Paula's Commitment

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Le Club 4

Paula’s Commitment Trent Redding, a member of the private, luxurious BDSM club located in a Victorian mansion in the historic district of Ocala, Florida, and Paula Greenley, the tenacious and stubborn editor of a local lifestyle magazine, have had a rocky relationship. Trent did not trust her motives. Once past their initial problems, the relationship coasts on smoothly until Trent, a well-known heart surgeon, is called to Ecuador to participate in surgery to separate a set of abandoned conjoined twins. He falls for the twins and determines to bring them home with him. Paula must open her heart to the adorable two-year-old twins while Trent must confront his feelings about Paula and adapt his bachelor ways to fatherhood. They must find a way to combine their BDSM Lifestyle with family life, and Paula must see if she can make a permanent commitment to Trent and this fledgling family. Genre: BDSM, Contemporary Length: 32,343 words

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PAULA’S COMMITMENT Le Club 4

Skye Michaels

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer. WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at [email protected]

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

PAULA’S COMMITMENT Copyright © 2012 by Skye Michaels E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-697-1 First E-book Publication: June 2012 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Paula’s Commitment by Skye Michaels from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Skye Michaels’ livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Michaels’ right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

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DEDICATION For my family and friends—thanks for your love and support. Open your mind. Open your heart. Life happens. Enjoy the journey. With special thanks to Patricia Walker for her help in getting one more book out the door. With special thanks to my daughter, Jenni, for all her help with technology.

PAULA’S COMMITMENT Le Club 4 SKYE MICHAELS Copyright © 2012

Prologue Dr. Trent Redding moved around the suite quietly as he dressed in the dark. He had the uncanny ability to know when his cell phone was ringing with a call from the hospital, even though it had been turned down to its lowest volume level. He quickly pulled on a worn pair of weekend jeans, a polo shirt, and sturdy Reeboks for the drive into the medical center. He knew he could be on his feet in the operating room for hours. The fact that he was not on rotation this weekend indicated that the emergency surgery he had been called in for had to be one that required a larger team than usual. As one of the preeminent thoracic surgeons in the Southeast, his skills were in constant demand. He quickly scribbled a note to Paula Greenley, who lay sleeping in the mosquito-netted bed, and put it on his pillow. He hoped she could read it. His doctor’s handwriting never got any better. He smiled as he took a moment to pull the quilt up over her naked shoulders, gently push her mop of dark, curly hair off her forehead, and place a feather-light kiss on her brow. They had had a stellar scene the night before, and his body was still humming from the multiple orgasms they had enjoyed. She really is adorable, especially when she’s asleep. He really enjoyed this little handful of trouble. She had made a big difference in his life.

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He rushed out the door to the parking area and hopped into his sports car. As he pulled out into the quiet of Fort King Street in historic downtown Ocala, he blasted a CD of Van Halen to help him wake up. The go-cup of high-test coffee he had snagged from the club’s kitchen on the way out the door would help as well. The drive to Gainesville took about forty-five minutes. Without really remembering the trip, he parked in the doctor’s lot at the Pinewood Medical Center and jogged into the hospital. Once in the locker room of the surgery wing, he quickly changed into a pair of sea-green scrubs. He greeted his favorite surgical nurse, Janet, and Dr. Drew Profette, who was on call this weekend. “Sorry to get you out of bed so early on a Saturday morning, Trent, but there was an accident on the turnpike, and we need all hands on deck.” The short and slightly round Dr. Profette was an excellent trauma surgeon. Nothing ruffled his feathers. He just solved one problem at a time, and he always seemed to know which particular problem should get his attention first. “Don’t worry about it, Drew. So what if I had to leave Paula all warm and cuddly in my bed?” Trent grinned at his portly friend and colleague, who didn’t appear the least bit sorry for the inconvenience. “Give me the rundown.” While Trent proceeded to scrub for the first operation, Drew gave him the pertinent facts about the two critical patients. While heading south on the turnpike toward Orlando and Disney World, two carloads of teens had apparently been disoriented by fog on the roadway, and one car had piled into the back of the other car. The second car had then rolled over and several kids were thrown out onto the road. Two were critical with the others just needing some major patch-up work. As they discussed the particulars of the first operation, the cell phone in Trent’s pocket started to vibrate. Since he had already scrubbed, he ignored it. Janet, who had not yet scrubbed, offered to get the phone for him. “No, never mind. It’s probably Paula. I left her a note.”

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As they stood in the anteroom waiting for the first patient to be wheeled into the operating room and prepped, the phone continued to ring and beep to indicate a text message. “Maybe you should get it, Janet, and then just put it in my locker. I don’t want to be distracted.” Janet fished into the pocket of his scrubs while he held his wet arms up in the air. “Hello, this is…Sorry Dr. T, whoever it was hung up. I’ll just put the phone in your locker.” Janet scrubbed and the team entered the operating room for the first of the two critical surgeries that would each take several hours. **** Paula woke up when she subconsciously registered the absence of Trent’s big, warm body behind her. She looked at the clock. It was four forty-five. She groaned. Ugh! Too early! She loved waking up with his morning hard-on pressed into her bottom. It was the safest feeling, not to mention sexy as hell. They always had morning sex. It seemed Trent was up for it absolutely anytime, and she had really discovered her inner sex kitten since they had been dating. She was chilly and reached around to feel the bed. It was cold. Where is he? As she jostled the quilt, she heard what sounded like the crinkle of paper, but she could only see the blanket when she turned to look. She settled the quilt around her as she shivered in the breeze from the open French windows. She got up and padded naked out into the small kitchen of the corner suite. She checked the bathrooms, living room, and the veranda. He was nowhere to found. How strange. Maybe he went down for coffee and the paper. She picked up the telephone on the desk in the foyer and dialed his cell phone, but it went to voice mail. Next she got her own cell phone and tried a text. No response. Well, hell! She waited a minute or two and tried again. This time the cell was answered….by a female voice. Shocked, Paula instinctively hung up. She looked at the phone as though it was a

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poisonous viper instead of a mechanical device. A woman had answered Trent’s cell phone for the first time since she had known him. That didn’t sound right. She calmed herself down, and after a few minutes, she decided to try the call again. Maybe she had dialed wrong. This time, it just rang and went to voice mail. She had no idea the cell phone was lying on the shelf in Trent’s locker at the hospital. Paula went back to bed, but she couldn’t settle down and go back to sleep. What the hell is going on? As she cuddled under the antique quilt on the huge, net-draped bed that she loved, she recalled their first weekend at the club. Le Club Laurel Oak-Ocala, a private BDSM club, catered to a membership of only ten. The acronym “BDSM” stood for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. It represented an alternative lifestyle as varied as the people who practiced it, spanning a wide range of practices from spanking and whipping, to bondage, role-playing, and dominance and submission. The purpose was to increase sexual tension and pleasure for all participants. Different people practiced the Lifestyle in varying degrees and extremes. Trent and Jason were Dominants. Jason Steele and Trent Redding had attended Harvard together and had been best friends ever since. They had put together a consortium to purchase the estate located on Fort King Street in the historic Ocala residential and business district and renovate the dilapidated mansion and grounds. Paula and Trent’s relationship had had a rocky start over a year ago when she and Calleigh Roundtree, her best friend, had gotten into some difficulties and ended up unexpectedly spending the weekend at the club as the submissives of Trent and Jason. They had no idea the mysterious estate in the beautiful historic district was a BDSM club. The entire neighborhood had wondered what went on behind the tenfoot-high stone walls of the three-acre compound from the time construction had begun. Information was scarce as hen’s teeth as anyone working on the project, from the architect to the lowliest subcontractors, were required to sign confidentiality agreements.

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Paula’s natural curiosity had led her to relentlessly badger Calleigh, the project architect, for information. Calleigh had gallantly resisted Paula’s nagging until one fateful Saturday morning. After jogging in the neighborhood with Paula, she had spilled a very limited number of the beans over lattes at Starbucks on the square. Trent, who was also having a morning cup of coffee there, had overheard the conversation. He had reported the incident to Jason Steele, and Calleigh had been in breach of her confidentiality agreement. Initially, although Trent was strongly attracted to Paula, he had not liked her. He had not trusted her and thought she had endangered her best friend in an attempt to get information about the club for an exposé in her magazine. He had ended up paddling her rear end over the misunderstanding about her motives. She had been outraged. Her need to ferret out the scoop was not malicious. She was just nosey! She would never intentionally hurt her friend. Paula’s feelings had been hurt, not to mention her butt. The attitude of the extremely handsome Dr. Redding that weekend had severely tested her self-confidence. While she was normally a very self-possessed, confident, and professional woman, the incident had shaken her core belief in herself. Even though they had been happily together for almost a year and a half, in her deepest heart, Paula had never really gotten over it or fully forgiven him. Although he had apologized for the misunderstanding and asked her to give him a second chance, she still retained a nugget of anger at what she saw as the injustice of the situation. Despite his taste for Dominant/submissive sex, Trent was very conservative, and his personal moral code was strict and unbending. It was one of the things she most admired about him. Trent was definitely a straight shooter. Then why is his cell phone being answered by a woman at five o’clock in the morning when he should be here in bed with me?

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Chapter One Paula Greenley, Calleigh Steele, and Robbie Hamilton reclined in the wicker chaise lounges bordering the black-bottom swimming pool at Le Club Laurel Oak, enjoying their monthly Saturday morning poolside get-together. The pool was the meeting place for the ladies at Le Club Laurel Oak-Ocala, and several of the usual suspects were there. Paula was still upset about Trent’s early morning disappearance, but she was determined not to say anything about it to her friends. She glanced up from her Cosmopolitan magazine and sipped her Bloody Mary. She said in a stunned voice, “Oh. My. God. Check this out.” Walking from the office wing of the mansion past the pool toward the Playroom annex of the club was the most stunning, if slightly over-the-top, couple she had ever seen. The Dom was dressed in tight, black leather pants. He led a tall, shapely, and somewhat ripped blonde sub dressed in a red bustier and G-string on a leash. The leash was hooked to a thick dog collar. The Dom had dark, wavy hair almost to his shoulders and a stunning red, black, and green dragon tattoo running up his right arm from just below his wrist, curling around his biceps and over his shoulder to nestle its fire-breathing head on his right pectoral muscle. He had a light sprinkling of dark hair over his chest that tapered down his abdomen over his six-pack to disappear into the pants that fit his long, muscular legs like skin. He carried a dragon-tail whip over his left arm. The sub had long, wavy, golden-blonde hair falling almost to the top of her muscular butt and a physique bordering at the bodybuilder level. Robbie laughed. “That’s Gregory Dempsey. He’s taking over

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management of the club for Anne Sutton while she’s in New Orleans with Jamie Devereau. She’s apparently taking his place at Le Club Beaudelaire-New Orleans while he’s here. The woman is his sub and assistant manager, Natasha Romanova. She’s Russian, and she has a slight eastern European accent. I think she used to be a Domme before she became Greg’s submissive. Can you believe that? Anyway, girls, that would be the definition of zero percent body fat, just in case you’re wondering what that looks like! Not that any of us will ever know personally.” “On him or her?” Paula asked with a gasp. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so ripped—male or female—as those two, and we have some pretty fabulous bodies around this place!” Calleigh, who had to peek over her eight-and-a-half-month-andcounting baby belly to get a good look, gasped as well. “Jason told me they were coming down so Anne could get away for a few weeks, but he didn’t give me many particulars. He said Jamie told him the Dom is called ‘Gregory the Terrible’ at the club in New Orleans. I can’t imagine why! The Domme’s Dom? My goodness, I’ve never seen anything like that tattoo. Ohhh....and look at hers! There’s a smaller version curling down her thigh from her groin. Wow! The tail of the dragon goes under the G-string and ends on her butt. That’s sure a statement!” Paula was the editor of Ocala Country Life magazine. She looked at the tall, stunning blonde sub walking behind the gorgeous Dom and had to shake her head as she compared herself to Natasha. Although Paula had sparkling, hazel eyes fringed by long, dark lashes, a cap of dark, glossy curls, and a compact, athletic body, she felt she was too short at five foot two inches. She longed to be tall and voluptuous. She tried to enhance her legs with high heels whenever possible. Paula knew her sometimes recalcitrant attitude was a trial to Trent Redding, a successful heart surgeon and lecturer at the University of Florida. They were not in a twenty-four-seven d/s relationship by any means, but they liked to play at the club.

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Although Paula and Calleigh Steele had been college roommates and best friends since college, and they had been friendly with Robbie Hamilton for quite some time, she really did not want to share her current upset about Trent with them. She knew it would place a damper on the weekend for her friends if they knew she was having a problem. The three of them were known for the mischief they got into on a regular basis, and anything was possible when they got together. Calleigh and Robbie would feel that they had to help the situation, and that could only be dangerous. “Wow! What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in the Playroom for the next little while,” Robbie said in awe. “Can you imagine having that guy standing behind you with a whip?” Robbie and Mike Hamilton were a married couple who, together with Mike’s younger brother Ross, owned a huge thoroughbred breeding farm and training facility located in the northwest corner of the county near Jason and Calleigh’s new farm. They were also charter members of Le Club. Robbie had mentored Paula and Calleigh when they had been newbie subs. She was tall and stately with green eyes, red hair, and a fabulous, lush body. “Oh, boy! I’d really rather not,” Calleigh said with a primal shiver. “He is definitely something—I don’t know what—but something!” Calleigh was tall with wavy, blonde-streaked, dark honey hair and a curvy figure. She had met Jason Steele, a wellknown local attorney, while working on the plans for the renovation of the club. Greg opened the door to the Playroom and politely ushered Natasha inside with his hand possessively on the small of her back. The girls looked at each other with raised eyebrows. He didn’t seem rough or particularly harsh, but boy was he scary! If he had been dressed in street clothes, he would have been striking and extremely handsome. As it was, he just looked extremely dangerous. None of the ladies or their mates were into extreme BDSM and didn’t practice extreme bondage or whipping. The thought sent

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ripples of fear down Paula’s spine. Although the Playroom was a public space open to all members, Paula knew none of them would actually have the nerve to go in and observe Greg and Natasha’s session. They had all seen some over-the-top activities at the club from time to time, but that was not the norm as most of the members were quite moderate in their tastes.

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Chapter Two While the Playroom, a free-standing building located at the back of the estate, looked like a four-car garage from the outside, it was actually a BDSM playground. Inside the two-story industrial space, the sky-lit ceilings were unfinished. Blown insulation, exposed wiring, and plumbing lines enhanced the forbidding atmosphere of the dungeon. There was one long mirrored wall and all manner of strange equipment, including padded tables and benches, chains hanging from the ceiling, a St. Andrew’s Cross, and a wall of whips, paddles, crops, straps, belts, cuffs, restraints, and other ominous instruments placed for convenience and as a visual reminder of what went on in this room. Once they were inside, Greg pulled Natasha into his arms roughly and kissed her with the intensity that had existed between the two of them from the beginning. She melted against him helplessly as he plundered her warm, wet mouth. Her tough background as a stateraised orphan in Russia had made her a somewhat extreme disciplinarian and a tough nut to crack. He had met her as a Domme at Le Club Beaudelaire in New Orleans where he was the manager. She had been with a member who was a submissive, and Greg had to admit that she was truly impressive as a Domme. He had determined right then and there that she was going to “bottom” for him. It took a massive amount of strength of character and determination to turn a Domme into a sub. Greg was just the man for the job. An ex-Navy SEAL who had left the service and gone back to school to obtain a master’s degree in Hotel Management and a second master’s degree in Business Administration from Tulane, Greg could

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have worked in upper management for any major hotel chain. He found, however, that Le Club Beaudelaire met both his personal and professional needs to a tee. The salary was outrageously high, and the latitude for personal pleasure was off the charts for a man who enjoyed the Lifestyle. “Okay, baby, we talked about this before we came down here. This is a temporary situation, and the club culture is not what we’re used to in New Orleans. Most of the members are not into hard-core BDSM and have tamer tastes. You are going to have to temper your activities while we are here. I don’t think Anne Sutton will appreciate hearing that you whipped the butt of one of her submissive pool boys for dereliction of duty,” he said with a frown. “But, Greg, he was hiding behind the cabana sleeping instead of picking up towels and glasses and seeing that the pool area was shipshape,” she answered. “I only gave him light touch-up, and he loved every minute of it. I am sure he would not rather have been fired on the spot. And then we would have been short-staffed instead of having very diligent employee. Is better just give him a good beating, no?” she asked reasonably in her soft Russian accent. “Nevertheless, we discussed this, and you disobeyed me,” he said sternly. He had to keep a firm hand on Natasha, or her Domme qualities would override her common sense and his orders. “And now I’m going to have to punish you. Strip and put on the cuffs,” his deep Dom voice rumbled. God it’s exhausting to “top” this woman. A lesser woman would crumble under his domination. Greg’s dominant personality had to be overwhelmingly seductive to Natasha, given her own Domme tendencies. He could see that her pussy was already wet and shivers were running down her spine in anticipation of what was to come. She slowly did as he ordered, but her hesitancy was not because she was afraid of the whipping she was about to receive, he knew, but because she craved it and wanted to make the session last as long as possible. She was a discipline freak—both in doling it out and in receiving it.

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Greg motioned the dungeon monitors to secure Natasha’s cuffed wrists to the chains hanging from the ceiling and to secure her ankles to cuffs already bolted to the floor. He gathered her long mane of hiplength hair into a tail, secured it with a band, and draped it over her shoulder out of the way. Then he stood watching as she was prepared. His muscled arms were crossed over his broad chest with the dragon tattoo flexing as he held the whip in his hand. He knew his dominant posture would heighten Tasha’s tension and hence her ultimate pleasure. It was club policy that no activities took place in the Playroom without the presence of dungeon monitors for safety. Greg could see that he had their rapt attention. The reports of this little session would be circulating in the club within an hour, he was sure, and employee efficiency would skyrocket as a result. The club had a ten-stroke limit on punishments. He would not have exceeded that limit in any case. Before he was done here, Natasha would be screaming her orgasm. He knew her needs intimately, and he was diligent in seeing to her pleasure as well as her discipline. Once she was bound to his satisfaction, he strode around her, trailing the flexible tail of the whip on the floor. He inspected her naked body from all angles, taking the time to appreciate her incredible physique. He ran his big hands up and down her spine and over her muscular butt, kneading and massaging the muscles to warm them. Without warning, he cracked the whip, and she involuntarily flinched. He knew she would be angry with herself for that flinch. She would see it as weakness. “Are you ready for your punishment, sub?” he asked unnecessarily. “You will receive five strokes for disobedience.” “Yes, Master. I am sorry, Master,” she said submissively, although he knew the submission cost her. He continued to circle her naked form, letting the tension build ominously. When the first stroke of the dragon-tail whip kissed her right cheek, she cried out in surprise, although she clearly had been expecting it. The second stroke nipped her left cheek, and she gasped

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at the sharp sting of the leather clapper. The third stroke was on her right side and the fourth on the left side. The supple whip curled around her rib cage like a lover’s caress. The final stroke was across her thighs just below her butt. He took his time between strokes to obtain the maximum emotional and physical impact. Greg’s strokes were hard enough to sting but not excessive, and he was extremely accurate in his delivery. No strokes overlapped, and no strokes hit over bone. By the time the punishment had been rendered, Greg could see that she was on the verge of a massive orgasm. As endorphins pumped through her system, she gasped for air and tried to regain control of herself. “Sub, you may not come until I give my permission,” he warned. Forcing her to wait for her pleasure added an edge of desperation to the experience. He released her bindings and her long hair, picked her up, and carried her to the swing also hanging from the ceiling. He settled her on the wooden seat of the swing, bound her arms, and raised it so her pussy would be level with his engorged cock, which was straining for release from the tight, black leather pants. He tied an intricate design of knots down the center of her upper torso in the thin, silky, black bondage rope and crisscrossed them over her bare skin. The act of tying the complex knots was symbolic—more for the beauty of the arrangement than for the utility of the bondage. Natasha, who looked at Greg as though her very life depended on his actions, was breathing heavily. She leaned back and spread her legs, opening her drenched pussy to his gaze as he slowly began the back and forth swinging motion. Greg opened the crotch of his leather pants, freeing his erection. He stepped into the arc of the swing, the wooden seat of which was notched out to accommodate the joining of their bodies. He imbedded his erect cock in her pussy up to the hilt as she screamed out her pleasure. “Fuck me, Master,” she implored. Greg let the swing do the work, stroking his cock in and out of her wet, silky pussy again and again, and increasing the pace and depth of

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penetration until he could no longer hold back. His cock throbbed with his heartbeat. “Come now, Tasha,” he ordered. He watched as she reached her final barrier and rolled into a stunning orgasm that seemed to crash through her system without mercy. He followed her over the brink with a shout of triumph as his own completion spasmed though him like the fire breath of the dragon on his chest. With his cock still hard within her, he let the motion of the swing continue the stroking as its momentum slowed and each of them came again. As the frantic beating of their hearts slowed, he brushed the hair back from her face and gently kissed her temple. “I really wish you didn’t like it quite so rough, baby.” He lifted her naked body into his strong arms and carried her from the Playroom, back past the pool and into the mansion where they were staying in the Medieval Bedchamber Suite on the second floor. **** Paula, Calleigh, and Robbie watched their progress with mouths open. The woman was naked except for the leather dog collar. The man held her and murmured in her ear as he gently kissed the top of her head. Paula silently vowed she would get the story of that session from one of the dungeon monitors, or she wasn’t the editor of Ocala Country Life magazine. That’s me. Paula Greenley, intrepid girl reporter.

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Chapter Three Paula and Trent had their usual suite. The Sea Island Suite was furnished in a cool mix of coastal-style blues and greens with touches of sunny yellow accents. The color palate complemented the unadorned teak furniture with clean, straight lines and floors of shining bamboo with occasional sisal scatter rugs. The centerpiece of the suite was a huge teak, pencil-post four-poster bed draped in miles of white mosquito netting. Trent Redding was tall and gorgeous—lanky and muscular with wavy, blond hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Paula always likened him in her mind to a Nordic god or Viking. As one of the preeminent thoracic surgeons in the Southeast and a faculty member at the University of Florida in Gainesville, he was always in the social pages. She had seen his picture many times before she had met him that first weekend she and Calleigh had spent at Le Club. When Trent got back from Gainesville late Saturday afternoon after the two emergency surgeries, he pulled Paula into his arms for a sizzling kiss. “Come here, subbie.” She knew he was surprised at her resistance. She was definitely stiff in his arms. “I’ve had a hell of day. Besides the two emergency surgeries, I’ve started getting ready to leave for Central America later this week. I’ve had a request to perform several open-heart surgeries in Ecuador and Honduras for the Organization of Doctors for the Poor. I’m really going to miss you.” “What emergency surgeries? What happened to you this morning? I rolled over, and you were gone. Why did some woman answer your phone at five o’clock in the morning?” He frowned and looked puzzled. “I left you a note on my pillow. I

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got called in to assist with a couple of emergencies. Some kids on the way to Disney World had a pile up on the turnpike, and then I got the call from Ecuador.” “I didn’t see any note. I was worried.” She thought maybe she had better backpedal a bit until she knew what was going on. “It doesn’t sound like you were worried. It sounds like you thought I was bed-hopping. What’s going on with you?” “When did this come up? How long will you be gone?” she asked with concern. She tried to change the subject back to his trip, but could see by the frown on his face that wasn’t going to work. “I’m waiting for an answer, subbie. I’m tired and I’m losing patience.” Paula knew Trent’s loss of patience did not bode well for her backside. “I was disoriented when I woke up, and I couldn’t find you in the suite, and when I called your cell there was no answer, and then a woman answered.” She was starting to babble, and she tried to get a handle on her emotions. She hadn’t meant to sound jealous, but shit, she was jealous. She knew that women fawned over him shamelessly, and she really just did not feel secure in the relationship. “The ‘woman’ was Janet, my scrub nurse. I had just scrubbed and couldn’t get to my phone, so she answered it. When the person on the line hung up, she put the phone in my locker for me. Satisfied?” She could see he was annoyed. “I’m sorry, babe. It just took me by surprise. That’s all.” He gave her his famous Dom stare and then, apparently deciding to let it go, said, “To answer your question, I just heard from the organization today. I usually volunteer for about a month every year. Not always all at one time. It depends on the need for my specialty. They have a couple of complicated emergency surgeries scheduled,” he said as he nuzzled her neck. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than a month, maybe not that long. One surgery is to participate on the team separating a pair of conjoined twins, another is an open-heart procedure, and anything else that comes up in my specialty while I’m

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there.” “Will you be in any danger?” Her heart started to beat rapidly at the thought of him in a perilous situation. “I shouldn’t be. We usually get treated very well by the host countries, but you never know when there might be unrest in the area. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. Hey! Want to fool around?” He grinned at her with his usual irreverent grin and ruffled her hair. Trent usually did not hold a grudge, unlike herself. Paula knew he made the blunt request to get her revved up and get her mind off his imminent departure. There was nothing he liked better than yanking her chain. “You are too much! Yes, please, Master.” She was glad he was letting her little faux pas go, at least she hoped he was. But, nevertheless, she wasn’t going to fall for his tactics this time and let him get her goat. Although their relationship had been problematic at the beginning, they had come to an understanding, and things had been going really well between them recently. Trent’s willingness to please her by granting her wish to be the Domme, the one on top, had stunned her. He had ceded her the Domme position for one day every year on her birthday, and she had already been planning her next opportunity. She had a big red heart drawn on her calendar around her next birthday. Paula recognized that it was the ultimate sacrifice for a man with Trent’s dominant personality traits to grant her the top position, even for one day. Giving up control did not come easily to him. “Strip, sub, and assume the position,” he said. His deeply sexy Dom voice rippled through her system. She hurried to slip out of her clothes and assume the slave position on the floor at the foot of the big four-poster bed. He stripped out of his clothes. “On the bed, spread-eagle, facedown.” She scrambled to obey, and he quickly bound her wrists and ankles to the bed posts loosely with silk scarves. “Am I going to like this, Master?” she asked with a grin, and she wiggled her bottom at him. “Trying to ‘top from the bottom’ again, subbie?” he asked sternly.

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She had the bad habit of trying to direct the proceedings from the sub’s position, and he frequently had to remind her that he was in charge. She thought his fingers were probably tingling with the desire to deliver a smart slap to her upraised butt when she said in the nick of time, “Oh, no, Master! I would never do anything like that!” Trent laughed. She knew him too well, and her timing was impeccable. Just then Paula saw him look down at the floor with a puzzled expression on his face. He bent down and picked his note up off the floor. It had been halfway under the bed. He waved it under her nose. “The note was on the floor, subbie. What do you have to say?” “I’m sorry, Master. It won’t happen again, Master.” At least I hope not. Feeling so vulnerable and off her game all day had not been a pleasant sensation. “That was a close call, subbie,” he said as he lay down on the bed beside her. “I want to give you something to remember me by while I’m away.” He ran his talented fingers down her spine, rubbing in circles as he massaged her tight muscles. He slipped his hands down between her cheeks until he found the slick, wet center of her desire. He circled her clit with his thumb and slid his middle finger into her tight channel as she sighed in appreciation and raised her bottom to gain more contact with his probing fingers. She just couldn’t help herself. This man has only to give me “that look” and I’m a puddle of desire. She purred under his hands. It’s just not fair! I should have developed some resistance to his charms by now. “Don’t worry about that. There’s no way I’m going to forget you. I’ll be missing you and this every day,” she said, trying to put her heart into her voice. She had come to realize just recently that she was in love with Trent although she had not wanted to admit it, even to herself. She had not planned on that happening since she was not sure exactly how he felt about her. He had really hurt her that first weekend when he had told her that he didn’t think that their moral compasses were in sync and that was why he had not made love with her. That statement had

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rocked her confidence. To be considered unworthy of intimacy had been a blow to her self-esteem from which she was still recovering. Even though they had moved on since then and had been intimate for some time, those few words had done a world of damage. She had always been one to protect her herself. Despite her tough outer shell, she had a soft heart and was vulnerable and sometimes secretly insecure. She knew that originally he had not admired her dogged determination to “get the scoop.” He had felt that she had taken advantage of her friendship with Calleigh to find out the details of the very secretive Laurel Oak Estate project. Neither she nor Calleigh had been aware that the property had been turned into a BDSM sex club. Boy, were they ever surprised when they had found out exactly what went on behind the ten-foot-high stone walls that surrounded the property. After their initial misunderstanding and over time, Paula and Trent had worked out their problems, and he had apologized for not giving her a chance. But she still wasn’t sure that he fully trusted her. “I’m going to be really busy while I’m there trying to get as much accomplished as possible in a short amount of time, but I’ll definitely be thinking about you. I’ll have my international cell phone, so I will be able to call you. You know you mean a lot to me, Paula,” he said without coming right out and saying he loved her. The omission did not go unnoticed and tore at her heart, and it cracked a little. Well, that really said it all, she thought in despair. I mean a lot to him. Damned with faint praise. “You mean a lot to me, too, Trent.” If you only knew. He rolled over between her legs and replaced his fingers with his tongue, bringing her body to a fever pitch while her mind roiled with unsaid words and shattered feelings. When she was almost ready to climax, he reared up over her back and entered her, rocking slow and gentle at first, and then pounding hard and fast until they had both rocketed into orgasms that took them over the moon. As he settled back down to earth, he released her bindings, pulled her into his arms,

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and cuddled her close to his heart. Several small, silent tears rolled down Paula’s cheek and fell on to the quilt on the bed. Although she was tough and determined in her professional life, she was a marshmallow in her personal life. Paula knew that Trent never felt the small shudder of despair that quaked through her body as she fought to control the sobs trying to break free. **** Trent was amazed at how much this woman had come to mean to him since they had met less than a year and a half ago. So much had happened in that time. He wasn’t ready to say he loved her out loud yet, although the feelings were roiling around his heart. He felt like a coward. He had tried to convey his feelings without words. He didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t say it. It wasn’t that he was insecure or insensitive to Paula’s needs, he assured himself. He just needed more time.

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Chapter Four Calleigh and Jason Steele were relaxing in the double hammock on the veranda of the Southern Plantation Suite. A corner suite on the second floor decorated in plantation style with heavy, carved mahogany furniture, beautiful Oriental rugs, and original oil paintings, it could have been a layout from a decorating magazine. Jason Steele was an imposing figure at six foot two with broad shoulders and a killer body tapering into long, powerful legs. He had slashing eyebrows over smoky, gray eyes, dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples, and he had one quirky dimple. Calleigh found him irresistible. She knew that he found her—and her J.Lo butt— irresistible as well, and had from the beginning. She could never understand why it had taken him about two years to get around to doing something about it. He sure wasn’t slow about anything else! Calleigh snuggled into Jason’s wide, muscular chest and sighed in contentment as he rubbed her sore back with his strong hands. His hand migrated down over her belly and lower to her mons and pussy out of habit. It was a well-known and frequently-traveled path. He slipped his hand into her maternity slacks and flicked her damp clit. “Oh, baby, that feels so good,” she moaned. Calleigh had been constantly horny during her pregnancy. She turned to face him and kissed him teasingly. “Want to get frisky?” “No, Calleigh. Don’t even think about it. That is not how I intend to meet my daughter for the first time!” he said sternly. “You are almost ready to pop. No more hanky-panky.” He grinned, his dimple flashing. She grimaced when a sudden cramp made her flinch.

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“Are you okay, babe?” he asked with concern in his deep voice. He reached his hand down and began to gently rub her belly. “Fine,” she said as she surreptitiously checked her watch. She didn’t want to alarm Jason, but the doctor had said she could expect to go into labor at any time now. She relaxed against him and zoned out as he continued to rub her back until she felt another twinge in her lower belly. She noted that the contractions had been approximately ten minutes apart. It was not time to get concerned yet. When they were five minutes apart, she would call her doctor and go to the hospital. Plenty of time to relax yet. Baby Emily Rose is almost here! They continued to rock and snuggle as dusk began to fall, and Calleigh’s contractions continued to get closer and closer together. “The girls and I saw something really interesting at the pool today,” she said just to make conversation as the hammock rocked in the breeze. “The new manager and his assistant had a session in the Playroom. My goodness, what a sight they are! They both have absolutely stunning dragon tattoos and spectacular bodies.” “Yeah, Greg and Natasha. They are definitely a colorful couple.” He chuckled. “And why are you noticing his spectacular body Mrs. Steele?” he said with a mock leer. “It would be really hard not to.” She giggled. “I’ve never seen anyone so ripped.” “I wouldn’t underestimate him though. He’s an ex-SEAL and has a double master’s degree from Tulane—Hotel Management and Business Administration. Jamie assures me he is totally capable and that the club in New Orleans runs on military time!” “Good to know. Because you are going to be really busy for a while, getting me to the hospital and all,” she said slyly. “I hope my ‘go bag’ is in the car, Mr. Steele, because I think your daughter is knocking at the door.” “Oh my God!” he said as he jumped out of the hammock. “Let’s go!” “Jason, relax. I’ll call Dr. Rodriquez’s service and alert the

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hospital that we’re coming in. We have plenty of time. I have everyone on speed dial. Calm down,” she said as another contraction gripped her belly. “I’ll let Paula and Trent know we’re on the way to the hospital while you get the car. They can let everyone else know.” Calleigh’s water broke as they were walking down to the car. The fact that the medical center was just minutes away was one of the reasons Jason had agreed to another weekend at the club this late in Calleigh’s pregnancy. They were both grateful that some of their closest friends were also on site and available for baby watch. When they arrived at the hospital after a rapid and somewhat erratic drive, Calleigh and Jason were whisked up to the delivery room and settled in to wait. Paula and Trent and then Robbie and Mike paid short visits to the delivery room to help pass the time. **** Paula and the others made themselves comfortable in the maternity waiting room and were soon joined by Justin and Kelly Devereau. Paula and Robbie filled Kelly in on the excitement at the pool while the guys discussed Trent’s imminent trip to Central and South America. “This trip should prove interesting. Among other surgeries, I’m going to be participating in the separation of a set of conjoined twins. I haven’t seen all their records yet, but I don’t think the operation will be as difficult as some. They have totally separate and functioning organs and limbs. The separation and reconstruction will probably take most of a day. The surgical team is impressive. I don’t think my specialty will be called for, but they want all eventualities covered.” Paula had one ear open to Trent’s conversation with the guys. As she chatted with Kelly and Robbie, Paula’s mind and emotions were whirling. What am I going to do? She didn’t like the thought of him going to a third-world country and possibly into danger, but she knew she had to check her emotions and start to let go. This was going to be

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one of the hardest things she had ever done. “Most conjoined twins don’t survive pregnancy from what I understand,” Mike said. His thoroughbred breeding background had exposed him to many strange genetic scenarios. “About seventy-five percent don’t survive,” Trent informed them. “An even smaller percentage can be successfully separated. This pair is extremely fortunate. I’m told they should be able to lead normal lives after the surgery.” “Get me some information on the organization, Trent, and I’ll see what the Devereau Foundation can do for them. Maybe we can donate a mobile operating room and funds for pharmaceuticals. I’m always on the lookout for worthy causes,” Justin said. “Also, let me know if you need access to the jet.” Justin Devereau was tall and sleek, and a master of several disciplines of Japanese martial arts, as well as an international-level polo player and a very astute businessman. “That would be great....” Just then Jason, grinning from ear to ear, entered the waiting room and said, “Well, our girl is here—ten fingers and ten toes, thank God! Emily Rose and Calleigh are both doing great.” Spontaneous exclamations of joy and delight were forthcoming from all as they trooped to the viewing window to see the latest addition, Emily Rose Steele, who was a healthy, if petite, six pounds five ounces. She had curly, dark hair and was howling up a storm. “Well, she has good lungs!” Jason said with a grin. Clearly, he was as proud as a peacock. Paula smiled at her new “niece,” and love curled around her heart. She and Trent were to be the godparents. She had determined that it was going to be one of their last joint efforts. I really need to get out of this relationship. It’s going to be like amputating a limb, but hopefully not life threatening, which it might be if I wait much longer. I can’t risk any more of myself if he can’t even make the commitment to say “I love you.”

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Chapter Five Jamie Devereau, Justin’s brother, walked into Anne Sutton’s office in Le Club Beaudelaire-New Orleans on Monday and said, “How do you like your new temporary office, babe?” “Oh no! This is ‘Gregory the Terrible’s’ office, not mine. Those are some big shoes to fill. I have to say the staff here is in awe of him—not to mention Natasha. I hope they aren’t decimating my staff in Ocala as we speak.” Anne knew her outfit, a form-fitting red suit and the black Christian Louboutin “fuck me” pumps with the red soles, drove him mad. She was a few years older than Jamie, who had an impressive bad-boy aura. Anne had had some very serious bodyimage issues resulting from her mastectomy six years earlier. If that wasn’t enough, she had also had to deal with the emotional issues raised when her fiancé had broken off their engagement after the surgery. It had taken Jamie Devereau’s brash insistence and nononsense attitude to batter down her barriers. “Don’t worry. I’m sure everything is fine,” he said with a grin. “I came to take you to lunch. You should see as much of the French Quarter as possible while we’re here.” “That sounds good. Oh, I had a call from Kelly. Calleigh had the baby Saturday night, and they are doing well. Kelly also told me that an old friend of hers, Madison Snow, who left town several years ago, is considering moving back to Ocala. She could be interested in the job at the club. Kelly thinks Madison might be perfect for the position, and she told me she would set up an interview appointment for her when we get back. She’s going to be in town visiting her parents. If she’s the right person for the job, she would have to sell

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her house in New Jersey before moving down.” “I hope that works out. You really need an assistant. The job of running the club is too much for one person. Besides, that will give you more time for me,” Jamie said with a grin. “You’re too much. But I am anxious to meet with her. Kelly says her qualifications are excellent, and I would be willing to hold the job for the right person. As you know, I can’t bring just anyone in for that position. As to my staff...Kelly tells me that Natasha had to ‘discipline’ Steve Paggette, one of the pool boys. Apparently she caught him napping behind the cabana and marched him into the Playroom and whipped his butt then and there. Not that I haven’t wanted to do the same thing myself on more than one occasion. He is an annoying young man, but really, Jamie, that is just not done. I’m going to have to talk to Greg about this. I can just see the workman’s comp claim.” “I see your point. I know that Natasha sometimes disciplines the staff here as well, but all of the employees here are submissives and also participate in club activities, so it’s a little different. There are no ‘noncombatants,’ so to speak,” he said. “I’ve never personally seen her do it, but I have heard about it. Believe me, efficiency will improve over night. I think she frightens the employees more than Greg does, and he can be pretty damn scary. I guess that’s one of the reasons things run so smoothly here. I agree, though, you certainly can’t do that in a general business setting, as tempting as it might be. I’ve had some secretaries…” Anne laughed and punched him in the arm. To look at him, one wouldn’t know that he was an investment banker who controlled an enormous private investment portfolio for his family and their employees. Jamie took Anne on a walking tour of the French Quarter for lunch, stopping to pick up po’boy sandwiches from a street vendor. Later they had coffee and beignets at Café du Monde. The weather was warm but pleasant as they walked the streets hand in hand, admiring street art and other items for sale by street vendors.

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“Can we take one of the theme rooms at the club for a spin when we get back?” he asked with a low growl and sexy grin. “How about the Royal Bedchamber?” One look at Jamie Devereau’s dark, wavy hair had Anne longing to run her fingers through it. His worn jeans and tight, black T-shirt fit his muscular body like a glove, and his five-o’clock shadow emphasized his tantalizing, sculpted features and added to his bad-boy image. The strong line of his jaw, prominent nose, and sparkling, brandy-colored eyes, not to mention his naughty suggestion, made her panties dampen. “Mr. Devereau. That is not what I generally do during office hours,” she exclaimed. “Relax, chère. This is the Big Easy. Everyone has a naughty nooner once in a while.” After lunch they walked back to the tall, narrow house on Chartres Street. Anne admired the facade of the building, which gave no indication that it was a BDSM sex club. There was no identifying sign. The heavy wooden gates embellished with scrolled wrought iron securing the lush, tropical courtyard overflowing with flowers and the splashing central fountain were monitored by security cameras, and access was controlled by a keypad outside the gates. Black wrought iron lace bracketed the small galleries fronting the house, and wooden shutters covered the windows, effectively blocking any view of the interior of Le Club Beaudelaire-New Orleans. It was dark and mysterious and much larger than it appeared from the street. The private BDSM club had been located in the French Quarter for many years without the general public or government officials being any the wiser. Confidentiality and absolute privacy were sacred tenants of its existence. Anne secured the keys to the Royal Bedchamber, located at the back of the house, marked the private theme room in use on the board in the office, and grabbed the French maid costume Jamie had suggested from wardrobe. Jamie took the ornate, antique key from Anne and opened the door to the room. Anne had not seen all of the

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private theme rooms in the house and was surprised at the opulent, antique English furnishings, dark, luxurious fabrics, and valuable, old paintings on the walls of rubbed wood wainscoting. “This room is stunning, Jamie,” she said in awe as she admired the heavy wall hangings and bed coverings. Henry the VIII would have been comfortable in here. It’s totally decadent in a dignified, Old English way. “The furnishings in the club have been here since the inception. There are a lot of really fine antiques, some of which came from Devereau Plantation and from my great-grandmother’s house in the Quarter. My father did a lot of the decorating himself, including most of the theme rooms. Okay, get into costume, sub. You may call me ‘Mr. Devereau’ or ‘Sir’ during this scene,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. Anne ducked into the bathroom and scrambled out of her suit and into the French maid’s costume. Anne knew that Jamie loved role-playing, since it enhanced the dominance and submission aspect of BDSM for him. “Well, FiFi, I see that you have broken another valuable antique vase. I am going to have to punish you for that.” “Oh, no, Mr. Devereau, it was already broken when I came into the room. The cat must have knocked it over,” she said, cowering against the door as her pussy gushed. She got into the scene quickly, and they often picked up the thread of the story line from one another. Anne had found that she really needed to think on her feet to keep the scene flowing. “Lying again, FiFi? I am going to have to double your punishment,” he said menacingly. “Bend over the foot of the bed.” She complied. “Ahh, I see you have also broken the house rules by wearing panties.” He pulled the frilly, white panties of the maid’s uniform down her thighs, baring her bottom. “And I see that your naughty pussy is all hot and wet.” She knew this was all a game, but her heart began to race nonetheless. The spanking play was unexpectedly erotic to her, and she had found that surprising. She had

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never indulged in any of the BDSM aspects of the club before she met Jamie. She knew he would be the first to admit there was little he liked better than spanking a cute, round butt until it was nice and pink. “Please, Sir! Don’t beat me again. The cat really broke the vase,” she cried piteously. His hand came down smartly on her raised bare bottom, eliciting a surprised squeal of protest. Several more sharp slaps to her now stinging butt followed before he pulled her into his arms for a sensual kiss that rocked her to her core. His tongue invaded her mouth as she pretended to struggle against him. His hands palmed her cheeks as he gently squeezed her bottom. “On your knees on the bed, little maid, for the rest of your punishment. No coming until I give you permission. If you do, you’ll get another spanking.” When she was in position with her butt up in the air, he stepped in behind her. He released his rigid length from the confines of his tight jeans and rammed into her with hard, sure strokes as she whimpered her acceptance. He let her body accommodate itself to his length and girth for a moment. When he knew she was ready for him, he began to thrust hard and fast into her willing pussy until they were both ready to explode. He thumbed her little pleasure button until he had her begging for release. When he knew she could hold back no longer, he said, “Okay, come now, FiFi.” **** When the orgasm that had been on the cusp rolled through them, they fell to the bed, weak with release, completely sated, and totally relaxed. He rolled over and pulled her into his arms for a satisfying hug and a deep kiss. When they surfaced, she said, “FiFi? Is that the best you could do, Devereau? You didn’t give me much to work with.” She laughed at his chagrined look. “Come on, it was the best I could come up with on short notice. Would you have rather been Marie Antoinette or Madeleine? Okay, I admit FiFi was a little tacky.” He laughed at himself. They really had

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fun together, and he totally enjoyed her company—not to mention the great sex. He knew his feelings for her had ripened into more than that, a lot more. In fact, he knew that he not only loved her, but he also really admired her strength of character and courage. She had had to deal with breast cancer on her own, overcome her fears, and make a new life for herself. She had a lot of heart, and he knew he wanted it for his own. He was glad that they had the “I love you” conversation before they left on this trip. He hadn’t been quite ready to say the words, but he knew that she needed to hear them, and what the hell, it was how he felt. Jamie was not one to hold back his feelings. He gave of his emotions freely and generously. “I think we have time for a quick rerun,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled her on top of him and settled her on his shaft, which was once again hard as steel. He supported her back and held her steady as he began to pump up into her. When she got her bearings, she took control. Rotating her groin and plunging against his cock, she rode him to another very satisfying completion for them both before she collapsed on his chest. “Okay...I forgive you for FiFi! That was exquisite. Let me get my breath, and then I really do have to get back to the office. The staff here is going to figure out pretty quickly that they can take advantage of the temporary regime change. I really don’t see myself whipping staff asses. ‘Gregory the Terrible’ and I have slightly different management styles.” He rolled her under him, kissed her soundly, and jumped up off the bed. “Okay, FiFi. I’ll see you for dinner back at my town house tonight. I have some things to do at my office this afternoon. Do you want to plan on spending the weekend at the plantation? I think you should see it, and Justin wants me to put in an appearance to keep the staff there on their toes as well.” “That sounds perfect. Is there anything I can pick up on the way home?” she asked. “No. Just bring your sweet little ass home. See you later. You can

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shower in here, or Greg’s office has a private bathroom with a shower as I’m sure you noticed,” he said with a wink as he let himself out of the room. **** When she got back to the office, she placed a call to “Gregory the Terrible” at the club in Ocala. After exchanging pleasantries, she explained to him that she had heard about the Paggette incident. He apologized and said, “I’ve already taken care of it, Anne. We shouldn’t have any more problems along those lines, at least I hope not. Tasha’s style is not exactly ‘business school approved.’” She could imagine the embarrassed grin on his face. “Just don’t be too lenient up there, or I’ll have the same problem when we get back.” “I’ll do my best to keep them all under control, Greg, but I draw the line at beating them,” she said with a smile. “I’ll leave that up to you guys when you get back.”

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Chapter Six On Wednesday, Paula and Calleigh were enjoying a quiet cup of tea in Calleigh’s new home office and studio, which was in a converted barn at the new farm, while the baby slept in a cradle next to the desk. Calleigh was working on the plans for Max Warwick’s new residence at Devereau Plantation South. It was Emily Rose’s second day at home. She had been doing so well at the hospital that they had come home a day early. “I wish she would wake up so I could hold her,” Paula said wistfully. “Bite your tongue! Any time she’s asleep I’m grateful. Who knew this would be so exhausting? If she’s not hungry and crying, she’s wet and crying. I have to say, though, that Jason has been great about ‘poopie diapers.’ He hasn’t balked at all. I was really surprised. I can see that Emily Rose is really going to be Daddy’s girl. The breastfeeding is going well, too. I’m planning to pump and store breast milk so I can go back to work at my office, probably sometime next month, at least part time. I can do a lot here, but sometimes I just need to be in the office. Jason’s paralegal, Barbara, is preinterviewing nannies for me, so I’ll only have to pick from a few prequalified and background-checked candidates.” “Well, that should be a help anyway. Things will settle down when you all get on a schedule and get a routine going,” Paula said confidently. “This is really so exciting. She is some beautiful baby, said her doting Auntie Paula, who can’t wait to go out and buy cute little outfits!” “That she is. And she’s very sweet…when she’s not screaming.

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Well, tell me. Do you miss Trent? Have you heard from him yet? How’s all that going?” “About that...I’m thinking about...well I have pretty much decided... to break up with Trent and return his collar,” she finally spit out. At Calleigh’s gasp, she continued. “Cal, I love him, but I don’t think he loves me. It’s pretty simple. On my side it’s just selfpreservation. We’ve been together almost a year and a half, and I’m still not sure how he feels about me. He told me Saturday that he ‘really cares’ about me. After a year and a half, if that’s not a dead giveaway that things are not as they should be, I don’t know what is. Anyway, I’m still thinking about it, but I’m really leaning in that direction. I have a really tough decision to make.” “Paula, I’m sorry to hear that. I think you make a great couple. I’d like to kick his butt.” “Says my dear and loyal friend. I’d like to kick his butt, too. And just maybe I will. But you can’t make someone love you if they don’t, no matter how much you wish you could,” she said wistfully. “On a more interesting note, I got the scoop from one of the dungeon monitors from last Saturday. Apparently, ‘Gregory the Terrible’—we really shouldn’t call him that, it might slip out at an inopportune time—was ‘disciplining’ Natasha because she beat the butt of that really cute sub pool boy, Steve Paggette. She caught him sleeping behind the cabana or something. Greg had told her not to do that here, although she probably does it all the time in New Orleans. I can’t imagine. That place must be something else. Anyway, they have one of those more extreme relationships.” “That’s an understatement.” Leaning back, Calleigh admired her sketches. “I think this little Tuscan cottage for Max is going to be just gorgeous. You’re going to love the kitchen,” Calleigh said with a sigh. “I wish I had the time to design one just like it for myself. Maybe when things settle down.”

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Chapter Seven On Thursday, Trent walked into the state-of-the-art mobile medical unit of the Organization of Doctors for the Poor in Manta, Ecuador. It was to be his first meeting with the separation and reconstruction teams for the conjoined twins operation. He was anxious to review the twins’ medical records and hear what the other team members had to say. The twins were conjoined at the chest and abdomen but had completely independent organs and limbs. Twoyear-old Maria Christina and Maria Teresa Garcia had been abandoned by their family at a church immediately after their births. Obviously, the horror of their conjoined status was too much for their family to deal with. Their last name had been supplied by the state agency, but their first names had been pinned to the blankets covering them when they were found in the church. No information was available on their family, and the twins had been in state care since their discovery. The head of the team, Dr. Jorge Gonzalez, had expressed his gratitude for the help of the international agency and the doctors who had made the trip from the North to participate in this operation. Dr. Gonzalez had separated two other sets of twins during his career, one successfully and one unsuccessfully. The outcome was never guaranteed in a situation such as this. Either one or both of the twins could be lost during the procedure. The operations were incredibly complex, requiring as much surgical work in the reconstruction of the two small bodies as was required in the separation. At the meeting, after all of the team members had an opportunity to review the medical records and various X-rays and scans, it was

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determined that the surgery would commence the following morning at 6:00 a.m. The team members were advised to get a good night’s rest as the schedule would be rigorous and the day extremely long. Trent had known Jorge Gonzalez for several years, having been a regular contributor of his time and money to the organization. “Trent, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you could make it. I don’t think your specialty will be required, but it is always good to have another pair of skilled hands available.” “I’m glad to be here, Jorge, and I’ll pitch in wherever I’m needed. I’d like to see the twins this afternoon, if possible. I take it they are at the hospital being prepped,” Trent said, smiling. “Yes, they are here. I was going to make a visit to the pediatric unit to see them myself this afternoon if you would care to accompany me.” “Absolutely. It would seem that you’ve put together an exceptional team. I have every confidence this is going to go well.” The twins held court at the hospital pediatric unit. They lay in their crib face to face and seemed to be interacting with each other and the nursing staff in a normal manner. Maria Christina was a smiling charmer with dark, espresso-colored hair and enormous eyes. Maria Teresa had a more solemn, watchful expression in her black eyes, as though she had to take care of her more frivolous sister, and she did not know what pitfalls the world held. They were cute as buttons! Trent’s heart opened to them immediately. Dr. Gonzalez and the nursing staff were quite adept at handling them, even though it was a little awkward. Trent didn’t try to pick them up, but he ruffled their hair and held both their little hands in his large, competent ones for a moment. The next morning, promptly at 6:00 a.m., the separation surgery began. It was tedious, meticulous work to separate the two small bodies. The separation procedure took about five hours, at which time each twin was moved to a separate operating room for the reconstruction phase. While Trent’s specialty was not called for

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during the surgery, the team made use of his talented hands at every opportunity. After another five hours of surgery on each separate twin, the team made the announcement that the operations had been a success. The twins, who were sedated, unconscious, and on ventilators, were stable and doing well. They were expected to be hospitalized for about two weeks, including about a week in intensive care, after which they would be transferred to a facility for additional recuperation. More plastic surgery might be needed in the future, but the twins could be expected to make full recoveries and live normal lives. Dr. Gonzalez thanked the international team of twenty doctors and medical professionals for their generous assistance. Over the next week Trent performed several heart surgeries, both in Ecuador and in Honduras, traveling between the two countries by jet. Nevertheless, he made time to visit with the twins in the pediatric unit of the hospital. As they began to feel better, their lively little personalities really began to shine. Maria Christina was an outrageous flirt, quickly wrapping Trent around her little finger, while Maria Teresa maintained her watchful demeanor. She was not as quick to be won over, but before long she, too, was cuddled in Trent’s lap for stories and picture books read in Spanish, a language in which Trent could squeak by but was not fluent. He took lots of pictures of the kids and e-mailed them back home to Paula and his friends with accounts of their antics. They were rapidly gaining a fan club at home in Ocala as well. Watching the interplay between Trent and the twins, Dr. Gonzalez shook his head. “If I did not know better, I would think you were a papa yourself,” he said with a smile. “Nope, not yet, but it is something I have been considering lately.” He grinned. He had occasionally had visions of himself and Paula with a couple of kids. “Jorge, what do you think the chances are of the government allowing me to take the twins home to Ocala to recuperate? From what I understand, they don’t have any family that has stepped up to claim them, and they may well need additional post-

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separation procedures as well as more plastic surgery as they grow.” “Trent, my friend, did you have something permanent in mind? If so, I can tell you that I would put the full force of my considerable influence behind any adoption proceedings. You know that they will need to be placed with a family that could shoulder the considerable financial and emotional burden their continuing care would bring. If you want to make only temporary arrangements for them, I would support you in that as well, as I know they would get the best of care with you, but I think you should consider that carefully. You might find yourself in love with them but without having any legal rights.” “Jorge, let me talk with my friends at home before I make any formal request. But I have to say, my heart is already engaged.” The little ones had wormed their way into his big, soft heart, and the thought of leaving them in state care was totally unacceptable to him. That night Trent spent several hours on the phone with Jason Steele, Justin Devereau, and Paula. Jason said he would start making contact with the officials in Ecuador regarding temporary custody of the twins and possible permanent adoption proceedings. Justin Devereau assured him that he could count on the Devereau jet to bring them home when they were ready to make the trip and any help he needed in getting accommodations prepared for them. Trent’s large house in the historic district was currently a bachelor pad, but Paula assured him that it could quickly be made child friendly. Trent hoped that the possible addition of two little ones to his family would not put a strain on his relationship with Paula. He had not been ready to make an actual commitment to her before he left Ocala, even though that was where his feelings were leading him. They had never discussed getting married or having children. He was beginning to realize that what he wanted was Paula and a family of his own, starting with these two little banditos who had stolen his heart.

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**** Paula was flabbergasted of course. Twins? Two-year-old ones that spoke no English? She was way out of her league as far as she was concerned. Although the pictures she had seen of them were absolutely adorable, she didn’t know if she could afford to allow herself to get too emotionally involved given the condition of her current relationship with Trent. But she knew herself. As soon as she got her hands on them, she would fall in love. She didn’t have the heart to hit Trent with her decision to end their relationship over the phone and under these circumstances, but it seemed he was somewhat more astute than she had expected. He heard something in her voice, in what she said, or what she didn’t say. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “I know this is sudden, but I’m going to need to rely on your help with this little project. The kids will need a lot of attention and love—not to mention stuff. I’m sure you’re going to be crazy about them.” “Nothing is wrong, Trent. As you say, this is sudden and a lot to absorb,” she said, sidestepping the issue. Splitting up with Trent had been constantly on her mind, and she knew she was going to have to be tough to make herself follow through, especially now with two little kids thrown into the mix! “Can you start inquiries for a bilingual nanny and consult with Calleigh on some renovations to my house. I need to get all that started as soon as possible. Jason is going to be contacting the Ecuadoran Embassy regarding temporary custody and possible adoption proceedings. I’m also going to need to buy a lot of ‘kid’ stuff. Calleigh will certainly be up on that aspect.” “As a matter of fact, Jason’s paralegal has been scouting for a nanny for Emily Rose, and perhaps she can help me out with some preliminary work on that. I am sure Calleigh can get started on some renovations at your house, and the girls will all help me with the shopping. We can get this whole project rolling as soon as you give

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the word.” “I’ll let you know as soon as I have something definitive from the Ecuadoran officials. You don’t know how much I appreciate your support on this, baby. It means the world to me.” I’m sure it does. But what does it mean to me? Other than more heartbreak heaped on top of more heartbreak. Falling in love with a couple of kids on top of falling in love with you—it just may be more than this poor old heart can take.

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Chapter Eight With Jason’s help and Dr. Gonzalez’s recommendation, the temporary custody proceedings went quite smoothly and rapidly. Trent was given permission to relocate the twins to Ocala as soon as their medical conditions warranted. During their stay at the hospital in Manta, the press had been extremely interested in their plight, the surgery, and their aftercare. The twins, known locally as “Las Dos Pobrecitas,” had achieved a certain amount of celebrity status in the local press. The staff at the hospital was going to be sorry to see them leave, but they were all delighted that Dr. Trent was going to be taking them home. The affection between the handsome American doctor and the precocious twins was apparent for all to see. They climbed him like a tree, and he loved every minute of it. The soft-hearted nursing staff and local doctors were sure there would be a happy ending. Between medical procedures scheduled by the organization to take maximum advantage of Trent’s skills while he was available and time spent with the kids, he was constantly busy and tired. He spoke with Paula and his friends at home late at night. “Everything is almost ready here,” Paula told him. “I’ve had Calleigh design a nursery and playroom area on the first floor with a small bedroom for the nanny where the second parlor was. I am sure the twins will want to be in the same room, at least for a while,” she said. Trent was pleased that she showed more understanding of the situation than he would have expected of a single woman who had not shown any particular desire to be a mother to date. “Calleigh, Kelly, Robbie, and I have been shopping up a storm. I never knew kids

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needed so much stuff!” “Paula, I really appreciate your help. I couldn’t have gotten all this together without you and everyone one else there as well. I am hoping to be able to bring the kids home next week. I’ve arranged for a short stay for evaluation at the medical center in Gainesville, and then they will be coming home.” “That’s excellent, Trent. I’m sure everything will be ready by then.” “Do you think you could come down here and help me bring them home?” he asked in a tentative voice. He knew something was up, but he didn’t know what. She just didn’t sound right. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew there was definitely something wrong. **** Paula hesitated. “I’ll see if I can make arrangements to take a couple of days off,” she said, not sounding too enthusiastic. Okay, so there are two things we still have to do together—bringing these kids home next week and baby Emily Rose’s christening in a few weeks. I can get through this. She assured herself she could buck up and handle it. “Justin is going to bring us home in his jet. You can fly down with him, and we will all come home together,” he said hopefully. “Sounds like a plan,” she said. “Everything will be ready.” Everything but me. She was dreading the confrontation to come.

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Chapter Nine Since his return from his honeymoon and Jamie’s departure for New Orleans, Justin Devereau had been busy getting Jester back into shape for his first love, Yoseikan Bajutso, the Japanese martial art performed on horseback with a sword and bow, as well as scheduling practices for his new polo team. With the help of Max Warrick, his butler and property manager, he was also keeping tabs on Mark Taylor, the previously homeless fifteen-year-old young man that Jamie had befriended. As someone famous once said, “It takes a village,” and Justin had found that to be absolutely true. Although Jamie’s heart-to-heart session with Mark when he had first come to their attention at the farm had been very beneficial to Mark’s attitude and work ethic, it still took time and attention to keep a teenage boy on the right track. Jamie and Max had installed Mark and his mother in a staff cottage at the farm, and Mrs. Taylor’s job on the household staff was working out very well. Mark had been enrolled in Catholic school, over his vociferous objections. As the school year was coming to a close, he was doing well and making friends. Justin strode into the barn and over to Jester’s stall for the obligatory rough scratching, patting, and sugar cubes. The elevenyear-old, black Friesian stallion was Justin’s pride and joy. His personality had the entire staff of the farm in his thrall. With a flowing, black mane and tail, feathers on his legs, and weighing in at around eighteen hundred pounds, he was a sight to behold. Justin had purchased the light draft horse for his fiancée Alexa Davis’s use as a dressage horse, and had ended up with him when Alexa had been

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killed in a car accident over a year previously. “Mark, get Jester groomed and tacked up for me—use the old dressage saddle and double bridle. I’m going to give him a workout at the targets, and you can help me,” Justin said to the teenager, who was currently cleaning stalls. “Really? Yes, sir!” Mark had been anxious to see Justin and Jester work out. He had a boy’s fascination with weapons and had been dying to see Justin in action. Alexa had been showing Jester in dressage at the Winter Equestrian Festival in Wellington, Florida, when she had her fatal car accident. After the accident, Jester missed Alexa and had become depressed. He was off his feed and losing weight, so Justin decided that the horse really needed a “job” and started training him to be a war horse by doing sword and bow work with him. The strenuous training regimen had helped both of them work through their grief. Jester’s dressage training made him especially suitable to the sport of Yoseikan Bajutso, an equine sport harkening back to Japanese samurai warriors and currently gaining popularity in Europe. Justin was adept at the art of shooting the whistling arrows called kaburaya at full gallop at the three targets which represent the three kingdoms of Korea. When the horse was tacked up, Justin walked him to the practice field with Mark jogging along behind. He instructed Mark to set the targets up along the fence at the far end of the field. After about a half hour of warm-up and suppling exercises, Justin cantered Jester around the practice field. Then, while controlling the horse with only his legs and body weight, he turned and spurred Jester into a full gallop. He rode toward the three targets set up at the end of the field, and using a short, curved Mongolian bow and arrows, he shot three arrows at the three targets, hitting each one dead center as he steered Jester around the bottom of the field. He wheeled the horse around, and then, galloping in the other direction, he drew his gleaming katana sword from its scabbard. He rode toward three straw dummies standing in a

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row. Wielding the katana sword with sweeping strokes, he quickly beheaded the three dummies with one stroke each. He circled Jester around the field and brought him to a halt at Mark’s side. Mark was astounded. “That’s the coolest thing I ever saw,” he said in awe. “It has taken years of training and practice. I have been in martial arts training of one kind of another since I was your age, and I have been working with Jester for over a year now, but he has had many years of dressage training as a foundation,” Justin said. “If you’re interested, we can start you on some beginner’s martial arts training. Maybe some jujutsu throwing and empty-handed combat techniques, some judo grappling techniques, and kendo, modern Japanese sport fencing. Kelly is interested in starting some training as well, and I could teach you both at the same time.” **** “Would you really? Wow! My dad and I used to do some karate. He used to be in the army you know. I never went to karate school or anything. We just worked out at home.” Mark was stunned. He had lost most of his faith in others after his father abandoned the family. Times got tough and they lost their home. He still couldn’t believe his current good fortune. His part-time stall-cleaning job at Devereau Plantation South, and his subsequent meeting with Jamie Devereau, had resulted in him and his mother getting a new home, and him getting a new school, and the mentorship of the Devereau brothers and Max. Not that they let him get away with much! He had quickly learned the meaning of the term “short leash.” He really didn’t mind the discipline as the boundaries gave him a safe and secure feeling that he had not known before. Someone always knew where he was and what he was doing and cared what he was doing. His mother had tried, but he had to admit he’d been a lot for her to handle on top of her financial problems. His attitude hadn’t made it any easier for

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either of them. “You have to keep up your chores, school work, continue to help your mom and all the rest. Martial arts training also embodies certain elements of honor, heart, character, attitude, courtesy, and politeness which you will be expected to follow. Respect for your teacher, or sensei, is also required. If you want to make the commitment to practice and learn, I’ll teach you.” “Wow! Yes, sir! The guys at school aren’t going to believe this!” “I’ll ask Max to get you and Kelly the required uniforms and equipment, and we’ll get started as soon as we can. How do you think your riding lessons on Jezebelle are coming along? Manuel says you’re doing well.” Justin dismounted and handed the reins to Mark. “If you think you’re ready, I’ll let you walk Jester back to the barn.” “You’re gonna let me ride him? By myself? All the way back to the barn?” he asked in astonishment. “Really?” Mark was amazed that Justin would trust him to ride and take care of this incredible animal. Wow! This is the coolest thing ever. He was really excited that he was going to get judo lessons as well. Although his father had never given him much praise, he had been quite good at karate. This is going to be so great. I just can’t believe it. Justin cupped his hands to give Mark a leg up to mount the enormous horse. Once he was seated on Jester’s back and had the reins securely in his hands, Justin adjusted the stirrups for the boy’s shorter legs. “After the workout I just gave him, he should behave for you. Cool him out, hose him down, and put him up for me.” Mark relaxed, sat straight in the saddle as he had been taught, and he and Jester moved off with a “going somewhere” walk.

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Chapter Ten That evening Kelly and Justin Devereau were relaxing with a glass of wine on the low sofa in the living area of their somewhat Zen-style master suite. The decor was understated and simple. It had clean lines and few accessories, and was rather modern oriental in flavor. Major impact was provided by the two original Georgia O’Keeffe floral paintings over the bed. The renovations to the house had been completed while they were at the Devereau farm in Provence, France for their honeymoon. They had been discussing Trent and the twins’ imminent return to Ocala, all of the strange goings on at the club, including the episode with “Gregory the Terrible” and Natasha, the arrival of baby Emily Rose, and the beginning of her martial arts training with Mark Taylor. “I just can’t believe all that’s happened in such a short amount of time,” she said, shaking her head and taking a sip of wine. “I didn’t even know you a few months ago, and now I couldn’t imagine life without you, Justin. You are definitely my other half. Yin to my yang.” “I don’t waste time when I see what, or should I say whom, I want,” he said, putting her glass on the coffee table and pulling her into his arms for a breath-stealing kiss. “And I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” He laughed as he tickled her ear with his tongue. He had undergone a lot of soul-searching and personal growth in letting go of his relationship with his dead fiancée, and it had allowed him to move forward in his life with Kelly. “That’s for sure,” she gasped as his tongue delved into her ear, causing a shudder of delight to streak down her spine and straight to

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her pussy. “I didn’t stand a chance.” She pulled the silver Celtic knot from his hair, freeing it so she could run her fingers through the silky, dark length. His wavy hair was actually longer than the black, swinging bob that danced around her shoulders. **** Justin stood and picked her up. He carried her to the big bed in the center of the room and deposited her in the middle of it, leaning down to kiss her breasts through her lacy bra as he joined her on the bed. He expertly stripped her out of her silk shirt, jeans, bra, and little matching thong. As she lay naked on the bed, he played with her puckered, raspberry nipples. She raised her hips. His lips blazed a hot trail down her abdomen to her drenched pussy, and his heartbeat quickened. He could never get enough of her. He raised her bottom with his big hands and opened her throbbing, pink pussy to his gaze. He glanced up at the Georgia O’Keeffe paintings on the wall above the bed and once again noted the similarity in anatomy between this beautiful woman and the beautiful pink flower petals. The scent of her arousal quickened his pulse, and he plunged his tongue through her slick, wet nether lips. He was determined to taste her sweetness fully and not allow the thundering erection pressing painfully against his jeans to rule him. Slowly he circled her clit with his tongue, taking the time to delve into her throbbing channel over and over. He stripped out of his clothes impatiently, as his balls tightened against his body, ready to explode, and his erect cock begged for entrance to the gates of heaven buried between her damp thighs. He plunged his solid erection into her waiting pussy and began a powerful rhythm that pounded into her moist center. He blasted over the erotic edge of a mega-orgasm that rolled on and on through his nervous system like a tsunami as he took her with him into oblivion. As he coasted down from the heights and his breathing steadied, he pulled her tightly into his embrace, and with her head tucked under his chin, he cradled her

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against his sculpted chest like a precious treasure. He remained buried inside her as spasms continued to rock both of their bodies. As he and Kelly settled into the comfort of their relationship and married life, Justin found he had less and less of a need or desire for the kink. He found that the obsessive need for pain and extreme sex that Alexa had displayed before her death had soured the Lifestyle for him somewhat. Not that a little fun and games isn’t in our future. He grinned wickedly to himself as they fell into sleep.

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Chapter Eleven Max Warwick poured Anamaria Sanchez another glass of pinot grigio in the elegant yet very comfortable living room of her town house. A Keith Jarrett CD was playing on the stereo system, and they had a small fire in the fireplace even though the May evening did not warrant it. She snuggled against his shoulder on the tapestryupholstered couch and said, “This is so pleasant Max. I really enjoy our evenings together.” God, he is so handsome. She leaned against him with a contented sigh. His iron-gray hair was full and thick, and her fingers begged to run through it. He was tall and distinguished looking with chiseled features. Anamaria had met Max when she was planning the Devereau wedding, and since then they had really hit it off. She was enjoying this little flirtation. Romance is for the young at heart, not just for the young. When she had come to the United States from Cuba as a “Pedro Pan” child some fifty-five years ago, when Cuba had undergone a regime change to communism, she had never expected to achieve the degree of success she had accomplished. She was later joined by her family, which though wealthy, had been forced to leave everything behind when they fled the small island nation in fear for their lives. She now had some silver strands among the black in her hair, but she viewed the silver strands as a badge of courage and accomplishment. “I do as well, Anamaria. I was so busy raising the boys and running the Devereau houses all over the world that I never really had the time or the need for a settled relationship myself. Justin and Jamison were six and eight years old when their mother died, and

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their father was too busy with business and other personal matters to pay much attention to them.” “Well, I can’t say the same. As you know, I was married twice. Both marriages ended in divorce. This just feels different. You are different,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t know about me being different, but this relationship is starting to take on a certain feeling,” he said without elaborating. “Tell me the latest news then,” she said with a gleam of curiosity in her eye in her latest surreptitious attempt to extract information from Max. “Hhmmm, well, I have been busy helping the ladies at the club get ready for Trent’s twin wards to come home from Ecuador. That has been fun. The girls are all so excited. They are running in every direction. They really need a ‘general’ in charge of ‘Operation Twins’ Arrival.’” Anamaria just let him ramble. She was gleaning ever more intel on the estate on Fort King Street, but she still did not have a clear picture. It’s a club. There are ladies.... He turned to her and took her in a strong embrace as he whispered in her ear, “Don’t think you’re putting anything over on me, my dear. That has been tried by masters of the art, to no avail.” His deep voice sent shivers down her spine. “Oh, Max! I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself,” she said contritely. “All this secrecy is driving me crazy.” She laughed delightedly against his throat as he ran his strong hands up and down her back. “I’ll tell you what. If you would like to have dinner with me at the estate on Friday night, I’ll give you a tour, but,” he said sternly, “everything you see there is strictly confidential. In fact, you will be required to sign a confidentiality agreement when you arrive. Be aware that breaking the confidentiality agreement would have dire consequences. Very few outsiders are ever permitted on the grounds. I am only making this offer because I think our relationship has long-

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term potential, and I don’t like to keep secrets.” She was flabbergasted. A confidentiality agreement? Dire consequences? What could possibly go on there that would require such a thing? Oh my goodness! Long-term potential? “I would love that, Max, and I promise to abide by any restrictions you place on the visit.” **** Friday evening Max picked Anamaria up in the chauffeur-driven Lincoln Town Car for the very short trip to the club. When the gates opened and the car drove through, she was amazed to see the enormous Victorian mansion surrounded by fabulous English gardens and hundred-year-old, Spanish-moss-draped oak trees. All three floors of the house were lit from the top to the bottom. The antique, rippledglass windows and French doors sparkled, and she could see the beautiful chandeliers, antique furniture, and draperies through the windows. The peacocks that could be heard all over the neighborhood were strutting on the garden paths, tails on full display. It was as though the entire estate had made an attempt to dazzle her. “My goodness, Max! This is just stunning. I never knew all of this was here behind those tall stone walls,” she said, astounded. “That’s exactly the intention. We’ll visit the library first and get the confidentiality agreement out of the way.” She had been wondering if there actually would be a confidentiality agreement. Well, apparently there was. “Okay,” she said, a little unnerved and suddenly subdued. After the formalities had been taken care of, Max explained to Anamaria that the estate was a private BDSM club and what exactly that entailed. She was amazed, never having thought that such a thing could exist on the down low—under cover, so to speak—in the heart of the historic district of downtown Ocala. They took a stroll through the beautiful gardens, down to the tranquil pond, around the exotic

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black-bottom swimming pool, and back to the elegant five-star dining room for dinner. When Anamaria looked at the menu, she was surprised to see the name of the chef. She had worked with Phillippe Leclair on many of the society affairs she had orchestrated. She had heard he’d left the employ of the country club where he had previously worked, but she’d not heard where he had gone. Well, now I know. This is really amazing. Everyone in the dining room was beautifully dressed and totally appropriate for the setting. However, she caught glimpses of some really strangely dressed people walking through the gardens toward a large garage building at the back of the property. Max noticed the direction of her gaze and said, “Those are club members going to the Playroom, which is a BDSM dungeon. I really don’t think you want to go in there, dear. Some rather extreme things could be taking place,” he said cautiously. “Max! I’m not a prude, and I didn’t just crawl out from under a basket,” she said indignantly. “I’m here, and I want to see everything! I had to sign my life away on that confidentiality agreement, and I don’t intend to miss a thing!” “Hhmmm,” he said with a sigh. “All right, but let me know if anything you see makes you uncomfortable and you want to leave.” “Not a chance!” she responded with a wide grin, her eyes sparkling. After the sumptuous dinner, coffee, and dessert, Max took Anamaria’s arm, and they strolled down to the Playroom. When the doors opened onto the large, industrial-looking space filled with BDSM equipment, some of which was in use, Anamaria’s eyes widened. She might have thought she was sophisticated and worldly, but this was really over the top! Doms in black leather pants, some without the crotch and others without the seat, were leading subs on leashes, some wearing skimpy leather or latex attire and some completely naked. One sub was being flogged at the ominous-looking “X” cross, while another was tied with black bondage rope in an

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intricate pattern and suspended from restraints dropping from the ceiling. Max explained, “There are only ten actual members of the club, but it is open to visitors from a sister facility in New Orleans, as well as one in Key West, and various other guests or submissive partners of the members. Sometimes, this room is very lively. There are also private theme rooms available for the use of the members and their guests.” “What are theme rooms?” she inquired. “Smaller private rooms—there’s one set up like a school room and principal’s office, another as a medieval dungeon, another like a royal bedchamber, another like an executive office, a captain’s cabin on a pirate ship, and various other fantasy themes. There are also some that have no specific decor but can be quickly outfitted by management for any fantasy the client requires. The management team is quite inventive. There is also an extensive wardrobe department to supply costumes.” “Wow! This is unbelievable,” she said incredulously. “I never had any idea anything like this existed.....or if I did, it just didn’t register.” She squeezed his arm. “Do you think we could visit one of the theme rooms?” He looked at her in horror. “Anamaria! Of course not! You’re a lady…” “Well, what does being a lady have to do with the cost of tea in China?” she asked irreverently. “I want to see everything!” And maybe do a few things? “My dear...” “Oh come on, Max! Don’t be an old fuddy-duddy.” She grinned. He is such a gentleman. I wonder if he will ever be able to get over this, but I’m not missing my chance to see and do everything! Anamaria could see Max was thinking quickly. “I think the room that is the least offensive and one that you might really enjoy is the Royal Bedchamber.”

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“Really? That sounds wonderful.” She was thrilled. “All right. Let me just say for the record, that despite the amount of time I spend here because of Justin and Jamie, I do not participate in BDSM activities. Their father had a private dungeon in the old slave quarters at the plantation in Louisiana, as well as a charter membership in Le Club Beaudelaire-New Orleans. To be truthful, the boys really only dabble in the Lifestyle. Neither participate in hardcore activities. Thank goodness. But, I saw what the Lifestyle did to their father, and I have never been tempted to indulge myself.” “Max, if it makes you uncomfortable, never mind,” she said a little disappointedly. “No, my dear. We’re here. I brought you here, and I’m not a prude either. Let’s give it a whirl.” She was sure he never imagined this outcome. They made their way back to the mansion. Max signed out the keys to the Royal Bedchamber theme room, and they picked out costumes from wardrobe. When Max unlocked the Royal Bedchamber and they walked through the door, Anamaria was astounded yet again. The room was extremely opulent with English-style antiques, paintings and accessories decorating a large room with old, rubbed walnut paneling. The centerpiece of the room was a lavishly draped carved bed with gold and red tapestry hangings and bed coverings. “There’s a bathroom through there,” he said, indicating a heavy, paneled door. “You can change into your costume in there. As I understand the procedures, you are to address me as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Sir’ while we are in a role playing scene,” he said. Anamaria could see that he was slightly embarrassed but also slightly turned on. “I will call you ‘Madame’ or ‘Anamaria.’” Anamaria came out of the bathroom dressed in a long, lavish, lace-trimmed gown with a shockingly low bodice and built-in, pushup bra. She knew that Max had gotten an eye full before he went in to change into a costume quite reminiscent of a medieval monarch. When he came out, they both looked at each other and burst out

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laughing. They rolled onto the high plush bed and fell back, continuing to laugh until they both were breathless, and Anamaria had hiccups. “We can either go through with this or scamper out of here like kids caught on Halloween. What do you think?” he asked, letting her make the decision. She giggled some more and said, “I say let’s go for it! We may never have the nerve to do this again. Why miss the opportunity?” That said, she threw herself into his arms and kissed him deeply. He responded by pulling her tightly against him. Then he ran his hands up her back and around until he cupped her breasts in his hands. He said, “I will have your favors this night, Madame, or your husband will be executed in the Tower in the morning.” “Oh, Your Majesty! Please do not execute my husband. I have four daughters to raise, and my husband’s estate is entailed—we would be penniless and homeless if he were executed. His evil younger brother would put us out on the moors with nothing.” “Well, then you had better please me well, Madame, for your husband’s life depends on your abilities in bed.” He snickered. Anamaria could see that he was having a hard time keeping a straight face, although he did not seem to be having a hard time keeping a stiff cock. She was amazed at just how exciting this was. His deep, seductive voice reverberated through her right down to her toes. He quickly tore the lacy gown. The Velcro seams made a loud ripping sound as he caught hold of the bodice and disrobed her with gusto. Anamaria screamed. This is really quite realistic. It certainly gets the juices flowing and the heart pounding. Max fell on top of her and tore the tissue thin, white lace-trimmed chemise undergarment from neck to hem. It, too, was constructed to rip away easily and without permanent damage. Anamaria’s full breasts, tipped with large, rosy, puckered nipples, were on full display. Well, this won’t do. He still has all his clothes, and mine are in tatters on the floor! “May I disrobe you, Your Majesty? I think you have far too many

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clothes on,” she simpered. He lay back on the enormous mound of pillows and said, “You may disrobe me, wench, and be quick about it, as I grow impatient to have you.” She saw how the garments came undone and made quick work of removing them. Before he knew it, she had him naked on the bed beside her. He smiled widely. “Madame, I could not have asked for a better outcome.” He lowered the lights, pulled the tapestry hangings closed, and turned to her with a gleam in his eye as she sighed in welcome.

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Chapter Twelve On Monday morning, with Justin Devereau and a copilot at the controls of a G450 Gulfstream twin-engine jet, Paula was cruising at an altitude of 40,000 feet and a speed of 450 knots toward Manta, Ecuador. She was accompanied by Christa Vasquez, the bilingual nanny she had engaged on Trent’s behalf, one cabin attendant, and Kelly Devereau as moral support. She was excited but nervous at the same time. The thought of meeting the twins and of seeing Trent again was daunting to say the least. The plane was enormous and would easily accommodate fifteen to twenty people if there had not been generous seating areas, a conference room, and a bedroom carved out of the space. “Ms. Greenley, I am just so excited! I never imagined I would be riding in a private jet to another country to pick up twin babies. Is Dr. Redding a nice man? He must be to take on the care of two orphans,” the nanny continued. Christa was young, pretty, energetic and vivacious—just the qualities needed to take care of two precocious two-year-olds. “Yes, Christa, he is a very nice man. The twins were abandoned by their family at birth due to their conjoined status, I would imagine. Actually, I can’t imagine abandoning children under any circumstances, but life is different there I guess. Not that we don’t have problems like that in the United States. Watching the news every night is an exercise in disbelief.” “It is a really big undertaking,” Kelly added. “The care of twoyear-old twins, possibly with problems, who don’t speak any English. I’m really impressed a single man would take that on.”

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“Yes, Trent has a really big heart,” she said. Just not for me. She grimaced at the thought of what she knew was coming. “From the pictures I’ve seen, the kids are adorable. Two two-year-olds. Makes me glad I’m a career woman. Life as he knew it is over for Dr. Redding.” She had a sly grin on her face at the thought of a couple of rambunctious toddlers taking over Trent’s life. Too bad I won’t be around to see it. “He just doesn’t know it yet.” Paula closed her eyes and tried to snooze as they drew nearer and nearer to their destination. **** Upon landing, they were met by a stretch limousine from the American embassy, the American ambassador, several other officials, and Trent. He pulled Paula into his embrace for an exuberant kiss. He had really missed her, but he felt the slight hesitation in her response, a tightening of her muscles. Something still was not right with Paula, and he would have to get to the bottom of it sooner rather than later. Trent, Paula, Justin, Kelly, and the nanny, Christa, piled into the stretch limo for the drive back to city and to the hospital. Manta, Ecuador, a midsized city located on the northern Pacific coast of South America, was green and beautiful with stunning views of the ocean and a rich pre-Columbian past. Trent thought it was a shame that there would be no time for sightseeing and shopping as he knew Paula and Kelly would have enjoyed that. Everyone was anxious to meet Maria Christina and Maria Teresa. Justin left the jet in the care of the copilot for the unloading of luggage, refueling, and filing a return flight plan. With luck, they would be making the return trip the next day. Trent was anxious to get home. **** It was pandemonium at the hospital, with local and embassy officials, press, local doctors, and the nursing staff that was extremely

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fond of the twins. Trent managed to corral Paula, Christa, and the Devereaus for a private introduction to the kids in the playroom of the pediatric unit. As soon as they saw him, they homed in on him like little homing pigeons. It was clear to Paula that the three of them were already very close. Paula felt a twinge around her heart. This should be my little family, and it just isn’t going to be. She pasted a smile on her face and bent down to the kids’ level to say, “¡Hola, muchachas! Mi nombre es Tia Paula. ¿Besitos?” They laughed at her and threw themselves from Trent’s arms to hers, giving her the kisses she had asked for. The combined weight of two healthy two-year-olds almost brought her to her knees. She staggered back and Trent put a steadying hand on her arm as she caught them and pulled them to her chest. And right then and there, they wormed their little selves right into her heart. Shit! It’s too late already. My goose is cooked. She hugged them carefully in light of their recent surgery, looking at Trent for guidance. She didn’t want to hurt them. He just gave her a huge smile of gratitude, and something else she wasn’t sure she could identify. They spent a couple of hours playing with the kids, feeding them their dinners, and having them passed from lap to lap for hugs and kisses. It seemed to be going very well. Paula could see that the kids were taking to Christa already, which was a huge relief. It would have been a problem if they had not been comfortable with the nanny. At bedtime, Trent firmly picked them up and took them in to bed. He tucked them in and kissed them good night over some slight objections and whining. They were still so excited. Paula was suitably impressed. He was clearly very much at ease with them. It made a very nice picture—the tall, handsome, blond doctor with the two small, dark-haired, big-eyed munchkins. Paula’s heart broke a little more. This is just going to be so hard. Justin had booked a suite for them at a local hotel. Trent returned to his temporary accommodations to finish packing for their departure the next day. It looked like she and Trent were not going to be able to

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be alone just yet, and their inevitable discussion would be put off for a while more. The jet took off the following afternoon with everyone loaded aboard. Paula had taken the precaution of bringing a children’s video in Spanish to pass the time. Before she knew it, MC and MT, as she had come to think of them, were cuddled up against her, one on each side, like little pups next to their mom. She sighed, resigned to her fate, and put her arms around them. This was likely to be her only time with them, and she was determined to soak up as much of their affection as she could. She knew heartbreak was coming her way, and there was nothing she could do about it. **** Upon arrival at Ocala International Airport, they were met by the press again. After a short interview and pictures, they loaded the kids into another limousine and headed for the medical center in Gainesville where the twins were scheduled to be evaluated and where their medical care was to be handled while they were in Ocala. Trent and Paula were nervous as they handed the kids over to the care of the medical center’s pediatric team. They would only be there for a day or two at the most, but it just didn’t seem right to leave them so soon. The half-hour drive back to Ocala was strained. This was the first time Trent and Paula had been alone. “Well, babe, what do you think? Aren’t they the cutest little banditos you’ve ever seen?” Trent was secretly smiling at the picture of his little family in his mind. He said a little prayer that it would all work out. “Yes, I have to admit the ‘banditos’ have stolen my heart,” she said. “Okay, subbie, what’s the matter? I know I dumped this deal with the kids on you unexpectedly, but you haven’t been yourself since I left for Ecuador. Spill it,” he said in his steely Dom voice. What the

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hell is wrong with her? “Nothing is wrong, Trent. This is not the time to discuss it anyway,” she said, unconsciously admitting that something was indeed very wrong. “You’d better come clean—and quick. I’d hate to have to spank you so soon after my return,” he said with a leer guaranteed to get her goat. He’d found that was the best way to deal with Paula’s occasional moods. She was usually very upbeat and fun, but, on occasion, he found he had to jolt her out of a mood. “It’s not going to work this time, Trent,” she said sadly. “I think it would be best if we didn’t see so much of each other.” She handed him back the black leather collar and attached diamond heart he had given her several months ago. Trent was stunned. “Why?” he asked with a look of bewilderment on his handsome face. “Paula, this is right out of left field. I certainly wasn’t expecting this, especially now.” “Let’s just call it self-preservation. I love you. I can see I am going to love those kids. But you don’t love me. If I have any hope of surviving this, I need to cut my losses cleanly and right now.” Trent was dumfounded. His stomach was sinking. What the hell was she talking about? He had told her how much she meant to him just before he’d left for Ecuador. “I don’t understand, Paula. You know how much you mean to me. I’ve told you before...” “Yes, you’ve told me I ‘mean a lot to you.’ But what you haven’t said, and what I needed to hear, and what it’s probably too late to say now, is that you love me. Not that you’re grateful for my help with getting ready for the kids, or that we have great sex, or that you ‘care’ about me.” “But I do. Why else would I collar you?” he asked. Paula could see the look of consternation on his face. “I think it just seemed like the thing to do at the time,” she said. “No, Trent, regardless. That just isn’t good enough. I want it all. Please have the driver drop me off at home.” They had almost reached

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her condo. “And that’s it? I could see the kids were already getting attached to you.” “That’s why I had to do it right now and not wait until they would be hurt by my leaving. I’ll help you out all I can if you really need something, and we’ll go through with Emily Rose’s christening in a few weeks. After that, we’ll be friends. Because, Trent, you really mean a lot to me, too,” she said as the chauffeur pulled up to the curb in front of her house, and she slipped out of the car, leaving him in shock. **** Paula’s heart was breaking, and she didn’t know if she would be able to keep it together until she was out of sight of the car. If you only knew. This is going to rip my heart right out of my chest. She’d known it was going to be hard, but she had not anticipated this level of pain. It was physical, not just emotional.

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Chapter Thirteen On Friday afternoon, Jamie and Anne drove across the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway toward Devereau Plantation on the Mississippi River about an hour and a half north of New Orleans. The plantation had been built by the Devereau family in the early 1800s and had been continually in their hands since that time. They had held it through the Civil War, Reconstruction, world wars, depressions, good times and bad. The main house was a white, two-story brick confection with wraparound galleries fronting French doors and tall windows. It also had many dependency buildings, including a summer kitchen, the old slave quarters, barns, and sheds. As it was Justin Devereau’s main residence before his move to Ocala, it was also a working horse farm. The old slave quarters that housed Phillip Devereau’s playroom and dungeon held no good memories for the Devereau brothers. They had personally never used the facility and preferred to drive into New Orleans to Le Club Beaudelaire when the mood struck. As Jamie turned into the long, oak-lined driveway to the main house, he said, “Well, this is it—Devereau Plantation. It’s been in the family for over two hundred years. To be truthful, I didn’t think Justin would ever live anywhere else. The death of his fiancée, Alexa, really threw him for a loop. He needed a fresh start. I’m happy he found one with Kelly. She’s really good for him. She’s happy and upbeat.” He laughed. “And she doesn’t take any crap!” “That’s for sure! I don’t know how I’m going to replace her at the club. I hope the interview with Madison Snow works out. That job isn’t for just anyone. Kelly and Justin make a wonderful couple,

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though, and I’m very happy for them. I didn’t think she would be able to get accustomed to the BDSM thing, but they seem to have worked it out.” “Justin’s really not that into it. Alexa had a lot of problems, and he lost his taste for a lot of the BDSM stuff, which we both just dabble in for fun. He told me she had become addicted to pain, and he was thinking about breaking off their engagement if she didn’t get professional help, and then she was killed in a car accident down in Palm Beach. He felt guilty that he was about to break up with her, and that made it even harder for him.” “So that’s why he moved to Ocala. I wondered about that,” Anne said thoughtfully. “It was a big change—moving his horses, starting a new polo team, renovating the house at the farm...” “It was, but he needed the change. Well, let’s get our bags into the house. We’ll use the master suite, and then I’ll show you around. I have to make an inspection of the horse barns and stock and talk to the staff, or Justin will have my head.” **** The interior of the house was like a museum of the Old South. The furniture ranged from early American antiques to French antiques of various periods. The Devereaus had been an old Creole family in the area since the 1700s. The master bedroom was very French in style, and Anne was thrilled. “With a bedroom like this, who needs theme rooms?” she exclaimed. “I can be Scarlett O’Hara, and you can be Rhett Butler!” “I’ll put that on the agenda, Miss Scarlett. I just hope I can carry you up the stairs without dropping you.” He laughed. Jamie and Anne spent the afternoon touring the plantation, visiting the horses Justin had not yet brought down to Ocala and generally checking everything out. Jamie saddled two Tennessee walking horse mares and took her for a ride around the plantation.

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They made a great dinner in the enormous, old-fashioned kitchen from the provisions Max had left in the freezers and ate in the library where the only television was located. Anne was delighted by the collection of old books. Jamie showed her some of the old journals that Justin had found evidencing the Devereau fetish for extreme sex going back to the 1700s. There were even some illustrations of mechanisms that had been used which predated the current practice of BDSM. “Justin and I have discussed this, and we don’t think that this has anything to do with our personal sexual tastes genetically, but you have to wonder,” he said pensively. “Oh come on, Jamie! I doubt those old books or the deviant practices of your ancestors have anything to do with you and Justin today. They were probably just bent individuals with too much money and too much personal power who didn’t rein themselves in.” “You’re probably right. Want to take a walk down to the slave quarters? They’re supposed to be haunted,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “Who could pass up an opportunity like that? An after-dark tour of haunted slave quarters on a two-hundred-year-old plantation? Of course I do!” she exclaimed eagerly, grabbing her denim jacket. Jamie knew the pass code to the security system and let them into the old building that Phillip Devereau had converted into his personal playroom. It had all of the standard BDSM equipment she had become accustomed to seeing at the clubs, as well as some things whose purpose she didn’t know. They looked around, and Anne was amazed. There were no ghostly visitations, but that was only a slight disappointment. The girls at the club would have loved to hear about a haunting. “Sorry, babe. No ghosts,” he said as they locked the building up again. “There sure are no good vibes in there though. Justin is talking about tearing it down. I told him I couldn’t care less. He can reduce it to a pile of sticks for all I care.” He chuckled. “Although the Historic

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Preservation people might not like it. I told him to just do it and worry about them later. Once it’s a pile of rubble they can’t do a thing about it except maybe assess a fine.” “I see your point, but it is a piece of history,” she said tentatively. “Devereau family history. Maybe we’ll have a demolition party. Send it out with a big bang!” he exclaimed. She could plainly see that he and Justin really did not have any fond memories of this building. They returned to the house, and as they approached the stairs in the marble floored foyer, Jamie swung her up into his arms and started up the curved staircase. “Ms. Sutton, you are not exactly a feather!” he said with a grin, as he headed for the master suite. “Oh, rats, Mr. Devereau, we have no costumes! How can I be Scarlett in jeans and a sweater?” Anne was dismayed. She knew how much he loved to play. “Well....you could be....‘Naked Scarlett,’” he said with a leer. “I’m sure there are trunks full of old clothes up in the attic, but finding them would take longer than we’re going to be here.” “Naked works just fine,” she said, smiling at him as he pushed open the door to the master suite with one foot. He pulled back the magnolia-print bedspread with one hand and gently deposited her on the massive four-poster bed. Then he joined her on the bed and pulled the matching draperies closed. **** “Relax. I’ll help you undress,” Jamie said as he pushed her back against the pillows. He pulled off her short boots and socks and lowered the zipper of her nicely filled-out jeans before he peeled them down her thighs. He pulled her sweater over her head and smiled at the lacy red bra and thong she wore. “Red is rapidly becoming my favorite color,” he said. “Especially those shoes…” “Sorry, bud. I didn’t bring them along. They’re back at your town house in the Quarter,” she said with a smile. He really did love those

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shoes. “Man. With that red bra and thong and those shoes, you wouldn’t need any costume.” “Well, let’s pretend you just took the shoes off,” she said with a sigh. He ran his hand slowly up her leg, over her knee, and between her thighs where he found her wet and wanting. “I can’t wait to be buried inside you. You’re every man’s fantasy, Anne. You really don’t have any idea what you do to me.” “Make love to me, Jamie.” She smiled with anticipation as he toyed with her pulsing clit, which was already begging for release. He stripped out of his clothes quickly. Bending down, he took the erect nipple of one breast into his mouth and sucked through the lace of the red bra while he gently pinched the other. He flipped the front closure with his thumb, opening her breasts to his gaze. When he met her, Anne had been bothered by the scars resulting from her breast cancer six years previously, not to mention the defection of her fiancé after her mastectomy and reconstruction surgery. Jamie had to rather forcefully remind her just how lucky she had been to be cured of breast cancer and that a few little scars did not deter his ardor in the least. He gently ran his tongue over the sensitive and slightly puckered scars now, and she shivered at his touch. She crushed his face to her breasts and sighed as he nipped softly at her nipples. He circled his fingers around her swollen clit, barely grazing the center, as her pussy flooded with liquid heat at his touch. He plunged his fingers into her pulsing channel as she raised her hips, begging for more. He knew she needed this sweet release. He was like a drug to her, and he knew she couldn’t get enough. He ran his tongue along the seam of her rosy lips, and his masterful hands kneaded her bottom. When she was almost beyond reason, he rose above her and plunged his steel-hard cock into her silky center. The scent of her arousal had him pounding his thick cock into her slick pussy harder, faster. Her breasts rubbed against his hair-roughened chest as he crushed her

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mouth with a stunning kiss, stealing her breath. Jamie could feel her pulse racing and her explosive climax pulsing through her. His orgasm raced through him like electricity, pushing him over the edge into exquisite pleasure right behind her. As they coasted back to earth, he felt her inner muscles convulsing around his still-erect cock. He continued stroking her hot channel. His perfectly sculpted, rock-hard ass was the engine driving the piston that rocketed her into yet another rippling wave of sensation. He exploded into another violent climax as she stroked her hands down the solid muscles of his back. They slowly got their breath back. “So, Scarlett,” he said, “I hear tomorrow’s another day.” “That’s right, Rhett. I think I’ll sew these drapes into new a dress since we don’t have any costumes,” she said, her eyes closing as she rolled over to snuggle against his back, their legs entwined. **** Anne awoke Saturday morning to the sight of Jamie walking through the doorway to the master suite with a tray of strong, French Quarter-style black coffee and croissants with butter and preserves. He wore nothing but a pair of unbuttoned, worn blue jeans. She couldn’t decide if his lightly hair-covered chest and rippling abs or the breakfast was the more yummy sight. “Mornin’, baby,” he said in his delicious Southern drawl that seemed to deepen once they had reached New Orleans. “Rise and shine. We have a lot to do today. How about a ride along the levy this morning and then maybe lunch in town? My culinary skills stretch just so far.” “That sounds wonderful. But first, the coffee smells divine,” she said as she reached for a cup on the tray he had set on the bed beside her. When she picked up the folded linen napkin, a small, flat box fell to the bed. She looked up at him, and he just smiled. “For me?” she

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inquired with a grin. “Definitely for you. It’s not my style at all, chère.” He grinned. “Open the box.” She did as instructed and gasped when the lid of the box was raised. Lying on the bed of black velvet was a braided, brown leather necklace resembling horse reins with a chocolate pavé diamondencrusted horse’s head pendant set in yellow gold, with a bright-blue sapphire eye. “I didn’t want to get you a standard slave collar because you’ve been doing so well with your riding. I hope you like it.” She launched herself into his arms. “I love it. Nothing could be more perfect. Please help me put it on,” she requested breathlessly. He turned her around, and as she lifted her hair, he fastened the large gold lobster-claw clasp behind her neck. He settled the pendant over the hollow of her throat, and lifting her face up to gaze in her eyes, he said, “It looks just right on you—and you’re just right for me. So, now you’ve been collared, Ms. Sutton. What do you think?” “I think we’ve both got too much clothing on to properly appreciate my beautiful collar,” she said with a suggestive smile as she shrugged out of her silk sleep shirt and reached for the zipper of his blue jeans.

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Chapter Fourteen The twins had been at home for two weeks, and things were going well when Trent received a phone call from Jason Steele. Trent had instructed Christa to begin their English instruction, and being little sponges, they were picking the language up quickly. Once they were separated, their leg muscles started to strengthen, and they were beginning to crawl, playing with toys and tormenting his six-year-old, seventy-pound Goldendoodle, Snickerdoodles. “The Dude,” so named by his nephews, Enzo and Dino, was a good sport about the rough kisses and tail pulling. He allowed the twins to use him like a floor pillow when they had their bottles. He just lolled about, grinning with his tongue hanging out as they crawled all over him. “Trent, I just had a call from Ecuador. Someone claiming to be the twins’ father has filed an emergency petition to block your adoption proceedings,” Jason said apprehensively. “What? How can that be? The authorities had no information whatsoever about the kids’ family. They were dropped off at a church like dirty laundry,” he said, stunned. He dropped into the chair in disbelief. This was the second time in weeks that he had been struck by a “bolt out of the blue.” Trent had not seen or spoken to Paula, having decided to let that simmer for a while. He really did not understand women. “I don’t have all the information yet. I am having our local counsel look into this. We will just have to see what the story is. It may be an attempt to wring money out of the rich gringo doctor for all we know. With all the publicity about the operation and then about the twins being brought up here to recuperate, someone may think

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they can cash in on the situation.” Trent took a minute to gather his thoughts before speaking. “See what you can find out. My friend, the head of the surgical team, Dr. Jorge Gonzalez, may be able to be of some help. We should probably get DNA testing done on the twins immediately so we will be in a position to refute any unfounded claims quickly. I have no intention of sending them back to Ecuador unless there is absolutely no option.” “Okay. You see about the DNA testing, and I will be in touch with local counsel. Also, Trent, I didn’t think you would mind if I spoke with Justin about this. The Devereaus have a lot of contacts in Central and South America and may be able to help.” “Absolutely. Do whatever you think is best. We can’t waste any time getting ready to fight this.” “Well, Justin said he would get their attorneys in the capital to look into the situation. He also said to tell you that you have the full resources of the Devereau Foundation behind you on this. No holds barred.” **** When Paula got the call from Calleigh with the latest news, she was sick with worry. “Oh, Calleigh, this is going to kill Trent. I can see how much he already loves the banditos. I’m sure it’s even worse now, a couple of more weeks into loving them.” “Are you going to call him?” Calleigh asked hopefully. “No, not now. But please keep me advised if you can, and let me know if there is anything I can do.” Paula was heartbroken. Not only was she missing Trent more than she had ever expected to, she was also missing the twins she had had so little time with. Every day she imagined them growing and changing, and she was missing it all. It just isn’t fair. Maybe I was a little hasty.

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Chapter Fifteen Upon hearing the news, Jamie and Anne had returned to Ocala several days ahead of schedule, and on Monday morning, Gregory and Natasha were back in the offices at Le Club Beaudelaire-New Orleans. It had been a quick turnaround. They hadn’t really had time to settle into the Ocala club in the few weeks they had been there. After lunch Greg joined Natasha in her office to go over a few details on the memo Anne had left them. “I am glad to be home, Gregory. Was good to sleep in our own bed last night. Was fun to go to Florida for a few weeks, but I like it here better,” she said with a satisfied smile. “It’s always good to be home, baby,” he responded. “I think there’s something on your desk you might want to check out. Just a little something to thank you for being such a good sport about going to Ocala.” A long, white florist’s box wrapped in a red satin ribbon had been delivered while they were at lunch and sat on her desk. She looked at Greg inquiringly, and when he just smiled at her, she pounced on the box, as excited as a child. She knew that Greg was aware of her history. She hadn’t had much growing up, and he liked to buy her presents just for the fun of seeing how excited she got. She never disappointed him. Natasha tore the lid off the box and opened the green tissue paper to find a dozen long-stemmed, red American Beauty roses lying in the box. She gasped, stunned by their beauty. “Oh, Gregory, they are beautiful. I have never had red roses before.” She hurriedly took them from the box and rushed to find a vase in the club kitchen. When she

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returned to her office with the roses in a vase, she put them on the corner of her desk. “There’s something else in the box, Tasha. Look under the tissue paper,” he said with a smile of anticipation lighting up his strong masculine features. Natasha rushed to push the green tissue paper aside and squealed in pleasure. She looked up into Greg’s face. It was alight with the love and understanding she knew he felt for her. She reached down and picked up the red seven-rose flogger from amid the green tissue. By whip maker’s standards, it was a work of art. The seven supple, plush, black leather tails were tightly braided. Each was tipped with a beautiful red leather rose accented by a green leaf. The handle was covered in black leather as well and had a braided loop. “Oh, Gregory, it is so beautiful.” She dropped her eyes and then dropped to her knees in the slave position on the floor and said, “I can’t wait to try it, Master.” “There’s one more present,” he said as he reached down to take her hand and help raise her back up. He reached under the green tissue and pulled out a flat black jeweler’s box and handed it to her. Natasha gingerly opened the box, knowing it would be something important. “Oh, Master,” she said as tears flooded her blue eyes. “I don’t know what to say.” “Say you’ll be my obedient slave always, Tasha. I love you.” “Yes, Master, always,” she replied. He took the thin, black leather collar out of the box. It was studded with solid white-gold grommets and had white-gold dog tags with pavé diamond hearts embedded on the front of each one. Natasha turned them over and saw one was engraved with the word “Mine” and the other with the word “Always.” The date was delicately etched at the bottom with the name “Tasha” on one and “Gregory” on the other. He placed it around her neck and locked it in place with the gold padlock hanging from the end. He took the gold key, which was on a heavy gold chain, and put it around his own neck.

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She threw herself into his strong arms, and he crushed her to his heart. “I have wanted to give that to you for a while but wasn’t sure you were ready,” he said with a catch in his deep voice. “Oh, Gregory, I have been ready for a long time. There could never be anyone but you. You are the only man who has ever understood me, or who was ever strong enough to dominate me.” As Greg smoothed the curly tendrils of hair back from her face, she saw the tail of the colorful dragon on the back of his right hand. The tail slithered out from under the starched, white French cuff of his shirt. She knew where the tail led and what was under the shirt covering his muscular chest. It made her pussy gush with creamy anticipation. “Can we take a long lunch, Master, and try out my rose whip?” she asked breathlessly. He deepened his voice into the steely Master range and said, “No, slave! You will wait for your punishment and your pleasure until the end of the business day.” **** Gregory knew that the anticipation added tremendously to her pleasure and letting her direct the play would ruin the effect. He was dealing with a Domme who was barely under his command. He had to exert the maximum amount of control over her and himself if he was to prevail in subduing this woman. “Yes, Master,” she said humbly. **** At 6:00 that evening Gregory came into Natasha’s office and said, “Now, slave, we will go to the dungeon for your punishment.” He had changed out of his business suit and wore tight, black leather pants that enhanced his long muscular legs and impressive package. The imposing dragon on his chest glistened and seemed to pulse with life

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and fire. She rose from her desk, her legs trembling in anticipation. She picked up the red rose flogger and followed him to their favorite dungeon theme room. Natasha knew that Greg wanted a private room for this special night. He would be claiming her for always. She knew that this man was uniquely right for her. When they had unlocked the dungeon and entered, he said, “Strip, slave, and put on the cuffs.” When she had complied, he bound her to the chains hanging from the ceiling and bolted to the floor. She was immobilized and totally at his mercy. He strode around her, letting the tension build to impossible heights as she waited to see, and feel, what he would do. He picked up the rose flogger and ran the supple tails through his strong hands. She watched the leather tails slip through his fingers with both awe and longing. He stood looking at her as she trembled before him and slowly and gently ran the flogger over her body, skimming the bloodred leather roses lightly over the creamy skin of her breasts and belly, and down her thighs. She shivered as he walked behind her and repeated the process over her back and butt. She was so aroused that her pussy clenched, and moisture flooded from her sex. “Oh, please, Master,” she cried. “Silence, slave,” he said as he snapped the flogger, and a loud cracking noise split the tension in the air. He continued to stand just behind her, looking at her back and buttocks. She could feel them tremble in anticipation and excitement. She was eager for the pleasurable pain he was about to deliver and her total submission to him. He cracked the flogger and she jumped. She flinched as he ran the tails over her body again. When he finally cracked the flogger over her back and over her butt, the lightly stinging strokes elicited a sharp cry from her arched throat. The pain made her feel fully alive. The rose tails of the flogger lightly struck between her spread thighs and propelled her into a stunning orgasm. Electricity tingled up her spine and rolled through her body like lightning. Finally, she hung

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from the chains, drained and limp. He uncuffed her wrists and ankles and crushed her to his chest. He picked her up and took her to the sumptuously made bed in the corner of the dungeon and gently laid her down. **** He stripped out of his leather pants and lay down beside her, as he gently pulled her to him. Her mass of curling, blonde hair spread over the dragon’s head. He just held her as she came down from the endorphin high the pseudo whipping had engendered. The strokes had been lightly stinging and not nearly harsh enough to induce the incendiary orgasm that had exploded from her body. It was the anticipation, the fear, and the excitement of the scene that had provoked it. He knew that she craved his discipline. It was like a drug to her. He also knew it was a power struggle. His sub was anyone else’s Domme. He had to out-Dom the Domme, or she would try to take control. It was like having a lioness or a female wolf for a pet, dangerous yet exciting. He thrived on the constant challenge. “That was extraordinary, Master. I love my presents, and I love you,” she said as she snuggled down on his chest. The blood pulsed through his veins as he held a tight rein on his own desire. They were not done yet, and he knew that she eagerly waited for him to continue their encounter. Greg took her lips in a hard, brutal kiss, and she responded to his primitive demand by opening her legs to his hot and insistent cock, sucking him into her steamy heat. He was like the fire-breathing dragon emblazoned on his body, ready to explode as he pounded into her, impaling her. His orgasm exploded. The passion that smoldered in him was deep and dark. She convulsed around him, milking his iron shaft as his thrusting hips continued to pound into her until the exquisite pleasure poured through him and drained him. She followed him over the threshold into her own stunning orgasm.

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“You’re mine now, Tasha, completely and irrevocably mine.” He had claimed this woman who was perfect for him in every way.

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Chapter Sixteen The shock of the phone call from Jason had jolted Trent out of his lethargy. The threat of losing his two precious baby girls made him realize that he could not take anything for granted. He couldn’t wait for Paula to come to her senses and come back to him. He had to go and get her. If he wanted her badly enough, he would just have to bite the bullet and go in fighting. Trent knew that Paula could be a handful, and she could hold a grudge with the best of them. But he also knew there was not a more caring, loyal, and loving friend or lover. The trick would be getting past her defenses and going in for the takedown! Trent had directed Christa to take the twins in for DNA testing, and Jason and Justin were making the necessary inquiries in Ecuador. There was nothing else to do right now but get his own house in order—and that meant bringing Paula home. He waited until early evening and drove to the office of Ocala Country Life magazine, which was located in a converted Victorian house at the other end of Fort King Street. Her car was still in the small parking lot along with a few others. He parked and went in the front door. He politely greeted the receptionist who was still at her desk and said, “She’s expecting me,” which was totally untrue. He walked confidently back to Paula’s office. She was working at the large table in her office sorting and arranging pictures of Justin and Kelly’s wedding for the upcoming June layout. He stood in the doorway until she finally sensed someone was there and looked up. Clearly she was shocked to see him but said nothing. “You have two choices, subbie. You can come with me quietly,

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and we will have a talk, or you can make a fuss, and I’ll take you out of here over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. It’s up to you.” He waited patiently for her response. “You wouldn’t dare. My staff would call the police...” “No they wouldn’t, and you know it,” he said with a wide and confident grin. She stared at him in disbelief. He was perfectly capable of doing exactly as he said, and she knew it. She would be well advised to think quickly, or he would make her decision for her. His patience was wearing extremely thin. “I would advise you to consider your options carefully, Paula. I’m really on the edge right now, and pushing me over it wouldn’t be to your advantage.” “I don’t care about your ‘edge,’” she said with a huff. “That is also not true, and you know it. Make up your mind. Your time is running out.” She could be the most irritating, prickly, annoying, wonderful, and sexy woman he knew! His emotions were all in a jumble, and he wasn’t sure which end was up. **** Oh, I hate that smirky male look on his face, she thought. But she had to admit, even if only to herself, that she really didn’t hate his look or him and that, in fact, she loved him outrageously. I have missed you so much, you big jerk, but I can’t just give in and crumble. I have to have some dignity. “Oh, all right,” she said through gritted teeth. I really do not want to go out of here with my ass in the air and my staff looking on. She took her time closing down her computer, putting her paperwork and gear away, shutting off her light, and grabbing her purse—all just to irritate him. It was working. “Now, subbie. Time’s up.” “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” When they got out to the parking lot, she said, “I’ll take my own car.”

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“Not a chance,” he said as he firmly took her arm and guided her toward his silver Porsche Turbo. He opened the door and pushed her down into the seat, forgetting to be gentle. “If you think I’d fall for that one, you are really losing it.” Oh well, it was worth a try. “I’m losing it? I think that would be you, buddy! You just kidnapped a member of the press!” Okay, so that’s pushing the window of credulity just a bit. She grinned to herself. “Christa is at home with the kids, so I think we’ll get a nice quiet theme room at the club for this little discussion. It promises to get a bit loud—especially when I spank your butt,” he said, threatening the one thing that was bound to get her Irish up. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said again, knowing that was so totally not the case. It wouldn’t be the first time he had spanked her butt, and she didn’t look forward to a repeat performance. “You know I would dare, and right now the prospect is looking really tempting, so don’t push me.” Trent entered the security code at the gate, and they pulled into the club parking lot. He put his keys securely in his pocket and said, “Wait here. I’ll get a key. If you are not sitting right there in that seat when I come out, you are really going to regret it.” He used the Master voice that always got results. He gave her a stern look before climbing out of the car and slamming the door. She could see him grinning and whistling under his breath as he climbed the stairs to the front door of the mansion. She knew he thought he had her right where in wanted her. Oh, hell. He probably does. **** She was waiting when he came out with a key to the Executive Office theme room, and she was nervously twisting her fingers. It was the only theme room available on short notice without a reservation. He knew they would be comfortable there and would have total

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privacy. He took her arm and helped her out of the low-slung car. When she was standing firmly on her three-inch heels, he let go of her arm and allowed her to follow at her own pace. He knew he had to afford her some dignity, or she would be impossible to deal with. “I don’t know what we have to talk about,” she said in a stubborn voice as she lagged behind him, literally dragging her heels. She could be the most aggravating, stubborn, determined, fiercely loyal person he knew, and he had missed her terribly. The current problem with the twins had brought the situation into focus for him. He had to get her back. We all need her, but especially me. He was beginning to feel the edge of desperation. What if I can’t convince her to come back and give us another chance? He opened the door to the Executive Office theme room, ushered her through, and locked it behind them. “Have a seat, Ms. Greenley. We are going to have a little discussion,” he stated with a steely growl. “Why the hell are you so mad at me? I thought things were going really well before I left for Ecuador. What happened? And no bullshit. I want the real scoop, Snoop.” His use of Snoop and subbie, his two favorite nicknames for her, were calculated to soften her up. “Well, I guess you weren’t listening because I already told you in the car on the way back from Gainesville.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I told you that I loved you but that you only ‘cared about me,’ and I told you that was not enough for me.” “But I do love you, and I do care about you. Why did that piss you off?” He was dumbstruck. He just was never going to “get” women. “I have said it before, and I’ll say it again. You are really the stupidest man I have ever seen. No woman wants to make soulshattering love with a man and then have him say he ‘really cares’ for her. It’s just plain insulting. If you couldn’t say you loved me, you should have just kept quiet.” He took a moment to consider what she had said. “I’ll admit I was having a hard time with the words, but the feelings were all there,

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simmering to the surface, just about to spill over. I didn’t mean to insult you. I love you, Paula. You mean everything to me. I have known it for a while, but I just wasn’t ready to say so. I don’t know why, just stupid, I guess. Are you ready to hear it now? Or do I have soften you up some more?” He held his breath as he waited for her response. **** “I’m pretty soft already, you big jerk,” she said as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She was determined not to let them fall. She had already cried enough tears over Trent and the twins. She wanted to hold out a little longer, make him suffer a little more, but she knew she was falling fast. She really could not resist him, flaws and all. Her heart gave a glad little jump, but she squashed it. “Paula, I’m used to holding someone’s heart in my hands, literally. Can you trust me with yours? Will you take your collar back? Will you help me raise Maria Christina and Maria Teresa? I don’t want to have to do it without you. They need you, too,” he said with his heart in his eyes. She could see he was terrified she would say no. His pleading eyes melted her resolve. “I do love you, so much, and I already love them. Yes, yes, yes,” she said as she threw herself into his arms. Maybe I should have cut him some slack or given him a little more time. He pulled her close and held her like he would never let her go. She hoped he never would. “Let’s go home. I want to make love in our bed. If we hurry, we can tuck the kids in. I know they will be thrilled to see you. They have been asking for Tia Paula, but I want them to ask for Mommy.” They drove the short distance to his house, a large Tudor with a huge, oak-tree-shaded yard. When they walked into the nursery, they were greeted with wild cries of childish joy and many exuberant hugs and kisses from the two little banditos Paula had missed so much.

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They were already attired in their little footie sleepers, MT in pink with ballerinas and MC in pink with princesses. MC and MT were especially happy to see Tia Paula. After two stories and numerous hugs and kisses, they were finally tucked in on either end of the same large crib, with their huge teddy bears held close and their eyes heavy with coming slumber. They still weren’t ready to sleep in separate beds. Trent and Paula watched as their eyes finally closed. The twins were asleep before they left the room. As they walked up the stairs to the master suite on the second floor, Paula asked the question most on her mind. “What’s going on with the custody action? Calleigh told me about the challenge their father made to the adoption proceedings.” “First of all, we don’t know that the person challenging the adoption is actually their father. He could be anyone looking to grab the gold ring. The kids are very well known down there, and he might think he can cash in, whether he is actually their father or not. Secondly, if he is their father, he threw them away like trash. I would do absolutely anything in my power to prevent him from getting custody of them. Jason and our local Ecuadoran counsel are looking into the guy’s background. Justin’s legal people in Quito are also checking into the situation. We have a lot of backup. Dr. Gonzalez is firmly in our corner as well, and he is a national institution there. In the meantime, I have had the twins’ DNA profiled, so we will be able to know for sure if the guy is their father.” “It sounds like you’re doing all you can at this time. I guess you just have to wait and see what happens.” “No, we have to wait and see what happens. I am not kidding, Paula. I want you to be their mother, and I want you to stand by me on this,” he said, his face serious and worried. Trent opened the door to the master suite and pulled her into his arms as he pulled her inside. “God, I’ve missed you. I didn’t realize how much I had grown to depend on you, on your quirky sense of humor, on your smart-ass attitude, on your love, to keep me steady.”

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He slowly backed her up to the bed, pushed her back, and followed her down. He tenderly kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, and skimmed his questing lips down her throat to the delicate skin of her breasts. He unbuttoned her shirt, pushed it off her shoulders, and then he deftly unfastened her bra. The man is really good with his hands! “I want to make love to you here in our bedroom, baby. I’m not in the mood for any of that ‘Master’ crap,” he said. “Let’s keep that just for the club. I think the Hamiltons have the right idea. It’s a fun addition, but it’s not our life. You and me and the banditos in the crib downstairs are our life.” She caught his head between her hands and brought his lips down to hers, answering him without words. She smiled in anticipation as he stripped the rest of her clothes off and then his own. His lips burned a trail down her stomach, heading straight for the prize that waited between her parted thighs. He ran his hand over her mons and pussy, which was wet and creamy and waiting for his possession. He slowly parted her nether lips and caressed her aching clit. She had been hot since she had looked up and seen him standing in the doorway of her office. He’s just so freakin’ gorgeous. She ran her hands through his thick, wavy blond hair. And he’s finally all mine! She writhed under his touch, trying to get a firmer contact. This time I don’t have to worry about “topping from the bottom.” She grinned to herself. That usually got her a smack on the butt, not that that had ever stopped her! A little slap and tickle is fine once in a while, especially with some good old wall-banging sex, but tonight I want to make love, and that is a very different animal. **** He slipped two of his fingers into her hot channel, and she bucked off the bed as he continued to pump his fingers in and out, simulating the love act. He could feel her body quake. His pulse quickened as he watched her reactions. Determined to taste her sweet honey, he

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dipped his head down and took her clit between his lips and gently bit her, laving the bundle of nerves between her legs until he could feel her sky-rocket into oblivion. When she came back down, he continued to play with her swollen pussy, his fingers moving with exquisite tenderness. When she could finally move again, she wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him into her heated center. He began the rocking motion that escalated into a pounding rhythm as he moved harder and faster toward the prize. He had missed their usual intimacy since he’d had gone to South America. He was desperate for release. His cock was as hard as steel, and he pumped into her with mounting desperation. “I love you, Paula,” he said in his deep voice, needing to say the words now, as he pushed them both toward the edge. This woman challenged him in ways he had never expected. His expert fingers played her like a fine instrument, as he reached between their bodies and stroked her clit, and they both exploded into a violent climax, reveling in the rainbow of overwhelming emotions that engulfed them. They drifted to Earth, and he pulled her in close and whispered in her ear as his cock continued to pulse in her pussy, “You’re not going anywhere tonight, babe. I won’t let you go again. I love you.” He was amazed at how easily the words now slipped from his lips. “I wouldn’t think of it,” she responded as she nestled contentedly against his heart.

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Chapter Seventeen Upon his return from New Orleans, Jamie moved back into the Ming Suite on the third floor of Le Club. Progress was being made on his new residence at the farm, but it was not “move in” ready yet. Jamie took the Ducati for a spin to the farm. He and Justin had some catching up to do, and he was anxious to see Mark Taylor. He had been getting regular updates from Max and Justin, but he liked to keep a personal hand on Mark’s shoulder. Usually he could be kept in line with just the occasional raised eyebrow which was sufficient to make the necessary point. When he pulled into the main barn, he was glad to see that Justin and Max were there. When he saw Mark Taylor looking around the corner of Jester’s stall, he called him over, and handshakes, back pounding, and rough hugs ensued all around. Mark looked pleased and proud to be included as one of the guys, and it warmed Jamie’s heart to see him blossoming and making progress. Mark went back to cleaning Jester’s stall, and Jamie, Justin, and Max went into the small barn office and sat down. Justin handed out beers from the minifridge under the desk to everyone. Jamie asked, “How’s Mark doing?” “I’ve started him on some martial arts training, a mixed bag really, not concentrating on any one discipline right now. We’re just working on suppling, agility and strength training for an overview mostly to see where his talents may lie. We’re starting some shishikan karate jutsu, empty-handed street fighting techniques, joint locks, immobilization, pressure point, and low kicking. Both he and Kelly are doing great, but he seems to have a natural ability. His father did a

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good job with the beginning groundwork. He’s pushed his luck with Max a few times, to no avail.” He laughed. “And his room failed inspection once or twice, all teenage boy stuff, nothing to worry about. His mother has fixed up the cottage with curtains and stuff, and she’s planted flowers. It looks good. I think they’re happy there.” Max interrupted. “I do have one concern. I had a call today from Father Macquire. I didn’t have a chance to tell you about it, Justin. Apparently there is another boy in school, name of Mason Adams, who is giving Mark a hard time, bragging about his blue belt, and taunting Mark about being a charity case. Apparently his dad owns a local car dealership. Father Macquire says that so far Mark has resisted striking back. Mostly there has been some verbal sparring, and Mark has just walked away. Although Father Macquire has talked to the other boy, it has not done any good. Apparently he is a bit of an arrogant bully.” “Well, that’s bullshit,” Jamie said angrily. Mark was under his wing, and he’d be damned if anyone was going to pick on his protégé. Justin got up from behind the desk and stuck his head out the door of the office. “Mark! Office! Now!” **** Mark put the pitchfork down and walked into the office. He looked around at the three faces and wondered if he was in trouble for something he didn’t even know he had done. He gave the riding crop still hanging on the wall a worried look. “Relax, kid. You’re not in any trouble,” Jamie said. Justin and Max just grinned at him. “What’s the story with this Mason Adams? Father Macquire called Max about it.” “He’s just a jerk,” Mark said, not really wanting to elaborate. “Let’s have it,” Justin said. “We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on,” Max added. Jeez! Talk about being triple teamed. A guy doesn’t stand a

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chance around here! “He just has a big mouth, always bragging about his blue belt. Says I don’t have any belt, and my pants are probably going to fall down around my feet or some bull like that. I didn’t want to get in trouble for fighting in school, so I’ve just been trying to ignore him.” “Wise choice, Mark,” Max said proudly. “Maybe we should invite him out here to the dojo for a private match,” Justin said with a raised eyebrow. “What? He’d cream me! He has a blue belt!” Mark said. “Mark, you may not realize it, but you have been training on a daily basis with a tenth-degree black belt and fourth-dan master who is more than qualified to compete in and win at the Olympics if he chose to participate in the trials. I would not worry about Mason’s blue belt if I were you,” Max said shaking his head. “You apparently have no idea how much you’ve learned from Justin or how talented you are.” Mark looked astounded at this praise. “Maybe I should give his dad a call,” Justin said. “We can offer him a match as a way to settle the problem between the boys. Getting his butt whipped by the new kid in school may be just what this young man needs. With his natural strength, balance, and agility, I have every confidence that Mark is more than a match for him. It sounds like this kid needs a lesson in manners. Apparently, his sensei has not put much effort into his personal character development. That’s a shame. I think we should help him with that,” Justin said with a wicked little curl tugging at the corner of his mouth. **** The next day, Justin phoned Adams Sr. at the car dealership and explained who he was. “Mr. Adams, I think we need to help the boys work through this animosity that seems to have developed,” he said. “I think a one-on-one match between them will help them settle their differences without creating a discipline problem at school. How

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about Saturday morning at the dojo at our farm, Devereau Plantation South? Just go north on US 27, about fifteen miles past the interstate on the west side of the highway.” “Are you sure you want to subject young Mark to a match with my boy? He’s been in training for several years, and he’s very good you know,” he said with a touch of arrogance to his voice that raised Justin’s hackles. Apparently the little acorn hasn’t fallen far from the tree. I’d like to teach you some manners as well, buddy, but I’m afraid we’ll have to settle for teaching them to your son instead. Maybe it’s not too late for him. “I’m sure it will be fine, Mr. Adams. Mark hasn’t been in formal training for too long, but he’s making very good progress.” “We’ll see you Saturday morning then. Have a good day, sir.” Justin grinned to himself. You have no idea what’s coming your way, buddy. On Saturday morning, Mark was nervous despite pep talks from Jamie and Max. Justin determined that he and Kelly should do some katas and have a warm-up session to relax him. When Adams Sr.’s SUV pulled into the drive, Manuel phoned to let them know their guests had arrived and were driving back to the low, shingled building that contained Justin’s private dojo. Justin, his long hair tied back with a leather strip and wearing his formal, widelegged Yoseikan Bajutso gi and black belt, greeted them with a formal bow at the car. “Good morning and welcome to Devereau,” he said. “I am Justin Devereau, Mark’s sensei. We are looking forward to this match and hope it can resolve the problem that has been developing between the boys.” He looked at Mason Adams and saw a gangly, red-haired young man who was starting to have skin problems, wearing a white gi with his much touted blue belt. Justin had a brief flash of sympathy for the kid when he saw his father, who was all decked out as though he was going to play eighteen holes. Probably thinks he is after his kid cleans up the floor with the “charity” case. Not going to happen! You’re

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both in for a big surprise. “Please join us in the dojo. Do you need an opportunity to warm up, Mason?” he asked with a tone of polite concern in his voice. “No, thanks. I’m ready for Mark,” he said with a confident smirk. When Justin and Adams Sr. and Jr. entered the dojo, Mark and Kelly were in the middle of a kata. At Justin’s nod, they proceeded to finish the set of fluid, stylized movements. Mark walked forward, bowed to the visitors, and then offered his hand to both Adams like the young gentleman he was becoming. Jamie and Max, who had entered by another door and were quietly watching from the sidelines, were obviously proud of him. He was a polite, good-looking young man who had come a long way in a short time. “We have not been concentrating Mark’s training toward attaining belts at this point, so he does not have a colored one yet. Where do you study, Mason?” Justin asked. “The Marion Martial Art Center,” he answered with a cocky grin. “I have a blue belt.” “I can see that,” Justin replied politely. “Very impressive. You two can spar a bit to warm up if you would like.” “No thanks. Let’s just get to it,” Mason said confidently. Any sympathy Justin had felt evaporated. Mark and Mason each approached the mat in the center of the floor and bowed. They began to circle, eyeing each other carefully. Mason struck first with a right front middle punch, and Mark reacted by stepping to the left and blocking with his left inside palm to the outside of Mason’s arm just above his elbow and simultaneously striking with his right inside palm just below Mason’s elbow. He then moved into a left sliding step and countered with a right elbow strike to Mason’s rib cage. Mason recovered and attempted a right roundhouse kick to Mark’s face. Mark responded with a right outside block and grab to Mason’s head, dropping his leg to bring Mason to his knees. Mason attempted a knife-hand block to Mark’s ribs and a right hand strike to the side of

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Mark’s neck, grabbing his hair for a takedown. Mark regained control with a left knife-hand block and countered with a right elbow strike to Mason’s face and a right grab to his head followed by a left palm strike to his chest. Mason answered with a right outside knife-hand block, grabbing Mark’s arm and delivering a right side kick to his ribs. Mark pulled Mason’s arm and delivered a right hook kick to the back of Mason’s knee and a left reverse roundhouse kick to his ankle. Mark completed the takedown with a right ax kick to the back of Mason’s head. It was over in minutes. Mason stayed down this time, and Mark stood back, breathing a little heavily, but with a satisfied grin on his face. Mason did not know what had hit him. It was obvious he had not expected Mark to be able to stand up to his attack. Jamie and Max gathered around Mark, pounding him on the back in congratulations. They couldn’t care less about political correctness at this point. They were extremely proud of their boy. Justin gave Mark a wide smile over his shoulder as he put his hand down to help Mason up. He said, “I hope you have learned something today. You need to know more about your opponent before you make hasty judgments. Mark may not have been in formal training long, but he has a natural talent comprised of pure grit, lightning-fast reflexes, coordination, and natural grace that is going to serve him very well in the future. In a few more months, you won’t be able to touch him.” Mason had a disgruntled look on his face. He clearly had not been expecting this result. Mark walked over to him, bowed formally, and offered him his hand again. Mason looked like he didn’t know whether to shake or throw a punch. Justin put a hand on Mason’s shoulder and squeezed none too gently. In his deep Master’s voice, he said quietly in his ear, “This would be a smart time to make a friend instead of an adversary.” Mason responded by returning Mark’s bow and putting his hand out to shake. “See you in school on Monday,” Mark said with a

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friendly smile. Mason just nodded as his father, red faced and looking supremely dissatisfied, said, “What am I spending all this money on training for if you can’t even beat a rank beginner?” Mason looked embarrassed and just shrugged as he followed his father out to the car.

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Chapter Eighteen It took a week for the investigators in Ecuador to track down the person claiming to be the twins’ father. His attorney had not been forthcoming when they had requested DNA testing. The investigators had to use subterfuge to obtain a DNA sample from the purported father. They kept him under surveillance and waited until they could pick up discarded cigarette butts for testing. The samples were rushed back to the lab in Gainesville to test the DNA for comparison. In the meantime, investigators were running background checks on the individual, whose name was Juan Garcia. Trent and Paula were on pins and needles waiting for the results of the DNA test and background check. Another week passed before Jason heard from his counterpart in Manta. “Mr. Steele, it appears that Juan Garcia is an alias for a known drug dealer and petty thief whose actual name is Eduardo Francisco Perez. He has a brother whose wife ‘had a miscarriage’ a couple of years ago. We are quietly looking into the brother and his wife to see if we can determine if they might be the twins’ parents. Have you had any results from the DNA testing yet?” “We are expecting the results any day. In the meantime, see what else you can find out. Thank you for your diligence in this matter, Mr. Moya,” Jason said. “Might I suggest something rather personal, Mr. Steele? It might be evidence of good character and show good faith on the doctor’s part if he was married when the adoption matter comes up for hearing. A stable married relationship would look good to the courts here. We could amend the petition to include a wife. In this culture, la familia

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es todo. The family is all.” “Thank you for your input, Mr. Moya. I’ll discuss that with my client. I’ll be in touch as soon as we get the DNA results,” Jason said, concluding the conversation. He immediately advised Trent of the contents of the phone call. “I hesitate to advise you to get married on the strength of Mr. Moya’s opinion, but he might have a point. The customs in Ecuador are different than here. The courts might look more favorably on a married applicant,” Jason said hesitantly. “I don’t like to be bulldozed into a decision of that importance by someone else’s opinions, but I can see your point. Let me think about it and talk to Paula,” Trent replied. **** That night after Trent and Paula put the twins to bed, Trent broached the subject to Paula. He told her about Juan Garcia, alias Eduardo Perez’s background, the sister-in-law with the “miscarriage,” and Mr. Moya’s suggestion regarding the advisability of a quick marriage. Paula was stunned. “I know that lots of single parents adopt here, but I don’t know if my single status would be a detriment in Ecuador,” Trent said tentatively. “I hate to put this pressure on you, especially given recent events. I wouldn’t want you to think the only reason I want to get married is to facilitate the adoption proceedings. Conversely, I didn’t want to ask you to marry me without disclosing all the facts. What do you think, Snoop? Do you want to be a part of this little family permanently? I love you, and I have been planning to ask you to marry me regardless of what happens with the banditos. I just wanted to do it in a romantic setting when things had calmed down. This has just pushed up the timetable,” he said nervously. Her answer meant everything to him, and his heart was in his throat. He didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t say yes.

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“It’s not the most romantic proposal a girl has ever had,” she said. “But under the circumstances, I can overlook that. I really don’t want to be rushed into this either, but I do love you, and I love MC and MT. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure we can keep them.” “In that case,” he said, as he reached into his pocket for the small, black box he had been carrying around for a week, “will you wear this?” He opened the box and took out the three-carat, heart-shaped solitaire diamond engagement ring that matched the stone in her collar. He put it on her finger. Paula gasped as she turned her hand and sparks of light danced off the stone. **** Paula threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, putting all the feelings in her heart into the kiss. It was obvious to her that he had indeed been planning to ask her to marry him and not just because of the adoption. Three-carat, heart-shaped diamonds did not fall off trees. He had put some thought into this. Paula had always admired Trent for his exceptional character. He was strong but gentle and had a solid moral compass that always pointed in the right direction. She did not doubt a word he had said. “Let’s get the license tomorrow. Do you think you can put something together for this weekend? Maybe we can get some help from Anamaria Sanchez and Max,” Trent said hopefully. “I’ll call Anamaria tomorrow and throw myself on her mercy,” Paula replied as she snuggled against his chest. God, there is so much to be done. I know this is going to be rushed, but it’s the only marriage I plan to have, and I want it to be special. Paula called Anamaria, Calleigh, Kelly, Anne, and Robbie first thing in the morning, and all were given wedding assignments. Anamaria promised to call in all possible favors from her wedding vendors, and Kelly and Justin offered the use of the gazebo behind their house at the farm for the ceremony, which was to be small and very private, but hopefully beautiful nonetheless.

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Chapter Nineteen On Saturday morning, Paula and Calleigh were waiting for Anamaria’s signal to walk down the aisle to the flower-bedecked gazebo in the center of the pond behind Justin and Kelly’s house. A wedding breakfast was planned for after the ceremony, and Max and Anamaria had outdone themselves with the preparations at warp speed. Robbie and Kelly, with Christa’s help, had charge of the twins, who looked adorable in their little white dresses. Paula wore a tea-length, white Chantilly lace dress with a palepink, satin sash and a wreath of pink and white baby roses nestled in her curls. Calleigh thought she looked beautiful. Paula glanced at Calleigh and, shaking her head in amazement, said, “I really can’t believe this is happening—and so quickly.” “Just think of it as a ‘wartime’ wedding,” Calleigh advised. “Desperate times call for desperate measures!” Calleigh smiled at her best friend and squeezed her hand as the processional music began. She handed Paula the bouquet of pale-pink and white baby roses mixed with white calla lilies and baby’s breath, kissed her cheek, and preceded Paula and her father down the aisle. Calleigh thought Trent looked exceptionally handsome in a gray pin-stripe suite with matching vest and a pink boutonniere as well. He stood with Jason in the gazebo waiting for Paula, and Calleigh could see how nervous he was as she walked down the aisle. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. She just had to grin. She had been waiting for Trent to make his move on Paula for over a year. ****

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As Paula made her graceful way up the aisle, Jason clapped Trent on the back and, grinning from ear to ear, said, “Breathe. I wouldn’t want you to pass out before she gets all the way up the aisle.” “You’re right! That really wouldn’t be good,” he said nervously, gulping in some air. “God, she looks beautiful! You don’t think she’ll change her mind before she gets here do you?” “Well, if she has any sense...” Jason laughed. “But I don’t think she’s that sensible!” Just then the twins spotted Paula and called out to her, “Tia, Tia, you look so bonita! Besitos!” She smiled serenely and blew them kisses. Robbie and Kelly each held one of the twins in their arms, hoping to immobilize them for the duration of the ceremony. Trent thought the ceremony, though short, was poignant. He and Paula had each composed their own vows which were especially meaningful to them. Trent slipped the two-carat eternity wedding band made up of a slender row of small heart-shaped diamonds on Paula’s finger. When they had been pronounced husband and wife, Trent took Paula into his arms for a stunning kiss, dipping her low, to the delight of their assembled friends and family. Paula, her face pink, slowly came back to her senses, and laughing delightedly, she took Trent by his lapels and returned the favor. The twins happily chortled, “Besitos! Besitos!” After the ceremony, the party enjoyed a fabulous wedding breakfast with many toasts. Under the uncertain circumstances, Paula and Trent had decided to postpone a honeymoon until the adoption matters had been settled. Calleigh had invited Christa and the twins to spend the weekend at their farm to provide Trent and Paula with a short respite and some privacy over the weekend. **** Once back at the house, Trent carried Paula over the threshold and

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directly up the stairs to the master suite. I can’t believe I’m finally Mrs. Trent Redding. He pushed the double doors open with his foot and carried her to the seating area where Calleigh had left a silver tray with a cooler holding a chilled bottle of champagne, a pitcher of iced orange juice, and a tray of snacks. “Mimosa, Mrs. Redding?” he asked, smiling at his beautiful bride. “Oh, that would be wonderful, Trent,” she said as she kicked off the Chantilly-lace-covered shoes that matched her dress perfectly but pinched dreadfully. She sighed as the blood returned to her toes. She watched him pour the champagne and mix the orange juice. His hands were so beautiful. She never got tired of looking at them or at him. He brought her the tall-stemmed crystal glass and handed it to her. He sat on the sofa next to her and casually ran his hand up her silkstocking-covered leg past the one remaining blue lace garter, its mate having been tossed directly at Jamie Devereau’s unsuspecting head. “Can I help you out of these?” he inquired in a low suggestive voice. “You absolutely can.” She laughed, giddy with happiness, as she began unbuttoning his jacket and vest. They were out of their wedding clothes in a jiffy, and Trent had her naked on the bed in moments. He stretched out next to her after he quickly disposed of the remainder of his suit. She giggled, a little tipsy from all the toasts at the breakfast and now a mimosa. “I like to make love in the afternoon, baby. Then I can see your beautiful body, and it’s all mine.” “It’s been all yours for quite some time,” he replied, “even if you were ready to toss me back.” “I didn’t want to.... It nearly ripped my heart out....but that’s all behind us now,” she said. “Let’s never think about it again.” **** What a beautiful little pixie. So small…but not really delicate…a handful is more like it. He grinned to himself. He knew he was in for a lifetime of challenge and was ready to revel in it. There will be

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fights, there will be problems, there will be life, and we’ll battle through it together. After what they were currently going through, he didn’t think much could daunt them. “Okay. We’ll never mention it again,” he responded sincerely with his heart full of love. He ran his hands down her torso, stopping to lovingly tease her erect, dusty-pink nipples. He licked and nipped at them as she moaned. He could see the emotions swirling in her eyes as the mimosa apparently still swirled in her head. She sighed as she spread her thighs in invitation. Trent kissed his way down to her waiting pussy, and he felt the lightning rocket though her as he nibbled at the center of her desire, lightly flicking her pulsing clit with his tongue. He was going to make this memorable. He stroked her slick folds, and spread her lips wide. He plunged his tongue into her hot channel again and again. Moans of ecstasy poured from her throat, and moisture flooded her pussy. He wanted to make this last, but his arousal was spinning out of control. He mounted her and plunged his solid erection into her waiting pussy while he gazed into her fathomless hazel eyes. He stroked his hard, thick cock into her warm flesh, making her his. She begged him for more—harder, faster. **** Paula wrapped her legs around his waist as he pounded himself into her, and her body soared. She flew over the edge, taking him with her. A stream of molten semen shot into her, and her inner muscles convulsed around his pulsing shaft. The exquisite pleasure rolled through her, and she slowly floated back down. She watched the play of emotions over his expressive face as their breathing returned to normal, his semi-erect cock cradled in her tight passage. He hardened again, and slowly and with infinite patience, he began to stroke her to a second stunning orgasm, and joining her, he rocked her world again. “Happy wedding day, baby,” he said, rolling his considerable weight to one side. He pulled her into a tight embrace and nuzzled her neck as she settled comfortably against his chest.

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Chapter Twenty On Monday Trent received a call from the DNA lab. The results of the comparison of the twins’ DNA with that of Eduardo Perez was in. While there was a familial connection, he was not their father. Trent breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Perez was only after a financial windfall. That pointed to Perez’s brother and sister-in-law as the possible parents. His first call was to Paula at the magazine. “Babe, the results are in. Perez is a relative of the twins but not their father. I’m going to call Jason, and I’ll let you know what he has to say later.” **** Trent’s next call was to Jason, and he in turn contacted Victor Moya in Manta with the news. “Trent and Paula took your suggestion and were married over the weekend.” “I’ll amend our adoption request and appeal to the court to dismiss Perez’s emergency petition on the grounds that he has no standing. I would suggest that we quietly approach the biological parents and negotiate with them for their consent to the adoption. The fact that they left the children in a church shows some regard for their wellbeing. Maybe we can work this out amicably. I’ll stress that they are in no financial position to take care of children with potential special needs.” “Let me talk to Trent and some of our friends here. I think it would be beneficial for Trent and Paula to be in Manta for the

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hearing. Normally, I would advise that they distance themselves from the actual negotiations, but in this case, I think it might be a good idea for them to be present to show they care enough to make the effort.” Arrangements were made for Justin to fly Trent, Paula, Jason, Calleigh, and Kelly to Manta for the adoption hearing. It was an impressive entourage. The twins were left with Christa in Ocala. Trent and Paula had no intention of returning them to Ecuador before the adoption was final. They met Mr. Moya at his office. “I spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Perez. They were totally unaware of Eduardo’s attempt to benefit financially from the twins’ adoption. They were shocked. They are simple people and were overwhelmed and horrified by the twin’s physical problems when they were born. They have several other children and did not know how to handle it. They decided to turn the problem over to the church. They were unaware of the adoption proceedings and Eduardo’s scheme. They were very grateful that the twins had the benefit of medical treatment and would be able to live normal lives,” Mr. Moya said. “I stressed that the twins would need extensive medical care in the coming years.” In the end he had been able to obtain their consent to the adoption, and an emergency final hearing was set for the following day. Jason stood with Trent and Paula as they nervously waited in the corridor outside the courtroom. “What will we do if the adoption petition is denied?” Paula asked. Jason could see the uncertainty clouding her eyes, and his heart ached for both of his friends. “We’ll cross that bridge...” The bailiff called their hearing, and they all trooped into the courtroom, Paula and Trent holding hands tightly. The court hearing was short and successful. The petition of Eduardo Perez was dismissed by the court after testimony regarding his criminal record and character were presented. The judge accepted the consent to the adoption by the twins’ birth parents, and Trent and Paula left the court house with the final adoption papers in their hands. The party headed

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directly to the airport. They determined that the best victory celebration would be held at home with “their kids.” “Well, Mrs. Redding, are you ready to go home and see your kids?” Trent asked his new wife. “You bet, Dr. Redding. I can’t wait to tell them to call me ‘Mommy’ instead of Tia Paula!” she replied, with a huge smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

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Epilogue Emily Rose Steele turned one year old the following May. Calleigh and Jason had a huge birthday party at their farm. All the usual suspects were there, it seemed, including half of Ocala. There were pony rides for the children, a bounce house, as well as a clown and magician. They didn’t miss a birthday trick. Jason walked up behind Calleigh’s chair and nibbled her neck. He whispered, “I think it’s time for the clown and magic show. Maybe you should hold Emmie in case she gets scared.” “Emmie? Scared? Ha! She’ll take over the show if they aren’t careful!” she grinned. Her daughter was turning out to be a handful. She was bright, fearless and entirely too mobile. She had been an early walker and talker. Jason smiled proudly. Little acorns… “I can’t believe Emmie is a whole year old,” Paula said in wonder. “So much has happened. Trent and I married with two kids, Justin and Kelly are married a whole year, Jamie and Anne are living together at the farm. It’s amazing!” “Don’t forget Max and Anamaria moved into his cottage as well. I just knew something good was going to happen there. And some more good news for Anne. My old friend from high school, Madison Snow, has finally sold her house in New Jersey and moved back to Ocala with her son, and she’s going to be taking over my old job at the club.” Kelly, looking shy but glowing like a rose said, “And one more piece of good news, Justin and I are expecting!” The girls all gave squeals of joy. It was going to be a pleasure to have such good friends to raise their babies with—for laughter, friendship, and support in good times and bad.

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“I still want to design a kitchen just like Max and Anamaria’s for our house, but who has time. There’s always another project getting in ahead of my personal stuff,” Calleigh replied with a sigh. Paula piped up, “And don’t forget, you promised me a new kitchen for our house. And I’m a client, so I come first,” she said, without a drop of remorse. Calleigh just laughed at her. Paula sighed in contentment. I couldn’t be more lucky, especially when I think of what could have happened. We could have lost the kids, but I have my little family, my wonderful husband, my career, and life couldn’t be better! **** Trent grinned. He knew his wife was not going to be satisfied until she had that new kitchen. Calleigh didn’t stand a chance. Paula was as stubborn and determined as ever, and he loved every minute of it. Marriage to Paula had turned out exactly as he had hoped it would be—a real challenge and an adventure every day. The twins were growing like weeds, and they were well adjusted and healthy. They spoke both English and Spanish and were starting to learn to read. He knew he was the luckiest man alive. Life was good.

THE END WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/SKYEMICHAELSBOOKS [email protected]

ABOUT THE AUTHOR I was born in New Jersey and grew up an only child on a small farm in the “Garden State.” My father grew acres and acres of flowers for commercial florists and various produce such as tomatoes. My high school years were spent at Wayne Hills High School, where I was not one of the popular preppy kids, or one of the hoods—which kind of left me in limbo as I wasn’t one of the brainiacs either. Weekends were spent going into “the City” and Greenwich Village with my friends and doing a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have— don’t tell my grandkids! After attending Katharine Gibbs School in Montclair, New Jersey, I began a career as a legal secretary and then a paralegal. I moved to Florida and currently live in Davie, Florida, with my dog, Snickerdoodles, and my cat, Mimi. I was married for eight years but have been single for many years. My major addiction is jewelry, but any kind of shopping will do for a fix! After my long-time job as a paralegal was ended by the economic downturn, I decided to turn lemons into lemonade and finally write the stories I’d had in my head for many years. I had always wanted to write romance novels, but my family and job kept me too busy. My major interest aside from my family and friends is horses. I enjoy putting an animal character into my stories if possible. I am extremely “low tech” and probably should have been born in the 1800s as I enjoy driving a horse and buggy for fun. I also enjoy horseback riding, but the ground has gotten harder and further away over the years. I have a small farm and vacation home in Ocala, Florida which is my favorite place in the world. There’s nothing as wonderful as swinging in the hammock in the shade and listening to the music of the wind in the pines while cuddled under a quilt reading a good book. Books have always been my escape into love and adventure, and through reading I have been able to be many people, do many things,

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and go to many wonderful places I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to be, do or see. I hope that all hard working women who have a moment to put up their tired feet and relax with a cup of coffee (or a glass of wine) enjoy getting to meet my fantasy friends and to experience something new and different with a touch of hot romance thrown in for good measure!

Also by Skye Michaels Siren Classic: Le Club 1: Calleigh’s Collar Siren Classic: Le Club 2: Kelly’s Challenge Siren Classic: Le Club 3: Anne’s Courage

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

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