when instead she felt another strawberry being used on the cream. She heard him moan a second later and knew he was eating the berry, tasting her on it along with the sweetness of the fruit and the creaminess of the topping. He continued his gentle assault, using the icy strawberries on her heated skin. She was nearly mindless when he slid one, cold and bumpy, between her engorged lips. She yelled with surprise and shock, jerking her hips up desperately. She heard him chuckle then felt him pull her lips apart. Before she could wonder what was happening, he was flicking her clit with the berry, lightly grazing it up and down, and sending her spiraling so far up that she couldn’t pull air into her body. “You like that, don’t you?” She could only gasp in a high pitched cry. Suddenly his tongue was inside her, moist and warm against the coolness of the strawberry. He stabbed into her, licking her engorged walls while he manipulated her clit. Her orgasm ripped through her, tearing her into small fragments as she screamed. Her muscles contracted and held, her head thrown back as her back bowed. The world became a velvet cocoon, exploding around her as her body climaxed. She hadn’t completely come down when she felt his shaft slide inside her in one easy, fluid movement. She didn’t question, didn’t want to, instead wrapping her arms around Mac’s shoulders as he joined with her. He held still for a long moment, his head bent. When he finally looked at her she saw the supreme control he was forcing on himself. “You feel so good when you come. You ripple and contract, and it makes me…” He didn’t finish his sentence; there wasn’t a need for him to. He began to ride her, abandoning slow rocking for frantic thrusts, filling her over and over again until she was coiled with another orgasm. He held her hips firmly in his grasp and tilted them downward, angling her in way that drew out her desire. The feeling was incredible, more than she could have anticipated. Her now bare skin was extremely sensitive to everything, to every sensation, to every slight touch and movement. When he slid out and didn’t immediately return she made a sound of protest. Then she realized what he was doing when he slid in only a few inches, stroking a particularly erotic spot with shallow plunges.

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“Oh, God, Mac!” She flew apart in seconds, coming for a second time as he slammed all the way into her again. She held onto him, felt her insides swamped with molten mercury as she orgasmed. She felt him, too, as he strained against her, his voice rasping and harsh as he yelled his release. He held her to him as she floated back down to reality, her heartbeat slamming against his wild one. When he rolled to his side, he took her with him, securing her against his chest. “I think you’re going to kill me.” He didn’t sound like he particularly cared and she smiled with that knowledge. If a freak meteor fell down from the sky and obliterated her at this very minute, she would die a very happy, very satisfied woman. “You’re doing your best to kill me, too,” she teased. “Thank you, I think.” He stroked down her mask and she felt his muscles tighten slightly. “I don’t understand why you wear this.” And just like that her dreaminess dissipated into a cloud of dust. “Please, Mac, I don’t want to go through that again.” He sighed but moved his fingers away from her face. “All right, for tonight. But one day I’d like to see your whole face when you come for me. I want to see all of you.” She didn’t reply, only held on tighter to him. She couldn’t tell him that particular fantasy would never happen. If he saw underneath he’d be dually horrified, and she wouldn’t be able to blame him. It was one thing to want her body, to want what they could give each other in bed. It was another to live outside of their made-up world. She lay with him again, held him and waited for him to drift to sleep. This time she was the one who fell first, waking with a start an endless time later. He’d repositioned them at some point, having moved the towel he’d had her resting on and covering them with a white sheet. She carefully climbed out of the warm layers of the bed and stood for a long moment, watching him sleep. It was possible he was even more handsome like this, with his expression completely relaxed and his hair tousled. He looked just like a little boy who’d had an entire jar of candy and was extremely satisfied. Sophie felt her heart squeeze and knew she had to leave. Standing here wasn’t fair, not to her, not to him, not to who he thought she was. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she moved to the side table to leave him another note. There, as if he’d known what she was going to do, was a small gift bag with a bow on top. She didn’t need a card to know it was meant for her. Curious, she peeked inside and found a sleek black box. She took it out and carefully opened the top, looked inside…and stifled a laugh. He’d bought her a personal shaving kit, complete with a tubular, battery-

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operated razor, talc powder, and a soft duster brush. Obviously he’d intended for her to stay completely bare; after what he’d shown her tonight, after the way he’d felt gliding in and out of her, she would definitely do what he was silently asking.

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Chapter Fourteen Sophie stared at the blinking cursor on her computer, for once in her life at a loss for words. Normally, her daily e-mails to her mother were full of pieces of her life. However, she couldn’t see herself trying to explain her delicate situation to the woman who’d given birth to her. True, to her students she was Dr. Winifred Pierson, or Dr. Winnie as they loved to call her. She was opened-minded, and had the knack for being able to see and argue all sides of a situation with equal passion. If one of her college kids came to her in this predicament, they would know there’d be no judgment passed, just honest concern and rocksolid advice. But none of them were her daughter. Still, there wasn’t anyone she trusted more, with the exception of Annie. And Annie had already been pushing and prodding her to admit her true identity to Mac. Sighing, she settled back against the cushioned chair and tried to think how to begin her note. She finally decided the best thing was to leap in, write what was there in her head and her heart, and edit it down to pertinent facts.

Hi Mom, I’m sorry I’ve missed e-mailing you the past few days, but it’s been a little crazy around here. Or maybe I’m a little crazy. Or maybe it’s both. Don’t worry, I’m not losing my mind…much. Mom, I think I’m in love. I don’t want to be in love. Okay, yes, I do want to be in love, but I just don’t know if I want to be in love like this. It’s such an insane situation. Mac is a great guy, I mean really great. The kind of guy who still opens doors for women and values their opinions. He makes me laugh, he can keep up with me when I start in with my strange sense of humor. He actually enjoys my jokes, which is amazing. When he looks at me, when he talks to me, it’s like no one else in the world is as important to him as I am. Which is just crazy, because that can’t be right.

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There’s so much wrong with wanting to be with him. First of all, he has money. And I don’t just mean ‘Hey, I just won the lottery’ money, either. His family is from old, old, old money, the kind that makes Trump look like a pauper. Then there’s the fact that he has a girlfriend. To be fair, she’s apparently moved out of the house. He hasn’t made any effort to hide the fact that she’s not there anymore. But I’m sure it’s only a temporary thing. I mean, she’s just so perfect for him, I have no doubt they’ll be kissing and making up soon enough. Which sucks. But it shouldn’t because that’s how it should be for him. He should have the right woman, the one who can be what he needs, the one who knows how to get around in society without making a total fool of herself. If this is love, I don’t want it. I really don’t. Being in the same room with him is like some sort of pleasurable pain. I try to keep reminding myself that he’s not for me. There’s no way we can be anything permanent. But I want it so badly that sometimes I forget the facts and I start fantasizing about us, together. And now I’m rambling like the crazy person I warned you I was. You must think I’m teetering on the brink here, but I promise I’m not. I can’t be. I won’t be. Sophie let out a hiss of frustration and pushed away from the keyboard. She was sounding just like a lovesick teenager and she didn’t like the feel of it. What she needed to do was step away for a few minutes, get her bearings, and then go back and redo the message. She just wasn’t going to be comfortable mentioning Mac to her mother. Dinner was an excellent idea, she decided. She was in the mood to cook, too, something rich and decadent. Maybe she’d make sundaes for dessert; Annie would definitely appreciate that. She began going down the list of ingredients in her head, stopping abruptly when she came to whipped cream. Her entire body gave one long, delicious shiver as she thought of the night before. It was too easy to remember the feel of his tongue as he’d lapped at her skin, the erotic, sticky sweet residue of the cream and strawberries cool on her flesh. She’d never look at the dessert aisle the same way again. And the fact that he’d shaved her, taken away any barrier that might dull the sensation of his mouth and his cock… She heard the apartment door open and tried to gain control of her bouncing libido. She definitely didn’t want to spout out the details of her latest exploit with Mac; heaven only knew how she’d keep from throwing herself at him this morning to demand more of his sexual prowess. “Hey, Sophie.” She gave her a friend what she hoped was a bright smile as she began walking toward the kitchen again. “Hi, Annie. I was just about to start dinner. Want to give me a hand?” “Me, in the kitchen? You have the fire extinguisher handy, right?” Sophie chuckled, pausing with her hand on the doorway arch. “Um, true. I can at least make manicotti without burning down the neighborhood.” Annie’s face lit up. “Oh, manicotti? My stomach’s already rumbling.”

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“Tell you what, you can make the salad, since it doesn’t involve heat. Give me about thirty minutes; that should be enough time for you to shower and change.” “Sounds like a deal to me.” Sophie was shaking her head, a smile on her lips as she opened the freezer. She let the matter of the e-mail to her mother fall to the back of her mind, content to let the whole thing rest for a nice, long while. She definitely didn’t need to be explaining anything to her mother when she still had such vivid visions of her night with Mac in her head.

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Chapter Fifteen She was turning her laptop off when Mac walked into the library. Her heart, as usual, did a hard flip before it decided to tango with her stomach. He looked haggard this morning, like he hadn’t slept well. And maybe he hadn’t. After all, they hadn’t had sex in almost two days. That was nearly a record for them. Of course, it could have been that he’d been too excited to sleep, imagining what they’d do together tonight. She had some definite ideas that she knew he’d love. He didn’t bother to look at her when he spoke. “You’re here late.” She checked her watch then gave him a curious look. “Actually, I’m leaving a little early.” “Oh.” He peered down at his own watch, shook his wrist, then held it up to his ear. “Battery must have died.” He turned then, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach his green eyes. She felt a quick stab of concern as she watched him. He was bedraggled, his university T-shirt hanging out of the front of his jeans, but tucked into the back, his brown hair messy as if he’d been worrying it all day. “Is everything All right? Something wrong with the hotels?” He shook his head and shifted his weight, his gaze straying away from her. “I guess I’m just having one of those days. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything.” That was okay, neither could she. She’d been plagued by dreams of his hands and body, and by nightmares of his finding out who she actually was. That fine balance between Sophie and Scarlet was becoming harder and harder to maintain. “I hope you have a better day tomorrow,” she said softly.

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His eyes swung back to her for a moment, stunningly intense as he studied her. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He looked as if he was about to say something when the library door was flung open. Relieved by the interruption, she turned to see who it was, half-expecting Mrs. Hodges, but mostly dreading Danielle. What she actually saw surprised her into silence. A woman, well groomed with a silvery gray cap of hair, dressed in pants and a tank top in an eye popping pumpkin shade, paused in the doorway. She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, but her casually regal bearing made up for any lack of height. Her gently lined face lit with pleasure when her eyes -- her green eyes, Sophie realized -- fell on Mac. “Peanut!” She had to stifle the urge to giggle as the woman hurried across the room to envelope Mac, who looked alternately stunned and pleased. “Mom, what…what are you doing here?” His voice held a hint of confusion as he extracted himself from his mother’s arms. “What, I can’t visit my oldest child? There’s a law I don’t know about?” “No, of course not, it’s just --” “Ah, there he is!” Another male voice boomed across the room, filling it with a rich texture that fairly shook the walls. Sophie watched, eyes wide, as an older man who looked amazingly like Mac strode up to them. As he stopped, Sophie got the distinct whiff of warm aftershave and a layer of fresh soap. The man, obviously Mac’s father, was just as tall as his son, and just as broad chested, too. Though his more sedate outfit of khaki pants and blue polo shirt wasn’t as shocking as his wife’s, he still managed to look as if he were taking up nearly all the space in the library. They were quite a pair, the dainty woman and the giant of a man, and yet somehow they seemed to fit. Mac was again pulled into a hug, this one a hard, bearlike grip. He finally pulled away and looked at his parents with something akin to horrified amusement. “Your mother decided we needed to visit Lionel. I hadn’t realized he’d been in the hospital for so long. Maybe we should fly him out and have our own doctors take a look at him, since it’s taking so long here.” “Oh, you know how your father is. I swear, he’d forget his own feet if they weren’t attached to him.” The woman gave her husband an affectionate smile and patted his arm. “Of course, since we’re here we had to stop to see you. It’s been nearly three months since you’ve graced us with your presence, peanut.” The childhood nickname was so incongruous with the powerful man that Sophie couldn’t stop her chuckle a second time. The sound had three sets of eyes lighting on her immediately. Her stomach curled into itself while her heart catapulted to her throat. Facing

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Mac, with or without her mask, was nerve racking enough. Now his parents were standing here, watching her expectantly. “You didn’t tell me you had a lady friend visiting,” his mother said sweetly. “Oh, uh, Mom, Dad, this is Sophie Pierson. She’s working on Uncle Lionel’s library through the summer. Sophie, these are my parents, Jack and Mary Kincaid.” “Mr. Kincaid, Mrs. Kincaid.” She held out her hand to both and shook hands, surprised by the gentleness in Jack’s grip and the strength in Mary’s. “Well, Sophie, what a pretty name,” Mary commented. “I knew a Sophie once, in college. She was a sweet girl, though not very practical. Are you?” Sophie tried her best not to look confused as she ignored Mac’s very obvious delight in her bewilderment. “Am I what, ma’am?” “Oh, such good manners! I was asking if you were impractical.” “I…I don’t think so.” She gave the woman a wavering smile. Jack gave her an encouraging look and a crooked smile just like his son’s. “I like practical females. My Mary is very practical.” His wife gave a little laugh and waved her hand in dismissal. “You always were a flatterer. Now, I want to see how my little boy is doing. You haven’t been working too hard, have you? You said you were going to take it easy while you were here.” Mac gave a martyrs sigh. “No, I haven’t, I promise. I’m just fielding any emergencies.” “There are always emergencies.” Mary turned bright green eyes to Sophie. “He’s just like his father. You always have to remind them not to let the hotels take over too much of their lives. You’re work isn’t your life, is it dear?” She wasn’t sure how to answer that question, though for some reason she wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear. “No, not really. I mean, I enjoy what I do, but I know when to leave it behind.” “Ah, see, I knew she was practical.” Jack beamed at her then slapped his son on the back. “I hear there’s a grill in the back.” Mac lifted an eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that your way of inviting yourself to dinner?” “Unless you have other plans.” Mary’s voice was vaguely tinged with amusement as she watched her son. “I’m sure if I did, I would change them for you. I only need to make a phone call.” A phone call to her, or rather, to Scarlet, explaining that they would have to reschedule. Having ones’ parents in town would definitely put a damper on wild sexual activities. “We don’t want to inconvenience you, son,” his father interjected.

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Mac’s smile was only slightly strained when he replied. “How could having my folks in town be inconvenient?” Suddenly Mary’s curious eyes were on her, and Sophie had the inexplicable urge to squirm. “And you, dear? You don’t have any plans we’d be interrupting?” “No, no plans, ma’am. In fact, I was just leaving.” “Oh, but you can’t leave,” Jack said. “Then Mary here won’t have anyone to pry information about her son from.” She smiled, a broad, genuine smile, and shook her head. “I’m sure you want some time alone with Mac, and I don’t --” Mrs. Hodges appeared in the open doorway, her militaristic demeanor appearing slightly shaken as she ran a hand over her stark black hair. Her stocky build was practically shivering underneath her blue dress. Sophie decided the Kincaids must have completely thrown her off her well ordered schedule. “Ms. Pierson, there are…visitors here. For you.” Sophie stared at her, completely confused for the second time in less than three minutes. “Excuse me?” “They say they’re your --” “There she is!” Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw her father, his thick white hair slightly messy, his slim body clad in a casual blue T-shirt and dark gray shorts. He grinned so hard that he looked like a friendly alligator as he made his way to her. “Dad?” “Who else would it be? Silas Marner risen from the grave?” He was dragging her into his arms, surrounding her with the scent of pipe tobacco, when she heard her mother’s voice. “Gerald, let the girl breathe.” Sophie peered around her father’s arm to see the wildly dressed Winifred carefully instigating herself into her father’s place. A moment later she was squashed again, this time by the full figure of her mother. As always, the heady scent of White Shoulders and fabric softener eased across her suddenly stretched nerves, soothing them. “Okay, okay, I’m suffocating here.” Winifred chuckled and stepped back, keeping her hands on Sophie’s shoulders. She looked like a matronly gypsy, with her long, curly blonde hair and flowing peach peasant dress. She’d figured out long ago that her mother preferred to embrace the free spirited clothing aspect of being a college professor while still maintaining a very practical streak. Somehow it suited her perfectly. “You look tired.”

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She barely suppressed a sigh. “I’m fine, Mom, really. Why didn’t you call to tell me you were coming?” Her mother grinned happily. “We wanted to surprise you. We decided to go on a little anniversary trip, and since we were passing so close…” She let the sentence trail away as Sophie silently added the conclusion. “But what about Dad’s summer class?” Gerald shrugged as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Canceled. Apparently everyone is too scared to take it until they have to, I suppose.” “Sweetheart, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Her mother’s prompting reminded her so much of Mary Kincaid’s that she smiled. “Though I have to wonder if I need to make introductions at all.” Her father gave her a quizzical look and tried to appear innocent. “What?” “Nothing. Mom, Dad, this is Mary and Jack Kincaid, and their son MacAllister.” “Everyone calls me Mac.” “Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid, Mac, these are my parents Doctors Gerald and Winifred Pierson.” “And everyone calls me Winnie.” Sophie watched as Mac smiled beguilingly at her mother. She knew in that moment that he’d won her over. Her father, too, seemed quite pleased to meet her boss. Oh, yes, something was definitely going on here. “Mom, Dad, I was just leaving so --” “And we were going to convince her to stay,” Jack said jovially. “Heck, why don’t we make it a party? Steak okay for everyone?” Sophie watched, helpless, as her parents nodded in agreement and began chattering with the Kincaids. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn they were old friends. She dared a glance toward Mac and found him looking exactly how she felt. “I guess you’re having dinner with us.” Mac sent her a confused half-smile as their parents strolled away. “I -- I guess so.” He gave a little laugh as he took a step forward. He paused and held his elbow out, lifting an amused eyebrow as he waited for her to accept his silent invitation. Sighing, she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. It was going to be a very interesting night…if she made it through the first course.

***** Mac stood at the sink, his hands wet as he rinsed off dishes to hand to Sophie. It had been a surprisingly relaxing dinner, with both sets of parents chatting about his and Sophie’s

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respective childhoods. Hers had been just as diverse and interesting as he’d suspected. Now here they stood, him with a towel tucked into his pants, her with a red checked apron wrapped around her luscious body, sharing a mundane, homey task. It felt…good. “What?” He jerked at her soft question and quickly handed her a dish. “Huh?” She gave him a sideways look as she put the bowl into the dishwasher. “You were staring at me.” “I was just trying to picture you swinging from a tree.” He gave her a smile as he rinsed another plate. “It wasn’t exactly the tree, it was a very thick vine, peanut.” He had to chuckle at the use of his mother’s pet name. “That wasn’t so embarrassing until I hit twelve. Suddenly it was a huge liability when it came to girls. There’s nothing like having your mother chaperone a dance for her sweet little peanut.” She grinned up at him, her blue eyes twinkling. “What, no pity dates?” “Are you kidding? Twelve-year-old girls don’t have pity.” She laughed and shook her head. “No, I don’t suppose most do.” “What about you, Sophie? Would you have taken pity on me?” She gave him a matter-of-fact look and shook her head. “You wouldn’t have noticed me enough to want pity from me.” Mac turned his eyes to the thick glass cups and began sloshing water into them. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Sophie. Or is it Soapy?” He peeked over as she groaned, smug when he saw the red stains on her cheeks. He’d hit home with his remark about noticing her, but he’d neatly taken her chance away to deny it by teasing her. “I can’t believe my father told you that.” “Why not? It’s bad enough you know what my mother calls me.” “I suppose. But, like you said, the story about how I couldn’t pronounce my name wasn’t so cute when I turned twelve. A wise man once told me that twelve-year-old girls don’t have much pity for things like that.” He laughed as he handed her a glass, then turned to look directly at her. “I don’t know, I’ll bet it was adorable, a little blonde-haired girl with glasses, trying her best to say her name.” She bit her bottom lip, a poor substitute for her thumbnail, he supposed. He had the sudden urge to grab her with his wet hands and suck on that lip himself, to nibble it and stroke it with his tongue. The thought stirred everything, from his scalp to his toes, and most especially his cock. But taking her here in the kitchen with no explanation to her, and no

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way to be sure if any of the parents in the other room would walk in, wouldn’t be a good move. Though God knew he could probably justify it if he thought about it long enough. As if to confirm his thoughts, her mother swung through the door. “Whenever you two are done, we’ve found a Trivial Pursuit game, entertainment edition, I think. We decided to play in pairs, so you two should start strategizing as soon as possible. Gerald and I are notoriously good at Trivial Pursuit.” He heard a soft noise that could have been a moan come from Sophie’s direction. “She’s not kidding. Everyone refuses to play against them. The only time we’re nice enough to try is the holidays, and that’s in the spirit of giving.” Winnie laughed and waved her hands in the air. “You and your brother! You two do quite well, thank you very much, and all because you have our genes. Now we’ll just have to see what sort of genes Mac here has tucked inside his blood.” Sophie closed the dishwasher with a soft thud, punched the appropriate buttons, and pushed her glasses back up her cute nose. A moment later she turned and began untying the apron from around her waist. Which was too bad, because he’d begun to have some very interesting ideas about her naked in nothing but the mundane checked covering. “All right, we sheep are ready to be led to the slaughter.” Winifred rolled her eyes, eyes that were the same shade and shape as her daughter’s. “Fine, we’ll play by the usual rules. Your father and I have to go around the board twice. I suppose it’s only fair.” Mac’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to look at Sophie. “They’re that good?” She gave him a sympathetic look and a half-smile. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

***** “Okay, Mom, time to tell me why you really showed up on Uncle Lionel’s doorstep.” Mac watched as his mother sank further back into the couch, trying to look as innocent as possible. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, MacAllister. Your father told you we decided we should visit his brother.” “Um, sure, and when the Easter Bunny shows up with his painted eggs, I’ll be sure to give him a couple of carrots.” He stared at his mother, propping his back against the mantle as he crossed his arms over his chest. His father sank down beside her, casually laying his arm across the back of the sofa. “Now, son, it bothers me that you’re second guessing our motives.” He didn’t say a word, only stared and waited. He had a sneaking suspicion about why they’d come, but he wanted the proof from their own mouths. Finally, his mother gave a long sigh.

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“Oh, all right, fine. After you called your father and spoke with him, he was a bit…concerned. So naturally, he and I talked about what you’d said; and don’t you dare get upset. You know if you tell one of us you might as well tell the other.” Which was very true. If he had stopped to think about what he was doing, he would have sworn his father to complete secrecy, or he wouldn’t have called at all. But maybe, subconsciously, he’d wanted his mother to know, too. He’d wanted her to be aware of Sophie, because she was very important to him. He wasn’t absolutely sure why, but he did know it was the truth. His mother crossed her legs and continued in a very reasonable tone. “Of course we felt that if you were asking these sorts of questions, something must be happening. And, call us old-fashioned, but we felt that we should know exactly what type of woman had our son so knotted up. I can only thank God it isn’t Danielle.” Mac’s eyes went wide as his jaw became loose. “What?” “Danielle, dear. I have to say, I’m very disappointed by the person she’s become. I suppose it’s only natural, though, after the way she was raised and the way her parents act. Needless to say, I was a little, um, anxious to get here.” He wasn’t sure how to respond to her very accurate statements, so decided to move on to other matters. “And what did you think you’d find when you did get here?” “Well, I can say I wasn’t very sure. But I’m very happy to know that you’ve had the good sense to find such a sweet girl.” Her face softened as she looked at him, her delicate features relaxed. “I really like her, Mac. Sophie is very kind, gracious, smart, and so pretty that I can’t understand why you’re waiting to make your move.” “Wait…you think Sophie’s pretty?” She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Of course I do! Oh, not in a blatant, I’vehad-plastic-surgery way, but in a very persistent, classic, understated way. She makes a person look once, then want to look again out of sheer interest, which I saw you do quite a few times during dinner. So, what’s taking you so long?” He turned to his father, knowing he looked completely lost but not particularly caring. “Dad, help.” Jack raised his hands into the air and shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I’ve been under interrogation since the night you called. My ears were practically bleeding by the time we got here.” “Mom, please. Sophie and I, we’re…I don’t know how to explain it.” He let out a long breath and ran his hand through his hair. “You and Sophie are crazy about each other. You love her, I know that.” He bolted up from the mantle and stared at his mother, nearly speechless. “Wha-what did you just say?”

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She looked at him, her brow knit. “I said that you love her. It’s fairly obvious to…wait, you didn’t know?” Love? Was it possible that this desperate need to be with her as a whole person, as both Scarlet and Sophie, was love? Could it be that the wild feelings, the ones that tore through him whenever he thought of her, was the big four-letter word? Was it really that simple? And that damn complicated? “Oh, peanut, I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed you realized. How could you not?” His face must have shown his confusion and uncertainty, because she stood up and walked to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I shocked you, I certainly didn’t mean to. But maybe I’m wrong, maybe you don’t love this girl?” Oh, God, no, she was completely right. He loved her. He loved Sophie. Even if he’d never met her as Scarlet, he would have fallen for her in the weeks that she’d worked in his uncle’s house. She embodied everything that all the women he’d dated lacked. But she didn’t realize it, refused to realize it. “She has to see it,” he whispered. “What?” He looked back into his mother’s concerned face and felt a smile slowly spread up his lips. “I’m glad you like her, Mom, because I intend to keep her around for a long, long time. Forever, if she’ll have me.” His mother gave him a short, knowing nod and a quick wink. “If you’re anything like your father, she won’t stand a chance.”

***** “Well, this was very sweet of you, Sophie, but you didn’t have to see us to our hotel room.” Sophie sent her mother a long look before she answered. “Oh, but I did.” Her father shut the room door and moved to stand beside his wife. They both looked at her, seemingly oblivious as to why she might be even the slightest bit upset. “Don’t try the innocent act with me, you two. You usually announce your visit a week or two in advance, so I have the chance to ask for time off and make plans. You’ve never just shown up.” Her father shifted uncomfortably. “Well, sweetheart, I don’t know why we can’t change our pattern every once in a while.” She cocked an eyebrow doubtfully. “Uh-huh, okay. So, your stopping by the Kincaid house, what, two minutes after Mac’s parents showed up was just a coincidence?”

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This time it was her mother who answered. “Honey, we had no idea the Kincaids were coming to visit their son.” “There’s an ‘until’ in there.” She stood in front of the room’s desk and waited. Finally, her mother let out a long, silent breath. “All right, I’ll confess, we did happen to run into the Kincaids at the gas station. We were standing in line in the convenience store when the cashier asked Mr. Kincaid for his I.D. Of course I was curious; how could I not be after I’d read your e-mail?” That little statement stunned her so completely she couldn’t open her mouth to ask her mother what she meant. “So, I started talking to Mary, Mrs. Kincaid,” Winifred plowed on. “I asked if they were related to Lionel, and, well, the conversation went from there. It was a very short conversation; I said that my daughter happened to be working at the house over the summer, and she said her son was there for the summer, as well. She mentioned that they were going straight over to the house, so your father and I decided we would, too.” Sophie shook her head and focused on the words that had been echoing in her mind. “My e-mail. What e-mail?” “Why, the one you sent me the other day. The one about your boss, and how you were so confused about him, about how he had a girlfriend.” Her mouth fell open and she gaped at her parents. “But I never sent that -- Annie. Annie must have…I’m going to put Nair in her hair conditioner.” “No, you won’t,” her father said firmly. “Obviously she was just as worried about you as we were when your mother got your message. She may have invaded your privacy a little, but her concern for you overrode her ethics. I’m glad she sent it.” She was torn between anger and annoyance that her father was right. Annie would have never done something like that unless there was true worry there. “As much as I’d like not to, I can understand why she did it. But you two didn’t have to come down here to check out a man I have a…a…crush on.” Her mother gave her a look filled with barely suppressed amusement. “A crush? Sweetheart, the look on your face when you sneak glances at him tells me it’s not just a crush.” She swallowed back a harsh stab of alarm, not sure where this conversation was going. She didn’t want to step on an unsteady piece of land and be sucked under before she could take a breath. “Mom, it’s a crush.” “No, it’s not.” “Yes, it is! It has to be! It can’t be more than that.”

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Her father gave her a strange look before he led her to the bed and gently sat her down. “What do you mean it can’t be more than a crush? Is it the girlfriend? Because I didn’t hear him mention another woman once tonight, and neither did his parents.” “But he has one. And she’s…she’s gorgeous,” she admitted miserably. “She’s gorgeous, and she’s polished, and she’s everything he could possibly want in a wife.” “Sweetheart, don’t you think that’s up to Mac to decide?” She shook her head and determinedly shoved down tears. “He has to have a certain kind of woman, one who can move through his world. I can’t be that.” Her mother slid down beside her and put her arm around her, pulling her carefully against her shoulder. “Love doesn’t care what your economic status is, Sophie. It doesn’t care if you can do calligraphy on place cards, or pick out the perfect centerpieces, or look like a supermodel in newspaper pictures. It doesn’t even care if you know how to alphabetize or can quote from books.” “But if I do…love him, then isn’t it best for me to let him find someone who can be what he needs?” “What if you are what he needs? What if you compliment his best attributes, and call him on his worst? What if you’re the only person he knows who can banter back and forth with him and make him laugh?” She gently put Sophie away from her and stared at her with warm, loving eyes. “We aren’t cookie cutters, Sophie; if we were there would be millions of disappointed men sulking all around the world. You, my dear, need to realize that you are afraid of being hurt again, and that in itself is going to break your heart. What you have to do is decide whether you’re going to be a complete wimp and curl up in the corner and die alone. Or if you’re going to be the brave, courageous woman we all know you are and try.” The tears that had been balanced on the edge of her lashes spilled over, burning hot trails down her cheeks. Her mother immediately wrapped her in a tight embrace as her father ran a comforting hand over her hair. “Oh, sweetheart, is it really all that bad?” “Ye-yes.” “But you’re going to try?” “I don-don’t know. If Mac breaks my heart, I don’t know if I’ll -- I’ll survive it.” Her father leaned in closer to squeeze her shoulders. “Whatever you decide, just know that we are very proud of you.” Her parents’ tenderness broke the floodgates and Sophie began to cry in earnest. She cried for the heart she’d worked so hard to protect. She cried for the insecurity about her body that had kept her hidden in an inner and outer shell. She cried for fear of what she might or might not do. But mostly she cried because she was terrified that, whether she wanted him to have it or not, Mac would always carry a piece of her she could never get back.

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Chapter Sixteen She couldn’t ever remember being so nervous. Not when she was seven and she’d had to stand in front of the class and give her first book report. Not when she was sixteen and driving to the prom with her friends. Not when she had taken her final tests in her last semester of college. But here she stood, staring at the front door of the Kincaid house, and she couldn’t seem to stop her hands from shaking. She had tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about what her mother had said. She was right. She had been hiding. Which meant that Mac had been right, as well, when he’d said nearly the same thing to her that day she’d told him about her college boyfriend. She was stagnant, strangling in a pit of her own creation. It was time for her to take a chance, to stand in front of Mac, and to confess everything she’d done. She would tell him that she cared for him a great deal. Then, no matter what his reaction, she was going to admit that she was actually Scarlet. She owed it to herself, and she owed it to him, to finally come clean. Their affair had become something so much more than just mutual meetings for sexual gratification. Their professional relationship had quickly evolved into a bond of friendship. Pairing the two could be an amazingly powerful thing that could sustain them; it could also be an utter disaster if he didn’t feel the same deep, underlying emotions that she did. But she intended to leave here today either with her heart finally complete, or completely shattered. Walking in between simply wasn’t acceptable any longer. Straightening her back, Sophie stuck her unsteady hand out and opened the door. She took a step inside, slowly closed it behind her, tried not to bolt right back outside. She took a moment to listen for voices, though it was hard to hear anything over the pounding blood in her ears.

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She suddenly recognized footsteps on the stairway and turned, holding her breath for the first glimpse of Mac. Instead, she felt herself deflate when she saw Danielle descending with measured steps. “Good morning, Sophie.” She fought the urge to lift an eyebrow at her almost pleasant greeting. “Good morning, Danielle.” “Mac didn’t tell me you were coming in today. I’d assumed he’d given you the day off.” She sent Sophie an unnerving smile as she stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “He told you my parents are in town?” “Oh, your parents? I’m sorry, no, he didn’t mention it.” Danielle gave a little chuckle and Sophie felt ice frost along her bones. “We were a little too…busy for him to mention anything like that.” Sophie tried not to let her words hurt. Just because Danielle had said they’d been busy didn’t mean they’d be busy having sex. They could have been chatting, or having coffee, or discussing politics. They could have been balancing the national budget, too, but she doubted that very much. Danielle preened as she moved around her, her mauve sundress dancing around her slim body. “Actually, I thought he would have given you time off because of our happy news.” A trickle of dread dropped along her spine. “Happy news?” “He didn’t tell you? But of course he wouldn’t; he’d want his parents to be the first to know.” “The first to know?” She beamed a bright smile and held up her hand, flashing her with a large diamond. “We’re getting married.” The world tilted as her stomach knotted. She swallowed back bile, tightening her fists in the pockets of her beige capris. “Married?” Danielle nodded happily, her half-smile smug. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Why do you think his parents really came out here? He mentioned he was planning to propose, and they wanted to be here to help celebrate and start making wedding plans. I was thinking about a fall wedding, but Mac isn’t a very patient man. I’m afraid he’s going to rush me so that we’re married by the end of August. He just can’t wait to have me all to himself, I suppose.” Sophie nodded dumbly, afraid to open her mouth and say anything. She was sickeningly cold, yet sweat had broken out along her face and arms. Her knees wobbled precariously, everything from her neck down going slowly, blessedly numb.

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She wouldn’t, under any circumstances, fall apart right here. She might feel like the world had suddenly caved in on her, but Danielle didn’t need to know that. She still had her pride, at the very least. “That’s…that’s great, Danielle. Congratulations.” “Thanks.” She wrinkled her nose cheerfully and waved her toward the library door. “Mac was probably so excited that he forgot to call you. I think he’s in the kitchen; would you like me to get him for you?” “No, no thanks.” She just managed to keep her voice steady. “Oh, well, I’ll just let him know you’re here, then, if you want to get straight to work. And, Sophie, just one more thing; don’t tell Mac I spilled the beans about our wonderful news. He’d be broken hearted if he found out Mary and Jack weren’t the first ones to know.” Sophie could only nod silently as the other woman turned away. In less than a few hours, in the time it had taken hope to set roots to the moment she’d walked in and seen Danielle, she’d been crushed. Completely, wholly, and irreversibly crushed. As quietly as she could, she slipped back outside. She should have known, she thought as she made her way to her car. She should have guessed that this would happen. Hadn’t she said all along that Danielle was the perfect match for Mac and his world? Sophie was fine as a friend, maybe even as a slight diversion. Scarlet was obviously acceptable as a bedmate, someone to enjoy sex with. But neither was apparently good enough to be his wife. And she could understand it, even if it was going to hurt like hell to accept it. After all, she couldn’t make him want her, not in the way she had begun to want him. Swiping away the tears that scorched her face, she crawled behind the wheel and sat, staring blindly out at the bright morning. She couldn’t continue to work for Mac’s family. Even though it was only a few weeks until she would be back at work at the college, she knew she couldn’t submit herself to the daily torture of seeing Mac. She couldn’t and wouldn’t be subjected to listening to Danielle’s wedding plans. She would have to turn in her resignation -- but not today. She wasn’t going to go back inside when she was so fragile. She couldn’t continue to see him as Scarlet, either. She knew he would call off their arrangement, probably very soon. But she would beat him to the punch, she decided; she would make a quick, clean break, or at least as clean as she could make it. She would have one last night with Mac; one last chance to say goodbye without regrets or tears. Then she would leave her second personality behind and move on with her life without him.

***** Mac paced restlessly along the library floor, waiting for Sophie. She should be here any minute…and then he was going to tell her the truth. The honest to God, no holds barred, slap you in the face truth. She’d be upset that he’d known for a while that she was Scarlet,

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but he would do whatever he had to in order to soothe that confusion. She was also going to find out that he loved her, had loved her since almost the beginning. And that it wasn’t Scarlet he’d fallen so hard for. It had been when she’d been Sophie, when she’d laughed with him, teased him, blushed over his comments. Naturally it didn’t hurt that as Scarlet she made him as wild as a teenager. But that wasn’t the only reason he wanted her. He would just have to convince her of the fact, and convince her, too, that she was exactly what he wanted. He didn’t give a good damn about parties or social standing, or any ripple of scandal. Hell, there wouldn’t even be a scandal, no matter what she might think. He loved her, and she was going to have to get used to that. The only chink in the plan was how Sophie might really feel about him. He heard the door open and spun around, his heart in his throat. When he saw Danielle he came close to growling. She definitely wasn’t the woman he wanted to see at the moment. “Hello, Mac.” “What do you want, Danielle?” She gave him a pouting look that he guessed was supposed to soften him. “You don’t have to snap; I just stopped by to pick up my jewelry. I had to leave so quickly that I forgot one of my cases.” He drew his eyebrows together as he stared at her. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why Sophie would even want to compare herself to Danielle. Sophie was so much prettier, so much…well, just so much more. How could she possibly think he would want Danielle? “If you’re going to chastise me for asking you to leave my uncle’s house, you’re wasting your time.” He watched as something cool and strangely calculating slipped through her gaze. “I understand that we’ve had a…rough patch, Mac, and I’ll admit that I was hurt when you asked me to go. But I think we can get through this little episode, don’t you? After all, with your parents here, I thought it might be a good time for all of us to spend some time together.” He was sure she had to be joking. Absolutely sure. “Excuse me?” She sidled closer, trying to give him a sultry look that would have had him laughing if he hadn’t seen the deadly intent on her face. “Come on, Mac, don’t you think your little snit has gone on long enough?” “My what?” She let out a short, annoyed breath and let her hand slide down the front of his blue shirt. “I understand you were trying to make a point, and I appreciate that. But really, you’re beginning to act like a child.”

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He stared down at her, filled with a mixture of disdain and pity. Very slowly, he took one large step back, leaving her hand to dangle in mid air. She pursed her lips as if she were irritated by what he’d done. “Danielle, you have been in this house twice now without my permission. The first time you said you’d left some clothes, and I was lucky enough to have Mrs. Hodges help you with that…and make sure you found your way out. I guess my luck isn’t holding today.” “Oh, really, MacAllister, that is quite enough!” He raised his eyebrows at her sharp tone. She sounded as if she were scolding a puppy instead of talking to a grown man. If it hadn’t been so ridiculous, he would have laughed. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to stare him down. “You are being too stubborn. Fine, fine, I get it, you like the librarian. I suppose she’s your little pet project, or maybe a little fling before you finally marry me. But I’m sure it’s over now, so I’ll forgive you for your little transgression; I’ll even refrain from mentioning her name again if you’d like.” He had never hit a woman. From an early age he’d been taught that females, even though they could be vicious, were physically more vulnerable then men. He’d been taught to respect women, to enjoy them, to appreciate them even when they were screaming like banshees or wailing like hurricanes. But at this very moment he was sorely tempted to smack the condescending look off of Danielle’s face. “Just why in the hell would I marry you?” She snapped backward as if she’d been slapped. “What do you mean? Of course we’re going to be married. You’re just being obtuse about it.” He shook his head and ground his teeth together. “I have had enough of you, Danielle. I have no idea who gave you the thought in your head that I was interested in you, and I don’t think I want to know how you came up with the idea that we were going get married. But I can tell you right now, I would never, ever, even if the Kincaid line were wiped out if I didn’t hitch myself to someone, ever consider marrying you.” Her face went perfectly white, her bottom lip trembling in what he thought was the first honest emotion she’d had in a very long time. “But I -- I -- Mac, you don’t mean it! You couldn’t possibly mean it!” “Oh, but I do.” “But…but it makes perfect sense! Don’t you see? Our families are influential, I’ve been groomed my entire life to be the perfect hostess, the perfect wife. You need me, Mac! You need someone who can take care of you and your household and your business!” He watched, still furious with her assumptions and her attitude, as tears began to well in her eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had practiced crying on cue just to get her way. Unfortunately, he could see what was behind her grief, and he wasn’t about to bend to her selfishness.

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“What I need is a woman I love, who I can trust to love me, and not just my pedigree or what I can do for her. What I don’t need is you. Now, I suggest you leave, before I toss you out on your ass.” She gasped, looking incensed and confused. “You’re going to regret this, Mac! And don’t think I’m not aware that it was that little slut of a librarian who’s done this to you. If you want to wade in mediocrity with her, then hike up your pants and go for it! Just don’t expect the rest of us to have anything to do with it.” His jaw clenched painfully as he pointed toward the door. “I was just thinking that I shouldn’t hit a woman, but I swear to God, Danielle, if you don’t get out of here, you’re going to force me to break my rule.” She gave a huff and spun on her heel, stomping across the room and slamming the door behind her. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He thought he had himself mostly under control when he heard a soft knock on the door. “What!” His mother stuck her head around the thick wood like a turtle afraid to come out of its shell. “Wow, that must have been some confrontation. But I come under a flag of truce with a message from Mrs. Hodges.” He let out a long, tired breath and waved her inside. “What is it, mom?” “Well, there’s a message from…” She let her voice trail away and eyed him cautiously. “You promise you won’t lose your temper?” “At this point I’m not promising anything.” “Well, then, just remember that if you yell at me I will yell right back, and I’ve more years practice at it. Now, as I was saying, there was a message from Sophie.” At the sound of her name his body became one tight knot. “What did she say?” “She called in sick just a moment ago.” “Sick?” He rammed his hand through his hair and turned a short circle. “Sick?” He looked at his mother for some sort of confirmation. When she nodded he dropped his head and chuckled morosely. “Sick, of course. I should have known.” He felt a small, warm hand land on his back. “It’ll be all right, peanut. She might really be ill, or she could be spending some extra time with her parents.” “Or she could be avoiding me.” “That’s true, but either way, you don’t want to push her. Go carefully with her. You don’t want to regret scaring her.” He nodded in agreement. “Well, it looks like I have the entire day to think about how I’m going to tell her I love her. Are you up for a game of Parcheesi?”

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Chapter Seventeen Mac had been surprised by the message she’d left him, as Scarlet, of course. He’d been torn between anger that she hadn’t contacted him as Sophie, and relief that she hadn’t simply disappeared. He’d had to consider whether to confront her tonight, here, in the privacy of the carriage house. But in the time that he’d known her, he knew that she would just use any opportunity to leave; and that was the last thing he could let her do. Tonight wasn’t the time for it. A small part of him called himself a scared idiot; he was only putting off what he knew for a fact he’d have to do as soon as possible. But that didn’t matter at the moment. He saw he headlights swing around in the drive and took a deep breath. There had been a strange undertone to her voice when he’d called, something that sounded like anxiety. Maybe, just maybe, she was going to admit the truth to him tonight. That would make matters a hell of a lot easier for him. He opened the door before she could knock, staring at her in her usual costume of mask and raincoat. He fought the urge to rip the velvety material off of her face. He wanted her, damn it, and he wanted it to be honest, face-to-face sex. No, not sex, he admitted with an inner twinge; it would be making love. No matter how kinky, no matter how hot and sweaty or sweet and slow, it would always be making love with Sophie. “Hello, Mac.” He gave her a smile as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I was glad you called me. I hated missing the other night with you.” There was a flash in her fake brown eyes that looked suspiciously like pain. It was gone so quickly that he didn’t have a chance to get a handle on what it could mean. “You said your family had come in; I can understand how that would take precedence.” She should, considering her parents had come in hot on the heels of his. “I still missed you that night.”

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Her gaze skittered across his bare chest then down his worn gray sweatpants and he wondered why she was having trouble looking at him. Maybe she was feeling guilty; maybe she was trying to gather her courage to tell him who she was. He waited in silent anticipation, but her next comment flattened his hopes. “I’m glad you could see me, especially since I’ve been thinking about what I want to do to you.” Mac nearly sighed before he caught himself. She was so damned determined, so fucking stubborn, that he wanted to thrash her. And yet at the same time he admired that streak in her, the one that had kept her spirit from being completely trampled under. He reached out and ran a finger around her ear, over her jaw, down her neck. “I think about you all the time. It makes it damned hard to get anything done.” Her lips tilted upward, but the familiar wickedness wasn’t there. “I know exactly what you mean.” He leaned down and kissed her, a soft touch of mouth on mouth. She was warm in his arms, strangely pliable and willing. She didn’t demand a deeper kiss, didn’t deepen their embrace. She simply stood and absorbed and drove him mad with her supplication. When he pulled away, she stared up at him with sparkling eyes. “What I want to do we need to stay down here for.” He lifted an eyebrow and felt all of his blood rush to his groin. He might be tortured by the need to have her confess, and to confess himself, but he was still male. Painfully so, he thought with a grimace. “Come on, into the living room.” She took his hand and led him into the open area. When they reached one of the wide, wing-backed chairs, she stopped and turned. “I’ve been thinking about this chair, and how far apart the arms are. I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be stretched out over them, riding you.” He sucked his breath in as his imagination immediately conjured up the idea. She would be so tight, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fit. But, holy hell, he wanted to try. He watched as she tilted her head and slowly let her coat fall to the floor. She stood in a nothing but a black bustier and a tiny scrap he supposed were panties. His eyes traveled further, saw the flat black three-inch heels, the little bows that held them onto her delicate feet. He took a step back to take in the whole picture and felt his cock try to push through his pants. “Where do you find these things?” She shrugged. “Here and there. Are you glad I did?” He growled in response and pulled her against him again, this time slipping his tongue between her lips. She held onto him, her breasts crushed into his chest, and moaned into his mouth. She eased the kiss and leaned back, watching him carefully.

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“Let me get everything ready,” she said softly. Before he realized what she meant, she was lowering herself, pealing his pants off with expert hands. His sex sprang free, relieving the pressure slightly, but tightening his balls as he felt her hot breath on his shaft. “Mmm, you look good.” Then she was taking him her mouth, swallowing his length in slow inches. A gasp mingled with a moan as he plunged his hands in her hair. She pulled away, sank down, encompassing him with so much heat that he could have died from it. His eyes rolled back as he slid between her lips, his lungs hitching as she sucked and laved. When she finally pulled away, his entire body was shaking with need. “I’m not through yet,” she told him with a husky voice. He wasn’t sure what to say, or even if he could form words. The fact of knowing that this was Sophie, that this was the woman he loved, made his libido throb in time with his heart. What should have been disconcerting was somehow right. He watched as she pulled her panties off, rolling them down past her shoes. She was reaching for the fastenings of her bustier and he reached out to stop her. “Leave it on.” She cocked her head but nodded her agreement. When she turned and bent over, giving him an air stealing view of her heart-shaped bottom and delicate lips, he nearly moved up behind her and slipped inside. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that this was her night; she had a definite fantasy that he wholeheartedly wanted to participate in. She stood back up and he saw that she held a thin, fairly small vibrator in her hand. The purple rubber was transparent and appeared supple; the very bottom of the vibrator was rounded off, creating a deep crevice. She suddenly gave him a look that made him forget about wondering what the device was for. “Why don’t you sit down, Mac?” He did as she asked quickly, taking a thick throw pillow from the couch and tossing it onto the chair. He would need a little more height for her to be positioned just right. His entire body hammered with thick blooded lust when he thought about what she wanted to do. Once he was comfortably situated, she handed him the vibrator. “I want you to use this on me,” she said softly. “I’ve been fantasizing about having you inside me at the same time as my little toy here. You do know where I want this, don’t you?” “Yeah.” He wasn’t surprised that his voice sounded as raw as his insides felt. The corners of her lips tilted up sinfully and she turned her bottom toward him. Very slowly, she bent over again, giving him full access to her. He swallowed as his shaft twitched in anticipation.

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He wet his lips and very carefully placed the tip of the vibrator at the front of her lips. He held it there for a moment, then turned the switch. Instantly it began humming and he heard her purr in delight. Wanting to tease her, he ran it slowly along her slit, pausing momentarily at her clit before moving it back. He slipped the toy inside her wet opening, sliding it between her walls slow inch by slow inch. She gasped and wiggled, her bottom contracting involuntarily. It was fascinating to watch, fascinating to make her moan for him and know that he was the only one she had asked to do these things with. He slipped the vibrator out and gently pushed it back up so that it lay directly on her clit. She groaned in earnest now, her legs visibly shaking. He leaned up and began kissing her rounded buttocks, massaging the pliant flesh as he nipped. She came in one long, hard cry, spasming underneath his hands. “Naughty man, making me orgasm like that,” she chided breathlessly. “Don’t worry, I know what you want. I just thought I’d take the edge off for you.” She chuckled as he pulled the vibrator backwards, following the path all the way to her other opening. He poised the tip there, let the vibrations stimulate her for a moment, then gently, slowly, pushed it inside. She was panting heavily by the time he had it seated in her. “Is that what you wanted?” “Ye-yes.” She stood and turned, her eyes glazed and what he could see of her face flushed. “Now for the second part.” He sat back willingly, his cock standing up at painful attention. He helped her climb onto the chair, her thighs straddling his as his hands held her hips securely. She lowered herself onto him, her swollen lips parting as his cock penetrated. She was so wet, so hot, that his entry was nearly frictionless. She stopped when he was fully inside, biting her bottom lip in apparent delight. Mac thought he might fall apart at the feel of her welcoming walls and the surprisingly erotic vibration from the toy. His fingers flexed against her skin as he fought with his body to stay still. If she didn’t move soon, he was afraid he was going to toss her onto her back and take over. “Are you ready?” Her question was filled with so much heat that he knew she was quickly climbing back to another orgasm. He nodded mutely, not trusting his own voice. He kept a firm grip on her waist as she lifted first one leg, then the other. In a matter of a few seconds she was stretched tight over him, her knees bent across the arms of the chair. “Oh, my God.” His head fell back and he growled at the sensation. She didn’t reply, probably couldn’t, only hissed and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He thought he might come just from the feel of her, so snug yet so slippery, as she cradled his shaft. The pulsing of the vibrator felt stronger somehow, increasing the arousing

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sensations. He was afraid she would move and it would be over instantly; he was terrified she wouldn’t and he’d die on the spot. He felt her move then, a small lifting of her hips, and realized that she needed help to achieve longer strokes. And God did he want longer strokes. His hands flexed on her hips and he pulled her up as he brought his cock back. She cried out and he nearly came. Struggling with himself, he helped her lower her body again, grinding his teeth against the need to pound into her. Over and over he boosted her up, then brought her back onto him. He felt every inch of her, every slick fiber that engulfed him, as he came back into her stretched tight sheath. The pace was gruelingly slow, but he was determined that she would have everything she wanted. When her moans became frustrated and panicked, he knew she was on the edge again. He didn’t have a choice; he knew he had to push her over or he would be done before she’d found her release. He tipped her forward slightly so he could reach her breasts. He ripped the material away from one of her nipples with his teeth, then latched onto it with a firm pull. Her head lolled back as she let out a loud scream filled with need. He stilled her movements with one strong hand, bringing the other between them to find her clit. When he did, he found it pebble hard and could feel the throbbing of it against the pad of his finger. With butterfly flicks, he massaged the distended nub, listening to every noise she made, feeling every twitch of her body from the inside out. “Mac…oh, Mac!” She came again with his name on her lips. It was too much for a mortal man to take. His cock flexed as his own orgasm rolled through his body, obliterating the world as it raced over and through him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he yelled incoherently, breathing in her scent as he emptied himself. He wasn’t sure how long they sat on the chair, panting and desperate for breath, but logic slowly crept in. She couldn’t be all that comfortable in her current position, even though it had been a hell of a place for her just a few minutes before. He gently moved her legs back down, bringing them around his waist. She snuggled against him, purring contentedly as he reached behind her to carefully remove the vibrator. With a quick twist he silenced the device before letting it fall to the floor. “Here, let’s get more comfortable,” he whispered in her ear. Keeping her legs wrapped around him, he lifted them both from the chair and carried them to the soft couch. With a satisfied sigh, he laid on his back and settled her on top of him. A flick of the wrist later and he had her covered with the fluffy blue throw. “Scarlet, I’d like to talk.” He didn’t so much see her pull away as he felt it. “Um,” she mumbled sleepily. “How about we rest first? You wore me out.”

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It was the tip of his tongue to tell her no, but he stopped himself. If she needed more time prepare, he wasn’t going to deny her. After all, it was going to be one hell of a confrontation, and he was sure she was afraid of what he might say or do. There was no way she could lie to him and tell him she didn’t care; the way she’d trusted him just now and all the nights before proved it. The way she’d kissed him tonight, the way she’d held onto him and shared their lovemaking, proved it, too. But then, as far as she knew, he was still clueless as to her real identity. So he didn’t reply, he just began stroking her hair and held her until he felt her body go boneless. A few moments later, he drifted off to sleep.

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Chapter Eighteen He was waiting for her in the library when she came in the next morning. His immediate thought was to grab her, shake her, and ask her why she’d left him the night before. Damn it, he’d wanted to wake up to her, to tell her everything, to force her to admit the truth. Instead she’d snuck out in the dead of night, probably because she’d known he’d demand those things. He held onto his frustration as he watched her come into the room, her shoulders slumped and her head bent down. She looked like his wildest, wettest dream on two legs, and that only frustrated him more. “Good morning, Sophie.” His voice came out harsher than it should have and he saw her jerk. Slowly, she brought her gaze to his and gave him a half-hearted smile. She looked exhausted and miserably pale. Despite himself, Mac felt his anger begin to melt as he studied her. “Hello, Mac. I’m glad you’re here.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the desk. “Really? And why’s that?” “I…I needed to talk to you.” Finally, he thought, and nearly let out a deep sigh. She was going to tell him who she was; she was going to admit that she wanted more than an anonymous affair. There was no way she could deny it after the way she’d touched him last night. It had been in every curve of her body, in every slick piece of her flesh. “I wanted to give you this.” She held out a carefully folded piece of paper and he had no choice but to take it. He felt a fist of dread tighten against his spine as he opened it. He re-read the note twice before he understood what it was.

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“A resignation? You’re resigning?” She swallowed and nodded, absently lifting her thumbnail so she could assault it. “Sophie, why…I don’t understand.” A deep desperation, one he’d never experienced before, crawled like dark sludge through his gut. “Aren’t you happy here? I know you’re not done cataloguing everything.” She gave him a slight shrug. “It’s just…well, summer will be over soon, and I’ll be back to work at the college. I just wanted some time off before classes started again.” He was on the verge of ranting at her when he remembered his mother’s words. He had to have patience; he sure as hell didn’t want to scare her away. And it wasn’t like she was threatening to leave town. But if she was leaving, did that mean she didn’t care about him? No, no, he’d felt it for himself last night. Now she was making him paranoid. “All right, Sophie, I can understand that. But…are you sure? You’ve done so much work here, and once Uncle Lionel is back, there’s no telling what’ll happen to the books.” Again she tried to smile; again she failed. “I think it’s for the best, Mac. I mean, the house is going to be busy, and so are you.” He knit his brow in confusion. “It won’t be any busier than usual.” “Men. They think planning a wedding is a matter of a few phone calls.” That completely stunned him. It took him a good ten seconds to recover thought. “Planning a wedding?” “I forgot, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that I’d heard, but I guess your parents know by now.” Sophie sent him a small laugh. “I know you don’t care for large parties, but I’m sure you’ll be willing to grin and bear it for the day. Honestly, it’ll probably be Danielle and your mother doing most of the planning and dealing with all the details, but since you’re the groom, you’re going to have be involved at some point.” His wedding? Danielle and his mother planning it? Did she think that…but that was insane! Why would she --? Then he remembered the day before, when Danielle had snuck into the house, when he’d been waiting for Sophie. She’d been on a tirade about their getting married. Was it possible that she’d somehow cornered Sophie and fed her a crazy line about their being engaged? Of course it was. And because of her doubts, his sweet little librarian had swallowed the insanity completely. Mac felt a wave of relief as he realized she was leaving because she didn’t want to get in his way. And he was sure as she stared up at him he could see the barely suppressed sadness in her eyes. Aside from a full out confession, her expression was the next best thing. “So I can’t change your mind about leaving?” She shook her head and her gaze slid away from his. “No. I have the database almost complete. I’m sure you can find someone else to finish it if your uncle would like to.” He wanted to yank her against him and whisper every promise he could think of to soothe her. But now wasn’t the time. He had to get her alone somewhere. Well, maybe not

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completely alone. He had to be sure she didn’t have the opportunity to run until she’d heard him out completely. He’d always relied on his seat-of-the-pants business style in sticky situations; he decided to rely on it here, too. “Well, since I can’t talk you into staying, you have to at least let me take you out to dinner. Think of it as an office party, a way of saying goodbye and good luck. I’ve been planning to stop by Le Melodieux. We’re trying to coax their head chef over to our San Francisco Kincaid.” He nearly laughed at her mixed expression of hope and consternation. Let her think he was only using their night out as an excuse for business. She would be completely caught off guard, which was much better for him. “All right,” she agreed softly. “We’ll leave around seven. Why don’t I just pick you up at your apartment? That way you can have as much wine as you’d like.” He strode to the door, whistling softly to himself. With his hand on the knob, he turned to give her one last look. “Have a good day, Sophie.” She nodded weakly and he grinned. She had no idea what she was in for, but by the end of the night, she was going to have no doubt exactly where she stood in his life. And exactly where he wanted to stand in hers.

***** Sophie smoothed down the cool material of her black dress, a classic number that Annie had insisted she buy when they found it in her size. You never know when you’ll need it, she’d said. She just never thought she’d need the petal sleeved dress for something like this. She had to admit, though, that the soft material of the delicate sheath and the feminine black heels she wore had bolstered her spirit when she was first dressed. Now she was sure the feminine trappings weren’t enough, not when faced with MacAllister Kincaid decked out in a custom fitted suit. She looked from the menu to see Mac watching her with a strange smile. She remembered his whistling this morning and wanted to hate him for it. Obviously he was happy. It was important that he was happy. But that didn’t mean she had to like it. “I hear the Lobster Vol au Vent with orange cognac sauce is the house specialty.” She stared at him, trying not to feel like a fool. “Um, that sounds good.” He lifted an eyebrow in his unnervingly easy way. “Gratinee Lyonnaise soup for an appetizer?” She could only nod. He’d been so…cheerful, she thought miserably. After she’d turned in her resignation, he’d disappeared and she hadn’t seen him for the rest of her workday. But he had been at her apartment very promptly at seven, grinning as he’d given her a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots and white apple blossoms. Forget-me-nots and apple blossoms for heaven’s sake! She’d almost burst into tears when she’d seen them.

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“You aren’t very talkative tonight,” he said happily. She sent him a small smile. “It’s been a long day.” “Um, yes, it has.” He got a faraway look in his eyes and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to throttle him or sob. The tuxedo clad waiter appeared out of nowhere, silent and gracious as he asked for their orders. She didn’t bother to reply and was glad when Mac took the cue to order for her. She simply didn’t have the energy or inclination to pretend to be interested in food. As he spoke, she took a moment to look around the restaurant. It was obviously a place for lovers, with shadowed corners, candlelit tables, and gentle string music. The sumptuous burgundies and dark wood paneling added to the understated opulence, an opulence that she might have normally enjoyed with a man like Mac in front of her. Too bad she wouldn’t ever be able to come back when she was more herself; she wouldn’t be able to think of anything but her boss. “…champagne.” She heard the last word and immediately began shaking her head. The waiter ignored her, of course, and glided away to do Mac’s bidding. “I…I’m not much of a drinker,” she said softly. “I’m afraid the bottle will be wasted.” “I’m sure you can handle a glass or two; I already told you I was bringing you so you didn’t have to worry about driving home. Besides, we’re celebrating.” “Celebrating, of course.” Her eyes fell to the deep red tablecloth as ice stabbed through her heart. Maybe with time the pain would ease to a dull throbbing. The blond haired waiter was quickly back, expertly popping the cork on a thick bottle of champagne. With measured finesse he filled first Mac’s flute and then her own. When they were alone again, he lifted his glass and speared her with bright eyes. “To you, Sophie. The summer would have never been the same without you.” She sipped the fizzy liquid, shocked when she didn’t choke on the fist in her throat. She saw him smile and took a deeper swallow. She was going to need as much courage as possible to get through this. She’d just have to be careful to walk the border of pleasantly numb and schnokered. Mac put his flute down and watched her for a moment, making her want to squirm in her chair. There was something about the look, something just behind the green of his eyes that was making her distinctly uncomfortable. She took a quick sip of champagne and prayed for sanity. “You’ve done a miracle with my uncle’s book collection.” “Oh, uh, thank you.” He paused for a moment and stared at her as if he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he pulled a thin, rectangular box from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table

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beside her. She eyed the package with its delicate white wrapping and slightly smashed silver bow. Her brow drew down in confusion. “What’s this?” “A present, something to remind you of this summer. Go ahead, open it.” His voice was mild as he urged her on. Still she felt an odd note of…well, she wasn’t sure what of, but it was there. Slowly, she began pulling the tape away from the paper, carefully unraveling the covering. Underneath she found a textured cream color box, one with no name or any sort of clue about what might be inside. She wasn’t sure why, but slick tendrils of uncertainty began to settle into her stomach. Her fingers wavered as she stared down at the gift. “Go ahead, Sophie.” His gentle insistence eased past her anxiety. She carefully lifted the lid, listening as the sides scraped apart. With tremulous hands, she reached out to move the silver paper away -then gasped. Her eyes shot up to meet his and she suddenly realized what it was she’d been seeing there all evening. He knew! Her gaze skittered back down to the delicate black mask that lay inside the gift box. “Hello, Scarlet.” His softly spoken words sent shockwaves through her system. Her immediate response was to jump up and run away until she’d sorted it all out in her head. But she couldn’t do that, not without creating some sort of scene, and she suddenly knew that was precisely why he’d brought her here. She took a shallow breath and searched for calm. “There isn’t a chef, is there?” His lips tilted into a half-smile. “No, there’s not.” “I see.” She looked back up at him, her heart smacking like a caged animal against her ribs. “You did this to…to prove something? Maybe to humiliate me?” “You’re a very smart woman, Sophie; don’t start acting like an idiot now.” He sat forward, his presence encroaching in her space. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have done it weeks ago, when I figured out that my intriguing librarian and sultry sex mate was the same person.” “How long have you known?” She wished her voice was stronger, but there was no help for it. “Since the night of the storm, when we had dinner together. You had been driving me insane; I couldn’t stop thinking about doing all sorts of things with Scarlet, but every time I saw you as Sophie, all I could think about was how I didn’t want to share you with anyone else. God help me, I almost tore A.J.’s head off during the party, and I didn’t know why.”

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His voice was tinged with anger and she winced with it. “I’m sorry, Mac. I never meant to make you feel like that. I…I didn’t know.” His muscles eased slightly as he nodded his head. “Well, neither did I. Not until you started gnawing on your thumbnail. Then I knew. I’d seen you, Sophie, do it before, but it never connected, not until the night after I’d been with Scarlet. I noticed her do it, too, and thought it was familiar. Then it all clicked into place that evening; why the curve of your face, the sound of your voice, the feel of your hand, was so familiar.” She felt the stone of grief weigh heavy in her gut. “And you were mad.” He didn’t answer her for so long that she thought he must have been and still was. Then his hand slid along the table to tenderly touch her own. “I should have been. I should have gone into the library the next morning and demanded answers. But the truth is, I was so relieved that you were Scarlet that I didn’t want to. I knew there had to be a reason why you were hiding behind those damn masks. I was also enjoying both sides of you, and I guess I was a little selfish and didn’t want either one of them to stop.” He squeezed her fingers and gently eased her hand inside of his. “But, God, Sophie, you gave me your resignation and for a few minutes I thought I was going to lose my mind.” Emotions swarmed her like angry tidal waves, smacking into her, dragging her under, then lifting her up again. “I don’t understand. You and Danielle --” “There is no me and Danielle. There never has been, not on my part.” She shook her head as confusion tangled with hope and denial. “Your engagement. She showed me the ring. Your parents came in.” He smiled soothingly. “Danielle stopped by without my knowledge. She came to get her jewelry, and I’m sure what she showed you was one of several engagement rings her mother has collected over the years. Besides, when was I supposed to have done this proposing when I’d barely had time to sleep the night before? And yes, my parents did come in to see the woman I’ve been going crazy over. They came in to see you, Sophie.” She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to answer that admission. She was saved having to reply when the waiter discreetly slid up to the table balancing two bowls. As he placed the thick, white dishes down, she took a long gulp of champagne. “Sophie, there are some very important things I want to say to you, but first, I want to know something.” “Al-all right.” “Do you care about me? I mean, as more than a friend.” Her mouth fell open before she could stop it. It took her a full five seconds before she could snap it shut. How could he have guessed? How could he have known? Was she that transparent? And what had he meant his parents had come to see her?

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His voice came again, slightly amused this time. “I thought it was a simple yes or no question.” “It’s not simple.” His eyebrows snapped together. “What?” Well, she certainly couldn’t just leave it hanging now that she’d said it. “What I…what I feel for you. It’s not that simple.” He sat perfectly still for a moment, studying her before he nodded. “Good, because it’s pretty damned complicated for me, too.” She began to lift her glass again, but he forestalled her with a hand on her wrist. “No, I don’t want you drunk. Slow down.” She could only answer by putting the flute back in its place. What was it he wanted from her? She was afraid to let herself believe that, by some miracle, he loved her. He eased back, his hand slipping away from hers, and picked up his spoon. “You should eat.” She did as he suggested, automatically spooning the fragrant mixture into her mouth. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was an excellent soup. They ate in silence for several moments before he spoke again. “Why the masks, Sophie?” She jolted and the soup sloshed off her spoon and back into the bowl. “What?” “The masks,” he prodded. “I wanted you to take them off, but you wouldn’t. I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me who you were.” “I…I guess I…what would you have done if I’d taken it off that second time?” He cocked his head. “I’m not sure. I can tell you I sure as hell wouldn’t have left you alone in the carriage house.” “What about later? How would you have felt, knowing the woman sorting through your uncle’s library was the one you were having an affair with?” “I probably wouldn’t have left you alone in the library, either. In fact, I probably would have had you on every available surface in there, flat or not.” She felt the blood rise along her neck to settle in her cheeks. This time it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with desire. She wet her lips and tried again. “You wouldn’t have been…disappointed? You wouldn’t have had that moment of regret because I’m Scarlet?” He eyed for a moment then let his spoon drop into the dish. “No and hell no. But you were scared, weren’t you? You were afraid I would be.” There was no reason to lie. “Yes.”

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Their server swept up to the table again, this time holding their dinners in his hands. He gave them a gracious smile as he put the plates down and whisked the bowls away. The moment they were alone, Sophie took a drink of champagne and sat back in her chair. He regarded her solemnly for a moment. “I’m not disappointed, Sophie. Actually, I’m pretty damn thrilled that you decided to try all those things with me, and that you let me try things with you. You’re the perfect sex partner, beautiful, sexy, willing to be in control and to give control back to me. You’re also the perfect partner outside the bedroom, because you’re smart, and funny, and you don’t let me get away with things I shouldn’t. You’re also very patient…and you’ve taught me to be patient. I’ve been very patient waiting for you, Sophie. Don’t you think it’s time we both stopped waiting?” She opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, but knowing that honesty was the only way to go with this. “All my pants have elastic waists.” His gaze glazed over with bewilderment. “Huh?” “I wear big shirts to cover up my faults.” “Your faults? Wait, are you talking about that nice sized ass of yours, or your extremely gorgeous breasts? Maybe that perfect back, or cute rounded tummy?” Her thumbnail made its way to her teeth and she began to worry it. His gaze flickered down to the movement and she immediately pulled her hand away from her mouth. She wanted him to have the unvarnished, undressed up truth about who she was; she had to know he accepted each and every part of her before she allowed herself to believe in miracles. “Look, Mac, it’s not like I want to trot out all my imperfections, okay? Seriously, I work very hard to be okay with who I am, and most days I accomplish it. But the way you’re talking…you should know exactly what you’re walking into.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if he were trying to gain control. When he looked back at her, she saw tenderness in them that made her want to weep. “Don’t you think I know? I’m going to have to scramble to keep up with your mind. God help me, but when you get on a roll I love to just sit back and enjoy it. I’m also terrified that one day you’re going to realize how stunning you really are and leave me behind. If you really wanted to, you could have any man you wanted, and the fact that you don’t know it makes you that much more desirable.” She tipped the flute up for another drink, ignoring the delicate lobster dish in front of her. What he said excited her and scared her to death, all at the same time. “Wow, it sounds like you’ve thought about this.” “I don’t think I’ve done anything but think about this for a very long time.” He reached into his pocket again, this time to pull out his wallet. “I want to talk to you, but I think I can trust you in private now. As long as you don’t have that money for a taxi in your purse.”

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She lifted her eyebrow and gave him an apologetic look. He merely chuckled and shook his head as he tossed a wad of bills on the table. “Come on, Sophie, I want to finish this…just the two of us.” There wasn’t any way to say no to him, and she didn’t particularly want to.

***** The drive was too long and too short at the same time. Locked in with a silent Mac as he cast sideways glances at her was nearly unbearable. But watching him bring the car to a stop in front of the white columned house told her she’d lost her time to think through what was happening. Before she could catch her breath he was opening her door, holding his hand out for hers and staring down expectantly. She swallowed convulsively and slid her palm into his, absorbing the tiny ripples of pleasure the contact brought. When he began leading her into the main house, she dug her heels in. He turned to give her a curious look. “What is it?” “You…you want me…I thought we were going to the carriage house.” His body relaxed a few inches and his eyes softened. “You belong in here, Sophie. You belong in my family’s home, in my bedroom…in my bed.” She was too stunned to respond as he led her inside. She thought she should have found some sort of protest when he gently took her up the stairs, but she couldn’t find the words. Then he was pushing a door open, revealing a large, masculine room dominated by a massive bed. He switched the lights on and two matching lamps on the oak side tables sparked to life. “There’s a lot I want to say to you.” He ushered her inside and closed the door behind him. The solid click of the lock on the door made her start. “Mac, I don’t understand. I’m…well, I guess I’m confused.” He cupped her face with tender hands and sighed. “I know you are, and that’s part of the problem. I have no idea why you’d be confused because I find you sexy as hell. And you are, you know. I wanted you when you were Sophie; if I’d never known Scarlet, if I’d never slept with her -- you, I still would have gone crazy wanting the librarian in my uncle’s library.” Something warm and liquid rolled through her, covering her doubts with so much hope that she wanted to weep with it. “You would have?” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Do you know I almost jumped you the night of the party? I saw you standing there and I got so hard that I thought I’d break my zipper. If you’d have gone with me to change the music I probably would have tossed you on the couch and given you several reasons to scream for me.”

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The thought of it, the idea that he had wanted her so much, was thrilling and terrifying. “But Mac, I’m not exactly a society darling. I don’t know if I can be what you need.” His hands moved down to cover her shoulders and he squeezed them lightly. “Damn it, Sophie, what do I have to do to prove to you that you are everything I’ll ever need?” “And what if one day you wake up to me in your bed and you realize that I’m not the kind of woman you should have gotten involved with?” “God, Sophie.” He pulled her against him, cradling her head on his chest. “I’m not going to promise that we won’t hurt each other. In fact, I’m probably going to be a lousy husband in the beginning until you have me good and trained. Most likely I’m going to screw up every day for the first year. But I won’t ever, ever, leave you or ask you to leave me. I don’t think I could survive without you, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to try. Don’t you understand, Sophie? I love you. And no amount of flower arranging or party planning or slick networking another woman could do is ever going to change that.” She felt the tears pool in her eyes and leaned back, staring at him as his words finally settled into her heart. “You love me?” He gave her a soft smile. “Yeah, I do. I’m insane with it. And you love me.” She lifted an eyebrow but couldn’t stop the up tilt of her lips. “I do?” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. “You do, and I’m prepared to prove it. I’m also prepared to show you that I won’t hurt you, if you’ll let me.” With her blood pounding and her system high from excitement and possibilities, she laid her hands on his shoulders and gave him a gentle kiss. “All right.” Slowly, he slipped her glasses from her nose and tucked them safely on top of the dresser. “I want to make absolutely sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. After tonight, there’s no walking away. No more keeping secrets from me, no more masks…unless it’s in the bedroom.” She couldn’t respond, not over the emotions that were filling her throat and chest. She simply nodded and waited. “Tonight is my turn, Sophie, but I want to show you what I have in mind. I want your approval before we do this.” She bit into her bottom lip as he took her hand and pulled her toward the middle of the room. There, just on the other side of the bed, was a tall, long table that looked a lot like a massage table, except there was a large gap where legs would be spread. On each corner there were long red ropes, and at the end of them were padded cuffs. She stared at them, not exactly sure what he was asking her to do. He leaned in from behind her and put his mouth very close to her ear. “It’s very secure; I made sure of that. What I want to do, Sophie, is cuff you to the table so that I can play with

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you any way I’d like. I want you naked, stripped completely bare, so that when I tell you I love you, and when you say you love me, it will be the raw truth.” Images of him doing unspeakably erotic things to her swirled in her mind. He’d already done so many things that she’d fantasized about, and he’d been damn good at every one of them. And now here he was, this incredible man, asking for permission to worship her. The word “no” evaporated from her vocabulary. When she spoke, her voice was a rough whisper. “I think I’m a bit overdressed for this party.” He sucked in his breath and spun her around, his mouth claiming hers instantly. She responded to him with everything she had, with everything she felt. The heat was immediate as desire sprang from its resting place between her thighs. Need spread quickly through her veins, filling her limbs and roaring through her blood. She couldn’t imagine this feeling would ever end. His mouth moved reluctantly from hers and she could see that his eyes had turned the rich color of jade. “Thank you.” With those two words he began undressing her, his hands moving with quick skill. When he had her down to her underwear he took a small step back and studied her. She shivered under the blatantly carnal look, her nipples hardening and her clit throbbing. “If I’d known what you were wearing underneath your dress, I don’t know if we would have made it out of the parking lot.” His finger traced the satin cup of her bra. “What do you call this?” “A -- a demi-bra.” “God you look good in black. It’s almost a shame to take them off of you. But only almost.” He gave her a wolfish grin as his fingers worked their magic again, stripping her down to nothing. She stood in front of him, completely nude, with no mask or identity to hide behind. She should have felt a moment of uncertainty, or at the very least embarrassment. Instead, she found herself standing with a sort of powerful pride that his hot gaze instilled in her. “Sophie, you are incredible. Just incredible.” His eyes came back to hers and held her still, silently conveying all the words he couldn’t seem to say. Silently, he began to undress, revealing his body inch by inch. Sophie fought the need to reach out and touch and take; she was his tonight, and she would play by his rules. “Are you ready?” She could only nod. He leaned down and placed an infinitely tender kiss on her lips. Before she could delve deeper, he was carefully pushing her down to the table. He was gentle

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when he lifted first one hand, and then the other, securing them in the padded cuffs. Then he moved down to buckle her ankles, as well. She had felt the excitement before, but she hadn’t expected it to be so breath stealing. She was totally vulnerable, exposed to anything and everything he wanted to do to her. But she knew that he only wanted her pleasure, that he wouldn’t use her vulnerability against her. She realized it then, the slow shifting of understanding stunning her with its intensity. He would never physically harm her, and he had never done anything to harm her emotionally, either. He had been so careful with her, both as Sophie and as Scarlet; and all of that had been before he’d admitted to her that he loved her. Why shouldn’t she believe that he would never deliberately hurt her in the future? “Sophie?” He ran his fingers along her cheek and gave her a questioning look. She smiled at him, feeling warm and brilliant with the truth. “I’m yours now, Mac. Do whatever you want with me. I promise I won’t say no.” She’d meant it to be more than a statement about what they were doing. By the way his eyes flared and his face lit she knew he understood. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.” She knew, too, that his promise was more than for this one night. She took his words to her heart and held them close. He leaned down to her and kissed her again, swiping his tongue between her lips to tangle with hers. Her body strained towards his, but the restraints kept her from pushing herself into him. Mac’s hands slid over her body as he pushed back slightly so that the tip of his erection lightly brushed her hip. She sucked in a breath, desperate to feel more of him. “Hmm, looks like you’re enjoying this. I’m glad.” He reached out and began stroking her skin with feather light touches, running them from her neck, over her breasts, down her ribs, to her thighs. She wiggled against the table, moaning as her body tightened and tingled. When his hand brushed her heavy labia she thrust her hips up. “You’ve kept yourself shaved and smooth. Do you like it, Sophie? Does it feel good to be bare there?” “Yes,” she gasped. “I like it, too.” His rasping words danced along her nerves, spearing to her core. She knew what he could do, knew the way he could manipulate her body and intensify her orgasm. She wanted to force his hand to stay on her, to play with her, to ease some of the thrumming desire that was so painful. But she couldn’t, and that made her need curl even tighter. Her desire was hazing her sight when his hands reached out to cup her breasts. The hard flesh of his palms rubbed against her softer skin, creating incredible friction. He

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kneaded them, only his hands touching her as he squeezed and toyed with her. She felt her nipples stiffen and slip between his fingers. He took advantage, clamping his knuckles down to gently pinch them, whipping her need into a near frenzy. Her eyes closed tight as wildly swinging feelings scrambled and clawed at her control. She cried out when she felt his tongue run over one raised nub. Then he was sucking her between his teeth, nipping softly and making her writhe against the padding underneath her. She kept her eyes closed, absorbing each sensation, reveling in the hard pounding between her legs, the hot and swollen flesh that hummed and throbbed. His tongue seared along her delicate flesh, burning a moist path from one breast to another. She felt a sob rise in her throat, tangling with the violent desire to have him inside of her. So much, too much, but not nearly enough. His mouth moved down, tasting her, laving and nibbling, running his teeth along her sensitive flesh. Her muscles contracted, from her toes to her neck, and she groaned with dark pleasure. He teased her, kissing down her stomach, across one hip, along her leg. He continued up her inner thigh, but he didn’t touch her where she needed him, instead working his way down the opposite leg. She pulled at the restraints, thrilled but frustrated at his love play. Then his tongue made a slow swipe up her slit and she forgot all about frustration. All of her feelings were focused on where his tongue was, on how he wound her further up even as there was a slight easing inside of her. He speared her, pushing between her walls, sucking gently as if he were swallowing her. The suction against her clit was excruciatingly pleasurable, drawing out her desire and setting her on the edge of an orgasm. She wanted to bring her legs up, to stretch herself over his tongue. But with her arms bound, she couldn’t, and so she balanced precariously along the point of coming. Suddenly, he was lapping her hard nub, attacking her with careful abandon and even strokes. She gasped and bowed, pressing herself into his mouth, silently begging for release. But instead of increasing his pace, he slowed, then he gently pulled away. “Mac!” She peered down at the man between her legs and gasped when she saw the look on his face. It was so blatantly sensual, so incredibly taut with desire, that she could only stare. Then he was lifting a small device, what looked to be a series of small, graduated balls linked together. He lifted an eyebrow and she mutely licked her lips in anticipation. Obviously that was enough of an answer for him. She felt him carefully position the toy against her opening, then slowly, very slowly, he inserted the string of beads between her slick walls. It felt strangely stimulating, slightly different than the vibrators she’d used. Suddenly she felt the balls begin to vibrate and she nearly came off of the table. Bolts of scorching liquid poured through her, pooling in the pit of her stomach as her body shook and arched. “That’s it, Sophie, that’s right.”

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His words pulled at her, coaxing her, and she was helpless not to follow where it led. She was reaching for her orgasm when his tongue was on her again, flicking across her clit with a frenzied rhythm. She felt her body tighten to the point of explosion and knew she was there. Then the vibrating beads were slipping out and she couldn’t hold on, didn’t want to hold on. She crashed into her climax, fell and tumbled down, splintered apart. She vaguely heard her own cries of release echoing through the room as her arms and legs jerked against the bonds that held her. The feeling of the restraints, amazingly, brought another strong wave and she gasped with the small quake it caused. Moments later Mac stood, his hand playing gently with her wet lips. She panted as her body came back down, cooling slightly as she fought for breath. “I have more I want to do to you,” he told her softly. His words were enough to bring a slow burn back. She watched him as he came around the table, his hard cock standing out for her perusal. His hands trailed along her body as he moved closer, stopping when he came to her head. His fingers traced her lips for moment as his eyes watched their movement. “I want to feel your mouth around me.” She wanted to do it, too, wanted to give him pleasure. She turned her head so that she could reach his shaft. He didn’t reply, only growled as her tongue snaked out to lick the clear drop off the head of his cock. She opened her mouth and waited, letting Mac go as fast or as slow as he wanted. He slipped between her lips slowly, filling her mouth with his length. He was so hot, soft but hard, smooth and perfect against her tongue. He pumped into her and she willingly obliged, supplicant in her cuffs as he thrust in her mouth. The embers that had been glowing were being stoked again, the heat climbing to encompass her. She heard him hiss and growl, felt his tempo increase and moaned. He felt so good, so right, and giving him every piece of herself seemed exactly what she should do. And so she did; she gave while he took, and somehow she felt his arousal elicit a strange power inside of her. Suddenly he was gone, his cock pulled out of her mouth and she groaned in protest. She watched the pained expression on his face as he struggled for air. “I don’t want to come yet. I want to be inside you first. I want to feel you when I slide between your other lips. Would you like that, Sophie? Do you want me to make you come again?” She barely managed to speak. “Yes.” He kissed her softly again, an unspoken promise that she returned. He kept his eyes on her as he maneuvered around the table, pausing when he was between her thighs. She involuntarily pulled at the restraints and felt that quiet excitement again when she couldn’t move. She knew at her very core that if any other man had asked to do this to her, she wouldn’t have agreed. But this was Mac, her Mac, and he would be careful with her.

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Placing his hands on her hips, he held her gaze. “I want to see you this first time without your mask. I want to watch you when I’m moving inside of you.” She nodded and felt the incredible pressure as he began pushing into her. It was an easy fit, her moisture making her slick and ready. When he was seated inside of her, she bit her bottom lip and moaned. It still amazed her how wide he spread her, how full he made her. He began a slow, rocking rhythm, his thrusts measured and steady. The coil of desire was tightening again, wrapping down around her stomach and down to her core. Her head began to thrash as lush, inexplicable feelings overtook her again. It was a slow build, something that could have been rushed but wasn’t. She knew he was giving her exactly what she needed, being sure that she was high enough that her plummet would be just as hard, just as mind numbing, as the first had been. Her hips lifted up and down, the movements restricted because of her position. His thrusts began a bit faster, a bit harder, and she reveled in them. He stroked again and again, pressing against her most sensitive spot with every plunge. She felt her orgasm begin to simmer just underneath her skin, the heat of it singeing her. She was frenzied now, wanting the climax he was pushing her toward. “Come for me, Sophie. Come for me now.” He pushed even faster, even harder, reading her body so perfectly that she gasped with the ecstasy of it. She didn’t hold back as her climax slammed into her, drowning her as it pulled her down and completely consumed her. She jerked and bowed, her fingers twined around the cuffs that held her as she orgasmed. She felt Mac convulse, heard him call out her name as his hands dug into her flesh. She went with him, moving and cradling him as he filled her. She wasn’t sure how long she laid on the table panting and sated. She had the strangest feeling that time didn’t matter, that nothing else existed outside of this room. She smiled when she felt Mac lean up over her. “That was…wow,” he managed between hard breaths. She chuckled in reply and nodded. “Yes, it certainly was.” He kissed her stomach before gently releasing her ankles, then bent down to kiss them, as well. When he un-velcroed her wrists he gave them the same treatments, following each arm up to softly nip her shoulders. Once she was free, he picked her up and carried her to his bed, securing her against his side before covering them with a soft blanket. She snuggled against him, completely and totally content. If the world disappeared, she didn’t think she would much care. Mac was the first to break the silence. “Have I convinced you yet? Do you believe me now?” She gave into her need to tease him. “Convinced me? Believe you?”

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He pinched her bottom and she gave an obliging yelp. “Do you see now that I won’t hurt you? That you are exactly what I need?” She leaned up on her elbow to stare down at him, knowing that everything she felt for him was written plainly on her face. “Are you sure, Mac? Because once I give you my heart, I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back.” He lifted a hand to stroke her face with his knuckles. “Good, because I won’t be giving it back. I love you, Sophie, you, with all the faults you think you have, with that incredibly sexy body, that terrifyingly sharp mind…all of it. Now I want to know if you could possibly love a man who was too blind to know the second he saw you that you were Scarlet. I need to know if you can put up with my off-key voice, my flush bank account, my need to travel, and my horrendous spelling.” Sophie’s heart had already given up its last lock to him. Now it opened completely, allowing Mac’s words to soothe and give hope. When she smiled she felt all of her love pour into that one gesture. “Mac, I’d love you even if you were a penniless singer with an incredible voice who didn’t like to fly and got seasick. I worked hard on my disguise, so it did exactly what it was supposed to do…for a while, at least. I happen to think your voice has character, I’ve always loved to travel and I’ll be your slave forever if you take me to Scotland. As for your spelling…well, we can work on that. Lucky for you I’m an excellent tutor.” The look in his eyes was so bright that it obliterated the hurt of the past, completely swallowing her insecurities and making them seem petty. “So, you’ll make me do it over and over again until I get it right?” She winked at him slyly and wet her lips. “Something like that.” “Then why don’t we start right now. How do you spell ‘forever’?” Slowly, she leaned down, bringing her lips a scant half-inch from his. “M-a-c-A-l-l-i-st-e-r.” With a happy growl, he pulled her underneath him and showed her what forever could be.

Flesa Black Flesa Black is a married thirty-something mother of two. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia, where she is lucky enough to frequently enjoy Braves baseball games and tours of antebellum plantations and historic homes, including Margaret Mitchell’s house. Flesa has always been a determined writer ever since she learned how to hold a pencil. She particularly enjoys romance genres and the freedom they give her to create interesting characters and intricate worlds. When she isn’t writing, you can find her reading romance and science fiction novels, playing numerous board and card games, wandering in the woods and fishing. She is currently hard at work on her next book. Visit Flesa on the Web at www.flesablack.com.