“You’re not the kind of guy who’d sleep with a girl like me.”

Caleb couldn’t deny the truth. He didn’t fool around with good girls, regardless of how well they cooked. “What’s your point?”

Pandora’s delicate fingers skipped down the row of pearly buttons, unfastening her dress as they went. Caleb had faced strung-out drug dealers shoving guns in his gut and kept his cool. But the minute that dress cleared her belly button, he swore the room did a slow spin.

Damn, she was incredible.

She walked toward him, the black dress hanging loose from her shoulders. When she reached him, Caleb’s hand automatically gripped her hips. She smiled, then leaned even closer so her body pressed tight against his. She reached between them and slid her palm over the hard length of his sex, making his erection jump desperately against the constraining fabric of his slacks.

He groaned in delight.

“And that’s the proof that the aphrodisiacs work,” Pandora told him just before she pressed her mouth to his.

Dear Reader,

Do you believe in aphrodisiacs? I love the idea that something delicious can have a little extra punch (especially during the holidays, when there are so many yummy things around!) And when I had two reluctant characters, who needed a nudge in the right direction, what else could I do but offer them something irresistible to push them over the sensual edge? In this case, that something included chocolate.

Sex, Lies and Mistletoe features two very special guests, too—Paulie and Bonnie, cats who live at the Furry Friends Animal Shelter. Find out about them and all the other Blaze® Authors Pet Project pets, on the Blaze® Authors blog—http://blazeauthors.com. Please, come by and say hi!

And if you’re on the web, be sure to drop by my website at www.TawnyWeber.com. While you’re there, check out my members-only section with its special contests, excerpts and other fun.

Happy reading!

Tawny Weber

About the Auther

TAWNY WEBER is usually found dreaming up stories in her California home, surrounded by dogs, cats and kids. When she’s not writing hot, spicy stories for Blaze®, she’s shopping for the perfect pair of shoes or drooling over Johnny Depp pictures (when her husband isn’t looking, of course). Come by and visit her on the web at www.tawnyweber.com or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/TawnyWeber. RomanceAuthor

Sex, Lies And Mistletoe
Tawny Weber

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all the wonderful people who read my books.

You bring untold joy to my life. Thank you!

Prologue

“I’VE MADE THE ARRANGEMENTS. Everything is in place.”

As the assurance echoed through his speakerphone, Tobias Black leaned back in his Barcalounger, shifted an unlit cigar between his teeth and grinned.

“That was fast. I didn’t think you’d pull it off.”

A lie, of course.

He’d known once the challenge was issued, it’d be impossible to resist. Just as he’d known that the person he’d challenged had the power to make it happen. Tobias Black only worked with the best. Even when the best’s main goal in life had once been to arrest him.

Tobias looked at the pictures framed and fading on his study wall. A gap-toothed trio of schoolkids with wicked looks in their golden eyes and hair as black as night.

Damn, he missed them. All three had turned their backs on him eight years ago. Caleb because he rejected what his father stood for. Maya out of disappointment. And Gabriel? Tobias gave the photo of his middle child, his youngest son, a worried frown. Gabriel in fury, determined to prove that he was twice as good and twice as clever as his old man.

They’d all felt justified in leaving.

And Tobias felt justified in bringing them back. A man spent his life building a legacy, he needed his children to hand it down to.

“You’re sure you can handle your part?”

Tobias laughed so hard the cigar fell from his lips. Him? Handle a part? That was like asking if the sun was gonna rise in the morning.

“I’ll play my part like Stevie Ray Vaughan played guitar.”

Silence. Tobias rolled his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t so farfetched to ask if he could handle the part if he could so easily forget who he was talking to. “Let me rephrase that. I’ll play my part like Babe Ruth hit the ball.”

“If you’re not careful, cockiness could be your downfall.”

Tobias almost brushed that away like an irritating bug. Then he sighed. Only a stupid man ignored a fair warning.

“There’s a fine line between confidence and cockiness. I’ll watch my step.” He glanced at his eldest son’s photo. “Caleb will take the bait. He won’t want to come home, but he will. Loyalty is practically his middle name.”

“You think he’s loyal to you after all these years?”

“To me? Absolutely not.” And that hurt like hell, but it was the price Tobias paid for ignoring his kids to feed his own ego. “But he’s loyal to Black Oak.”

Tobias was gambling everything on Caleb caring about Black Oak. A small town in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains, Black Oak was in many ways the same as when it’d been founded a hundred years ago. A quaint and friendly community.

And now it had a drug problem. Tobias might have no problem skirting the law—or hell, laughing in its face—but he was a man who had zero tolerance for drugs. Especially when those drugs were being dealt in a way that conveniently pointed the finger his way.

It would be smarter to let the locals deal with the drug problem. If the evidence kept pointing at Tobias, they could be more easily … influenced. Because the sad truth was, there were still a few outstanding crimes that Tobias could be arrested for, with the right evidence. And there were hints that whoever was pulling off this drug ring had access to the right evidence. So bringing the feds in was a huge risk.

Someone was framing him. And they had enough dirt to do the job well. And it looked as if they were planning it all here in Black Oak.

That little bit of info he wouldn’t share with the feebies.

Because he knew he had to offer up a big enough lure to get the FBI’s attention, but not so big that they’d insist on coming in and playing it their way.

He wanted control of this venture.

“This is a huge undertaking, Black. All indications are that the drugs moving into Black Oak are yours. And now you’re planning to play your family, who know you well enough to see the game. You’re talking about playing a townful of people, many of whom depend on you. And more important, you’re going to have to play the FBI, who, as a general rule, want nothing more than to arrest you.”

He wanted to point out that he’d played them all, quite successfully, many times before. But bragging was rude. More important, ego was the first nail in the coffin of a good con.

“And your point is?” he asked instead.

“My point is, you’re not as young as you once were. And you’ve been out of the game for a while.” There was a pause, then a soft sigh that made Tobias’s smile drop away. “You’ve got a lot on the line. Are you sure you’re willing to risk it all? Because if this goes bad, the FBI is going to reel you in and toss your ass in jail for a good long time.”

Tobias rolled the cigar between his fingers, staring at the unlit cylinder.

He considered what he’d built here in Black Oak. After a lifetime of running cons, he’d settled down and gone legit five years ago. He’d been quietly making reparations over the years, but paying back a few hundred grand wasn’t going to stop the FBI from nabbing him if they had a chance. He could opt out, let someone else take point. The risks were huge.

But then, so were the stakes. And every good con knew, it was the high-stakes games that were worth playing.

“I can handle it.”

“And your kids?”

Tobias sighed, pushing to his feet and pretending his bones didn’t protest at stretching quickly in the damp winter chill. He tossed the cigar on his desk and strode over to stand before the pictures.

Caleb, Maya and Gabriel.

Smart kids. Good-looking, shrewd and nimble-fingered, even as little punks. Once, they’d thought he’d spun the sun on the tips of his fingers and carried the moon in his back pocket. Once, they’d believed in him. Once, they’d been in his life.

Now? Now he’d settle for one out of three.

“I can handle it,” he repeated.

And before this game was through, he’d know who was behind the drugs, who was trying to set him up. Whatever fledgling crime ring was forming would be busted.

If he won, his kids would be a part of his life again.

And if he lost? At long last, his ass would be locked up in the federal pen.

But Tobias Black didn’t lose.

1

DAMN SEX. IT RUINED everything.

“I can’t believe I’m back in Black Oak.” Pandora Easton’s murmur was somewhere between a sigh and a groan as she dropped a dusty, musty-smelling box on the floor behind the sales counter.

“No guy, no matter how good in bed, is worth losing your job, your reputation or your self-respect for,” she muttered to herself as she looked around Moonspun Dreams. The morning light played through the dance of the dust motes, adding a slightly dingy air to the struggling New Age store.

Sometimes a girl just needed to come home. Especially when she didn’t have a choice.

Even if that home was falling apart.

Two months ago, she’d been on top of the world. An up-and-coming pastry chef for a well-known bakery in San Francisco, a gorgeous boyfriend and a strong belief that her life was—finally—pretty freaking awesome.

Then, poof, everything she’d worked so hard for the last several years was gone. Destroyed. Because she’d fallen for a pretty face, been conned by a smooth line, and worst of all, ruined by a good lay.

Nope. Never again.

Pandora was home now.

Which was really just freaking awesome.

With a heavy sigh, she poked one finger at the box she’d rescued from next to a leaking pipe in the back room. It was unlabeled, so she’d have to see what was inside before she could figure out where to put it.

To disguise the musty scent, she lit a stick of prosperity incense. Then Pandora rubbed a speck of dust off a leaf on the braided money tree she’d brought in this morning to decorate the sales counter, and tidied a row of silken soy wax candles with embedded rose petals.

“Not a bad display from a recently fired bakery manager,” she commented to Bonnie.

Bonnie just cocked her head to one side, but didn’t comment. Since she was one of the two store cats, Pandora hadn’t expected much response. Probably a good thing, since the last thing Pandora’s ego needed was anyone, human or feline, to point out all the crazy reasons for her thinking returning home to start her life over was going to work.

The cats, like the rest of Moonspun Dreams, were now Pandora’s responsibility. She was excited about the felines. But the jury was still out on the quirky New Age store that’d been in Pandora’s family for decades. The very store Pandora had wanted to get away from so badly, she’d left town the day after she’d graduated high school.

Before she could settle into a good pout, the bells rang over the front door. Bringing a bright smile and a burst of fresh air, Kathy Andrews hurried in. One hand held a bakery bag, the other a vat-size cup of coffee.

“I’m here to celebrate,” Kathy sang out. She stepped over the black puddle of fur that was Paulie the cat sunning himself on the braided carpet, and waltzed across the scarred wooden floor.

“What are we celebrating?”

“That you’re back in Black Oak. That you’re taking over the family store. Not just for the month your mom is in Sedona for that psychic convention, but for good. And, more important, we need to celebrate the news that your best friend had some really great sex last night.”

Pandora exchanged looks with Bonnie. There it was, sex again. But this was Kathy’s sex. It wasn’t as if that could mess Pandora’s life up.

“I’m not so sure having to come home because I failed out there in the big bad world is an excuse to party,” Pandora said with a rueful laugh as she took the bakery bag and peeked inside. “Ooh, my favorite. Mrs. Rae’s éclairs. I thought she’d retired.”

“Mr. Rae’s off competing in some pumpkin-carving contest until next Saturday, leaving Mrs. Rae home alone for their anniversary week. Cecilia said her mom dropped off four dozen éclairs this morning with notice that she’d be making pies, too.”

One of the joys and irritations about living in a small town was knowing everyone, and everyone knowing your business. In this case, both women knew Mrs. Rae’s irritation meant cherry pie by dinner.

“Cecilia seemed surprised when I mentioned I was coming here,” Kathy said, not meeting Pandora’s eyes as she took back the bag and selected an éclair. “She said she thought Moonspun Dreams was doing so bad, your mom had given up keeping it open on weekends. I know I should have given her a smackdown, but the éclairs smelled too good.”

While Kathy dived into her éclair with an enthusiastic moan, Pandora sighed, looking around the store. When she’d been little, her grandmother had stood behind this counter. The store had been filled with herbs and tinctures, all handmade by Grammy Leda. She’d sold clothes woven by locals with wool from their own sheep, she’d taught classes on composting and lunar gardening, led women’s circles and poured her own candles. Grammy had been, Pandora admitted, a total hippie.

Then, when Pandora had been thirteen, Granny Leda had retired to a little cabin up in Humboldt County to raise chinchillas. And it’d been Cassiopeia’s turn.

Her mother’s intuitive talents, the surge of interest in all things New Age, and her savvy use of the internet had turned a quirky small-town store into a major player in the New Age market. Moonspun Dreams had thrived.

But now that the economy had tanked and New Age had lost its luster, it was almost imploding. Leaving Pandora with the choice of trying to save it. Or letting it fade into oblivion.

“Cecilia was right. Things are really bad,” Pandora said. “No point in risking the best éclairs in the Santa Cruz Mountains over the truth.”

“And now Moonspun Dreams is yours. Are you going to give up?” Kathy asked quietly, holding out a fingerful of the rich cream for the cat. They both watched Bonnie take a delicate taste while Pandora mulled over the slim choices available.

Her mother had said that she’d run out of ideas. She’d told Pandora before she left to be the keynote speaker at the annual Scenic Psychics conference that the store was hers now. And it was up to her to decide what to do with it.

After sixty years in the family, close up shop and sell the property.

Or fight to keep it going.

Her stomach pitched, but of the two, she knew there was only one she could live with.

“I can’t give up. This is all I have, Kath. Not just my heritage, given that Moonspun Dreams has been in the family for four generations. But it’s all I’ve got now.”

“What are you going to do? And what can I do to help?” Both questions were typical of Kathy. And both warmed Pandora to the soul, shoving the fears and stress of trying to save a failing business back a bit.

“I don’t know. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure something out.” Her smile quirked as she gestured to the small table in the corner. Rich rosewood inset with stars and moons, part of the table was covered by a brocade cloth and a handful of vividly painted cards. “I’ve finally reached the point of desperation.”

Kathy’s eyes widened. Pandora had sworn off all things metaphysical back in high school, claiming that she didn’t have the talent or skill. The reality was that Cassiopeia was so good at it, nothing Pandora did could measure up. And she’d hated knowing she’d never, ever be good enough.

“What’d the reading say?”

“Tarot really isn’t my forte,” she excused, filling her mouth with the sweet decadence of her éclair.

“Quit stalling. Even if you don’t have that psychic edge like your mom, you still know how to read.”

That psychic edge. The family gift. Her heritage.

Her failure.

“The cards weren’t any help,” she dismissed. “The Lovers, Three of Swords, the Tower, Four of Wands and the Seven of Swords.”

The éclair halfway to her lips, Kathy scrunched her nose and shrugged. “I don’t understand any of that.”

“I don’t, either.” Pandora’s shoulders drooped. “I mean, I know what each card means—I was memorizing tarot definitions before I was conjugating verbs. But I don’t have a clue how it applies to Moonspun Dreams. It doesn’t help me figure out how to save the business.”

Yet more proof that she was a failure when it came to the family gift. Handed down from mother to daughter, that little something extra manifested differently in each generation. Leda, Pandora’s grandmother, had prophetic dreams. Cassiopeia’s gift was psychic intuition.

And Pandora’s? Somewhere around her seventeenth birthday, her mother had decided Pandora’s gift was reading people. Sensing their energy, for good or bad. In other words, she’d glommed desperately onto her daughter’s skill at reading body language and tried to convince everyone that it was some sort of gift.

Despite popular belief, it hadn’t been her mother’s overdramatic lifestyle that had sent Pandora scurrying out of Black Oak as soon as she was legally able. It’d been her disappointment that she was just an average person with no special talent. All she’d wanted was to get away. To build a nice normal life for herself. One where she wasn’t always judged, always found lacking.

Then she’d had to scurry right back when that nice normal life idea had blown up in her face.

“You’re going to figure it out,” Kathy said, her words ringing with loyal assurance. “Your mom wouldn’t have trusted you with the store if she didn’t have faith, too.”

“The store is failing. We’ll be closing the doors by the end of the year. I don’t think it’s as much a matter of trusting me as it is figuring I can’t make things any worse.”

Pandora eyed the last three cream-filled pastries, debating calories versus comfort.

Comfort, and the lure of sugary goodness, won.

“These are so good,” she murmured as she bit into the chocolate-drenched creamy goodness.

“They are. Too bad Mrs. Rae only bakes when she’s pissed at her husband. Black Oak has a severe sugar shortage now that she’s retired.” Kathy gave her a long, considering look. “You worked in a bakery for the last few years, right? Maybe you can take over the task of keeping Black Oak supplied with sweet treats. You know, open a bakery or something.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun,” Pandora said with a laugh. Then, because she was starting to feel a little sick after all that sugary goodness, she set the barely eaten éclair on a napkin and slid to her feet. “But I can’t. I have to try to make things work. Try to save Moonspun Dreams. Mom was hoping, since I’d managed the bakery the last two years, that maybe I’d see some idea, have some brilliant business input, that might help.”

“And you have nothing at all? No ideas?”

Failure weighing down her shoulders, Pandora looked away so Kathy didn’t see the tears burning in her eyes. Her gaze fell on the dusty box she’d hauled in earlier.

“We’ve got a leak in the storeroom,” she said, not caring that the subject change was so blatant as to be pathetic. “Most of the stuff stored in that back corner was in plastic bins, so it’s probably seasonal decorations or something. But this box was there, too. It’s my great-grandma’s writing, and from the dust coating the box, it’s been there since she moved away.”

“Oh, like a treasure chest,” Kathy said, stuffing the éclairs back in the bag and clearing a spot on the counter. “Let’s see what’s in it.”

Pandora set the box on the counter and dug her fingernail under one corner of the packing tape. Pulling it loose, she and Kathy both winced at the dust kicking them in the face.

She lifted the flaps. Kathy gave a disappointed murmur even as Pandora herself grinned, barely resisting clapping her dirty hands together.

“It’s just books,” Kathy said, poking her finger at one.

“My great-grandma Danae’s books,” Pandora corrected, pulling out one of the fragile-looking journals. She reverently opened the pages of the velvet-covered book, the handmade paper thick and soft beneath her fingers. “This is better than a treasure chest.”

“Oh, sure. Piles of gold coins, glistening jewels and priceless gems is exactly the same thing as a box of moldy old books.” Still, Kathy reached in and pulled a leather-bound journal out for herself, flipping through the fragile pages. Quickly at first, then slower, as the words caught her attention.

“These are spells. Like, magic,” she exclaimed, her voice squeaking with excitement. “Oh, man, this is so cool.”

A little giddy herself, Pandora looked over at the book Kathy was flipping through. “Grammy Danae collected them. I remember when I was little, before she died, people used to call her a wisewoman. Grammy Leda said that meant she was a witch. Mom said she was just a very special lady.”

“Do you think she really was a witch?” Kathy asked, glee and skepticism both shining in her eyes.

“I’m more inclined to believe she was one of the old wives all those tales were made from.” Pandora laughed. “Despite the rumors, there’s nothing weird or freaky about my family.”

She wanted—desperately needed—to believe that.

“But wouldn’t it be cool if these spells worked? Say, the love ones. You could sell them, save the store.”

“It’s not the recipe that makes a great cook, it’s the power,” Pandora recited automatically. At her friend’s baffled look, she shrugged. “That’s what Grammy always said. That words, spells, a bunch of information … that wasn’t what made things happen. Just like the tarot cards don’t tell the future, crystals don’t do the healing. It’s the intuition, the power, that make things happen.”

“I’ll bet people would still pay money for a handful of spells,” Kathy muttered.

“They’d pay money for colored water and talcum powder, too.” Pandora shrugged. “That doesn’t make it right.”

“Maybe you can offer matchmaking or something,” Kathy said, studying the beautifully detailed book. “People would flock to the store for that kind of thing.”

For one brief second, the idea of people believing in her enough to flock anywhere filled Pandora with a warm glow. She wanted so badly to offer what the other women in her family had. Comfort, advice, guidance. And a little magic.

Then her shoulders drooped. Because she had no magic to share. Even the one little thing her mother had tried to claim for her had been a failure.

“I’d let people down,” she said with a shake of her head. “Hell, when it comes to love stuff, I even let myself down.”

“You can’t let that asshole ruin your confidence,” Kathy growled, lowering the book long enough to glare. “It wasn’t your fault your boyfriend was a using, lying criminal.”

“Well, it was my fault I let him dupe me, wasn’t it? If I was so good at reading people, I’d have seen what was going on. I wouldn’t have let the glow of great sex cloud my vision.”

Just thinking about it made her stomach hurt.

She’d thought she was in love. She’d fallen for Sean Rafferty hard and fast. The bakery owner’s son was everything she’d wanted. Gorgeous. Funny. Sensitive. Her dream guy. She’d thought the fall was mutual, too. Great sex with an up-and-coming pharmacist who seemed crazy about her. He didn’t care that she didn’t have any special gift. And she hadn’t cared that she couldn’t seem to get a solid read on his body language. He’d said plenty. Words of love, of admiration.

Then Sean had been busted in an internet prescription scam. And, as if her shock of misreading him that much hadn’t been enough, they’d informed her that she was under arrest for collusion. Apparently, her own true love had run his scam using her computer IP address, and then told the police it was all her idea. It’d taken a month, a pile of lawyers’ fees and the word of one of Sean’s colleagues shooting for a plea deal to convince the cops that she’d been innocent. Clueless, gullible and stupid, but innocent.

His mother firing her had been the final straw. Whether she fit in or not didn’t matter, Pandora had needed to come home.

“What’s that book?” Kathy asked, clearly trying to distract her from a confidence-busting trip down memory lane.

Pandora gave an absent glance at the book in her lap. Faded ink covered pages that were brittle with age. Some of the writing she recognized as Grammy’s. Some she’d never seen before. Then, a tiny flame of excitement kindling in the back of her mind, she flipped the pages. “It’s a recipe book.”

“Oh.”

“Make that Oh!” Pandora angled the book to show her friend the handwritten notes above the ingredient list. “These are recipes for aphrodisiacs. Better than love spells, these don’t rely on a gift. They just require a talent for cooking.”

“Oh, I like that. Maybe you can whip up a tasty aphrodisiac or two for me?” Kathy said with a wicked smile. “I’d be willing to pay a pretty penny for guaranteed good sex.”

“Hot and fresh orgasms, delivered to your door in thirty minutes or less?” Pandora joked.

“Sure, why not? Maybe your éclairs aren’t quite as amazing as Mrs. Rae’s, but you’re still a damn good cook. So why not use that? Use those recipes? Put the word out, see what happens. If nothing else, it’ll stir up a little curiosity, right?”

It was a crazy idea. Aphrodisiacs? What the hell did Pandora know about sex, let alone sexual aids? The last time she’d seen Sean, he’d been behind bars and, probably for the first time in their relationship, honest when he’d told her that she’d been easy to use because she was naive about sex.

So unless it was a how-to-survive-and-thrive-alone, a do-it-yourself guide to pleasure on a budget, Pandora had very little to offer.

But could she afford to turn away from such a perfect idea?

Her mother would say she’d found this box, this idea, for a reason. Could she take the chance and ignore fate?

Pandora puffed out a breath and looked around the store. This was her heritage. Maybe she didn’t have a gift like the rest of the women in her family, but couldn’t this be her gift? To save the store?

While her brain was frantically spinning around for an answer, she paced the length of the counter and back. On her third round, Paulie lifted his black head off the carpet to give her the look of patience that only cats have.

“I guess we should do some research,” she finally said.

“Don’t you have all the recipes you need in that book?”

“I’m sure I do. But I need to find out what kind of food is going to lure in the most customers. Then I can use the recipes to add a special dash of aphrodisiac delight.”

As she reached under the counter to get a notepad and pen so she and Kathy could brainstorm, she had to shake her head.

Wasn’t it ironic? It was because of sex that she’d had to run home and now sex was going to be the thing that saved that home.

Two months later

“I NEED A FAVOR … A sexual favor, you might say.”

The words were so low, they almost faded into the dull cacophony of the bar’s noise. Pool cues smacking balls and the occasional fist smacking a face were typical in this low-end dive. Sexual favors were plentiful, too, but usually they involved the back room and cash in advance.

Caleb Black arched a brow and took a slow sip of his beer before saying, “That’s not the way I roll, but Christmas is coming. Want me to slap a bow on the ass of one of those fancy blow-up dolls and call it your present?”

Hunter’s dead-eyed look didn’t intimidate, but it did make Caleb hide his smirk in his beer. Caleb was known far and wide as a hard-ass dude with a bad attitude. But when he was around Hunter, he came off as sweetness and light on a sugar high.

The man was a highly trained FBI special agent swiftly rising in the ranks thanks to his brilliant mind, killer instincts and vicious right hook.

He was also Caleb’s college roommate and oldest, most trusted friend. Which meant poking at that steely resolve was mandatory.

“Okay, crossing blow-up doll off my shopping list,” Caleb decided. “But you should know that my sexual favors don’t come cheap.”

“From what I’ve heard, dirt cheap is more like it.”

Caleb’s smirk didn’t change. When a man was as good as he was with women, he didn’t need to defend his record. Knowing Hunter would get to the point in his own good time, Caleb leaned back, the chair creaking as he crossed his ankle over his knee and waited.

Always quick on the uptake, Hunter pushed his barely touched beer aside and leaned forward, his hands loose on the scarred table between them. Even in the dim bar light, his eyes shone with an intensity that told Caleb the guy was gonna try to sucker him in.

But Caleb had learned suckering at his daddy’s knee.

“You’re coming off a big case, right?” Hunter confirmed.

Not quite the tact he’d expected. But it wasn’t his game, so Caleb just nodded. And waited.

“Word is you’ve hit burnout. That you’re taking some time off to consider your options.”

The smirk didn’t shift on Caleb’s face. But his entire body tensed. He wasn’t a sharing kind of guy. He hadn’t told anyone he was burning out except his direct superior, who’d sworn to keep it to himself.

“Word sounds like a gossipy, giggling teenager,” was all Caleb said, though. “Who’s the gossip and when did you start listening to that kind of crap?”

“It’s amazing how much information you can pick up through speculation.” Hunter sidestepped. “So while you’re considering those options, maybe you might be interested in doing a friend a favor?”

“I’m more interested in lying on a beach in Cabo with half-naked women licking coconut-flavored oil off my body,” Caleb mused, taking another swig of beer.

“What if I used the owe-me card?” Hunter asked quietly, his gaze steady on Caleb’s. Intimidation 101.

Last week, Caleb had faced down a Colombian drug lord who’d preferred to blow up the building he stood in than be arrested when he found out his newest right-hand man was actually DEA.

It would take a lot more than 101 to make Caleb squirm.

Then again, he did owe Hunter. Back in their first year of college, Caleb had been a better con than a student. Overwhelmed by the realities of college life, he’d cheated on his midterm psych project. Hunter had caught him. He didn’t threaten to turn him in. He didn’t lecture. He simply threw Caleb’s own dreams back in his face until he’d cracked, then helped him pull together a new project. He hadn’t snagged the A he’d hoped for, but Caleb had found a new sense of pride he’d never known. Shit.

Caleb hated unpaid debts. Especially sappy emotional ones.

“Cut the bullshit and get to the point,” he suggested.

Realizing he’d won, Hunter didn’t gloat. He just leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his own beer. “You’re from a small town in the Santa Cruz Mountains, right? Black Oak, California.”

It wasn’t a question, but Caleb inclined his head.

“You still have family there.”

“Maybe.” Probably. He knew his sister was living just outside of San Francisco, playing the good girl. And who the hell knew where his brother was. A chip off the ole block, Gabriel was probably fleecing some rich widow of her wedding ring. But their father’s family had founded Black Oak, and while Tobias Black hadn’t ever gone for the political game, he’d always kept his fingers on the strings of his hometown.

But Caleb hadn’t lived there since he’d left for college twelve years before. And he hadn’t been back at all since he’d graduated and joined the DEA.

Eight years before, two months before Caleb had graduated, they’d had one helluva family brawl. Ugly accusations, bitter recriminations and vicious ultimatums.

Tobias Black had raised his three kids alone when his wife had died, keeping the family tighter than peas in one very conniving pod. But with that explosion, they’d all gone their separate ways. Caleb had grown up with an almost smothering sense of family. These days he was more like an orphan.

Just as well. Spending time with Tobias was an emotional pain in the ass at best, a conflict of interest at worst.

“It’s an interesting little town. Quaint even. Your maternal aunt is the mayor, but word is that it’s actually your father who runs the town. Tobias Black, a known con artist with a huge FBI file and no convictions. Estimates of his take over the years is in the millions. And even knowing he was behind some of the major scams of the century, they’ve never gathered enough evidence to convict him.”

Arching his brow, Hunter paused. Caleb just shrugged. So his dad was damn good at what he did. Maybe it was wrong to feel pride in the old man, given Caleb’s dedication to the law. But you had to admire the guy for his skills.

“Five years ago, for no apparent reason, Tobias Black pulled out of the con games. He reputedly went straight, focusing his attention on his motorcycle shop and the small town he calls his own.”

“You’re saying a whole bunch of stuff we both know. Why don’t you get to the part where you fill me in on the stuff I don’t.”

“For the last few months, we’ve been getting reports of a new drug. Some new form of MOMA.”

“Ecstasy?” Caleb pushed his beer away since they appeared to be getting down to business. “What’s new about it?”

“It’s been refined. Higher-grade ingredients, some obscure herbs that counteract a few of the side effects.”

“Herbs? Like, what? Holistic shit?”

“Right. Not a major change, really. Enough to give sellers the ‘healthier choice’ pitch, but that’s about it. The problem stems from the addition of pheromones.”

Eight years in the DEA had told Caleb that just when he’d thought he’d seen and heard everything, some clever asshole would come up with a new twist to screw with the human body. He sighed and shook his head. “So not only does it give the user a cheap sexual zing, but they can drag unsuspecting suckers down with them?”

“Pretty much. As far as the labs can tell, it’s not a high enough grade to classify as a date-rape drug, but the potential is there.”

The potential to make things worse was always there. Once upon a time, Caleb had figured he could make a difference. But he’d been wrong. After years of fighting drugs in the ugly underbelly of society, Caleb was pretty much done waging the useless battle. He’d turned in his resignation two days ago, but his boss had refused to accept it. Instead, he’d told Caleb to take some time off. To go home, visit family, come out of deep cover for a few months and reconnect with himself before he made any major decisions.

The only piece of that advice Caleb had planned to take was the time off.

He noted the rigid set of Hunter’s jaw, then met the man’s steady gaze and gave an inward sigh. Looked as if he was wrong on that count, too.

“Can’t you feebs get in there on your own?” he asked. The bureau didn’t have the same mandate as the DEA, but still, they should have the resources to go in themselves.

“Let’s just say I’d rather use my own resources first.”

Caleb nodded. He’d figured it was something like that. Second-generation FBI, Hunter had a rep for playing outside the tangled strings of bureaucracy more often than not. His close rate was so high, though, that the higher-ups tended to ignore his unorthodox habits.

“You’re looking at Black Oak as the supply center. Have you narrowed down any suspects?”

Caleb wasn’t a fool. He knew where Hunter was going with this. But he wasn’t biting. He’d pony up whatever info he had on the town that might help the case, but that was it. He wasn’t going back to Black Oak.

Which Hunter damn well knew. One drunken college night, Caleb had opened up enough to share how much he hated his father, how glad he’d been to get the hell out of Black Oak. And how he’d vowed, once he’d left, to never return.

“Black Oak appears to be the supply center, yes. But that’s not the big issue for me.” For the first time since he’d strode into the bar and sat across from Caleb, Hunter’s eyes slid away. Just for a second. That’s all it took, though, to let Caleb know he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

No matter. Wasn’t much about life these days he did like.

Still, he took a swig of the beer. Never hurt to be prepared.

“We’ve tracked the source. As far as we can tell, there’s only one suspect.”

Caleb waited silently. Most people, when faced with six feet two inches of brooding intimidation blurted out secrets faster than a gumball machine spewed candy. But Hunter wasn’t most people.

“A reliable source tipped me to the suspect.”

Caleb dropped the chair back on all four legs, bracing himself.

“Tobias Black.”

Caleb mentally reared back as if he’d taken a fist to the face. He managed to keep his actual reaction contained to a wince, though. So much for bracing himself.

“He’s out of the game,” Caleb said, throwing Hunter’s own words back at him. He didn’t know if it was true, though. Sure, his father might claim he’d quit the con, gone straight. But the only thing Tobias was better at than playing the game was lying. Still, while cons were one thing, drugs were an ugly place Tobias wouldn’t go.

“He’s been making noises lately.” Hunter’s dark gaze was steady as he watched Caleb.

“Noises don’t equal manufacturing drugs.”

Hunter just stared.

Fuck.

“It’s not his style,” Caleb said, none of his frustration coming through in his tone. “I’m not defending him—without a doubt, he’s a crook, a con and a shill. The man’s spent his life pulling swindle after scam. But he operates on his own. Drugs come with partners. Unreliable, unpredictable partners.”

Which had been the crux of his family’s explosion. Tobias had found himself a lady friend. A lonely widower, he’d become a cliché, falling hard for a nice rack and promises made between the sheets. She must have been damn good, because she’d blinded the king of cons into letting her into his game. Fifty-fifty split.

His little sister, Maya, had screamed betrayal, claiming her father cared more about his bimbo than his own kids, the memory of his late wife and the legacy they’d built together.

His younger brother, Gabriel, had been pissed over losing half the take.

Caleb had just seen it as a sign to get the hell out.

He ignored Hunter’s arched brow. For the first time since sitting down, Caleb looked away. His gaze rested on the mirrored wall behind Hunter. In it, he could see the tattoo on his own biceps. The sharp, snarling teeth of the lone wolf was clearly visible beneath the black sleeve of his T-shirt.

A teenager’s ode to the father he’d worshipped before the idol had fallen. An adult’s acceptance of the simple fact of life—that he could depend on no one.

“What do you want me to do?” Caleb asked, swinging his eyes back to Hunter.

“Just nose around. You can get into town, get close to the right people, without arousing suspicion. Nobody there, other than your father, knows you’re DEA, right?”

Caleb shrugged. “Most think I’m the lowlife I use as a cover. The rest probably figure I was shivved in prison years ago.”

“That’ll work.”

Caleb sighed. He could walk away. It wasn’t his gig and nobody was pulling his strings. But Hunter’s accusation was a game changer. Whatever went down, Caleb would be the one uncovering the truth. How or what he’d do with it, he had no clue.

“I’m not making any promises,” Caleb said. “Dear ole dad isn’t much for welcoming the prodigal back into the fold, you know.”

“I have faith in your powers of persuasion.”

Caleb smirked, tilting his beer bottle in thanks. “You’re buying.”

“One last question,” Hunter said as Caleb pushed back from the table.

“Yeah?”

“Do you really do Christmas shopping?” For the first time that night, emotion showed on Hunter’s face. Skepticism with a dash of amusement.

“Yeah. But now you can consider this little favor your gift, instead of the blow-up doll.” Caleb stood, shrugging into his worn denim jacket. “She was a nice one, too. Vibrated and everything.”

2

A LUNCH-LADEN TRAY held high over her head, Pandora nodded at Fifi’s frantic signal to let her know she’d make her way into the store as soon as she could.

Rehiring Fifi, a young blonde as cute as her name, was the second smartest thing Pandora had done since she’d taken over the store. The first, of course, was to serve up the promise of hot sex.

She wound her way through the throng of customers packing the solarium attached to the back of the store. It was amazing how a few tables, some chairs and minimal investment had transformed what two months ago had been storage into Pandora’s brainchild, the Moonspun Café.

All it’d taken was a list of her skills, a couple bottles of wine with Kathy and a huge hunk of Pandora’s favorite seven-layer chocolate cake to nail down the details. She’d spent years off and on working in restaurants. She was a really good pastry chef, but sandwiches and salads had been an easy enough thing to add to the menu.

Between Great-Grammy’s cookbooks, a list of foods reputed to be aphrodisiacs and the judicious start of a few rumors, and she’d launched the lunch-only venture last month.

And it was a hit. If this kept up, Pandora was thinking about starting a little mail-order business. Sexy sweets, aphrodisiac-laced treats for lovers. A great idea, if she did say so herself. And—ha!—one that didn’t require any special family talent.

She grinned and shifted the heavy tray off her shoulder.

“Here you go, the Hot-Cha-Cha Chicken on toasted sourdough for two, a side of French-kissing fries and ginseng-over-ice tea,” she recited as she set the aphrodisiac-laced lunch order on the small iron table between a couple of octogenarians giving each other googly eyes.

Pandora carefully kept her gaze above the table as she smiled into the couple’s wrinkled faces. Yesterday, she’d bent down to pick up a dropped fork and saw more than she’d bargained for. She’d never be able to look librarian Loretta and the office-supply delivery guy in the eye again after seeing Loretta fondle his dewy decimals.

“This looks lovely, dear,” said the elderly woman, who’s granddaughter had babysat Pandora back in the day. The woman giggled and shot the age-freckled man across from her a naughty look before adding, “You’ll bring us up a slice of the molten hot-chocolate cake, won’t you?”

“Wrap that cake up to go,” the gentleman said, his voice huge in his frail body. “We’ve got a little siesta loving planned.”

Pandora tried not to wince. She loved how well this little venture was taking off, but holy cow! She sure wished people wouldn’t equate her making their sexy treats with wanting to hear the resulting deets.

Proving that wishes rarely came true, Mrs. Sellers leaned closer and whispered, “Since you started serving up these yummy lunches, I haven’t had to fake it once. This stuff is better than Viagra. Now my sweet Merv, here, is a sex maniac.”

Ack, there were so many kinds of wrong in that sentence, Pandora couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. Trying to block the images the words inspired, she winced and shook her head so fast her hair got stuck in her eyelashes. “No. Oh, no, Mrs. Sellers. Don’t thank me.”

“Don’t be modest, young lady. You’ve done so much for the sex drive of Black Oak as a whole. Not just us seniors, either. I heard Lola, my daughter’s hairdresser who can’t be much older than you, telling the gals at the salon how you’ve saved her marriage with your mead-and sexy-spiced chocolate-dipped strawberries.”

What was she supposed to say to that? All she could come up with was a weak smile and a murmured thanks. She caught Fifi’s wave again and held up one finger to let the girl know she was on her way.

“My favorites are those sweet-nothings ginger cookies, Pandora. I’d ask for your recipe, but I know you put a little something special in there. You have your gramma’s magic touch, don’t you?” Mrs. Sellers joked, poking a bony elbow into Pandora’s thigh. “Your mom must have been so happy to have you come back to Black Oak. Are you running the store on your own now?”

“Mom’s thrilled,” Pandora said, the memory of Cassiopeia’s excitement at her daughter’s plans to save the store filling her with joy. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to check in with Fifi. Don’t forget to look over the fabulous specials for the holiday season. We’re offering a Christmas discount in the store for our diners, if you wanted to do a little shopping.”

With another smile for her favorite elderly couple, Pandora gratefully excused herself and hurried over to the wide, bead-draped doorway that separated Moonspun Dreams’ retail side from the café.

“What’s wrong?” Pandora asked.

Two months ago, whenever she’d asked that question it was because the store seemed to be spiraling into failure. She’d been freaked about vendors demanding payment, customers complaining about a lack of variety in the tarot card stock or, on one horrific occasion, a mouse so big it had scared the cats.

In the past five weeks, Moonspun Dreams had done a one-eighty. Now she had vendors begging her to take two-for-one discounts, customers complaining about waiting in too long a line and the health department stopping in for lunch.

And yet, her trepidation of that question hadn’t lessened one iota. Funny how that worked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Fifi said, her smile huge as she bounced on the balls of her feet like a kid about to sit on Santa’s lap. “Sheriff Hottie’s here again. Lucky girl, this is the third time he’s been in this week. He’s the best catch in Black Oak. And he’s here to see you.”

Pandora’s smile was just a little stiff. It wasn’t that she had anything against Sheriff Hottie, otherwise known as Jeff Kendall. He was a nice guy. A former class president, Jeff had an affable sort of charm that half the women in town were crazy about. She glanced over to where he was chatting with a shaggy-haired guy who kept coming in to moon over Fifi and winced.

She had no idea why he rubbed her wrong. Her mother would claim it was intuition or her gift for reading people. But Pandora knew she had neither.

Christmas carols crooned softly through the speakers, singing messages of hope as she crossed the room. It took a minute, since the space was filled with shoppers, quite a few with questions.

“Sheriff,” she greeted as she stepped behind the counter. She offered him a friendly smile, then folded her hands together before he could offer to shake one. “What can I do for you today?”

He gave her an appreciative glance and a friendly smile that made it easy to see why the town called him Sheriff Hottie. Blue eyes sparkled and a manly dimple winked. Still, a part of her wished she could be back in the café, listening to Mrs. Sellers share the details of her last passionate excursion with Merv the sex maniac.

“Pandora, looks like business is booming nicely for a weekday,” he observed, his eyes on her rather than the store. He was tall, easily six feet, and still carried the same nice build that’d made him a star quarterback in school. “Cassiopeia must be thrilled. Is she coming home soon?”

Having combined her yearly spiritual sabbatical with the psychics’ conference, Cassiopeia was still in Sedona, Arizona. Pandora’s mother was, hopefully, too busy balancing her chi to be worrying about the store.

“She’s due home by Yule,” Pandora answered. At his puzzled glance, she amended it to, “The week before Christmas.”

“Ah, gotcha. Your mom is really into that New Agey stuff, isn’t she?”

Pandora just shrugged. She wanted to hide away from that friendly look. There was no innuendo, no rudeness, but she still felt dirty. Instead, she made a show of lifting Bonnie, cuddling her close so that the cat was a furry curtain between Pandora’s body and the sheriff’s gaze.

“My mother’s interests are many-faceted. Right now, I’m sure if she were here, she’d be asking if you’d finished your holiday shopping, Sheriff. We’re running a few specials in the café and have a stocking-stuffer sale on tumbled stones and crystals today. Maybe you’d like to check it out?”

“Maybe. But I’m thinking if I did all my shopping now, I wouldn’t have an excuse to come back and visit you every day,” he said, putting a heavy dose of flirt in his tone. Leaning one elbow on the counter, he gave her a smoldering look before he glanced at the shoppers milling around, many with wicker baskets filled with merchandise swinging on their arms.

“I really am blown away by how you’ve increased business here,” he said. “That whole aphrodisiac angle is really drawing them in, isn’t it? How’d you come up with that? Don’t tell me it’s from personal experience or I might have a heart attack.”

His flirty grin was easy, the look in his eyes friendly and fun. Pandora still inwardly cringed.

“Actually,” she corrected meticulously, her fingers defiantly combing through the soft, fluffy fur of the cat, “the recipes have been handed down from my great-grandmother. Do you remember her? She’s the one with all the experience.”

Pandora tried not to smirk when his smile dimmed a little. Nothing like offering up the image of a white-haired old lady to diffuse a guy’s sexy talk.

“How about dinner Friday night?” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven and you can tell me all about your great-grandma and her recipes.”

What a stubborn man. But she was just as stubborn. She knew she had no reason to refuse—that she was getting a weird vibe wasn’t good enough—but still, Pandora shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but no,” she told him. Then, seeing the disappointment in his gaze, she tried to soften her words with a smile.

“I really wish you’d change your mind,” Sheriff Kendall said, reaching over Bonnie to give Pandora’s cheek a teasing sort of pinch. She gasped, her fingers clenching the cat’s fur. Whether it was in protest, or because the sheriff was just too close, Bonnie hissed and leaped from Pandora’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, stepping back so she and her cheek were out of reach. “I’m trying to focus on the store right now. I need to get us back on our feet before I start thinking about dating.”

“Okay. I understand.” He offered that friendly smile again and turned to go. Then he looked back. “Just so you know, though, I plan to keep coming back until I change your mind.”

Crap.

She waited until he stepped over Paulie, who carpeted the welcome mat like a boneless blanket of fur, and watched him slide behind the wheel of the police cruiser he’d parked to blocking the door. Then she almost wilted as the tension she hadn’t realized was tying her in knots seeped from her shoulders.

“No offense, boss, but you’re crazy,” Fifi declared, stepping next to Pandora and offering a sad shake of her head. “I’d do anything to date the sexy sheriff. I can’t believe you turned him down.”

What was she supposed to say? That her internal warning system was screaming out against the guy? That same system had hummed like a happy kitten over Sean.

So obviously, the system sucked.

She gave Fifi a tiny grimace and said, “I guess I might have been a little hasty turning him down.”

“A little? More like a lot crazy. Dude’s a serious heartthrob.”

Pandora grinned as the blonde gave her heart a thump-thumping pat.

“Okay,” she decided, squaring her shoulders against the sick feeling in her stomach. Just nerves about dipping back into the dating pond, she was sure. “I’ll tell you what. The next time he asks, I’ll say yes.”

Fifi’s cheer garnered a few stares and a lot of smiles, especially from the young man with shaggy brown hair who was watching her like an adoring puppy.

Well, there you have it, Pandora decided with a grin of her own. The town obviously approved.

Ten minutes later, Pandora was ringing up a customer and still worrying over whether Sean had ruined her for all men, when a sugary-sweet voice grated down her spine.

“My mother said there was a blown-glass piece in here she thought I’d like as a Christmas gift. She probably mixed up the store names again, though, poor dear. I don’t see anything in here I need.”

Crap. Pandora took a deep breath, gesturing with her chin for Fifi to close up the café for her. This would probably take a while. She’d gone to high school with Lilah Gomez, and eight years later the other woman still held the privilege of being Pandora’s least favorite person—which, given the events of this last year, was really saying something.

Knowing the importance of not showing weakness to her sworn enemy, she cleared her face of all expression and turned to the brunette.

“Your mother has excellent taste. Too bad she didn’t pass it, and the ability to dress appropriately, on to her only daughter,” Pandora said sweetly. She made a show of looking the other woman up and down, taking in her red pleather tunic with its low-cut, white fur-trimmed neckline that showed off her impressively expensive breasts. She raised a brow at the shimmery black leggings and a pair of do-me heeled boots that would make any dominatrix proud. “What do you call this look? Holiday hussy?”

“I’m the customer here. Why don’t you put on your cute-little-clerk hat and show me whatever overpriced joke my mother saw so I can reject it and go shop in a real store.”

“From where I’m standing, which is right next to the cash register, in the handful of times you’ve been in Moonspun Dreams you’ve never bought a single thing. So you’re not a customer. You’re a loiterer.”

Lilah responded with a haughty look. She’d never bothered with her frenemy act before. Probably because she knew that Pandora would see right through it. Instead, the brunette leaned both elbows on the counter and bent forward to say under her breath, “You’d know crime, now, wouldn’t you? What was it you were busted for? Something to do with drugs? Or was it lying?”

The only thing that persuaded Pandora to unclench her teeth was the fact that she couldn’t afford to get them fixed if one broke. Instead, she turned on the heel of her own unslutty boots and retrieved a blown-glass peacock, each feather shimmering delicately in the light.

Before she’d even set the piece on the counter, she could see the covetous spark in Lilah’s eyes. But instead of saying she liked it, the other woman turned her nose to the air and gave a sniff.

“It’s okay. Just the kind of thing I’d expect to find in this dingy little store.”

“The artist is one of my mother’s clients,” Pandora said, surreptitiously scraping the sale sticker off the price tag. She’d be damned if Lilah was getting thirty percent off. “Her work is currently in the White House and was recently featured in a George Clooney movie.”

Drool formed in the corner of Lilah’s heavily painted mouth. Her hand was halfway to her purse before she thought to ask, “How much is it?”

The desire to make a sale warred with the desire to kick the bitchy woman out of the store. But responsibility always trumped personal satisfaction for Pandora. Which was probably why women like Lilah, and Cassiopeia, Fifi and even old Mrs. Sellers, had a lot more fun that she did.

With one unvarnished fingernail, she pushed the price tag across the counter. Lilah’s eyes rounded and her lips drooped.

“Will you hold it? My mother hinted that she’d get it for me as a Christmas gift.”

“You want me to hold an overpriced joke?”

The woman’s glare was vicious, but she jerked her chin in affirmation.

Hey, that was fun. Maybe all Cassiopeia’s lectures about karma were true.

Before Pandora could decide whether to go for gracious or gloating, a loud roaring rumbled through the air.

She and Lilah both stared as a huge Harley slowed down, the helmeted rider turning his head to stare into the store. A shiver skittered between Pandora’s shoulder blades. Another out-of-towner? Usually tourism went dry in Black Oak between Thanksgiving and Valentine’s. It was probably someone visiting Custom Rides, the motorcycle shop that backed up to Moonspun.

“Company?” Fifi speculated, coming in from the café to stare, too.

“Must have heard about the yippee-skippy you’re offering up,” Mrs. Sellers predicted, heading out the door hand in hand with her tottering hunk of afternoon delight.

As one, Pandora sighed and Lilah sneered.

“That’s disgusting,” Lilah muttered.

“What is? The idea of two people enjoying each other’s company?”

“You know they’re sneaking off to have sex,” the woman said, hissing the last word as if it were pure evil. The overblown brunette averted her eyes from the elderly couple as though she was worried that they wouldn’t hold out until they toddled all the way to their love nest, instead giving in and doing the nasty right there in the doorway.

“And sex is bad … Why?” Pandora put on her most obnoxious, innocently sweet smile. “From what I heard, you were having it a couple nights ago. Wasn’t it in the backseat of an old Nova parked behind Lander’s Market?”

Fifi giggled, forcing Lilah to split her glare between the two women.

Before she could spill her ire, though, the chimes over the door sang. And in walked Pandora’s worst nightmare. The sexiest man she’d ever seen, wearing black leather and a dangerous attitude. The kind of guy who could make her forget her own name, right along with her convictions, her vow of chastity and where she’d left her underpants.

Black hair swept back from a face worthy of a GQ cover. Sharp cheekbones, a chiseled, hair-roughened chin and vivid gold eyes topped broad shoulders and long, denim-clad legs that seemed to go on forever.

Pandora’s hormones sighed in appreciation as desire flared, smoking hot, in her belly. She wanted to leap over the counter and slide that leather jacket off those wide shoulders and see up close and personal if his chest and arms lived up to the promise of the rest of his body.

“Oh, my,” Fifi breathed.

“Hubba hubba,” Lilah moaned.

“Go away,” Pandora muttered.

The guy paused just inside the door, then knelt down to give Paulie’s head a quick rub before straightening and looking around. His narrowed gaze seemed to take in everything in one quick glance. Then his eyes locked on Pandora’s. Nerves battled with lust as she felt something deep inside click. A recognition. And that soul-deep terror that this was a man who spelled trouble in every way possible.

“LADIES,” CALEB GREETED, barely aware of the two women on his side of the counter. His eyes were glued on the sweet little dish on the other side.

Her hair, a dark auburn so deep it looked like mahogany, tumbled over her shoulders in a silken slide, the tips waving over the sweet curve of her breasts. She wore a simple white shirt that draped gently over her curves instead of hugging them, and tiny silver earrings that made her look like a sweet-faced innocent. From the fresh-faced look, she didn’t have any makeup on, either. Or maybe it just seemed that way because she was standing next to a gal who troweled it on like spackle.

“Well, hello there,” Spackle Gal said. The brunette, dressed as if she moonlighted on the stroll, minced her way across the floor to lay a red-taloned hand on his arm. “It’s a pleasure to have you here in Black Oak. I’m the welcome wagon, and I’d be happy to show you a good time while you’re visiting our little town.”

His brow arched, Caleb glanced at her hand, then back at her face. It only took her a second to get a clue and move her fingers back where they belonged.

“I know the town just fine, thanks,” he dismissed. His gaze went back to the sweetie behind the counter. “Apparently I don’t know everyone in town as well as I’d like, though.”

The brunette gave a little hiss. Caleb ignored her. Despite her clear message of a free-and-easy good time, he wasn’t interested.

He’d only come in to check the place out. Not because he was interested in … He looked around, wondering what the hell they sold here. This store shared the alley with what was apparently his father’s motorcycle shop. His dad had still been on the take when Caleb had lived in Black Oak, so his shop was new, and Caleb’s familiarity with this side of town sketchy.

So this weird store was going to be his new home away from home. By hanging here he could scope things out. Get the lay of the land, keep low for a few days and see how much intel he could scout. Then he’d decide if he wanted to let Tobias know he was in town or not.

“Some people aren’t as important to know as others,” the brunette said, trying her luck again by nudging close enough to press one impressive breast against his arm. Caleb was grateful for the extra protection of his leather jacket. “Why don’t you and I go to Mick’s for a drink and I’ll introduce you around.”

Caleb wanted to sigh. God, he was tired. Undercover standard operating procedure said take her offer. She was the perfect cover. A resident who probably liked her gossip, she could fill him in on all the townspeople. As blatantly sexual as she was, she might even have an in with the ecstasy crowd.

She’d obviously be happy to offer up any manner of information, favors and probably kinky acts, and walk away with a smile and no regrets the next morning. But he was tired of using himself, losing himself, like that.

And, dammit, he was supposed to be on vacation. A man shouldn’t feel guilty about turning down cheap sex while he was on vacation.

“I’m good,” he said, stepping away to make his rejection clear. From her glare, she got the message loud and clear. Color high on her cheeks, she shot an ugly look at the girls standing at the counter before heading for the door.

“You might want to slow down on testing your wares from the café, Pandora,” the vamp warned over her shoulder as she teetered out of the store. “Not only is that aphrodisiac crap in danger of making you sound like a slut, but you’re gaining weight.”

Caleb’s eyes cut to the women behind the counter, noting the shocked horror in the blonde’s eyes and the sneer on the redhead’s face. He grinned, liking her screw-you attitude.

“What’s she so bitchy about?” he asked, keeping his smile friendly. Nothing connected with a mark—or suspect—faster than sympathy. Besides, facts were facts … the woman had been a bitch. He wandered the store ostensibly looking at merchandise while eyeing the back wall and its bead-covered doorway.

“That’s her default personality,” the redhead said.

“Pandora, is it?”

He wondered why she was looking at him as if he was a wolf about to pounce. Sure, he’d been a troublemaker as a teen, but he’d been gone almost twelve years. Was his rep still that bad in Black Oak? He didn’t recognize her. Younger than him, she was closer to his sister’s age.

“Hello?” he said, giving her a verbal nudge as he picked up a clear rock shaped like a pyramid, pretending to inspect it. Her worried stare was starting to bug him.

“I’ll go make sure everyone’s out of the café since it’s closed now,” the blonde murmured.

“Yes, I’m Pandora,” the other woman said, grabbing the arm of the blonde before she could move away. “I’m the, um, owner. Can I help you?”

“Owner? You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m still getting used to the idea.” Pandora’s smile was as stiff and fake as the blow-up doll Caleb had shipped off to Hunter the previous day. “What can I do for you?”

God, so many things. Let him taste those lips to see if they were as soft and delicious as they looked. Slide that silky-looking hair over his naked body. Tell him about all her favorite sexual positions and give him a chance to teach her his.

“I’m just looking around. You’ve got a nice place here.”

“Thanks. Was there anything specific you were shopping for?”

His grin said it all. A sweet pink flush colored her cheeks, but he saw the flash of reciprocated interest in her eyes. Then, for some bizarre reason, she slammed that door shut with an impersonal arch of her brow.

What the hell? Unlike his brother, Gabriel, he didn’t expect women to fall at his feet. And the hard-to-get game did have appeal sometimes. But to totally deny the attraction? What was up with that?

Focus, Black, he reminded himself. He’d come to town for a crappy reason and wanted to leave as fast as he could. So her denial was a good thing.

And maybe if he told himself that a few hundred more times, he’d believe it.

“So you have a café here, too?” he asked, poking through a basket of glossy rocks and trying to take his own advice to focus. Now that he was closer, he noted the noise and tasty scents coming through that beaded curtain. Was the back door to the alley through there?

Before he could poke his head through to see, a group of people strode out with a clatter of beads and a lot of laughter. They’d obviously been having a happy holiday lunch.

There, in the center of the group like a king surrounded by his royal court, was Tobias Black. His lion’s mane of black hair had gone gray at the temples. His face sported a few more wrinkles, adding to its austere authority. Still tall and lean, he wore jeans and biker boots, a denim work shirt and a mellow smile.

Caleb froze. Control broke for a brief second as he closed his eyes against the crashing waves of memories as they pounded through his head—and his heart. Holidays and hugs, lectures and encouraging winks. Watching his dad pull a con, then pulling his first con while his dad watched. The trip to Baskin-Robbins afterward, where Tobias let Caleb treat to hot-fudge sundaes with his ill-gotten gains, cementing the lesson that winning was sweet, but the money had to be kept in circulation.

And then his last day of college. The day when Caleb had told dear ole dad that he was bucking family tradition and basically becoming the enemy. A cop. And when he’d threatened, in cocky righteousness, that if his dad didn’t dump his new partner and go straight, Caleb was leaving the family. That’d been the point his dad had told him to get his ass out.

Good times.

Caleb took a deep breath, his eyes meeting the wide hazel gaze of the pretty redhead behind the counter. He frowned at the sympathy and concern on her face. In the past eight years, he’d faced down whacked-out drug addicts and homicidal drug lords for a living with a blank face. Why did this pretty little thing think there was anything to be sympathetic over? Something to mull over later. Right now he had to pay the piper.

Caleb slowly turned around, automatically shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocking back on his heels. He’d known this moment would come, but now that it had, he wasn’t ready. He’d walked away from his family and used that lack of emotional ties in building his career. But now he was back, face-to-face with his father.

And he had no idea how he felt about it.

Like a bull who’d suddenly hit a steel wall, Tobias slammed to a halt. His midnight-blue eyes went huge. But only for a second. Then he grinned. A charming grin that Caleb knew was hiding that shock he hadn’t meant to show.

“Well, well,” Tobias said, slowly walking forward. “What have we here? If it isn’t the prodigal son.”

3

OH, MY. MR. TALL, HOT and Dangerous was one of the wild and mysterious Black clan? Along with the rest of the gawpers standing around the store, Pandora stared, rapt, as the two men faced off.

“Wow,” Fifi breathed.

Pandora nodded. Wow, indeed.

The Black clan was legend. History said a Black had founded the small town a hundred years back. But for all their standing in the town, people still passed rumors and innuendo in whispers, wondering where the Black fortune came from. Everything from inheriting from an eccentric relative to robbing banks to wise investments. All anyone knew for sure was that they were the wealthiest family in Black Oak, that Tobias’s wife had died of leukemia before his youngest child could walk, and until five years ago when Tobias had opened a custom motorcycle shop, they hadn’t appeared to work for a living.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Tobias was saying. Pandora frowned, though. The older man didn’t look so much surprised as … What? She studied his body language, the way he rocked back on his heels, the set of his shoulders. If she had to guess, she’d say he looked satisfied.

“I didn’t realize I had to check in with you as soon as I crossed the city limits,” Caleb returned.

“Check in?” Tobias’s hearty laugh filled the store, making half the customers smile in response. “Son, you know I don’t make rules like that. But if I’d known you were gonna be in town for the holidays, I’d have had Mrs. Long get your room ready.”

Caleb’s only response was an arched brow.

Pandora tensed. They seemed amiable enough, but she still felt as if she was watching a boxing match. The two men circled each other without even moving. The gorgeously sexy biker looked even more dangerous than he had when he’d walked in. On the surface, he was relaxed, leaning against the wall. She could see the bored look on his narrow face and the general sense of screw-you surrounding him. But his feet gave him away. Instead of crossed at the ankle, or rocked back on the heels, his boots were planted as if he were ready to run.

This reunion was a family thing. Private. Especially if one of them decided to throw a punch.

“Maybe the two of you would like some privacy,” she offered. The customers turned as one, a few shooting her guilty looks while the rest glared. Black Oak loved its gossip.

“No.” Caleb shook his head before stepping forward to lay a warm, strong hand on Pandora’s arm. The only thing that kept her from gasping and scurrying away was a desperate need to not add more fuel to the already out-of-control whisperfest brewing.

“We need to talk, son,” Tobias insisted. His words were quiet, they were friendly and they were offered with a smile. They were also hard as steel.

“Maybe later,” Caleb dismissed them. “Right now Pandora’s promised me lunch.”

“What?” she yelped. Caleb’s fingers tightened on her arm.

“Really?” Tobias said at the same time, drawing the word out and giving them both a toothy smile.

Rock, meet hard place. Pandora’s eyes swept the store, noting the slew of avid townspeople staring, waiting to see what she did. A few even mouthed the words stay here. Even the cats were watching her, Bonnie with her head tilted in curiosity, Paulie peering at her through slitted eyes, as if she was disturbing his nap. Then her gaze met Caleb’s.

His eyes didn’t beg. His face was passive. He simply returned her stare, his eyes steady. She could only hold his look for a few seconds, the intensity of those gold eyes sending crazy swirls of sexual heat spiraling down through her belly.

“Um, yes. Lunch,” she murmured, finally pulling her arm out from under his hand. Needing to move, she headed toward the café.

Caleb sauntered beside her, his long legs easily keeping up with her rushed steps.

Everyone in the store moved, too. Apparently, customers were positioning themselves for the best view into the café.

Tobias, however, followed them right through the beads.

“I’m so glad to see so many holiday shoppers,” Pandora called back through the beaded doorway of the café. “I know Cassiopeia will be thrilled when I tell her who was in buying merchandise today.”

That got them going. Customers scurried to shelves, displays and tables in search of something to keep the town woo-woo queen from cursing them. Or worse, not giving them a peek into their future the next time they asked.

“I’m sure Pandora won’t mind if we have a little chat before lunch,” Tobias said.

She shook her head no, and was about to offer to wait in the kitchen, when Caleb laid his hand on her arm again.

She froze. Her breath caught and her legs went weak at his touch. The guy wasn’t even looking at her and she was about to melt into a puddle at his feet. While his only use for her was to avoid talking to his daddy.

Yep, he was bad news.

Needing to unfog her brain, and unlust her body, she stepped away.

“I’m just passing through,” Caleb said, leaning casually against the wall. But the smirk he shot Pandora was amused, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on her.

“How long until you passed through my front door?” Tobias challenged. “You were going to let me know you were in town, weren’t you?”

Silence. The hottie had that intense, brooding rebellious thing down pat. Without him saying a word, Pandora knew he hadn’t planned to see his father, would have preferred that dear ole dad didn’t even know he was in town and was thoroughly pissed to be put in the position of defending himself.

The air in the café was heavy with tension. So out of her element she wanted to turn heel and run all the way back to San Francisco, Pandora shifted from one foot to the other, forcing herself to stay in place.

“Today’s special is a hot and spicy double meatball sandwich and four-layer Foreplay Chocolate Cake for dessert,” she blurted out in her perkiest waitress voice.

It wasn’t until both men shot her identical looks of shocked amusement that she realized what she’d offered. Oh, hell. She wanted to smack her hand over her mouth in horror. Her lust for Caleb was bad enough, but for it to sneak out in front of his father?

“I mean, um, that’s the menu. Not an offer, you know? I wouldn’t do that. Hit on a customer, I mean. That’d be rude.”

Holy crap, Pandora thought. It was like taking her foot out of her mouth and shoving her ass in instead.

Thankfully, Caleb was sticking with his brooding silence. Wincing, she glanced at Tobias, who still looked amused. With an actual reason this time.

“I’ll let the two of you do lunch, then,” the older man decided. He glanced through the beaded doorway. Pandora followed his gaze and cringed. How’d the crowd get even bigger?

She couldn’t make Tobias go out there. They’d be on him like a pack of rabid dogs. And yes, she eyed the older man, noting the freakishly calm stance and lack of anger emanating off him, he could probably handle himself fine. Better than she could, that was for sure.

Still …

“Tobias, did you want to—”

Before she could finish the sentence, Caleb snapped to attention, straightening from the wall like a stiff board. Nice to know he could get stiff that fast; she almost smirked. Then she saw the intense anger in his eyes and swallowed.

What? Did he think she was going to invite his dad to stay?

“It’s a little crowded with shoppers in the store now,” she finished slowly, choosing her words as if they would guide her through a live minefield. “So, um, would you like to go out the back and cut across the alley to your own shop?”

Tobias rocked back on his heels, mimicking his son’s stance and considered the two of them. He glanced through the beads again and then arched a brow at Caleb.

Clueless, Pandora looked at the younger man, too, trying to figure out what the silent question was that had just been asked. But she couldn’t read a thing on either man’s face.

She wanted to scream. Even if it wasn’t a talent, she’d at least had a decent grasp of reading body language—bs, that was. Before Sean. Now? She might as well be blind.

She eyed the two men and their stoic faces and apparently relaxed stance. They came across as totally mellow strangers. And the hair on the back of her neck was standing up due to all the antagonism flying through the room.

It was frustrating the hell out of her.

“Thanks, Pandora,” Tobias accepted. Then he flashed her a charming smile. “And is there any chance I could get a piece of that cake to go? I was too full after lunch, but it’d be a nice snack later.”

Pandora bit her lip, not sure why she felt as if she needed to stick around and protect Caleb. The man obviously didn’t need little ole her standing in front of him.

But still …

“I’d appreciate it,” Tobias prodded.

Unable to do otherwise, Pandora nodded and hurried into the tiny kitchen at the far end of the sunroom. She cut a fat slab of cake and scooped it into a cardboard box, not bothering to lick the decadent ganache off her knuckle as she pressed the lid down and rushed back out.

Neither man had moved. From what she could tell, neither had said a word, either.

“Here you go,” she said, staying by the kitchen and its door to the alley, instead of taking the cake over to Tobias. “I hope you enjoy it. It’s my favorite recipe.”

Tobias gave his son a nod, then strode toward Pandora. A goodbye? Or acknowledgment that Caleb had won this round? Pandora wasn’t sure which.

Caleb, of course, just stood there. Did nothing rile the guy?

“I do appreciate your hospitality,” Tobias said as he reached her. “For the cake, and for making my son feel welcome. I’m sure one bite of your delicious offerings and he’ll be ready to stay in Black Oak and enjoy himself for a while.”

“Um, you’re welcome?” Pandora murmured. She wanted to point out that as delicious as chocolate was, it wasn’t magic cake. He was asking for an awful lot from a lunch that she wasn’t even sure Caleb would eat.

Without another word to her, or to his son, Tobias gave a jaunty wave and headed out the back door. Pandora plaited her fingers together, staring in the direction Tobias had gone until she heard the door close. She shifted her gaze to the café tables then, noting that half needed tidying.

Her gaze landed everywhere but on Caleb.

Murmurs rose from the store. She turned, grateful that something might demand her attention.

Then she winced. She could almost feel the barbs of fury shooting at her from the disappointed crowd. They’d obviously thought the show would move into the store, where they could get a better view. They’d probably positioned themselves to best greet, and grill, Tobias as he left the café. And she’d ruined it.

But she didn’t hear the chimes over the front door ring at all, which meant they were still circling, waiting for fresh meat. Or in this case, a hunk named Caleb.

They could just keep waiting. And, hopefully, purchasing. After all, she was apparently giving away cake back here.

Speaking of …

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked, finally looking directly at Caleb.

Under his slash of black brows, his eyes were intense as he inspected her. His expression didn’t change as his gaze traveled from her face, then skimmed down her body in a way that made her wish she was wearing one of those loose, New Agey dresses Fifi and Cassiopeia wore.

Or that she was naked.

Either one would be better than this feeling that there wasn’t a chance in hell she could measure up to the sexual challenge Caleb presented.

A sexual challenge she wasn’t even positive he was issuing. For all she knew, the guy gave that same hot but unreadable look to his mail lady when she asked him to sign for delivery.

Her body on fire, her mind a mess of tangled thoughts, she gave in to the desire to run.

“I’ll be right back,” she muttered as she hurried back to the small kitchen again. This time, instead of hacking through the cake and throwing it in a container, she carefully selected a plate, cut a precise slice and centered it on the cobalt glass plate. She retrieved a can of whipped cream and sprayed a sweet little rosette of white on top of the chocolate.

This was crazy. It wasn’t as though the guy was going to ask her on a date. He was here to … What? Shop for Christmas gifts? Score an aphrodisiac-laced lunch?

Pandora groaned. Oh, wouldn’t that be sweet? Insane, impossible and inconceivable—but so sweet to have sex with a man like Caleb Black. A man who, with just one look, could make her body go lax, her legs quiver and her nipples beg in pouty supplication.

But Caleb Black was the kind of guy who went for powerful women. A woman who could hold her own, who would demand he fulfill her every fantasy and in doing so, would show him things he hadn’t even dreamed of yet.

In other words, totally not Pandora.

Except … she wanted him for herself.

She grabbed two forks, setting one neatly on the plate. With the other she stabbed a huge chunk from the cake still on the serving dish. Shoving it in her mouth, she closed her eyes and, with a sigh, let the chocolate work its way through her system. Calming, centering, soothing.

God, she loved chocolate.

More than sex, she insisted to herself. Which was a lie, of course, but with a little work she might start believing it. After all, chocolate’s only threat was to her hips.

Swallowing hard as she imagined what kind of threat Caleb might pose to her body, she scooped up the plate and forced herself to return to the café.

“You look like that visit barely registered on your stress meter, but mine is off the charts. Nothing pulls me out of the dumps like chocolate, so I figured you might want some,” she said with a sheepish smile as she set the cake on a nearby table. Glancing through the beads at the nosy crowd, she sighed, then sat opposite the plate and waited.

“Why’s it empty in here?” he asked, his voice as surly as his scowl. But hey, words were words. Who was she to quibble over tone?

“The café closes at two. We still have shoppers in the store, but Fifi is helping them. People know we’re closed. They won’t come back here,” she assured him. “It’s not much, but at least it’s a tiny semblance of privacy.”

He gave her a look, those gold eyes dark. She could see the anger in them now, as clearly as she could see it in the set of his chin and his clenched fists. But now she could see hurt, too, in the way he hunched his shoulders, the droop of his lips.

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